Florence opened her eyes to a molten sunrise. Brilliant crimson, yellow and magenta hues flooded her vision. It was truly a marvelous sight to behold.
Foreign flecks of dirt aggravatingly coated her eyelids, the crusty texture creating no small amount of discomfort.
She blinked her eyes to clear off the grime.
Once.
Twice.
Scrunching her eyes tightly shut for the third time, she slowly uncovered her eyes only to see the same dazzling scene.
“Ah, what a beautiful color,” she murmured sleepily. The vibrant saturation deeply reminded her of a dress she had once saw when she was a teenager. Nevertheless, this color was unquestionably more appealing.
No…
Her eyes widened as she realized where she was. The gorgeous magenta undertones suddenly seemed much more ominous.
“Wasn’t this all just a dream?” she exclaimed in alarm, panic building up painfully in her chest. Recalling the previous night’s escapade, she slowly calmed her breathing.
It looked as if nothing had gotten through the fence.
“Am I being pranked?” she whispered hopefully. At this point, knowing that she had been pranked would only bring her great joy. In all her 57 odd years she had absolutely never experienced such a distressing night.
Unfortunately, there was no sign of anyone around, and she knew instinctively that she definitely wouldn’t find a trace of any camera.
Perhaps she had been kidnapped?
She immediately dismissed that thought — who would want to kidnap an old granny, and to what end?
A light breeze brushed by her face, bringing back memories of last night. Except this time the breeze was unusually warm. A prickling sensation arose as she felt her skin gradually start to dry up.
“A continuation of the same dream?” she pondered carefully, this made the most sense, as she could not think of any other explanation that would accept the presence of magic.
With that thought she quickly sat up, determined to wake herself out of this horrible dream.
She glanced around with an incredulous look on her face.
The strange wisps had completely disappeared, and in their wake a dry wind tumbled without end.
Picking up a leaf she had laid on the previous night, she brought it close to her face and was able to make out the intricate veins that permeated its remains. She regretfully decided to reject the idea of a dream.
Her surroundings were incredibly detailed, and she felt too lucid to be in a dream.
But why and how exactly did she come here?
“It looks like this is reality,” she stated in resignation.
Standing up, she stared into the distant landscape and couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer glory of her surroundings.
While she had lived near the countryside, the road beside her house happened to be the only connection between two major highways, and she often found herself suffocated by thick clouds of black smoke produced by continuous deluge of oncoming traffic.
She took in a deep breath, sucking in the freshest air she had ever inhaled. Yet, the longer she observed, the more she felt something was not quite right. Turning her attention to the ground, she noticed a multitude of cracks and ruts that extended without end.
“Looks like I was not tripping over nothing last night,” she mumbled earnestly, remembering her exhausting struggle just a few hours ago.
The sun rose higher, revealing a dazzling, cloudless cerulean sky. At the same time, her vision improved greatly with the increasing light intensity.
Florence looked around in surprise.
What she had assumed was a forest last night was actually a desolate wasteland.
Glancing around, she rubbed her eyes repeatedly, then frowned as she felt like there was some kind of film over her vision. Everything was slightly out of focus unless she brought it very close to her face.
It was like her short-sighted vision but many times worse.
“Must be the lighting,” she sighed gravely. It had been a long time since she could see properly without glasses. Being in bed before she was transported over, her glasses naturally did not have any chance to tag along.
She couldn’t help but imagine how beautiful the world would be if she possessed perfect vision.
Taking a closer look at her surroundings, she frowned as none of the vegetation seemed to be alive. Save for a few stragglers, all the trees beyond the clearing appeared to be dead.
She walked to the edge of the clearing and peered meticulously at one of the neighbouring trees. Bare branches jutted out in all directions from a skinny but tall trunk.
A bizarre, silvery sheen coated the tree, made of some kind of substance she could not identify.
She glanced at the ground just underneath the branches and crouched down, surveying the exposed roots for any sign of leaves. All she could detect was a fine powder, its feathery texture similar to the leaves she slept on last night.
Florence stood up and gazed at the trees with a weird look in her eyes.
“These trees have been dead for a very long time,” she finally stated, walking further out to examine more of the dried up vegetation.
The cursory investigation confirmed her suspicions. The silvery substance coated all the plants she inspected. Everything was dead without even the slightest hint of life.
Something seemed terribly wrong.
