CONTEST: "The Keyword of the Week" - Autumnal Crocus

Autumnal Crocus

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Lily loved her garden more than anything. She had a variety of flowers, but her favorite ones were the autumnal crocuses. She was proud of her crocuses, because they were rare and difficult to grow. She had learned the secret from her grandmother, who had taught her how to cultivate them from seeds. She had to avoid too much contact with them, for they were venomous. The autumnal crocus had colchicine in them, a compound that could make one sick, vomit, have diarrhea, stomach ache, kidney failure, and even die if swallowed.

Lily had no one but herself in a tiny house. Her husband had passed away long ago, and she had no kin or family close by. She was happy with her humble life, and she liked the company of her friends and neighbors. They often came to see her and her garden, especially her crocuses. They complimented her on her talent and wisdom, and sometimes sought her guidance or assistance with their own gardens. She was always glad to share her secrets and techniques, but she never parted with any of her crocus seeds or bulbs. She said they were too valuable and delicate, and that they required special attention that only she could give.

She seemed like a kind and gentle woman, who loved nature and people., and who lived in sweet memory of her late husband. He was a dashing and charismatic man, who had seduced her with his words and gifts. She had given her heart to him, and accepted his proposal. They had settled in the cottage, where he had vowed to make a happy life with her. But soon after the marriage, he turned.

He grew cold and aloof, spending more time at the pub than at home. He drank too much, gambled too much, and squandered their money on trivial things. He also started to mistreat her verbally and physically, insulting her and hitting her whenever he was mad or drunk.

Lily tried to bear his abuse, hoping that he would revert to the man she had loved. He only mocked and scorned her, saying that she was hideous, foolish, useless, and barren. She felt caged and helpless in her marriage, but she had nowhere to go. She had no kin or friends who could aid her or defend her. She had no money or assets of her own. She had only her garden, which was her sanctuary and comfort.

One day, Lily made up her mind. She would not let him harm her anymore. She would eliminate him once and for all. She bided her time until he was out carousing with his pals at the pub. She went to her garden and picked some of her autumnal crocuses. She crushed them with a mortar and pestle, extracting their juice. She mixed it with some honey and water, making a sweet syrup. She filled a bottle with it and marked it as cough syrup. She left the bottle on the kitchen table, beside his dish of food. She then went to bed and acted as if she was asleep.

He got home late at night, as usual. He was drunk and famished, so he devoured the food without noticing the bottle. He spotted it after he cleared his plate, and assumed that it was some kind of beverage that she had prepared for him. He uncorked it and took a gulp. He felt a searing pain in his mouth and throat. He coughed and spit out the liquid, but it was too late. He had already swallowed enough to cause damage. He felt a stabbing pain in his stomach and bowels. He fell on the floor, gripping his belly. He yelled for help, but she did not reply. She heard him, but she did not stir. She remained in bed, listening to his torment. He perished a few hours later, in the early dawn.

She rose and dressed, then went to see him. She felt no guilt or compassion, only relief and gratification. She tidied up the mess and got rid of the bottle. She then phoned the doctor and the police, and told them that he had succumbed to a sudden sickness. She acted stunned and heartbroken, and they trusted her. They did not suspect that she had poisoned him with the autumnal crocus. They buried him in the village cemetery, and she pretended to mourn him. She continued to live in the cottage, alone with her garden. She never remarried or had any children.

Lily devoted herself to her flowers, especially her crocuses. She kept her secret until the end of her days.