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Grant's Vine

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Here you are, walking along the dry grass floor of the graveyard. Your dad passed away only a month ago, oh how you've changed. Nothing stops you from visiting his gravesite at least two or three times a week. Usually a kind old man wanders around the graveyard every time you visit, so at least you have someone to keep you company.

It’s an old graveyard, nothing too special. It's located at a small church, and all the people are very nice. However, the graves are pretty old. There's lots of dead grass. So much you can barely see the flat tombstones, even though they are dark black.

So here you are, walking through the thick dead grass. You stumble on your feet, trip, and you cut your leg on a thick old vine. Congratulations, you have found “Grant’s Vine.” Now, this particular vine may look like nothing, but don’t let that confuse you. The Grant’s Vine grows from the corpse of whoever was buried in the soft moist dirt. It begins growing from the vein of the wrist during the start of rigor mortis. After the corpse is buried, a tiny blue stem will begin to grow. It completely shoots through the casket, becoming a thick vine. When the vine is cut open it reveals a disgusting, thick blue vein.
Grave vine

You lay there, and you notice a cut on your left calf. It is bleeding immensely, and the tear in your skin is dark purple. You decide to go home, so you get up and start limping. It takes a while, but you manage to get home. A small trail of dark blood follows behind you as you make your way back, and your vision becomes blurry. You open your door and proceed to make your way to the medicine cabinet, staining your floor with cherry-red blood. Some pain cream and a large band aid seemed to do the trick, at least, that’s what you think.

You get yourself together and decide to rest until morning. What a long day you had, and you didn’t even get to make it to your father’s grave. You fall asleep, with your leg practically throbbing.

You are now asleep. The dreams you are having are just a vision of a blinking eye. The blinking eye starts to bleed, and tiny worms are now falling from the center of the pupil. You wake up after this happens for a while, and you glance at your leg. The bandage put onto it has been dissolved with the blood seeking out of your flesh. Pus and large blood-filled maggots are tearing and eating away at your wound. Something strikes you, and you begin scratching it. You claw at the maggots, but it does nothing to relieve the itch that came across you. You then sprint to the bathroom and turn on the bathtub, letting the hot water fall as a variety of different sized maggots fall to the ground. Shoving your leg under the water makes the maggots cling, so do it carefully. You slowly put your leg under, and the maggots fall off slowly. Oh god, the smell. The wound seems to decompose, like a corpse. All of the tiny fly offspring are sucked into the drain, leaving you with a horrid-smelling wound.

You pick up a phone with your clammy hands and call the hospital. As the phone rings, you feel something strike up your left leg, all the way to your left shoulder. You drop the phone and look at the mirror to find that the left side of your body’s skin is rising. Screaming, you fall to the floor and a large thick object is coming out through your skin. It appears to be a layer of wood. The wood makes its way out, and stretches across your body as you scream in agony. It continues to wrap itself around you, squeezing you inside. Tighter, tighter, tighter…pop. You’ve basically just, well, exploded inside of the wood. The wood still won’t stop getting smaller. This goes on for a few hours.

It’s a vine. You are now a vine. The maggots were making your skin suitable to be grown with, and the vine grew. It stretched around the room to form a dome. It looks quite welcoming. This is where your soul can hide, because you will be stuck as a ghost forever.

Have a nice sulk, because it’s my turn. I am now writing this as quick as I can, because the wood…it’s getting so small…Please, spread the word. And always, always…NEVER walk barefoot in a graveyard.

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