“Snip, snip, snip”. Her Felco clippers imitated a metronome as she pruned the spent Heliconia leaves. This plant was at the edge of deep shade and in a seldom visited part of her garden. The little woman had been at it for what seemed hours.
Pausing beneath a towering Talipot palm she noticed the sky was turning a morbid shade of gray, adding an odd heaviness to her usually pleasant mood.
She was just so tired. Gardening never used to take it out of her like this. “ I guess it’s just old age” the woman thought. “My, wouldn’t it be nice to just take a little nap.” Looking left she noticed a dark void in the tangled roots that supported an ancient Ficus tree.
Pushing aside spider webs the gray haired gardener crept into the opening, sat down, and slowly slumped over, her head cradled against rough bark. As she closed her eyes the last things she noticed was a large bird in a near pine and a heavy odor, a thick miasma of decay entering her nostrils while she began to doze.
The odd dream slowly formed, in her mind’s eye she saw a curious looking bug and her own wizened hands pruning, clipping with the rusty shears …snip, snip, snip.
Snip , snip, snip…the drumbeat of the pruners grew louder and closer, slightly painful…snip, snip, snip.
SNIP, SNIP, SNIP…louder now…so loud and so close.… the pain increasing tenfold…it seemed to be .......................................................................
inside her head………………………………………………………............
..................................................................................for indeed........……………………………....
..................................................................................................................................................it was!