A spicy, fragrant scent wafted past her, its aroma carrying the sharp notes of rich spices.
“Smells like cloves! How delicious,” she blurted out in surprise. The source of the smell was a thick, creeping fog the shade of pale asparagus.
It had appeared out of thin air— literally.
The scope of the fog quickly expanded until it shrouded the whole forest with its scent, noticeably obscuring her vision. Strangely, the fog seemed to avoid the clearing and made a wide detour around its circumference.
As she continued to stare at the fog, a wisp broke away from its original mass and made its way towards her.
“What a strange fog,” she hummed, as she gingerly reached out to touch it. The wisp travelled faster towards her, as if excited by her beckoning.
As soon as they made contact, Florence felt her body go numb.
A sickly-sweet taste rose in her throat and she felt an overwhelming urge to lie down and take a nap.
Drowsiness overcame her in waves, each one stronger than the last.
Alarm bells rang in her head as she tried to pull away from wisp, but as if paralyzed, her body did not seem to acknowledge her commands. Kicking hard into the ground, she sent dirt and leaf dust flying as she twisted away from the malevolent phenomena.
“I refuse to die like this!” she spat out as she continued to fight the rising waves of fatigue. She reached back and felt herself touch the inside of the clearing. As if stunned, the wisp contorted and froze.
Rousing up the last of her strength, she pulled herself free, staggering backwards into the clearing and felt the lethargic spell wane instantaneously.
“How perverse.” she breathed wearily after a long pause. That fog was simply too sinister! Who knew that such a nice smelling thing would be this dangerous.
“!!!”
She scrambled back hurriedly. The wisp had regained its mobility and started creeping towards her.
“Go away!” she cried out hatefully, still continuously taking many steps back from its vicinity.
It simply drifted towards her in a delicate fashion, sauntering towards her at a slow but constant pace.
Then it stopped.
The moment it moved a few centimeters closer into the clearing, it froze again like before, but this time with more explicit actions.
Jerking around frantically as if being stung by a bee, it continued in its erratic movements until it finally broke free, charging outside the clearing and merging back into the main horde.
After waiting for a while, it seemed that the fog would not come into the clearing.
She sighed in relief.
If she did not venture out of the clearing, it seemed that the fog would leave her alone.
“Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” she huffed, and decided to take a walk around the clearing to make sure that the fog would not enter from any other direction.
As she patrolled the circumference, she noticed a plant growing at the very edge of the clearing. A young scaly tree shoot poked through the dry leaves from inside the clearing, but part of it was situated beyond the boundary.
A lone wisp of fog approached its exposed limb and caressed its budding leaves, stroking with a careless demeanor.
The shoot began to shiver uncontrollably when the fog touched the surface of its body.
Eventually the strain of its shaking was too much for the stem to bear, and with a loud snapping sound, the stem broke, causing the shoot to fall directly outside the boundary.
To her horror, the appearance of the shoot rapidly deteriorated and a silvery sheen crept up its stem. It was only until the entire shoot was thoroughly coated that the wisp finally left, merging back into its original mass.
Once the wisp of fog left the vicinity, she approached the plant carefully. Picking up a stick from the ground, she poked it and watched with a sick fascination as it crumbled to dust, leaving behind a lingering odor of decay in its wake.
She immediately recalled the ‘forest’ of silver-glazed vegetation.
“So this is the source of the death,” she breathed in revulsion. She was wide awake now and very vigilant of her surroundings.
Thinking back to her time outside the clearing, she thought herself extremely lucky not to have encountered this sinister fog.
A sliver of fear shot through her body as she made a mental note not to go out of the clearing for the time being.
— —
As she walked back to the house, she realized that the house was situated right at the center of the clearing. This feature was much more apparent under the bright radiance of the sun.
“How peculiar,” she declared. It was as if the clearing had grown around the house, the plants getting taller as she moved closer to the center.
She also did not miss the fact that none of the plants seemed to have died from the strange silvery sheen, but instead from the lack of water. In fact, greenery thrived along the banks of the gurgling brook just opposite the backyard.
She thought of the brilliant runes that had appeared out of nowhere, and the bizarre energy that ran through the ornate fence.
“Perhaps the whole building is responsible for holding the fog at bay,” she mused seriously, looking at the house once more.
However, wouldn’t this mean that only the area within the building would be untouched? This did not hold true considering the large radius of the clearing that clearly extended at least a hundred meters from where the house stood.
