Her name is Mary, with long black hair that draped down to her breasts, a colorful sundress, and an apron to fill the role she'd set herself into. Married with one kid, her ilk you may call it. Just a moment ago, Allen had called; Gryce had been hurt. It was a mother's job, no, her instinct to do so, and of course, she felt it. Aside from everything, she loved her child, even if repressed emotions leaked through the seams, and yet she didn't move from her spot.
Sitting down, her arms resting by her side, but her neck was stiff; if by choice or simply sheer wonder, she couldn't move. It'd been like this for some time now. Gryce's door was open, but there was something else there, bright and shining just like it'd been on the rock outside. Only now had its roots extended far beyond anything natural, engulfing every nook and cranny in a desperate attempt to find the light, and it eventually did, evident from the shimmers of shattered glass that glowed under the streams of sunlight that made their way through.
No eyes, no mouth, no hands, and yet it was as if the two of them were at a standstill, enacted by the flower itself. Like a distant whisper imploring you to notice it, look at me, don't take your eyes off me, don't hurt me. The Green Door implores her to come deeper inside the hole, a welcoming heat enveloping her in a hug that'd never let her go. A promise that the ground would protect her, that's what it told her, that at the end of this, at the end, all things would return whence they came.
There was a knock at the door.
"Excuse me, my name is Wendy; I'm a coworker of your husband. Can I come in?"
Marry whipped her head away from the door and held her chest in a desperate need to gain her strength back. She wasn't even sure if she could yell out for help, afraid that using anything at this point would make the progress she'd made pointless. But despite her worry, after a few moments, most of her strength had come back, and she was able to stand.
"Excuse me, Mary, I just have a few words. If you could open the door, that'd be—"
The door swung open, and Mary slammed the door behind her. "Don't go inside that house." She said, panting.
"What happened to you?" Mary asked, helping her down the steps. In the quick image of the bare steps, the dirt of the modest garden came through as well, and in that image, something was growing. A root from an indiscernible point of origin, large and healthy, and growing, growing, reaching for her.
She stomped with all her might, crushing the root into a mess of green.
"Why the hell did you come here for?" Mary snapped, tearing herself away from Wendy.
"I'm sorry, your husband told me to check on you since you weren't at the hospital yet.
"I'm fine!" Her mind drifted off into the mess of green as smaller vines began to squirm out of the open sores and attempt to reform. "I'm…fine. With clouded vision, she kneeled, scrapping her dress against the ground, and took a chunk of green flesh in her hand. Without others like it, the tiny roots attempted to burrow themselves inside her hand, rubbing against her skin like little pieces of sandpaper, trying to tear layer by layer of skin until it could breach life, the essence of humans, their nectar. She tossed the chunk onto the bare concrete and slowly watched it shrivel up into a ball of gray dust, blowing away as a stray wind was cast among them.
What was this? She'd never seen anything like this, and she was confident no one else had. Surely her house wasn't the only one being affected by this. Was that Sunflower truly the cause of all this? It was a ridiculous thing to say, but what was almost as absurd was ruling it out completely, she thought.
The hum returned.
She'd opened the door; that woman, Wendy, had opened the door. That dull woman, against her warning, had decided it was best go inside a house she'd just warned against going inside. Leave and forget her, Mary said to herself, forcing herself to look away.
The hums became like flowing trees, their leaves swaying back and forth hypnotically, drawing you in as the glow behind them drew ever closer to engulfing it to engulfing you. The sun and all its heat, the petals of its lingering heat falling from its stature, embracing Mary as it eventually fell on her.
She'd stare at the flower and the Green Door as it welcomed them inside.