Plant Story - HSC1 chapter 1 to 20

Plant Story 

Title: The Greenhouse Dream Series

Author: Aloka Explorer

Genres: Horror, supernatural horror, dream horror, psychological horror 

Length: Night characters 1 to 30

Night 1: The Whispering Ferns

Mara found herself outside the abandoned greenhouse again, fog curling around her ankles like pale fingers. Inside, the air was damp, smelling of earth and old leaves. The ferns swayed gently, though there was no wind.

A soft whisper brushed her ear: “Mara… come closer…”

Her curiosity overcame fear. The shadows between the plants stretched and twisted. Some leaves shimmered faintly, as though reflecting her own wide-eyed face. When she reached toward a fern, its fronds curled around her fingers like tentative hands. She pulled back, startled, and suddenly, she was outside again, alone.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw fronds curling, saw faint eyes blinking at her from the leaves.

Night 2: The Vines That Watch

The next night, Mara dreamed of the greenhouse again. The plants seemed to remember her. Vines stretched along the floor, reaching out as if to guide her path. She walked, feeling them brush her ankles, soft and sticky, but not painful.

A soft chorus whispered: “We remember… we waited for you…”

She noticed flowers with tiny glimmering orbs inside, like miniature lanterns. Each orb seemed to pulse with a heartbeat. One of them twitched when she touched it, and she realized the greenhouse was alive—watching her, learning her movements, almost welcoming her.

When she woke, damp soil was under her fingernails, though she had slept in her own bed.

Night 3: Faces in the Leaves

By the third night, Mara’s dreams grew more vivid. The ferns and vines now formed shadowy faces that blinked at her from every corner. Some smiled, some whispered her name urgently, others stared in endless silence.

She tried to step back, but the greenhouse seemed to stretch, elongating into endless corridors of green. The roots on the floor slid like ropes, moving gently to slow her path.

A single flower leaned toward her ear: “Stay… stay with us…”

Panic and curiosity twisted together. Mara wanted to run, but her legs would not obey. In the dream, she realized: she was no longer just visiting the greenhouse. She was part of it.

Night 4: The Green Breath

On the fourth night, Mara felt herself floating slightly above the ground. The greenhouse had become infinite, a forest of ferns, vines, and flowers stretching beyond vision. The air pulsed, breathing in time with her own heartbeat.

Whispers became a melody, soft and melodic, calling her gently. The shadows of plants seemed to move with purpose, curving toward her, guiding her deeper. The feeling was not entirely unpleasant - there was a strange warmth, a pull of belonging.

Yet somewhere, deep beneath the soil, something growled softly. Hunger, or warning, she could not tell.

Night 5: The Dream That Never Ends

By the fifth night, Mara no longer woke. She drifted from one plant to another, her form lighter, almost translucent. The greenhouse had claimed her, and she wandered its endless green corridors, watched by faces in leaves, followed by whispering vines.

Sometimes, she saw the village outside her dream, muted and distant, fog rolling through the streets. The whispers called from the greenhouse: “Do not wake… do not leave… stay with us…”

Mara no longer resisted. She had become part of the green dream, floating among ferns, vines, and flowers, a visitor who would never leave, dreaming in the whispered company of plants that watched and waited.

Night 6: The Eyes of the Moss

Mara drifted into the greenhouse once more. The air was heavier tonight, thick with the scent of wet moss. Tiny, glimmering eyes appeared within the moss that carpeted the floor, watching her every movement.

Whenever she stepped, the moss seemed to twitch, shifting to block her path or guide her deeper. The whispers had become words she almost understood: “We’ve waited… you belong here…”

She bent down to touch the moss. Instantly, the eyes blinked rapidly, and she felt a pulse travel up her arms, like the plants were sharing their heartbeat with hers. Fear and fascination twisted together, leaving her unable to turn back.

Night 7: The Singing Vines

The vines along the walls now hummed softly, a low, melodic vibration that Mara could feel in her chest. The longer she stayed, the more they wrapped around her, not tightly, but like a gentle embrace.

One vine extended a small, glowing flower toward her face. When she inhaled its scent, memories flooded in - memories she didn’t have: childhood forests, long-forgotten gardens, and voices she couldn’t place.

The greenhouse seemed endless. Shadows of plants formed shapes that resembled villagers she knew, but their eyes were leaf-green, glowing faintly. Mara realized the plants were imitating, learning, watching, shaping her perception of reality while pulling her further into their dream.

Night 8: The Breathing Leaves

Tonight, the ferns themselves began to breathe, their fronds rising and falling like lungs. Mara noticed the ground heaving slightly beneath her feet, as if the greenhouse itself was alive, inhaling and exhaling around her.

A flower opened directly in front of her face, revealing a tiny mirror-like surface that reflected her, but twisted - her eyes were entirely green, her hair braided with leaves. She gasped, but the plants seemed to smile, whispering: “You are part of us… part of the dream…”

Roots emerged from the soil, not to trap her, but to lift her slightly, floating her toward the greenhouse’s center. Mara could feel herself blending into the green, a part of its pulse, its breathing, its whispers.

Night 9: The Green Labyrinth

By the ninth night, Mara realized the greenhouse had become a labyrinth. Vines shifted like walls, creating hallways that changed when she looked away. Every path was alive, every turn watched by flowers, ferns, and creeping moss.

Soft, melodic laughter drifted from every corner. The plants whispered secrets of the village, of Mara’s own life, of dreams she hadn’t yet had. Every step took her deeper into the green maze. She understood then: she wasn’t just a visitor—she was becoming part of the greenhouse, its memory, and its dream.