Stumped by this puzzle, she decided to investigate the building for any clues. She hastily walked back to the backyard where she slept and snooped around for anything out of the ordinary.
After a long period of fruitless searching, she gave up and sat back down on her bed of dry leaves.
“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” she muttered, completely miffed at her waste of time.
Looking down dejectedly, a dark furrow under the bed of leaves she was sitting on caught her attention. It was so narrow that it would have been impossible for her to see it while standing up.
From the front, it seemed that it was connected to the house, but the channel continued until it hit the fence, where it merged into the base of the metallic structure.
It was as if a switch had been flipped in her brain as she noticed more and more lines that extended, connecting the house to the fence.
She recalled that back in her old home, a contractor had been kind enough to install the internet for her, which allowed her to keep up to date with the news. However, she had quickly terminated the plan after the bills racked up without limit.
During that time, the contractor explained to her that the device in her house emitted signals— he called it ‘radio waves’ that were invisible but had the ability to reach far beyond the scope of what she thought was possible.
It really was quite handy— she could read a news article in her bedroom which was at least two doors away!
Perhaps the fence acted in the same way— projecting some kind of signal powered by the house that ultimately kept the fog at the edge of the clearing. This could also explain why the clearing stopped extending past a fixed distance, limited by the range of the signal.
It also explained how a clearing suddenly appeared in the middle of such thick and poisonous fog.
However, Florence wasn’t too quick to jump to conclusions. She did not want to risk being too complacent against such a terrifying enemy.
“I guess the only way to know for sure would be to ask the owner of this house,” she stated solemnly.
If the house would let her in for that matter.
She turned back to the subject in question and walked swiftly towards the tall building, mind set on checking out the interior. By hook or by crook she would definitely get inside, even if she had to break down a few windows!
She was determined to enter, if not for the mystery that surrounded this clearing, but simply for a proper place to sleep.
She could still feel the cold chill of last night.
She stared at the enormous building looming in front of her.
Was the house really that tall?
In the bright daylight, she could see inscriptions that covered the windowsills and ran up the sides of the supports. Creeping closer to the front, she was about to pounce on the door when it suddenly opened with a low groan.
Bewildered for a moment, she quickly took the opportunity to rush in, pushing the door wide open.
She stood inside the house, glaring at the door as if daring it to slam shut on her again.
The door made no response and simply hung on its hinges, carelessly swaying in the warm breeze. The door seemed to have lost its vigor and had reclaimed its weakened, vulnerable condition.
Taking a step closer, she put a firm grasp on the doorknob, turning it and shutting the door. Waiting for a moment, it seemed as if the runes would not activate again like last night.
She carefully opened the door, fully expecting some resistance against her push.
Nothing.
The door swung open easily, feeling as light as a feather.
She triumphantly opened and closed the door a few times, satisfaction causing her eyes to narrow into shallow crescent moons.
The door was left open in the end, as she wanted to air the house out.
“No use sleeping in the house if it’s full of dust,” she announced in a matter of fact tone. She was used to cleaning up when she lived by herself, so she expected that it wouldn’t be too different here.
Walking to the closest window, she pushed it open with some effort, causing a torrential shower of grime to come crashing onto the already dusty floor. Already having the intention to clean the place up, she couldn’t help but sigh helplessly.
“Looks like this will take a while,” she muttered to herself. She was already getting a little tired from moving the dust into a pile in the center
The house was actually very spacious and comfortable.
Not only was it big, it also came fully furnished!
Beds adorned three large rooms, and while the sheets were very musty, she found no evidence of mold or moth damage. The stairs led up to an attic filled with bookshelves, although all of them were completely empty.
Another set of stairs led to a basement, but she did not dare to go down yet, feeling that she has had enough surprises for today.
“It’s wise not to tempt fate,” she stated seriously, deciding to leave that exploration to another day.
The crowning jewel of the building was the kitchen and living area. Dusty bar stools sat beneath a long wooden counter where the slim glass pitcher still stood untouched. A gas stove sat in the far corner, unused, but dry and probably out of fuel.
Brushing her hand across the sharp grain of the wooden counter, she felt very pleased.
“Sturdy wood,” she remarked casually, admiring the firm texture that did not feel brittle at all.
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Taking the stairs that led up into the attic, she slowly perused the storage area, examining each bookshelf carefully. Strangely, the empty bookcases held a faint burnt scent, which emanated from dark burn marks that spidered up the sides of the wooden panels.
