It was a warm, foggy night, the kind that made Mike DeHaan’s eyes tired and groggy. He stood in his kitchen, staring out the window into the dark stretches of woodland. He and his wife had just inherited the house, along with the 20 acres of land accompanying it, from a great-uncle of hers who had recently passed away. He had not been particularly thrilled with the idea of living in a house that a man had died in weeks prior, but as a newly married couple living in a big city, the idea of free real estate was too good an offer to turn down.

            Ether Green. Population: 8,672. A small, backwoods community in the Pennsylvanian countryside, surrounded by tall, dark oak trees forming an oppressive blanket that surrounded the isolated town. To make things lonelier, the property was on the outskirts, a couple miles removed from the rest of the community. He couldn’t imagine anyone living here by themselves. This was the sort of place that old people retired to in order to “get away from it all,” Mike had figured. It had surprised him to find upon arrival that there were a number of families here, with children. That had both surprised and delighted his wife, Becky, as well. In the weeks since they had settled in to their new home, she had been talking more and more about settling down. It was a prospect that had crossed Mike’s mind, of course, but wasn’t something he thought he would have to entertain for a few years, at least. To be honest, it scared him.

            With a start, Mike returned to reality, realizing that he had been ruminating again. He knew he would have to have an uncomfortable talk with Becky eventually, but for the moment, he returned his attention to the thing that had captured his attention outside the window.

            “Dammit, it’s back again already,” he muttered to himself.

            Turning around, he trudged into the living room behind room where Becky sat watching T.V., the colors flashing across her face. He grabbed his jacket from the wood-paneled wall and slipped his arms through the sleeves. God, those walls were ugly. He would have to see about doing some serious redecorating soon.

            Becky sat herself up in the armchair she had been lounging in and looked up at him. “Babe, where are you going,” she asked.

            “It’s back,” he sighed.

            “What is?”

            “That weed, remember? I’m going out to try and pull it again.”

            “Can’t you just leave it alone for tonight? Come on, it’s late and we’ve both worked so hard today. Let’s just stay in and relax.”

            “It’ll just take a minute, then I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, walking over to give her a kiss on the forehead before going out into the late May evening.

            All things considered, she was probably right. There really was no reason for him to be out this late for yardwork. Still, there was something about this weed that unsettled him. It was out in the middle of their backyard, standing around six inches tall, with pearly white flowers growing on it. It had a strange beauty to it and Mike almost hated to get rid of it if it weren’t for the fact that it was in the middle of their yard, and almost nothing else seemed to want to grow around it. He had tried cutting it several times, but it always grew back in a matter of hours. Well, this would be the time he got rid of it for good, roots and all.

            He rummaged around in the pockets of his oversize jacket until he found the small handheld spade he kept in there. Alright, buddy, he thought. Time for you to go. He dug a small trench around the sides of the plant, brushed the dirt away, grabbed as deep as he could, and pulled.

            It didn’t budge.

            He dug deeper and pulled again. Nothing. In fact, the stem seemed to be getting thicker the farther down he went. He didn’t know very much about gardening, but that didn’t seem right. Well, I’ve come this far. He dug farther down, and kept pulling, until his forearms were covered halfway up with mud. All the straining was starting to make him hot, so he took his jacket off before plunging back in. More digging, more pulling. At this point, his shoes were starting to sink down into the wet ground and his hands were becoming slippery, but he knew he was close. He could feel it. One last tug. His arm slipped into the hold he had made, all the way up to his shoulder. He could feel something, a bulb at the end of the root. It felt warm, and it had a malleable quality to it. It pulsed in his hand.

            He grabbed the strange object and tried to pull it up. The more firmly he grabbed it, he started to realize that the pulsing of the warm fleshy mass had a rhythmic quality to it. It almost felt like a –

            The ground burst under him and he fell backwards in shock, his back slapping against the muddy ground hard. His head snapped back against the ground, causing him to cry out. He felt pressure on his chest, like something was laying on top of him. Dazed, he tried to reach up and move it. His hands wrapped around the object. Suddenly, it squirmed to life, screeching and crying.

            “What the -”

            He looked up. He saw the thing crawling on his chest. Its dirt-encrusted eyes looked back into his. It smiled, showing teeth made of gravel. The last thing Mike DeHaan heard was the shrieks of the child, being drowned out by his own screams.