By Laily Berjis, TIWP Student

Mr. Arthur Linden stalked the halls of his home. He peeked through the windows of the grand entrance, looking for the carriage. His niece, Evelyn Hutton, should be here any second. He turned around and continued to stalk the hallway. He soon came about the dining room, and upon entrance, he was hit with a truly delectable aroma. Steak, potatoes, and parsnips adorned the large table, set with the most beautiful china. He smiled and turned around. There was Butler Scott, holding a platter of caviar and crackers. 

“She’ll be here soon, Sir,” he said in a slow, calm voice. Mr. Linden reached for the platter, taking a cracker. Then Cook Saval came in, with her orange hair flowing down her back to her knees. 

“Hello Sir,” she started. “I have prepared your favorite.” Then, finally, she bowed and left the room. 

The doorbell sounded loud and clear, and Mr. Linden turned toward the entrance, smoothing down his suit. He took extensive strides toward the door, Butler following close behind. The grand doors opened wide, revealing a girl with smooth blond hair tugged back tightly into a bun. Her eyes reflected the light of the hall and shimmered emerald green. She was holding a piece of luggage and was wearing cargo pants and a turtle neck. She stepped into the home and dropped her bag. “Welcome, Evie,” Mr. Linden warmly said, sweeping his arms.

Evelyn hugged her uncle. “Hey, Arthur,” she said with much frisson.

“Butler,” she said, nodding her head at him.

“Let’s go get some dinner,” Mr. Linden said. “You must be famished.”

They walked down the hall, Butler leaving to get Evelyn’s room ready. “Can we get my favorite?” Evelyn asked.

“My dear,” Mr. Linden responded. “I had Chef make it just for you.” 

Evelyn’s cheerfulness rose and threatened to blow the roof off the house. Cook’s food was always the best, and she had fond memories of her steaks. She entered the dining room and breathed in the aroma. She floated to the table and took a seat. No sooner had they all sat down than everyone started shoveling food onto their plates and into their mouths. It was the most delicious thing Evelyn had tasted in years. She could barely finish her last bite. When she was done, she got up and hugged her uncle goodbye. “Have fun on your work trip!” Evelyn said as he descended the steps to his carriage. 

She closed the grand doors and ambled around the halls. Chef had gone to bed, and Butler was always awake when you needed him. She wandered to the west wing and found herself in a beautiful library with a hearth burning brightly and chairs with satin pillows. Evelyn walked through the rows and rows of bookshelves until she felt as though she would collapse from exhaustion. She scanned the row of books in front of her, feeling the backs of them. She found an odd-looking book, tugged it out of its place, and looked at the cover. There was no title. Instead, there were intricate drawings of vines snaking up the body of the book. “How peculiar.” She traced the vines up the book and opened it. The first page had pictures of a small girl, and the type was worn and splotchy, and the color of vines. She scanned the page and could barely make out what it said. It read: 

Green will come, and you can’t stop it.

Evelyn stared at the words, not knowing what they meant. Finally, she turned her attention to the drawings of the girl. This girl had very short hair and wore a short dress with vines and birds. Evelyn took the book, left the west wing, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She changed, brushed her teeth, and settled into bed with the book. She flipped to the second page and started reading.

Vines are like humans. They strangle each other till they break and fight for resources, day and night.

Evelyn’s eyelids began to droop, and she soon found herself fast asleep. While she was sleeping, Vines sprouted from the book. They multiplied and wrapped around the room, blocking out all the light that shone through the window. Evelyn awoke around 2:00 a.m. and screamed. Her room was pitch black, with snaking vines reaching out the window. She tried to get up, but the vines were holding her down. Evelyn screamed for help, knowing that Butler would come to save her. But her scream reached someone else – the groundskeeper, whose name was Anthony. He heard the shrill scream and raced up the stairs to Evelyn’s room. He tried to open the door, but it was stuck.

The vines were holding the door closed. Anthony grunted and tugged again. He heard the sound of plants snapping, and with all his strength, he shoved the door. Anthony looked around the room with a look of astonishment on his face. The room was black, with vines snaking up the walls. He took a careful step in, and the vines cleared a place for his foot, only to close on it and hold on tightly. He struggled against the vines, but they grabbed his other foot and hung him upside down. He screeched wildly and flailed his limbs, to no avail. The vines cleared from the place where the window was and shoved the wailing groundskeeper through, his wailing the only sound for minutes. Evelyn cringed and the vines quickly covered the window back up. Just then, Butler walked through the doorway, holding some pruning scissors. He walked toward the book, clipping vines as he went. He grabbed the book and cut it in half with one swift movement. The vines immediately disappeared, and the book turned to ash, littering the floor with gray-black dust. “Get some sleep,” Butler said. “Mr. Linden will be back soon.” 

He left the room, leaving Evelyn to gawk at the doorway. She turned her head and looked at the spot where the book had been, now a pile of ashes, and scooped them up. She walked toward her small window and threw the ashes out of it. The following day, when she awoke, she looked out the window, at the sprouting vines, from where she had thrown the ashes of what she now called, The Book Of Vines And Death.