“Just what happened here?” she mumbled uncertainly, refusing to believe that someone would own so many bookshelves without a single book.
A warm breeze blew in through the open windows, slightly disturbing ancient curtains that furbished them.
She flinched back uncertainly, memories of her morning ‘adventure’ prompting her not to take any chances.
Seeing that it was just the wind, she sighed in relief and leaned back on one of the wooden shelves, causing it to shake slightly.
A dusty book sitting in the corner of the shelf tumbled to the ground, causing plumes of dust to billow throughout the attic. The cloud of dirt rushed past her nose, giving rise to a coughing fit.
She shivered.
She had not seen the book at all.
Even if her vision was bad, she certainly did not remember it being this terrible.
Now that she thought about it seriously, her view was rather fuzzy, and this couldn’t be entirely attributed to the low lighting conditions at sunrise. It was currently almost midday!
It was as if seeing through a filter that was highly dependent on sunlight. In the shadier expanse of the attic, she realized that her vision possessed hardly any depth of view, and it was almost like looking at a graphical background still.
Taking quick steps down the stairs, she carefully set the front door ajar with a barstool and speedily walked out into the sunlight. She bent down to observe a rock, examining carefully; memorizing the many facets and crevices that littered its surface.
Then she took the rock into the garden and placed it in heavy shade, located under the dried branches of a waist-height plant she couldn't identify.
Peering carefully at the rock again, she gasped as uneasiness washed over her.
The cracks in the rock had faded quite significantly, and while not obvious up close, the rock looked like a smooth pebble from a distance.
It seemed like her vision had deteriorated severely after arriving to this world, but her vision in the daylight did not seem different than usual?
Having almost non-existent low light vision — it was almost as if she wasn’t human!
She laughed at her own silliness.
“What a dangerous world,” she exclaimed impassively.
In the corner of the garden, a large tree overshadowed a rugged marble fountain. Florence had already inspected it long ago, as it was one of the first things she had to walk past when patrolling the circumference of the clearing.
A narrow fissure split the bottom of the barren basin that once held a rich assortment of aquatic plants. Sandy and dry to the touch, she did not identify anything of interest when she ran her hands along the inner surface.
Overshadowed by the gurgling of the brook, she did not notice when a stream of liquid suddenly spurted out from the fountain pipe, trickling slowly down the three tiers of marble and carrying with it a faint spicy scent of cloves.
— —
The day shone brightly as the sun continued its journey across the sky.
Florence was currently roaming the large garden, looking for the one resource she had been neglecting this whole time: Food.
“I can’t believe this,” she blurted out incredulously as yet another shrub crumbled to pieces under her touch. She had been searching for any kind of growth that could be eaten, but everything was either dead, dry, or crumbled into unrecognizable remains.
She had found a few berries underneath a small bush made entirely of branches. Holding them carefully to her mouth, she had been about to taste them when they disintegrated under her eyes, leaving behind a few shiny black seeds.
In utter disbelief, she realized that the slight touch of her breath was enough to cause the old plant matter to dissolve into dust.
However, the seeds on the other hand felt quite solid and she took them with her anyways.
“With how little there is of everything, I should not waste a single opportunity,” she proclaimed zealously, fully intending to attempt to plant the seeds.
A few more hours passed and she suddenly became aware of a weird sensation. It was as if she had started to become hungry, but suddenly felt full.
This pattern repeated over and over, and she felt it more acutely standing in brighter areas.
Walking under the overhead sun, she felt a comfortable feeling wash over her as the urge to lie down and bask in the sun took over.
Following her instincts, she closed her eyes and laid down on the spot. Unlike the clove-scented fog, this feeling of sleepiness carried a strong sense of security.
“I usually don’t eat much anyways,” she thought sluggishly, recalling the meager portions back in her old home. This time lying down on the hard earth did not even bother her. Instead, she felt great familiarity in the simple action, like lying on her bed in her own home.
She quickly fell asleep to the bright sunlight that embraced her body with its warmth.
— —
Florence opened her eyes and noticed the sun had moved far from its position directly overhead, the trees now casting longer shadows over her.
How long had she been asleep?
“I feel great,” she crowed happily. It was true, walking around she felt incredibly spirited and full of energy. Laughing for the first time since she arrived, she wandered tirelessly around the garden.
Everything was bright and sunny. At this moment, she felt that she couldn’t have been more content.
