Corpse Flower

Posey didn't know the half-dead plant she carried home would soon murder ponies. All she knew was that she was stuck with a dying flower that meant the world to Phyllis.

So when she arrived at her house after the funeral, she grumpily planted the so-called rose in the sunniest spot of her garden and watered it. To keep its broken stem straight, she tied it to a twig she stuck in the ground.

Confident that it was ready, she summoned up her plant magic to begin the healing. Her hooves glowed green as she imagined new leaves and petals sprouting from a strong stem. To her surprise, she saw that nothing changed; her magic seemed to have no effect on it. Was it too far gone to save? Trying again, she watched as her magic enveloped the plant once more, but still nothing happened. Several attempts after that also failed.

At sunset, Posey quit for the day and stomped into her house. Suffering from a headache, she plopped down on her sofa and let out a loud sigh. She glanced at the stubborn plant through the window that faced her garden. Groaning, Posey rubbed her sore forehead and closed her eyes.

Thoughts of the tragic week filled her mind. Sprout had never seemed suicidal, so why had he killed himself? The rumor going around town was that he had jumped from a very high cliff somewhere, guessing from the shape his body was in, but nopony was sure. In the end, it was all awful—Sprout's death, his body washed up on the beach, the misery his mother was going through.

She had to admit she didn't feel the sorrow that Phyllis, Hitch, and Sunny felt. It was just that Sprout hadn't been somepony special to her. She remembered how much he had bugged her to go out with him. Even though he had been immensely annoying, she felt guilty for ignoring him. Maybe that's why she had gone to his funeral—to make it up to him somehow.

But instead of finding relief for her conscience, she had been burdened with yet another plant to take care of, as if she didn't have enough flowers to tend to already. With a huff, she got up to make herself dinner, hoping to temporarily get her mind off her problems.

When she stepped out into her garden early the next morning, a surprise was waiting for her. She couldn't believe what she saw. No longer was the rose ugly and shriveled—layers and layers of luscious, firey red petals topped a slender, leafy stalk. It had healed and grown as tall as her overnight! How did it become so alive after being practically dead? In disbelief she trotted a circle around it, eyeing it from all angles. She untied the now useless stick that had supported it. So my magic did work! thought Posey excitedly.

Wasting no time, she phoned Phyllis to tell her the good news. Phyllis arrived within minutes.

"Oh, Posey, you did it!" Phyllis exclaimed as she galloped up to the rose. She cupped it in her hooves as her tears of joy splashed on its petals. "How did you do it? It's so beautiful!"

That's what I want to know! Posey thought. "Honestly, I just planted it, worked some earth pony magic, went to bed, and when I woke up and came out here, I found it like this," Posey replied simply as she shrugged.

"Oh sugarcube, don't be so modest! Look at it, it's precious! Isn't it amazing how it's exactly the same red as Sprout's fur?"

Posey smiled politely, unsure how to respond. "I guess you can take it home now, Mrs. Cloverleaf," she said, grabbing a trowel to dig up the flower.

"That's just what I'm going to do, and I'm going to plant it right in the middle of my own garden."

Phyllis thoughtfully observed as Posey scooped up the rose and some soil and placed them into the clay pot. "Sugarcube,"—she put her hoof on Posey's shoulder—"I know I'm asking you on the spot, but would you like to be my personal gardener?"

"Um, I really can't—I already have my hooves full taking care of the flowers that I'm going to sell."

"Oh, I completely understand, I'm a businesspony too, you know. That's why I'll pay you double what you make selling flowers. You really should be my gardener. Really, Posey. You're the only pony that I can think of that deserves the honor of taking care of my Sprout."

Posey froze and looked at her with wide eyes.

"I mean the rose," explained Phyllis with a smile. "I'll call it Sprout."

Posey was quiet as she considered Phyllis' offer. "Well, when would I work exactly?"

"Come back to my house with me and see the garden yourself. We can work out the details there."

Half an hour later, the two mares were finished planting the rose in Phyllis' magnificent garden. Phyllis' luxurious home had a panoramic view of Maretime Bay and the sea, but Posey envied her overflowing flower garden full of spring blooms.

"Sprout's finally home," sighed Phyllis contentedly as she admired the newly-planted flower. She pushed a cushioned lawn chair close to the rose and took a seat.

Posey began, "Now that we've planted it—"

"He, sugarcube. Sprout is a he, not an it," corrected Phyllis, never taking her eyes off the rose.

Posey lifted an eyebrow, but continued. "Now that he's planted, I think I should get going… I guess I'll see you again when I come to tend your garden?"

Phyllis didn't respond.

Posey waited for her to say something. After a while, she headed for the gate of the fancy wrought iron fence that bordered the garden. Once she was out, she galloped down the grassy slope towards home. What is up with Phyllis?! Posey asked herself as her hooves thundered against the ground. She really thinks that rose is Sprout!

Mesmerized, Phyllis lovingly gazed at the rose, unaware that Posey had left. "Don't you worry, Sprout, Mommy will keep you safe," she whispered.

She held it in her forehooves and gave it a tender kiss, inhaling its sweetness.

"Ouch!" she cried out as a sharp pain brought her out of her trance. A thorn had pricked her hoof and she was bleeding. Her blood dripped onto the chair. "Oh, dear," she mumbled. "I'll be right back," Phyllis told the rose before going inside her house to get a bandage.

Sprout hoped she hurried. He had been separated from Mommy for too long already.