The Petal Tide

it was a quiet, warm summer evening when the flowers attacked. they pulled up their roots with a quiet popping sound and shuddered the dirt from their pale white tendrils. a tall sunflower lost its balance on the smooth cement sidewalk and bumped into a garbage can. a line of daisies marched across the strips of grass in front of the apartment complexes and two-story houses along the shadowed street. a squad of dandelions secured the left flank. two red zinnias signaled the attack and the battalion of tulips, hydrangeas and germaniums moved in and captured the freshly-watered lawn. walter p. appleby couldn't get from the front porch of his pale green townhouse to his car the next day and had to call in sick. the grass was strewn with bodies and he spent hours carefully wrapping each one in moist paper towels and moving them to the wet dirt around the edge of the yard.