Yes, the grass of Happy Hills was moving and changing from its benign state of normal grass to its more deadly active predator form. For the grass had been seducing the Monroe family indeed any individual/group from the moment they looked its way. All that bright and lovely shade of green wasn't just for show. No, the green is to entice from afar and to look soft and plush up close. The flowers and the bed-root system being the deal closer and with one step into Happy Hills one's fate is sealed as the Monroe Family would soon find out.
As the solidified wave of grass encroached upon his family, Father Monroe's feelings of terror were realized. The threat that he felt but could not identify was before him and while he could see it coming. He could do nothing. Try as he might he was unable to move his body which he now realized wasn’t just relaxed but paralyzed. He tried with all his strength to open his mouth to yell a warning to his family but his lips did not move. He tried to move his arm which his daughter's head still rested upon but nary a finger twitched in silent refusal to his mental battle. All the while the grass came closer, the flowers which had been cushioning his head were now opening revealing an abomination.
In the center of the flower was not the usual pollen bed surrounded by petals. Oh no, the inside of the flowers held eyeballs that moved around and focused hungrily on Father Monroe and his family. It was at this point that his fight or flight instinct took over and with a valiant effort to run away, to simply escape he managed to wiggle his pinky finger an inch. Resulting in all those horrifyingly hungry eyes focusing on him. The feeling of all those eyes, dead yet alive, boring into him heighted his fear to a level he had never before experienced. Father Monroe stared in impotent fear at the flowers. They in turn eagerly watched their attention flowing back and forth between him and the unstoppable march of the grass as it swallowed the Monroe family like a pelican swallows an unsuspecting pigeon. He felt it as each strand caressed his lightly clothed body. Each piece slicing deeply through his clothes and skin drawing blood as each blade passed. Moving every forward until he was wrapped in an inescapable cocoon of green and red. Yet oddly enough he felt no pain. Through the haze of tears, he could see the blood pouring from each cut yet he felt… nothing. In fact, he felt good. Really, really, good as Father Monroe rolled his eyes to his left, he could see the blood also pouring from the wounds of his family, his wife already covered by the grass, her face and her hand on Johnathon's head was the only part of her visible.
The flower eyes realizing that Father Monroe was not a threat looked on at their respective charges with seemingly delight, their petals swaying in unison back and forth to some unheard beat; their leaves unfurling, greedily taking in the stray droplets of blood that came their way. He could only imagine what their roots were doing. Even though he could still feel the object horror in the back of his mind it had receded with the knowledge that he was going to die and his family was going to die. In the face of danger, he could do nothing. His natural survival instincts had given him a warning and he had ignored it and now they would die. However, with this acceptance came one clear thought. ‘Well, there are worse ways to die.’ He forced his eyes once more to the faces of his family; their bodies already covered with a sickening mixture of blood and grass and was surprised to discover smiles on their faces.
They were the same smiles worn when they were deep in sleep and which had always made him wonder what they were dreaming about. As he wondered this for the last time he finally succumbed to the euphoria and drowsiness and closed his eyes. As he did, he dreamed, he dreamed that he was once again in Happy Hills but this time he felt no trepidation stepping into the meadow. He could hear music in the background, one whose beat seemed to throb though his body and which his heart seemed to echo. It was the same beat that the flowers had swayed to. As he walked further into the meadow the trees and shade beneath came into sharper focus and unlike before beneath each tree were groups of people eating, laughing and playing. Children ran around with their dogs and parents kept a vigilant but non-paranoid eye out for them. As he walked forward, he realized that the meadow was much larger now than it had been before because although it held by far more people than Forlorn Fields it did not give off the feeling of being oppressed, of having to watch everything all at once to maintain one’s health. Rather it still gave off the feeling of tranquility and peace that had eventually lulled him into a false sense of security. However here there was no fear, no horrors, and no pain; Just peace, love and honestly happiness. As he took a look around his new environment it was then that he heard them.
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"DDDDAAAAdddddddd!!!!!" Yelled Johnathon and Justicè "over here!"
"Honey" came Mother Monroe's voice "We are over here."
As Father Monroe turned towards the voices of his family, he saw that they were under the same tree in which they had died and that they were not alone. There was an old man with a cane relaxing against the tree trunk, a couple feeding each other in a beautiful but thoroughly nauseating lovey dovey scene, curiously enough there was a dog that didn't seem to belong to anybody just lying down watching his surroundings seemingly at peace with all the activity around him. As he came closer to his family, he noticed that there was no evidence of the deep wounds that the grass had inflicted the flowers beneath their feet while open did not contain eyes but a deep rich red pollen that was truly eye-catching amongst the various outer petal colors. Their leaves remained unfurled and raised towards the sky in a completely normal effort to gain sunlight.
"Honey what took you so long" asked Mother Monroe as she handed him a plate of food.
"Yeah!!!" Emphasized Johnathon and Justicè, "We were waiting a long time for you to come." said Justicè.
"I don't know" replied Father Monroe as he reached out his hand and stroked his wife's cheek to attest to her realness. He was perplexed to find that he could indeed feel her and that she felt the same as always warm and soft with a hint of very fine hairs that tickled his fingertips.
"Honey???..." said Mother Monroe with a hint of befuddlement and love for him on her face, "Is everything alright?"
Father Monroe did not answer because he did not understand. The last image of his family was one of helplessness, blood, gore and death yet here they were. As he continued to stroke his wife's cheek, he put down the plate he had in his other hand and touched each of his children's heads one at a time to make sure they were real. Their hair was the same satiny suppleness of a child just like always. 'They feel real, they sound real so maybe this is real’ thought Father Monroe. ‘Either way’ he decided ‘it's real enough for me’. Father Monroe accepted it and moved on because at the end of the day his family was here, without pain and even though he knew they had died in Happy Hills they were all safe and whole now. Smiling with acceptance Father Monroe opened himself to the peace, love and happiness around him and finally answered his family's questioning gazes "Yes everything is just fine" and Father Monroe picked up his plate sat by his wife who leaned her head against his shoulder and commenced to eating his food content to be in Happy Hills with his family.
Meanwhile in Happy Hills the bodies of the Monroe family had been completely decimated by the grass, their blood soaked up by the thirsty roots and leaves of the surrounding plants. The grass that had swarmed them pulled the remaining bits of hair skin bones and teeth into the ground. It was an interesting and disturbing process to witness. The remnants were not visible from an outsider looking in rather it looked like four different sized mounds covered in grass. Which steadily decreased in height as Happy Hills pulled the Monroe's family remains deep, deep, deep underground to its final resting place next to remnants of a varyingly aged human and animal bones, a plastic cane and antique containers from across human history. The Monroe’s family things were no exception. So too were their belongings hidden. Never would there be a visible trace of their existence. Nothing to mark "here lies the Monroe family". The only concession being the addition of six purple hooded flowers grouped together sprouting from the ground, their petals closed and their leaves curled adding to the hundreds of millions already there. Nothing dissuaded the next victim from entering into their forever resting place as once more the grass stood at attention their ends sharper than a soldier’s beret; Daring any and all to enter nourishing themselves on their enemies awaiting the prey that Forlorn Fields sent its way.