AUGUST 2019 75-Word Story Challenge -- VICTORY TO DANNYMCG!

[Stable]

Urban Agri-Fantasy​

The aptly-named Gardner crushed something under his thumb.

“Leafhopper,” he said. “They transmit the zombie bacteria. These plants won’t flower now.”

He roughly pulled them up by the stems. Moonlight played across his coarse features. I scribbled hasty notes.

"Let’s get you to these vampire watermelons. They shouldn’t be dangerous, unless a few pin you down, so-"

He flattened us both against the shed.

“Is it the vampire melons?”

“Worse,” he whispered. “Lichenthropes.”

 

[Tywin]

A Man’s Word

The freshly churned mound already had some flowers emerging. Lilies. They had been her favorite.

“Well, Babe, I made you a promise.”

The sky flashed orange, cannon fire briefly illuminating the outline of the battlecruiser hanging above the city.

“But I’ve broken promises before. You know me.”
He fixed a lily from her grave to his battleworn armor.

The battlecruiser lit the sky again, rumbling batteries scouring the city below.

“Forgive me, Babe,” he said.

 

[Hugh]

Turf Wars​

I looked left. I looked right. No one.

Yet someone had made havoc with Mrs Mobbs’ hollyhocks.

My money was on the Slug Boys. But could I make them talk?

I headed for their hideout. Down past the brassicas. I edged along real cool. No way I was getting myself slimed up with slug gunk.

Suddenly, “Hold it there, pal!” Reggie Rabbit and the Radish Crew!

I know when to leave my greens. Real slow.

 

[AstroZon]

The Greenhouse

Blaise walked slowly past rows of vegetables and tended his treasured Granada roses. The greenhouse and adjoining bungalow were all that remained of Zytis-3’s once thriving HAB-11.

He grew tired, moved to the stool in front of the potting table, and put on Satie’s Gnossiennes. He heard the hatch open and saw Idina walk in carrying a tray. She smiled, poured him a cup of chamomile tea, and said warmly, “We shall remain here… forever.”

 

[Bruce MacLean]

The Swiss​

Sucking on my oat milk smoothie, I checked the mark’s address written with soy ink on my sustainable paper notebook.

Pulling up the collar of my bio-leather coat, I crossed the road, my recycled rubber sole boots squelching in the rain.

The twisted plant fibre lock pick got me into the house and I crept up the stairs.

The bamboo spear ended him.

They call me the Swiss because I’m neutral, carbon neutral.

 

[LittleStar]

Under Late September Skies

Sounds dumb to say, but it was morning by the time the sun rose.

The reapers came in the night, bathed in the blood moonlight, all war songs and steel.

When the charge started, I froze, stiffer than a redwood in a summer breeze.

Dunno why, but they left me standing. Alone. A corn-yellow coward, rooted behind an army of fallen friends, watching birds pick at their husks.

 

[johnnyjet]

The Flower Whisperer

Okay, I talk to flowers, but don't call me flower whisperer or your chuckling days will be over, got it?

That's how I caught Big Mike. Hiding behind the greenhouse. The flowers directed me with their petals. Outside, a patch of cannabis waved me in the right direction. I found him in the shed, cowering. He knew it was over.

Like I've always said, it's good to have friends in high places.

 

[J.C. Scoberg]

An age-old dance
Sometimes I wonder why I bother.
No matter how many I put down more just sneak up through the cracks, uninvited and out-of-control. I give them the hard stuff, the back-alley juice you can’t buy in shops. Yet the wind-blown interlopers flourish like a venereal disease amongst freshers.
I’ve played the game long enough to know better, to just retire my trowel.
But here I am. And there they are.

 

[mosaix]

Gone To Ground

Green's Records was on the corner of Yucca and Vine. Sgt. Pepper was playing.

“The name's Mallow, Philip Mallow. Green around?”

“Call me Fern. He's gone, Bud. Caught a 'plane. He was a plant and a grass and dealing weed.” A Woodbine hung from her cherry-red, lips. I pined for mistletoe.

“They're framing him and he's digging a hole for himself.”

“Don't give a fig.”

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme played as I left.

 

[M. Robert Gibson]

Everywhere the devil spits

She floated into my office, stem swaying seductively; roots that wouldn't stop.

"I'm Toxy."

"What's a broadleaf like you want with deadwood like me?"

"My husband Basil. We argued. He's missing. Can you root him out?"

Intrigued, I took the case.

First stop, the morgue.

"Any John Does?"

