Christian knocked on the door of the cottage. An outside light came on. Shuffling footsteps. The door slowly creaked open. A wizened old crone stood there.
“Yes?” asked the crone.
“I’m terrible sorry to bother you, my dear, but my car broke down and I can’t get a signal. I don’t suppose you have a landline phone I could use, do you?”
The crone smiled, “Why yes. Come in. I’m Cate.”
“And I’m Chris.” They entered a sparsely furnished room: a table, a chair, a bed, a small fire, and one other door.
“So where are you headed?” asked Cate.
“I’m off to Rome fashion week. I’m showing my latest collection.”
“Ah, so you’re in fashion.” The crone, smirking, rubbed her hands together. “Then I’ve something you may like. Follow me.” She opened the other door and waved her arm. “This is my weaver tree. It grows clothes.”
Chris stared open mouthed. “Wow!” Hanging from the tree was the most fabulous coat he had ever seen. “That is simply divine. The bold use of colours. The daring use of fabrics. The exotic patterns. Absolutely delicious. And the tree grew that, you say? I simply must try it on. May I?”
Cate smiled. “Of course, but be careful, it is part of the tree.”
Chris slipped his arms into the sleeves and fastened the buttons. The coat seemed to mould itself around his body. “Ow! Something just pricked me. Are there needles in here?”
Cate cackled.
“Ow! Ah! Ooh! What’s happening?” Chris frantically tried to remove the coat, but each struggle brought more pain. “I’m going numb! I can’t feel my hands! I… I’m getting drowsy, I’m…” He collapsed into unconsciousness.
Cate laughed. “Did I forget to mention this my carnivorous weaver tree? And you are simply its latest fashion victim.”
My entry in the April 2024 300 Word Story Challenge at SFFChronicles
Genre: Science Fiction, Fantasy, or other Speculative Fiction
M. Robert Gibson 