“If sleeping always gave me this much energy, I would sleep every hour of the day!” she exclaimed joyfully. She looked back at the hard ground with a fond expression on her face.
Gulp.
She began to become aware of a harrowing thirst that penetrated to the core of her being.
Looking at the ground again, the multitude of cracks now seemed to mock her predicament. At the same time, the continuous gurgling of the brook was like music tinkling harmoniously in her ears.
She quickly started walking to the brook in question.
After arriving at the bank of the brook, she marveled at the iridescent luster in the undulating ripples. At night, the moonlight painted it a luscious silver, but the blazing sun instead set the brook on ‘fire’, lending it a fiery gold iridescence.
Dipping her hands in the shimmering liquid, she felt a remarkably cool sensation which traveled to the depths of her body. She had not even brought the water to her lips yet!
Opalescent fishes the size of minnows zipped around the bottom of the brook lazily, eating what miniscule amount algae that could survive on the water-worn pebbles that littered the bottom of the stream.
“What a pretty color,” she observed appreciatively as she submerged more of her hand into the water.
“Seems that these fish are not affected by the poisonous fog?” she wondered bemusedly, but realized she hadn’t exactly inspected the stream as it moved outside the clearing.
That investigation would have to be carried out another day.
Fishes…
“Should i try rearing and catching fishes to eat?” she mumbled doubtfully to herself. However, she concluded that it would be hard to catch them considering her low mobility due to her age.
They moved very quickly, creating numerous ripples in a matter of minutes. It was completely impractical for her to catch even a single fish. In addition, the undulating surface of the brook also made it impossible to catch a glimpse of her reflection.
“It’s not like they have anywhere to go,” she stated seriously. The fishes would likely want to escape the fog and stay within the clearing.
She had all the time in the world.
Feeling a bit more comforted at the prospect of a future food source, she leaned down to take a sip from the sparkling water.
Ding!
After an extended period of photosynthesis, you have levelled up!
Acquired improved sensory perception!
Acquired true physical form!
(Please level up further to gain true vision)
She gasped piercingly as her vision sharpened without warning, imparting a sudden bout of nausea that wracked her system gratingly. At the same time, she felt her body contorting strangely as her form underwent a dramatic change.
Gagging wretchedly, she hunkered over to the bank of the stream, kneeling and bending her head between her knees to regain her senses.
What in bejabbers was that!?
The lingering resonance of the mechanical voice echoed in her head, filling her with fear.
“Hello?” she called out, half-hoping there would not be a reply.
Other than the steady gurgle of the brook, all was silent. It was as if she had imagined it all.
“What was that?” she voiced out her thoughts breathlessly, the nausea slowly passing from her body.
She glanced around in confusion. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary?
“Improved sensory perception? Photosynthesis?” she slowly repeated the terms that she understood but did not make sense together in this context.
“My system is weak, please don’t scare me like this and come out,” she called out randomly, not expecting anyone to answer.
Woosh.
In the midst of her words, a blue screen flickered into existence right in front of her face.
Frightened out of her wits, she yelped and fell backwards in a scurry.
“Who are you!” she yelled, panicking and immensely regretting her previous words.
There was no answer to her demands.
“Tell me who you are!” she cried out again, continuing to back away slowly from its glow.
In front of her, the screen followed her every step, maintaining a constant distance of about fifty centimetres from her face. It hummed softly, the gentle blue light reminding her of her flat screen TV a friend had gotten her about two years ago.
Blinking at the blue screen, she could not understand what it wanted. Continuing to take a few steps backwards, she froze as she felt a scaly tree at her back.
“Don’t come closer! I’m Warning You!” she threatened, breaking off a branch from the scaly tree and brandishing it in front of her with a snarl.
Hum.
The blue screen did not seem to acknowledge her words and floated idly towards her face, stopping at its usual fifty centimetre mark.
“I warned you!,” she said menacingly, striding towards the screen.
Holding the piece of wood in a tight grip, she swung down as hard as she could.
Hum.
The piece of wood phased through the screen with a pleasant sounding vibration, and it dissipated into countless points of light.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the lights faded, believing the threat to be over.
Carrying the piece of wood on her back, she made her way back to the brook to continue her refreshment.
Hum.
“!!!”
She looked around frantically, and a faint blue glow caught the corner of her eye. Whirling around, her vision took in the sight of the blue screen, still floating idly in front of her face.
