text: Deep in the Herman Hallow Forest, past the Kluen Family Farm and the Galloway Village, sat a little old house on top of a little old hill. Now, in that little old house on that little old hill sat a little old man and his little old wife, Winston and Beatrice McCloy. Little old Winston and little old Beatrice lived very happily in their little old house on their little old hill. They did not have any children in their life together, but that was no problem. They were perfectly content. Winston had worked his young life at his father's mill, and he had spent his adult life running it. Beatrice spent her time mending the villagers' clothing, as well as baking pastries and cooking meals for wives who needed help. There was nothing extraordinary about the couple, and there was nothing extraordinary about their little old house on their little old hill. But one day, when Winston was headed home from bringing Allen Kluen a casserole that Beatrice had made for his family, he stumbled upon a magic flower! It was purple and glowing and had a teeny tiny face on its teeny tiny centre. Winston gasped as he picked up the flower, gently cradling it in his hands. "Don't worry," he said to the flower, "I will take care of you." The flower smiled brightly at him as he gently sprinkled water on its teeny tiny petals. It seemed to bristle in happiness, leaves stretching in the new care it was receiving. "Oh, thank you, mister! I really needed that!" Winston smiled at the flower and cuddled the plant to his face. "Of course! Anything I can do to help!" The flower smiled as it sat up in his palm, saying, "I am not just a flower, sir. I am a magical flower. I can grant you any wish you would like! Just name it!" Winston thought for a moment. He could ask for endless money, and he and Beatrice would never have to work again. But, then again, he liked to work and they made enough money to live comfortably. He could ask for a younger, beautiful wife. But he loved Beatrice with all of his heart. He could ask for a new mansion! But he loved his little old house on his little old hill. He wasn't sure, but he pursed his lips and nodded. "I want to be happy for the rest of my life!" he decided. The flower smiled at him and nodded, saying, "Then all you have to do is kill Beatrice." Winston was horrified! "K-Kill Beatrice? You want me to kill my wife?!" The flower seemed to grow cooler in his hands, its petals darker, yet its smile grew larger. It shrugged. "You said you want to live the rest of your life happily, right? Well, how can you do that with the nagging, free loading, good for nothing wife at your side?" Winston furrowed his eyebrows at the flower. He loved Beatrice! He could never harm a single hair I her head! How dare it speak to him like this! But before he could protest, the flower shrugged again. "But hey, that's up to you. Now that I've told you how to be happy for the rest of your life, I'll go back to being a regular flower until another waters me as you did." Winston was amazed. "If another waters you, they get a wish?" he asked. The flower nodded. "Yes. Until another waters me, I will be a regular flower during the day. At night, I will come to life, but only you will be able to see me move and hear me speak." Winston realised that he could not let this flower fall into the wrong hands. It was an evil flower. But the flower seemed to know what he was thinking and let out a shrill laugh, "You can't kill me, Winston McCloy. I'm magical." "Then I will never let another water you ever again. I will keep you by my side and make sure nobody sees your evil little heart," Winston decided. He tucked the flower in his pocket and headed home." ~ * ~ "Oh! What a lovely little flower!" Beatrice squealed as Winston dropped the flower into a cup of water. So long as the flower was in water, Beatrice would never feel the urge to water it. Winston nodded grimly, wanting to tell his wife to never go near or water the flower. But his little old wife was stubborn and telling her not to do it would only ensure that she did. So he kept quiet. "Where did you find it?" Beatrice asked him. "Just on my way home. What's for dinner?" Winston asked as he started to take his boots and coat off. Beatrice smacked her head in shock. "Oh, I've forgotten to put the ham in the oven! I'm sorry, Winny. It'll be an hour or so before dinner." Winston felt his stomach rumble, and his gaze moved to the flower. He could've sworn it was grinning to at him wickedly. "It's okay, Bea. I can wait." He went to his office, the flower in hand. He set the little cup on the windowsill and sat in his chair, staring at the flower until he was called for dinner. It whispered things to him, things he did not want to think