Mystery Plants In The Jungle
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A rumor says that in the jungle there are mystery plants that could eat a human being. A boy from another village was said to have been eaten alive by such plants and his body had never been found. He was only nine years old when he disappeared into the jungle with two friends after school hours, but he didn’t return home until it got dark and all of them were hungry.
They searched for him around the village but couldn’t find him. Finally, they decided to go back home without their friend because it was getting late. But on the way back they saw a strange plant where they had played before and suddenly one of them screamed: “Look! Look at that!”
Their friend was lying dead in front of it; his clothes were ripped open and covered with white sap, which oozed out of the plant’s mouth-like leaves as if he had just fallen into its mouth. His skin was peeled off and his eyes were popping up. One of his friends ran away screaming while the other turned pale and fell down.
When they tried to help him, they felt pain in their own faces and hands. The screams filled the air and the other children fled from the scene, leaving behind their friend who died right beside the mysterious plant.
There are many more similar stories like these about mystery plants in the jungle, and people believe that someday they will come across such plants when they enter the jungle. People don’t dare to cut down such plants thinking they might be poisonous.
The first thing I did after arriving here was to get rid of my old wooden house and build a new concrete house instead. My mother thought we should buy a generator too because it was getting darker earlier every evening. We now had electricity at night so we didn’t need candles anymore or lamps.
Though our house was no longer made of mud, it still looked like a cottage and was not much different from the houses of the villagers. It wasn’t even painted. I hated it because it reminded me of the village where I grew up. I also hated it because it was cold inside the house during wintertime.
Everyone else liked it because they could watch television comfortably and listen to music, and enjoy their favorite soap operas and talk shows.
We lived near a big river and the sound of its flowing water often lulled us to sleep. At night you could hear the sounds of crickets chirping outside, and sometimes monkeys screeching at each other, or owls hooting. On moonlit nights bats fluttered around the trees. Once we heard dogs barking in the distance and then we saw flashlights moving through the jungle.
There was obviously something wrong in the village because the lights kept flashing everywhere. Our neighbors came over and told us that someone was killed and his body was thrown into the river. After that, the flashlights disappeared and we never heard anything more about it.
One day I went out fishing with my father. We weren’t sure what kind of fish we would catch but we knew we would have fun trying. Dad taught me how to use a simple rod and reel. As soon as I hooked a fish, which was nothing unusual, I felt a sharp pain in my hand and fingers. I dropped the fish and took my hand out of the water.
Suddenly all the blood drained out of my face and I fainted. When I came to, I was in bed and my parents were standing over me. My father put his finger on the tip of my nose and asked me how bad it hurt. I told him it was very painful. He told me he had no idea what happened and seemed surprised.
But I remembered clearly that I had caught this fish using an electric hook and line. Then I began to think about whether we should use electric hooks and lines more often because they were certainly less dangerous than ordinary ones. When the police arrived, we were questioned for several days but there was no further news of the murder.
I thought it must be a coincidence and decided to forget about it, but later I started having nightmares. During the day I had strange hallucinations. I had seen a man in a suit walking along the river bank and he walked straight into the river and disappeared. That was the same place where my father had lost his finger and where the murdered boy had been thrown into the river.
Sometimes I could see the flashlights of policemen moving through the jungle and once I saw a woman sitting on top of a tree and staring at me. She wore a white dress and her hair was long and she had blue eyes. In the dream, I stood up and followed her, but I woke up when I reached the edge of the forest. I couldn’t remember anything of my dreams after that.
When I turned sixteen years old, I decided to take the driving test and pass it. I wanted to drive myself whenever I needed to go somewhere. The driver’s seat fitted me perfectly and the engine sounded great. I drove around town for a few weeks and though I was careful, I managed to cause quite a bit of damage.
I almost crashed into the market and another car when I was looking at something on the ground. One day I hit a bicycle and knocked off a wheel. I tried to apologize but the owner just laughed. He said he would fix the wheel himself. Some of the kids in the neighborhood thought it was funny too and started throwing rocks at me.
They pelted me with stones and one of them broke through my windshield. Since that incident, I stopped driving and took the bus and train wherever I needed to go. I spent a lot of my time reading books and listening to music.
Sometimes I went to the library to do research. The librarian always found me a quiet corner to work in. I often studied with the radio on loud and listened to a particular station that played classical music. I had fallen in love with a violin player who used to play on this particular channel and I would sit in front of my stereo singing along loudly to the songs he played.
The librarian had noticed me often sitting there alone and asked me why I preferred being by myself. I told her I didn’t really know. I liked the company of people and I loved going to parties and dances, but I also enjoyed spending time alone.
The librarian told me I was probably afraid of getting hurt again, so I withdrew from society. She suggested I might like to join the local gardening club, but I told her I hated gardening and that I wouldn’t have any interest in doing that. Then the librarian told me I should try writing.
She said I had a talent for it and I should write the things I liked and not worry if anyone read them. I thanked the librarian and promised to give it some thought.
As I got older, I became more interested in crime stories and horror novels. It must have been around nineteen or twenty-five years old when I first started dreaming about a woman wearing a white dress. Her face was never clear in my dreams but I could hear her voice. She called me by name and asked me to follow her.
Each night I would wake up sweating and swearing to get rid of these terrible nightmares. I decided to talk to someone about them. I went to the psychologist and told him about my dreams. “It sounds like you are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder,” he said. I nodded and agreed.
I was terrified of going back to sleep. Instead, I picked up a book and read until late in the morning. I slept well that night.
