The Seedy Stalkers in the Dark

It wasn’t the first time the vegetables had come to life, but this time, something had changed. The tomatoes, carrots, eggplants, and squash that had been cursed were not simply moving—they were hunting, stalking.

Late into the night, the lighthouse stood shrouded in darkness, Quaraun and BoomFuzzy asleep beneath the thick fur pelts that lined their bed. But even in sleep, Quaraun felt the stirring, a gnawing presence at the edges of his awareness, like a whisper in the dark, urging him to wake.

Something was creeping toward him.

His eyes snapped open, his breath sharp and shallow. BoomFuzzy stirred beside him, groaning softly, his hand instinctively reaching out to Quaraun.

The lighthouse was too still.

Then, the faintest sound—a rustling, like dry leaves scraping against the stone floor.

Slowly, Quaraun rose from the bed, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. He moved toward the kitchen, the silence around him oppressive.

And then he saw it: the tomatoes, slick and pulsating, lined up along the edge of the kitchen counter. But they weren’t still.

They were watching him.

They were waiting.

Watching.

Waiting.

Unnerving.

"Unicorn," Quaraun hissed under his breath, his voice trembling with a strange mix of fascination and fear. "They are awake."

BoomFuzzy, a Phooka with Fae Step Blinking abilities, was at his side in an instant, his hand on Quaraun's shoulder.

"Stay back, Love," the old Fae King warned, his voice firm. “These things… they ain't like the rest. Ya've gone too far this time.”

Quaraun’s gaze never left the tomatoes as they slowly began to roll toward him, their stems twisting unnaturally, reaching for his bare feet.

“We have to leave,” Quaraun whispered, his voice hollow. “We have to burn them all.”

But it was already too late.

The squash had already reached the door, and the carrots, with their sharp, jagged edges, were already slicing through the air, coming closer, the garden stalking them through the night, one step at a time.

The only way out now was to fight.

| ©2025 Wendy Christine Allen | All Rights Reserved |