about. He could not live without his wife, even if she was hard headed and stubborn and forgetful. Every morning, Winston changed the water in the cup. Every evening, he listened to its evil little whispers. "She's so annoying. What does she do all day? She's always late on dinner. She has an annoying laugh! Life would be so much better without her. Her head would make a lovely addition to the mantelpiece." Every day, its petals darkened along with his heart. He didn't sit with it at first. Not that it mattered. No matter where he was, he could hear the whisper as if it was directly beside his ear. He started to notice things, as well. Beatrice was clumsy. She was nosy. She made food for everybody and their family, but she never seemed able to have dinner ready on time. She nagged him day in and out about everything, from his shoes in the doorway to being even 5 minutes late. "Winston, you've tracked mud in!" "Winston, you can't be serious about that stench. You need to wash up immediately!" "Winston, why make a pot of coffee if you're just going to drink one cup?" "Must you insist on leaving your hats on the dining table?" "Dinner is running late, Winston, I forgot the marinade in the freezer." "Wash your hands before you eat!" "Did you remember to drop off the casserole at the Kluens'?" "Dinner will be up in a half hour, Winston, the chicken took a while to thaw." "Did you remember to water that flower of yours, Winston?" "Did you buy hand towels like I asked?" "Dinner will be late, Winston. Time just flew by today! Watched my shows, took a nap, and next thing I know, you're home!" "Dinner will be late." "Dinner will be late." "Dinner will be late." ~*~ "Are ready to be happy, Winston?" the flower asked him one night. Hatred had grown and harboured in his heart for the entire fortnight the flower had been with them. But he could not bring himself to murder his own wife. "Please. Please stop. No more," he begged. He was tired. He wanted the whispering to stop. "If you want it to stop, then you know what to do." The flower smiled at him brightly. Winston angrily stormed out and went to sleep, turning his back on Beatrice with her damned cold feet. Icicles seemed to cling to her lower appendages, but his rage kept his body warm as he faded off to a world where he was free from her annoyances. ~*~ The next morning, Winston woke up late. He rushed out of the house to get to his meeting on time. He barely made it with a breath to spare. The time flew by. He kept busy, and he put his all into the presentation. It wasn't until he was headed home afterward that he thought he had forgotten to water the plant. But when he got home, he was happy to see that the water levels were to par. He was pleased that, even in his rush, he remembered to save the world from yet another monster. "Perhaps I just needed a change of perspective. Maybe I was just imagining that stupid little flower due to the stress. That's probably it. There's no such thing as stupid, magic flowers," Winston thought to himself. The meeting had gone well, and he was in a good mood. Beatrice had made dinner early, and he didn't hear the voice at all while he was doting on his wife, happiness flooding his heart once again. He loved her. He could never kill her. He went to bed that night with an empty ear and a full heart. ~*~ "Didja hear about the McCloys?" Allen Kluen asked Boom Trevor at the general store in the village. Boom tilted his head with a half-hearted chuckle. "Did Winston finally get thrown in the pen? Enough bruises and cuts on Beatrice to throw him away for life, but she just had to defend him. Loved him to death." Allen nodded gravely. "To death is right. Winston didn't come to work the last few days. Sheriff went to their house on the hill to look for him." Boom gasped and looked at Allen with wide eyes. He couldn't believe it. His hands shook as he asked, "He did it? He finally killed her?" Allen shook his head. "Actually, they found Winston's head on the kitchen table. Beatrice had cooked his body into a dozen different meals, including casseroles that she had labelled to give to the neighbours. She had been eating him for 3 days. When they found her, she was whispering, 'Happy for the rest of my life.' They say she was putting chunks of his flesh into a little cup with a little purple flower in it." Boom's jaw had dropped. He was astounded. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Allen continued talking, but Boom wasn't really listening anymore. "Yeah, so they took her into custody, and the sheriff gave the flower to his little girl to take care of." Boom still couldn't get over it; little old Beatrice had killed her little old husband in their little old house on their little old hill.