"Just one. With toxin levels redwood high."

Toxins? Toxy? The mud cleared.

"Hello Police? Put out an APB on Toxicodendron Radicans, AKA Poison Ivy.

"The crime? Herbicide."

 

[Culhwch]

Career Counselling

It wasn’t your garden variety robbery. Most criminals don’t crack safes with unusually aggressive vines.

In this game, you need to follow the evidence.

The green thumbs at the city herbarium identified the vine as Epipremnum aureum. Common name: Devil’s Ivy.

I called the commissioner immediately.

‘Charlie,’ Gordon sighed. ‘Batman nabbed Poison Ivy two days ago. When will you learn -- Gotham’s no place for a PI.’

He’s right. Maybe I should move to Metropolis.

 

[Vince W]

I Is For Infestation

They always come to me for the tough jobs. I guess they figure I’d seen everything and done everything. That was true, until this job.
“Have you seen this?”
I’d seen it. In books.
“It’s a tricky one.”
“I know. How’d it get here?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Hmph.” I could guess.
“Can you do it?”
“It’ll cost you.”
“Fine. Just get it done.”
That was three days ago. These weeds were unkillable.

 

[StilLearning]

Cops and Gardeners​

Beyond the bars the detective sipped tea.
“Dictamnus albus, 'the burning bush'. Produces flammable vapour – mother nature's incendiary device. Incredible, no? You'd know, you're a gardener.”
I shrugged.
“The late senator... smoked. In his gazebo, yes?” He smiled, but rubbed his grazed palm nervously.
I smiled back.
His eyelid trembled.
“A gazebo that, mysteriously, became surrounded by Dictamnus. The fire destroy-”
He collapsed, the mug I'd coated with Aconite extract shattering on the floor.

 

[Parson]

The Gardener​

I walked George’s path. He was famous for the kind of “wet work” I needed. If you had a problem George solved them permanently. I was ready for a seedy or shabby abode. I was not ready for the garden. I stared at the glorious flowers. The closer I got to the cottage the more glorious the garden became.

George startled me. “May I help you.”

I stuttered. “N-N-N-N-Nice, garden.”

“The right Fertilizer does wonders.”

 

[Perpetual Man]

Carrot. P.I.

It was the Potato. I could tell by the look in his eyes.

Instinct told me he’d dropped the piano that had made the Butternut squash.

I could see through his dark lies and misdirection.

His words are bitter in the patches air.

All over Rose from the other side of the garden.

Beauty can make a vegetable do the dumbest things. You gotta learn, even the prettiest of flowers comes with thorns.

 

[HoopyFrood]

Retirement Plan

His desk photo surprised me. Some garden with a big tree.

“My retirement. In a hole, no more worries,” he said.

Hazards of this damn’ job; we all had these thoughts. But he was one of the good ones, the best, even.

“Now, let’s crack that vault.”

----------

After ten years together, I had to do it for him. I dug that hole.

And found millions in banknotes.

Empty vault? The rat *******!

 

[The Judge]

A Philip Marrow Story – The Gardener Always Digs Twice​

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Of all the gardens in all the world she walks into mine. The lovely, sweet-smelling, narcissistic daughter of Titan Arum, the murdered horticulturist. ​

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Her story has more holes than a cheese plant, more twists than a corkscrew hazel. She takes me for a sucker. ​

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I do the spadework. Takes thyme, some digging. But I know my onions. And toxic daffodil bulbs.​

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“You’ll rue this,” she threatens as the cops arrive.​

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Sonnet 94.​

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Farewell, my Lily.​

 

[TheDustyZebra]

Pretty-made

“Your garden is lovely, Mrs. Mary… may I call you Mary? Well, no need to be contrary about it. Mrs. Mary, we believe the girls went missing in this neighborhood. Indeed, very sad. We’re just checking if anyone saw anyth— Oh, what beautiful roses. Are these rows new? I see. Where was I? The girls, yes. Please call if you remember seeing anything. Good day. ...Oh, just one more thing. Is that a silver bell?”

 

[The Judge]

The Challenge is now closed to further entries.

A little late, but the poll thread is now up and voting can commence

POLL -- August 2019 75-word Writing Challenge -- DANNYMCG WINS!

It's time to vote for your favourite AUGUST story! You can find the stories HERE. The usual rules apply: Any member of the Chrons can cast a vote, even if they didn't submit a story -- in fact, we encourage everyone to vote Each member may cast ONE vote only You may not vote for yourself...

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