The Garden versus the Undead

It has been hours since the sun went down. The night is black and still. I carefully lift small mounds of dirt with my trowel and set them aside. Within the tiny chasm I place a seed. Such an innocent thing. But it is the beginning of an army. The start of a resistance.

With gentle words, a voice of authority, and the promise of a life lived with purpose, I coax the pea plant to grow for me. To thrive for me. To serve me. My plant responds and fills quickly to its fullest growth. It is ready.

At the very edge of my yard, I can hear it coming. It is only the first of many. A being once filled with life, now nothing more than an empty, clumsy, shuffling beast.

“Now, my beauty,” I whisper to my plant. “Expel the creature. Protect the garden. At all costs.”

From within the inner depths of the vegetable, I hear the telltale rattling of seed production. Its maw opens and my loyal plant issues forth a weapon. A single pea pod is tossed powerfully towards the shambling monstrosity of evil purpose.

It has begun.

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