Night 10: The Green Dream Eternal

Mara drifted to the center, where a giant fern towered above everything else. Its fronds curved in a spiral, forming a dome that glowed faintly. Here, the whispers were no longer voices - they were melodies, pulsing with rhythm, wrapping her in warmth.

Time had no meaning. She could see the village far away, muted and distant, but the green dream called her fully. She let herself float among the ferns, vines, and glowing flowers, finally at peace.

Some nights, villagers swore they saw her walking near the greenhouse gate, fog curling around her feet. Others said they heard whispers in the night: “Do not wake… stay with us… the green dream waits…”

Mara had become part of the greenhouse, part of the dream, forever drifting in its gentle, whispering green.

Night 11: The Humming Flowers

The greenhouse pulsed with a soft vibration, like a distant heartbeat. Mara noticed flowers along the walls beginning to hum in different pitches, creating a haunting melody that resonated through the soil. When she touched one, the hum entered her chest, making her heartbeat sync with the greenhouse itself.

The whispering grew urgent: “Stay… listen… become part…” Mara felt drawn toward a spiral of glowing petals, each seeming to hold a tiny, beating world inside.

Night 12: The Vines of Memory

Tonight, the vines began to twist around Mara’s limbs - but not to trap her. Instead, they conveyed visions: moments from her past, forgotten dreams, and memories she never knew she had. She realized the greenhouse could remember, could learn, could show her things she had buried deep inside.

Some vines mimicked faces of villagers, whispering familiar names. Mara shivered but couldn’t look away. The plants were alive with memory, and she was slowly becoming part of theirs.

Night 13: The Shadow Leaves

The shadows cast by the leaves grew darker, moving independently. Sometimes they mirrored her actions, sometimes they moved on their own. Mara felt watched by something behind the fronds, something aware of her every thought.

One shadow leaf brushed her cheek. It felt like soft skin. The whispering grew intimate, almost seductive: “We know you… we have always known you…”

Night 14: The Mist of Sap

A green mist rose from the soil, thick and sweet-smelling. Mara could feel it brushing her skin, sticking to her clothes, filling her lungs with the scent of the forest deep underground. The plants’ whispers merged with the mist, a song that pulled her deeper.

She felt weightless, floating above roots that twisted like rivers. The greenhouse seemed to stretch infinitely, like a green ocean, every plant alive and conscious, every shadow aware of her presence.

Night 15: The Eyes in the Flowers

The flowers now had tiny iridescent eyes in their petals. Each blink followed Mara as she walked. She noticed some eyes were familiar - they resembled villagers’ eyes, her own eyes, even the eyes of her closest friends.

Every step she took seemed to echo in the greenhouse. It was as though she walked in rhythm with the heartbeat of every plant, every frond, every creeping vine. The whispering became a chant: “Join us… never leave…”

Night 16: The Green Fingers

Roots emerged like long, soft fingers, wrapping around her ankles and wrists. They weren’t painful, but they guided her, pulling her toward the center of the greenhouse. Mara realized the greenhouse was gently reshaping her, bending her will to its dream.

Above her, the ferns arched over like a cathedral of green, their fronds glowing faintly. She felt awe and fear, unable to resist the pull of the whispering dream.

Night 17: The Mirror Fern

A single fern in the center of the greenhouse revealed a mirrored surface in its fronds. Mara peered in and saw herself transformed - her hair intertwined with leaves, her skin faintly green, eyes glowing like seedlings.

The fern whispered: “This is who you are now… who you were meant to be…” Mara reached toward the reflection, and the fern’s fronds curled around her hand, guiding her deeper into the green dream.

Night 18: The Singing Moss

The moss carpeting the floor hummed in harmony with the whispering ferns. When Mara stepped on it, the vibration traveled up her legs, almost intoxicating. Each patch of moss seemed alive, pulsating like a living drumbeat.

She noticed faint patterns forming in the moss, symbols she didn’t understand - but they seemed meaningful, ancient, and knowing. She realized the greenhouse had a language, one only understood through dreams and presence.

Night 19: The Blooming Shadows

Shadows of plants stretched, twisted, and became darker. Some formed shapes resembling human faces, some animal forms, some creatures Mara couldn’t name. They leaned close, brushing her cheeks with soft tendrils.

The greenhouse whispered in unison: “You belong… you belong…” Mara could feel herself slipping completely into the dream, her own thoughts blending with the collective memory of the plants.

Night 20: The Green Dream Eternal

Mara reached the center, where the largest fern towered above all. Its fronds formed a spiraling dome glowing faintly with green light. The greenhouse exhaled, a living breath, and she floated within it.

Time no longer existed. Outside, the village was distant, fog rolling through streets. Inside, every leaf, vine, and root pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. The whispers became melodies, soft and warm: “You are ours… you are home…”

Mara surrendered fully. She drifted among the ferns, vines, and flowers, part of the greenhouse’s endless green dream.

Sometimes, villagers swear they hear whispers at the foggy greenhouse gate, calling names softly. Some even say they glimpse a figure wandering among the ferns, glowing faintly green in the moonlight…

Read chapter 21 to 30

Share your thoughts 

What did you think of this spooky, dreamy story? Did it feel mysterious, a little scary, or just strange? How did the plant and its whispering make you feel? Share your thoughts and favorite parts in the comments below—we’d love to hear from you!