On my way home from the library I passed a small park and saw two teenage boys playing baseball. I watched them for a while. There was a pitcher’s mound and two bases, one on each side of the field. Both teams were made up of teenagers and they threw their ball hard as they tried to hit it into the opposing team’s outfield.
After a while, I heard the crack of bats against balls and both teams started arguing with the umpire. I left the game and walked towards the woods. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I needed to walk away from everything and everyone. I wanted to be free of all responsibility.
When I came to a clearing in the woods, I sat down on the grass and looked out at the trees. I could smell fresh air coming in from the open space. I felt better already and I decided to spend a couple of hours here before returning home. As the sun began its descent, I lay on the ground and closed my eyes. A few minutes later I was asleep.
I was awoken by a hand slapping my cheek and a scream. I opened my eyes and saw a woman standing over me. She was beautiful and her long hair fell down past her waistline. The light from the dying sun bathed her pale skin in a golden glow. Her dark blue eyes shone brightly. “Hello,” she said.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
She smiled and pointed behind me. I turned and saw a young man lying on his back. His throat was cut from ear to ear. Blood seeped out between the fingers of the person who had killed him. The killer wore a black dress and a pair of gloves. As soon as the murderer moved away, the boy’s body started to twitch.
He writhed and twisted as he tried to get up. I could see the blood pouring from his neck and pooling on the ground below. For a moment I thought the murderer would kill me too, but then I realized she hadn’t done anything yet. My mind was racing. I wondered what had happened.
Then I remembered I had been sleeping and that I had seen the woman in my dream. I felt frightened and confused. I stared at the dead boy, wondering how such a thing could happen and why I had dreamed about the woman in the white dress.
After a while the murderer walked closer to me. She stopped and held her hands above my head. The palms of her hands glowed red. I felt heat emanating from her hands and it burned my face. I screamed and tried to push her hands away but she grabbed me and pulled me to the floor. Blood poured out of the wounds on my chest as we struggled together.
I could feel something inside my stomach start to twist and turn as though it were trying to escape through my mouth. My eyes filled with tears and I gasped for breath. I was scared and hurting badly. As the pain grew worse, I became dizzy and my vision blurred. I couldn’t stop my legs from shaking, although I desperately tried.
I knew I was dying, but I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. The next thing I remember is being dragged across the grass and pushed onto a blanket laid out on the ground.
I woke up in my bed with an oxygen mask strapped to my face. I was alone and in great pain. I was afraid to move because of the stabbing sensation running from my chest to my groin. I recognized the noises I was hearing; they reminded me of the time I’d broken my leg as a child. For some reason, I was sure this was much worse than that.
My heart was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up, but I knew I wasn’t strong enough to do so. I listened carefully, not wanting to miss any sound. I heard voices downstairs and suspected my wife might return home early. While I waited for her, I prayed quietly.
A short while later she returned home, took one look at me, and asked if I was okay. I told her there was a bad pain in my chest and that I had called the doctor. I was crying and my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. I hoped I could hide my fear.
The nurse who brought my wife into the room said I should stay in bed until I got stronger. Then she checked my pulse and blood pressure and wrote down the results on a sheet of paper. I could tell my wife had noticed a difference in her husband. Her eyes were sad. It seemed she had known this day would come. She touched my arm and said, “I’m sorry.”
My wife kissed me and went to the kitchen to make coffee. I watched her walk away and then closed my eyes to try and rest. As I did, I thought I heard the door open again and close. I assumed it was the nurse checking on me.
There was a strange smell in the air and I realized it wasn’t hospital smells after all, but rather perfume. I wondered where she came from and what had happened to the woman I had seen in the white dress. I was still afraid, although I tried to pretend otherwise.
The next morning I was feeling better and decided to take a shower. While I stood under the water, I looked around my bathroom. There was a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap sitting on the shelf. I washed it thoroughly and then dried it off. As I dressed, I felt more alert and alive.
I found a note on the table from my wife telling me not to go anywhere. I was glad she’d stayed home. I had a busy day ahead of me and needed to be able to concentrate without worrying about my wife. I lay down in bed and drifted off to sleep.
When I awoke, I felt rested and ready to tackle the tasks awaiting me. I had a dozen meetings scheduled for that day and my assistant had already prepared several folders for me to review beforehand. After reading through each of them, I made notes and sent messages to my team members.
As I worked, I thought about the girl in the white dress and the way she had bled when the murderer stabbed her. I didn’t understand why such a terrible thing had happened and I worried I wouldn’t. I decided I would have to speak to the killer and find out. When I finally finished, I sat back and listened to the sounds coming from outside.
I could hear cars driving by and people walking on the sidewalk. I smiled at the thought of the beautiful summer weather. I loved the change in seasons; every year seemed to bring its own unique beauty.
As I listened to the street noises, I remembered how the woman in the white dress had spoken to me. She had said, ‘Every night.’ What did she mean? Did she intend to kill me too? I stared at the ceiling and tried to decide whether or not I should continue living. I decided I would live and do whatever I could to prevent other women from suffering the same fate as my wife.
I vowed to hunt down whoever was responsible for the deaths of these two women and put an end to their murderous spree. That evening when I went out, I would be armed and ready for anything. I would leave nothing to chance. If I couldn’t stop them with violence, I would use cunning instead.
I decided to go into town and take the train back. I would rent a car and drive to the scene of the crime. I wanted to see the place where the woman in white had died. I would make it my first priority.
The End