https://caspercollege.cvlcollections.org/files/original/b104a17f506a95c6ecd2906c34e359a2.pdf 37709b6ceef5be601f0bae5dc45557fa PDF Text Text ETls- (Tlabb [riottier of niDsisters Zoe von Gunten The moon hung in the sky like a broken nail against the rocky cobblestone streets. It was a warm humid night. The kind of humid night that makes living in skin feel uncomfortable and no amount of washing can clean the sweat off the body. The oil lamps sputtered and flickered casting their warm hue onto the street as a well dressed man took long strides, He muttered as he went, quietly scolding himself and dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. His wire glasses slipped down his nose as he quickened his pace. The faster this interaction was over, the better. Mr. Whittaker and his fellow professors at the university had a bit of a problem. Her name was Ms. Mabb and she was hired to teach botany. Her passions were odd for a woman. Of course, botany was feminine, more suited to her, but she also adored scientific research, and entomology as well. She wasn't a bad teacher by any stretch of the imagination, but the issue therein lay with her sex. The tensions had risen the moment she was hired and had only gotten worse, Yes, the students loved her, and yes, she was beyond brilliant, but being the only woman in the university wasn't suited to her feminine ways. Something had to be done and the dean wouldn't budge when asked, nay, begged for Ms. Mabb to be let go and sent to a flower shop or a local garden, if she wouldn't be let go, perhaps she could be convinced to leave. After all, the life of academia was much too stressful for a woman; surely she was getting exhausted. And so it was decided that Mr. Whittaker would go and speak with Ms, Mabb. He was a mild mannered gentleman but had a way with words, a wonderful orator and kind to boot. The gentlemen of the university had selected Mr. Whittaker with care; if he couldn’t convince Ms. Mabb to step down, then who else could? As Mr, Whittaker approached the home of Ms. Venus Mabb, he found himself staring up at the large imposing oak door. It stood sturdily with a heavy brass knocker in the center that snarled out at whoever dared to knock with the face of an angry gargoyle. Mr, Whittaker grasped the knocker. 172 Expression Magazine . �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters attempting to avoid the fangs of the gargoyie, and knocked not even once when the door fiew open, revealing Ms. Mabb. She was taller than any woman he had ever met before, taller than he who stood quite tall himself. "Oh! Mr. Whittaker, what a lovely surprise." She beamed at him, snatching his hand and shaking it vigorously. "Ms. Mabb, how do you do?" Mr. Whittaker sputtered, shocked by her forwardness. "Quite well, quite well! Please, do come in!" She released her tight grasp on the poor man's hand and stepped to the side, waving her hand into the foyer, welcoming him into her dimly lit home. Mr. Whittaker sheepishly took a step into the home of Ms. Mabb. Plants filled every corner of the room, vines curled up the banister of the staircase, pots of green leafy plants stood by the front door. Even the paintings on the walls were of flowers and plants. Ms. Mabb herself looked eerily like the room, her dress a dull green with small inlaid designs of vines with small pops of red berries along the fabric. A shawl draped lazily over her arms; it looked ornate, the fabric cut at the ends looking like the leaves off a vine. A golden ring with the cut of a rose glittered on her finger, despite the fact that she was unmarried. Her long black hair was tied up loosely, unlike the common lady. She was like an unruly rosebush overtaking the garden. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Whittaker?" Ms. Mabb shut the large oak door, cutting off Mr. Whittaker's only escape. "Oh... yes, thank you.” He pulled his handkerchief out and pawed at his forehead. 65th Edition 173 �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters "Wonderful, follow me to the parlor." The tall woman walked past him and guided him down a long hall with more potted plants and paintings of plants. Mr. Whittaker found his stomach turning and his hands shaking. The hall was over crowded with plants, the green oppressive hall made the professor much more nervous. He went over potential words in his head, what he would say to this mountainous woman, what would he say? He paused, looking at one of the plants in the hall. It looked like a large open mouth; a petal lid seemingly floated above it. "What plant is this?" he asked politely. "This is Lucia! Oh, she is one of the more shy members of the family. She’s a pitcher plant, she can get a little fussy when she’s hungry." Ms. Mabb caressed the leaves of the plant, "She hasn’t had dinner yet, I hope you don't mind." Ms. Mabb reached into her pocket and revealed a small dead rat. She placed it inside the mouth of the plant. The lid slowly shut, condemning the dead creature to its fate. Mr. Whittaker, taken aback, stared in horror at the plant. He looked back up at Ms. Mabb, who gazed lovingly at the monster of a plant: she stroked its leaves once more then turned back down the hall, waving Mr. Whittaker along. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back with the tea." Ms. Mabb strode off to the kitchen as Mr. Whittaker beheld her parlor. Two plush armchairs sat in front of a dormant fireplace, a terrarium stood at the arm of one of the chairs on a small wooden table. Taking his seat next to the terrarium he tried to steady his suddenly 174 Expression Magazine �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters shaking hands, The scene he had witnessed was nothing short of unusual. Looking up at the mantle above the fireplace was a large portrait. He wondered if it was of a late husband or perhaps another flower. Instead, upon closer inspection, Mr. Whittaker realized the large painting was of Ms, Mabb. her hands cupped under the chin of an unnaturally large plant. Her lips pressed against the head of the flower, it looked fantastical. Utterly unreal. He shook his head, chalking it up to some eccentric painting, perhaps a joke gift from a friend! Taking his mind off the odd painting, he inspected the terrarium by his side and the plants within. The small plants were nestled in moss and dirt. They grew upward reaching for the light with their round toothed heads, The plants looked ferocious, hungry even, just like Lucia. They stood tall and proud, opposing the moss below their stems. It seemed clear to Mr. Whittaker why these plants were in a glass prison, they seemed to grin at him...possibly drooling. "Would you like cream Mr. Whittaker?" The towering woman materialized: Mr. Whittaker jumped. "Oh! Oh my...you gave me a bit of a scare. Yes. Cream would be splendid." He rasped. "Wonderful," she grinned. Placing the cup and saucer down with a small rattle, Ms. Mabb poured the cream into the cup. White clouds danced in the amber tea, sea mist covering a golden sunset. Ms. Mabb took her seat in the antique chair across from the quivering man. "So, Mr. Whittaker," she began slowly with a motherly air, "What brings you here so late? Is there any trouble at the academy? Grading? Students?" She leaned forward, her green piercing eyes drilling into his skull. “W-well.„Ms. Mabb...l happen to be here to-’’ 65th Edition 175 �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters The woman suddenly let out a gasp and covered her mouth. She began to giggle like a schoolgirl. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Whittaker, I noticed that Lyonel seems to like you!" she clapped her hands still giggling with an unnerving joy that didn’t suit a woman of her age and stature. "Who...?" Mr. Whittaker stammered, looking around the room, eyes frantically darting from plant painting, to leaves cascading down the walls, to the mossy bricks in the empty fireplace. Ms. Mabb extended her long skinny finger, pointing at the hungry looking plant in the terrarium. She looked lovingly at the plant. "Lyonel is so feisty, but sometimes he can be rather shy. He doesn’t usually like guests, but he looks so happy in your company!” She sighed, her sharp features softened into the docile look of a mother overlooking her child in its crib. "He seems...kind...” Mr. Whittaker glanced nervously at the plant, and it looked as if it began to drool more. "He really is! You understand him! How wonderful." Ms. Mabb took a sip of her own tea. “So...Ms. Mabb. The reason why I have come to visit," Mr. Whittaker attempted again, his voice wavering, "Well, we have been discussing, the faculty that is, your health and wellbeing in the academy..." The botany professor nodded, her eyes closed, listening closely while sipping her tea intently. "We just thought that it would be in your best interest...” He gulped down the earthy air of the 176 Expression Magazine �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters dim home, dabbing his sweating forehead with his handkerchief, "We worry about you Venus! Truly! You’re a lovely lady and...and we want to see the best for you I ” Mr. Whittaker stammered. "Get it out, man!" Ms, Mabb’s soft voice suddenly raised, she slammed the teacup down on the saucer with the force of a thunderclap, her body leaning forward like an animal ready to leap. "We think you should consider retiring," the words fell out of his mouth pathetically like a child blurting out the first words that came to his head. After his careless fumble, Mr, Whittaker’s hand violently slapped over his own mouth, sweat trickling down his head and onto his fingers. He watched as the monstrous woman sank back into her seat calmly. She folded her spindly fingers together on her lap, occasionally tapping her index finger on her knuckle. "Venus...!