“...”
“I’ll have you know it’s very rude to sneak up on someone while they are not looking,” she muttered hatefully.
With a large swipe, the screen burst again into fragments of light.
This time however, she scrutinized it very carefully. The fragments of light slowly agglomerated together until they formed a shining blue ball which quickly spread out into its familiar rectangular form.
Just before it could stabilize its figure, she sneaked up carefully and swiped as hard as she could once more, breaking up the rectangle back into its constituents.
The particles began its restoration anew, this time considerably faster, as if indignant at her antics.
Swipe.
Reform.
Swipe.
Reform.
Swipe.
...Reform.
“Ha!” She chuckled with glee. The monotonous action filled her with joy as she bullied the blue rectangle mercilessly. How therapeutic! Just as she was about to continue her fun, the mechanical voice rang once again in her head.
Host. Please stop doing that.
“Who’s that?” she asked loudly this time, wanting an answer.
“I know you can hear me,” she asked again, this time softening her tone in an effort to be more diplomatic.
She was met again with an infuriating silence.
“Alright, you asked for it!” she crowed gleefully as she picked up her pace. After all, an old woman like her needed good exercise.
Swipe.
Reform.
Swipe.
Reform.
Swipe.
Reform.
However, it looked like she would really get no answer.
Swipe.
Reform.
She swiped exactly 34 more times before giving up due to the the lack of response from the rectangle.
“Strange, I don’t seem to be so weak anymore?” she mumbled distractedly, leaning against the scaly tree to catch her breath.
She inhaled deeply and nodded solemnly. The heaviness that had sapped her strength on her way to the house had lessened immensely.
It looked like her increase in strength coincided with the mechanical voice.
Turning back to the the blue screen, she viewed it now in a more pleasant light.
“Don’t attack me,” she murmured, as she made her way closer to the screen. She brought a stick this time to poke at it, remembering her encounter with the poisonous fog.
There seemed to be some kind of writing on the screen. Stepping even closer, she peered at the rectangle cautiously.
Name: Florence Anselm Class: Mandragoral: A human who has been transformed into a mandrake. Level: 002 Skill(s) Level Cooking 16 (Disciple) Cleaning 13 (Disciple) Gardening 19 (Disciple) Textiles 17 (Disciple) Music 5 (Apprentice) Titles Effect
Lovable Old Granny
[Rare]
People have a tendency to be more trusting towards you. Special Skill(s) Level Song ?? ??? (locked) ??? (???)
Why was her name written on the screen?
Her eyes were drawn to the list of skills that took up the middle of the screen.
Reading each sentence carefully, she felt a little apprehensive as the details seemed all too familiar. It was like the screen had taken out the main attributes of her life and summarized it under the ‘skill section’.
She used to be a proficient piano player about 20 years ago, but had long since stopped due to the unavailability of the instrument. In contrast, she loved reading about gardening and often did handson work in her tiny plot of land back home.
Knitting and crocheting scarfs, socks and sweaters were also one of her favourite pastimes and it was a habit of hers to knit her projects just before bed.
Considering these events, they matched a little too perfectly to the skills and ranking, assuming being an ‘adept’ at a skill was better than being an ‘apprentice'.
Pondering this information carefully, an epiphany suddenly dawned upon her.
What if this information was about her. Kind of like a report that listed out one’s merits and ‘titles’ — a resume was what she finally came up with.
After all, who else could be the Lovable Old Granny except her? She definitely did not see any grannies around the area, or any other individuals for that matter.
“But why would there be a floating resume in front of me?” she muttered, thoroughly confused. She had long accepted the presence of magic, as nothing in the real world could explain everything that happened to her since she got here, or how she got here in the first place.
Glancing at the screen again, her eyes focussed near the top.
‘Class.’
“What is a ‘class’?” she muttered in confusion. She obviously had not taken any classes in a long time. Neither did she remember signing up for any of those ‘online classes’ that were all the rage back home. She didn’t even have internet to do so!
“Maan-drah-gaw-ruhl,” she pronounced the word slowly, letting the consonants and vowels roll over her tongue. She did not have the slightest inkling of what this could mean.
‘A human who has been transformed into a mandrake’
“...”
“Mandrake?” she murmured thoughtfully. The word sounded extremely familiar. Glancing at a plant growing by the stream, its green stem struck a chord in her mind.
