318. Don't Pick Your Rose!
Amy decides that nobody will notice one missing rose, and it looks too beautiful to just leave behind. She reaches out to take it and, as her hand grows closer and closer to the stem-
“Ouch!”
Amy pricks her finger on one of the rose's thorns, which managed to penetrate her glove. She immediately pulls the glove off and sucks on the scratch the thorn made. A voice in her head says, “Oh, great. Now you've done it.”
Amy has scant time to contemplate her encroaching schizophrenia, because she notices her skin is beginning to turn green at the point where she pricked her finger. Horrified, she watches as the greenness spreads up her arm and into her body. Soon it has spread down her legs, up her other arm, and into her head. Her hair turns from brown to a deep black, the same color as the rose she tried to pick, while her eyes turn yellow.
Amy feels a strong urge to hop into the planter. When she does, her feet burst from her shoes and form roots that dig deep into the ground. Amy feels refreshing life flowing up into her through her root-feet as she drinks deep from the ground water and absorbs the Earth's nutrients.
Amy's fingers each sprout a tiny rosebud at the tip, and stems begin growing from her skin. Amy smiles when she looks at them. She feels a connection to life and the planet that she never felt before, and she takes a moment to allow that feeling of oneness to wash over her.
“Oh great,” says the voice, “I got saddled with the Earth Mother.”
Amy continues to lose her human-like features and gain plant-like features. Her hair reforms and blooms into a great and glorious rose. Within a few days, Amy closes her eyes and never opens them again. She has lost all animal sensation and become a great black rose bush. The only trace of her humanity that remains is the faint outline of a human face on her main branch.
Amy is in no condition to continue this adventure or her life.