At the poison garden, the most dangerous plants are kept in giant cages. Chin high
poppies. Star-shaped vinca. Violet wolfsbane. Dylan and I stick our phones through the bars and
take pictures. There are plants and shrubs we have in our garden: hellebores, rhododendrons,
monkshood.
You could kill me if you wanted, Dylan whispers.
Are we in an Agatha Christie novel? I shoot back.
We have good repartee.
This is supposed to be the day he proposes. I found the ring tucked inside one of his
socks. Getting engaged in the poison garden will make for a good story we could tell his kids if
Dylan ever agreed to let me meet them.
He reaches into the cage and rips off a heart-shaped leaf.
What the actual fuck, I say, relieved the tour guide doesn’t notice.
This whole thing is fake, love. Plants don’t kill people. People kill people.
According to the skull and crossbones plaque, it’s something called a gympie-gympie
that looks harmless as a weed. The rest of the group is headed toward an ivy-covered tunnel.
Throw it away, I say, wondering if maybe he plans to wait till afternoon tea to pop the
question.
Instead, Dylan rubs the leaf between his teeth. Gasps. Staggers backward theatrically.
Spit that out, I shout and some people in our group stop walking.
Dylan is staring at his hand, which is burn red, puffy.
Wow, he says softly. Reality bites.
I can still see the diamond nestled in its cottony home – tiny, sharp, dark-struck.
About the Author
Beth Sherman’s novella-in-flash, How to Get There from Here, will be published in July 2026 by Ad Hoc Fiction. She has had more than 250 stories featured in literary journals, including Ghost Parachute, Fictive Dream, Bending Genres and Smokelong Quarterly, where she’s a Submissions Editor. Her work appears in Best Microfiction 2024 and 2026 and Best Small Fictions 2025. The author of five mystery novels, she can be reached on social media @bsherm36.
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