Screaming Vine

"No! Don't touch that! It'll fucking scream its leaves off!"
"What are you talking about, it's just a vine."
"No, no it fucking isn't. Don't you dare touch it."

— Unknown

 

Leaf It Alone

  A creeping, parasitic plant native to the shadow-drenched corners of old forests and forgotten ruins, it is as infamous for its sound as it is for its voracious appetite.   The screaming vine begins innocently enough, resembling an ordinary climbing plant with waxy, dark green leaves and faintly iridescent veins. Its blossoms, however, are an unsettling hue of bruise-like purple, their centers resembling tiny, open mouths. If left undisturbed, the plant will grow with alarming rapidity, entwining itself around anything unfortunate enough to remain still; a tree trunk, a fencepost, a careless traveler.   The vine's infamous scream is both its defense mechanism and its lure. When touched or cut, it emits a piercing, unearthly wail that seems to claw its way into the listener's mind. The sound is not merely loud; it feels alive, as though it seeks out the darkest corners of your thoughts and amplifies them, subsuming every space in your mind in one screeching move. Some say it is the voice of the forests' grief, distilled into a single, unbearable note. Others claim it mimics the death cries of those it has ensnared.  

Wood You Not Touch It

  Screaming vines are carnivorous, though they prefer to drink the life out of their prey slowly, sapping vitality over days. When a living creature becomes trapped in its tendrils, the plant secrets a sticky, nectar-like substance with an oddly pleasant scent, masking its sinister intent. This fluid begins the process of breaking down the victim's strength, rendering escape nearly impossible.   Many theories try to explain the vine's origins. Some believe it was crafted by an ancient sorcerer as a sentinel for their dark secrets. Others believe it is the byproduct of a curse - nature's rebellion against the endless interference of mortals.   Botanists warn against attempting to uproot the vine, for it is said that once it tastes human blood, it grows more cunning, more malevolent. Even the deadliest of poisons seem only to slow its relentless spread.   Strangely, it is not without its uses. Its nectar, when properly distilled, can produce a potent elixir that sharpens the senses and grants temporary immunity to fear. Harvesting it, however, is another scream entirely.