“Ah!” she exclaimed triumphantly, as she finally remembered what it meant. Back when she was in touch with a colleague of hers, they went to an introductory Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) class which was just to familiarize themselves with traditional herbs used for medicine.
The Mandrake was a herb that especially stood out to her due to its unusual characteristic of being an almost useless plant that has long been phased out of Traditional Chinese Medicine.
In fact, the only reason why the instructors brought it out was to tell them that ‘modern’ TCM very, very rarely used this plant and to be very careful handling it as it had a considerable level of toxicity.
A fish flipped in the water, splashing a few drops on her face. The cool liquid drew her out of her recollections as she looked back at the blue screen.
The meaning of the sentence suddenly registered.
“A human who has been TRANSFORMED into a Mandrake!?” she cried out in alarm.
If ‘transformed’ meant what she thought it meant, then...
A creeping feeling of unease prickled through her spine, though at this point she wondered if she even had a spine
She looked down at her body, raising her arms as high as she could or should she say ‘roots’ as high as she could.
How did she not notice the change to her body? She had so much fun swiping the system that she neglected to check herself after the nausea passed. She vowed never to be distracted again.
She looked down carefully again, curious but also scared at what she might find.
Her body was a thick, stout tap root that extended downwards, gradually thinning as it reached the bottom where it forked into two twin roots — ‘legs’ she figured.
Both of her arms were side taproots that extended off the main taproots. Surprisingly, the tinier fibrous roots that covered her ‘arms’ allowed her to grip normally, which was probably why she did not notice a difference when swiping the screen while gripping the scaly tree branch.
In addition, her ‘arms’ had a surprisingly exceptional sense of mobility. If anything, she would agree that it felt rather normal.
But what about her face?
She gulped with apprehension.
She approached a shallower section of the brook, where fishes rarely swam to allow for a cleaner reflection.
Standing at the very edge of the bank, she took a deep breath and peered into the stream.
“...”
She grimaced at her reflection.
What is this strange kind of development!!?
To say that she was ugly would be a massive understatement.
She was exceedingly monstrous.
The ‘mouth’ she drank water from was a tiny hole embedded in the main taproot that extended from her body. If she felt that she was short before, she would be miniscule now considering that she was about ¾ the height of a sapling.
At the top of her head, three straggly stems poked out, slightly wilted but holding large green leaves.
Her eyes were two tiny buttons that dotted the top of her face. Two soulless shiny black circles with no whites. How terrifying! Staring at her blinking reflection really gave her the chills.
At least they were proportioned correctly.
However, it looked like she was missing a nose.
It was like someone took the extra bits of her height and added it to her waist. Then scrunched her whole body down until she became an ugly gremlin.
Except that she was a plant.
And don’t forget the wrinkles.
The leathery, wrinkled brown skin coated the bottom of her roots and gradually gave way to a pale off-white at the top of her head, which was just as wrinkled. The wrinkles caught the light splendidly, giving her an incredibly mottled ugly appearance.
Leaning closer to the surface of the water, she noticed many fine wrinkles that branched from the large wrinkles which all merged together to form a giant maze of wrinkles.
As she was gawking at her reflection, she noticed something moving up one of her root legs.
A stray worm-like creature the size of a wiener inched its way slowly up her root. It was very puckered in appearance and seemed very plump and juicy. It wriggled happily, and it seemed that her wrinkles provided ample traction for the creature to traverse up her body.
She gagged.
“Its okay, it must be very normal,” she reassured herself shakily. Many plants have mutualistic relationships with worms, and maybe this one was her partner.
Still, she inwardly grimaced at the idea of having a worm as her associate.
No.
No matter how much of a gardener she was, this relationship was simply not possible.
With that in mind, she quickly picked up the worm and crushed it beneath her root. It created a gurgling sound and released a foul smelling odor that quickly dissipated in the wind.
Continuously gagging, she quickly dipped her root into the brook and watched as the remains of the worm slowly washed off into the distance, where they were quickly attacked by the many fishes that inhabited the water.
“Finally that’s dealt with,” she sighed in relief. She shuddered in disgust as she thought of that worm wriggling on her body this whole time.
“I must find a way to keep these disgusting creatures away from me,” she stated resolutely as she turned back towards the building, intent on finishing the cleanup.
As she turned away from the water, the corner of her eye caught sight of a familiar movement on her other root.
A second worm.
Florence suppressed the urge to scream.