Reconnecting with Nature: a flash fiction horror

Her fingers flew over the keys, eyes absorbed. I shook my head, exasperated. She couldn’t get off that damn phone. “Lyra, look at that view!”

I waved toward the breath-taking vista of orange and green, the mixture of fall trees trailing down the mountain. “Can’t you just…. you know. Disconnect for a while?”

“Just one second,” Lyra murmured, eyes glued to the screen.

I sighed again, adjusting the camera bag on my hip. I was only here because Lyra had been sent here to try out the wines, but I had hoped to connect with her more on the trip. There had to be something under the perfectly coiffed Instagram influencer, surely? I was starting to wonder.

I walked out towards the rows of plants, seeing grapes nestle underneath. The light was warm, as you would expect when golden hour approached. I knew I would get the great shots later, Lyra in white, against that backdrop, glass of wine in hand. Not that she would drink it. Too many calories.

There were a few people milling around so I decided to take some shots before I was needed for the proper shots. The air was fragrant and still. This place was perfect. I felt as if I was home. Even the air was quiet. I turned to call Lyra again but I couldn’t see her, lost in the vines. As was I.

Surrounding me were great, curving vines, embracing me. Slithering. Constricting. I felt panicked. More vines slithered closer.

I heard a shriek, and my head snapped round in time to see Lyra being pulled down into the vines, as they swarmed swiftly, her hand letting go of that precious phone, sliding into the mud.

And I missed Golden Hour, I thought, as the vines covered my mouth, pulling me down into the rich earth.