Too frightened to face the backyard alone, Rose got dressed in a blur, grabbed her laptop, and walked briskly to the home of the young couple down the street. Her hands trembled as she showed them the footage. She didn’t care how it sounded—she needed help.
The couple watched the clip in silence. When it ended, the woman turned to Rose with wide eyes. “That’s… not nothing,” she whispered. The husband nodded reluctantly. Though hesitant, they could see the fear in Rose’s face, and when she asked—nearly pleading—they agreed to come along.
The three of them walked back together, tension gathering with each step. At the edge of her garden, Rose paused. The daisy bushes looked exactly as they had before—flattened, broken, undisturbed since the day prior. Nothing about the scene screamed danger. Yet every nerve in her body tightened.
The couple lingered behind her as she knelt near the hedges, inspecting the area slowly. At first, everything looked normal. But then she reached out and tugged gently on a patch of thick greenery—and the entire section peeled away in her hand. Her eyes widened. These weren’t real plants.