[ WP ] Your friend swallows a plant seed . Over the next few months , it grows inside of him , wrapping roots around his nerves and sapping sunlight from his skin . Unbeknownst to you , it begins to use him for its own agenda .

Terry scratched the soil back and forth in thin small movements. He was sloppy tilling the Earth; it was as if he was drunk beyond the point of safety. Terry drew line after line of tilled ground twisting the grass back into the soil. He became better after a few days and his lawn was a farm within a week. He could n't remember doing any of it- all Terry knew is he was constantly tired and he kept finding dirt in his bed in the morning. 
 
 I decided to pay Terry a visit one sunny Saturday afternoon. Being neighbors we usually saw more of each other but I had only heard the soft sound of his hoe cracking the Earth at the latest hours of the night. Terry was on his porch in a very small banana hammock. `` Hey, Terry! Showing off your fruits huh?'' I shouted from the edge of his porch. 
 
 `` Uh, what... Oh, how'd I get out... hi Steve,'' Terry tried to pull himself to a seated position but his arms shook with the effort. He folded back down. 
 
 `` You feeling a little under the weather? It's impressive you decided to come out if you're so sick you have to work in the dark,'' I led myself up the railing. 
 
 `` No, I have n't been working in the dark. I'm on medical leave, ever since that cucumber sandwich I've been just... must have been some of the Chinese food I had afterward. I do n't know, everything is just green to me,'' Terry scratched his arm. A small crack appeared for only a split moment, Steve saw it nonetheless. 
 
 `` Well that garden of yours gets an awful lot of attention nowadays- well, now-a-nights I suppose. Listen if you need anything you know just to call Vanessa or myself right? We're happy to get you some meds or take you to the doctor.'' 
 
 `` I'll be fine... I guess the nighttime gardening would explain the dirt in my bed. But, surely I did n't plant all those packets of cucumber seeds,'' Terry said as he stared up at the sun, stretching his neck for full exposure. A small wort was swaying in the air, I could have sworn it looked just like a tiny flower bud. 
 
 `` You only planted cucumbers? That's mighty odd. Changing careers Terry? Maybe your green thumb has turned into a green... nevermind. Listen, just... take care of yourself,'' I waved goodbye, bouncing down the porch stairs and whistling so Terry would n't notice just how fast I was booking it. 
 
 I watched Terry more closely after that. The days he barely managed to get off the porch but the evening, those were full of activity. His cucumber harvest was vast but when I asked him for a few to pickle he shuddered and shouted he did n't know why I thought he had cucumbers to spare. The plants never died; he never killed them off. He only harvested their crop. A few weeks after that he began sending balloons with cucumbers attached in various directions and shipping packages to Africa, Europe, and other cucumberless places. 
 
 I'm not sure why this was so suspicious to me but the urge of war filled my stomach and I grabbed my Weedwacker- this was n't the Terry I knew. 
 
 [ END ] 
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