Gertrude's Revenge

A short story by Maria Odessky Rosen. This piece is featured in Edition 9: Out Of This World.

Gertrude had had it. She had put up with the newcomers for as long as she could. Yes, it had been her ancestors’ land forever before the squatters had come, and they were all trespassers by all the rules of natural law. And yes, she could have done things, all sorts of things, unpleasant things to make them want to leave. But she hadn’t, had she? No, she was open-minded and aware that times change and that sooner or later, she would have to share her home with them. Hadn’t she heard from her relatives across the prairie that new constructions were going up all over? Giant machines ripping deep into the earth, erecting all kinds of hideous monstrosities for the interlopers. She had always realized it would be just a matter of time before they invaded her family’s spot by the stream. 

They had the loveliest spot. How she loved climbing onto the tallest rock, standing very tall and surveying her property: rolling hills and verdant trees and shrubs as far as the eye could see. She got such pleasure from watching her own kids or those of her neighbors jumping and frolicking across the land in front of her. She loved listening to their cheerful banter and chatter. She felt like the queen of the realm. But that was all before. 

Now all their homes had been destroyed and replaced by giant ugly boxes. And that’s not all. The strangers had sprayed all the berries and flowers with poison. Can you imagine? You go to your favorite wild raspberry or blackberry bush to pick delicious berries for breakfast only to find that they have an acrid, obnoxious odor which prevents you from even touching them. The same berry bushes that you fertilized and watched grow to maturity! How would they feel if that happened to their precious petunias? The ones they have been watering and deadheading so carefully for so long, marking the birth of each new bud like a proud new mother watching her babies grow. 

Ever since the invaders came with their ugly boxes, everything had been a struggle around here. Now it’s like every time you create anything beautiful, they always serve as an opposing force whose goal it seems to be is to destroy all the beauty you took such pride nurturing. 

But that’s not even the worst of it. They are reckless murderers! And they are lazy, never walking anywhere, climbing into their ugly rectangular boxes on wheels and speeding out, not giving a care in the world about who might be walking along the road. And yesterday, yesterday, they went too far. Yesterday, one of them killed Simon. While Simon wasn’t her favorite, he was one of her own. He was family. And you stand up for your family. Gertrude had been brought up right. And now, finally, she had had enough. When they had destroyed her home and planted their box right over it, she had moved. When they had poisoned her beautiful berry bushes, she had found new ones, but this was too much. They had gone too far. What if they had killed one of her babies!?

And so, Gertrude was done playing nice. She climbed up on the old rock, one of the few still standing. She surveyed their acres and acres of vegetable gardens, and she knew exactly what she needed to do. She had never been vengeful before, but this sight of an endless supply of vegetables with their deep roots and underground bulbs made her salivate and turned her into something new entirely. Why, she wouldn’t even need that many others to help her. Just a small group that would be willing to relocate, and honestly who wouldn’t want to sign up for such abundance? Why, she would be doing an entirely new population a favor. 

Say goodbye to your vegetables, intruders! 

Maria’s poems, short stories, and essays have appeared in newspapers and magazines, including the Beyond Words Anthology. She has received writing awards, including the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest and the 24-Hour Writing Contest, along with a competitive mentorship in the Gordon Square Review.