-" She held her hand up. Her eyes stared into nothingness. Mr. Whittaker couldn’t read a single emotion on her face. She opened her mouth, then paused, closing it and pursing her thin lips, then finally letting an eerie smile grace her features. "Mr. Whittaker, would you like to see my greenhouse?" "Would I...I urn...your,..?" He pried his hand off his own face and gripped his handkerchief, his knuckles turning white as he shakily returned the white lace embroidered fabric to his wet forehead. "Would you like to see my greenhouse, Mr. Whittaker," she repeated, standing from her seat. 65th Edition 177 �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters “I suppose SO." He stood up feeling smaller than an ant next to her as she looked down at him. Her eyes were ravenous, Without a word she began to lead him through the kitchen. It had a sweet earthy smell with the dishes visible looking rare and antique. A wooden door with a mesh screen stood in front of them. It smelt like soil and moss. Vines fought their way through the cracks between the door. Taking a hold of the handle, Ms. Mabb opened the door and stood aside, letting Mr. Whittaker into the jungle. The greenhouse was humid and warm; Mr. Whittaker felt sticky the moment the greenhouse air met his skin. The cobblestone pathways were small and overgrown with woodvine and other sharp looking leaves. Stinging nettle laid in patches bordering the paths. Huge plants like he had never seen before grew upwards towards the glass ceiling. They had huge heads with teeth and colorful petals around the center. A large tall plant in the center of the room seemed to emit a smell that only could be described as rotting flesh, in an odd way it reminded him of Ms. Mabb. Remembering his host, he looked around frantically. It was as if she disappeared, but his eyes suddenly landed on hers. She blended into the foliage, her green dress matching the tones and her leafy textured shawl mimicked the vines. "Why did you bring me here...?" He began cautiously. "I just happened to remember how Lyonel looked at you, he seemed so happy that you were visiting that I figured the rest of the family may want to meet you!" She tilted her head to the side playfully. "So you're not upset about..." "Of course not, darling! I understand your concern," She grinned a wide toothed smile. 178 Expression Magazine �Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters Mr, Whittaker felt as if a thousand eyes were on him. The scent coming from the tall plant was getting stronger, suffocating him. He coughed once, covering his mouth with his handkerchief. "Venus, are you sure you understand?" He coughed twice, his fingers tingled, numbness spread through his hands. "Oh yes, Mr. Whittaker, I understand,’’ She approached him, her eyes glinting like a lioness on the hunt, "No, wait...please don't approach me." He choked out, his chest was tightening. "Oleander is one hell of a poison isn't it, Mr. Whittaker...?" Ms. Mabb reached her long arm out and placed it on his cheek. He felt too weak to move away, his head was suddenly spinning and pounding, he grasped at the air behind him trying to find something to prop him up, "Lyonel's big sister seems to like you just as much as him! Come here Lilah!" Her maternal features glowed uncannily as she looked above Mr. Whittaker, In Mr. Whittaker's quickly blurring vision, he was able to look up and make out a large plant similar to Lyonel in the glass terrarium. Its head was ten times larger, the teeth ten times sharper, and it looked much hungrier. The white lacy handkerchief floated gracefully to the floor as its owner, now unable to hold it, was consumed whole like a pitiful rat. 65th Edition 179 � Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Print Magazine Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Ms. Mabb Mother of Monsters Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <div class="element-text five columns omega"> <p><a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a></p> </div> <div id="dublin-core-rights" class="element"> <div class="element-text five columns offset-by-two"> <div id="dublin-core-rights" class="element"> <div class="element-text five columns offset-by-two"> <p><em>Expression</em><span>&nbsp;</span>claims first North American rights to submissions selected for publication. All rights revert back to the author/artist after publication.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2025 Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Zoë von Gunten Language A language of the resource ENG Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Expression Literary and Arts Magazine, CCA 04.ii.c.2022.01 WyCaC US. Casper College Archives and Special Collections. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CCA_04.ii.c.2022.01_Exp_2025_Prose_05 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Searchable PDF Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Casper College