Harold and Louis

A man waddled down the sidewalk with a potted ivy grasped firmly with both hands. His pace fast and each step he took had a purpose. A woman walking along the sidewalk in the opposite direction averted her gaze as she passed the man.
         The man continued to walk, occasionally pausing to readjust his grip on the base of the pot.
         Hannah stood behind the heavy curtain of her window in her apartment, watching this take place. She had seen the man more than once; twelve times, in fact. And he was never without his plant.
It became a routine. Every Tuesday and Wednesday evening, Hannah would stand behind the curtain at an angle, which she was certain no one could see her, and wait for the man to walk down the sidewalk. She called him Harold, and his plant Louis. For some reason, Hannah had a distinct feeling that Harold had named his plant.
As each day passed, Hannah added more to Harold's story. He was taking Louis to someone, maybe someone who was sick or who had just had a baby. Maybe he thought Louis needed some air. Maybe he was slowly dying of a rare disease and someone had suggested once that taking walks with a plant would help. After all, Harold was gullible enough to accept that fact.
Or maybe he simply enjoyed carrying around Louis. Maybe it is a form of exercise that had yet to be mainstreamed.
Hannah watched as the woman passed the man, staring at the sidewalk with a quickened pace. The man, on the other hand, kept his gaze straightforward. Sometimes Hannah got the feeling that the man knew she was watching him, and that he chose to ignore her on purpose.
Hannah glanced at her watch. 5:47 pm, right on time. She knew that the man would be coming back at around 7:14 pm on the other side of the street. She looked at her watch again and decided she had time for a run.
Hannah ran around her block a couple times, keeping an eye on her watch and the people coming down the street. She had often wondered where the man was going that took him over an hour to return.
Hannah stood by the stoop of her apartment, stretching out her legs while keeping an eye on the end of the street. Then she saw him. The man was walking on the other side of the street, just as Hannah knew he would be, the plant still in his hands. Hannah's heart started to beat a little faster as he came closer.
She wasn't sure what she was going to do. She had watched this man for over a month, and never had it occurred to her to actually talk to him. She stood at her stoop and watched him walk by. She waited until she felt she had some eye contact and waved. 
Nothing. The man continued to walk, eyes straightforward with the plant front and center.
Hannah felt a little disappointed. She had kind of expected this great ordeal. Maybe a life changing moment. Or even just a response.
Soon, Hannah found herself jogging across the street and towards the man.
"Excuse me! Sir!" Hannah cried out. "Harold!"
The man did not stop walking. Hannah had finally caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.  He stopped and turned around, puzzled as to why someone would impede on his walk.
"Hi," Hannah said as she attempted to catch her breath.
The man paused to look at Hannah. She got the feeling as if he was sizing her up. He took the moment to readjust his grip on the pot, then turned around and continued walking as if nothing had happened.
Hannah stood there on the sidewalk for a few moments and found herself acting as she did standing behind her curtain by the window. She watched him as he continued down the street, the plant in his arms, until he turned a corner a few blocks down.
"Hannah? Were you talking to that man?" Mrs. Tabernacle had poked her head out of her front door, in which Hannah was currently standing in front of, and looked down the street to where the man had been.
"No."
"Do you know him?"
"No."
"But you called him Harold? Why did you call him Harold? If you called him Harold then you must know this man."
Hannah took a deep breath and looked at Mrs. Tabernacle.
"Well I don't think you should be talking to that man, Hannah. There are a lot of crazies out there, you know. Just the other day I heard on my radar that this man had escaped from the prison just outside of town. They say no one can escape that prison, and it just boggles my mind..." Mrs. Tabernacle shook her head.
"I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Tabernacle. I'll be careful," Hannah gave Mrs. Tabernacle a reassuring smile, then crossed the street to return to her own apartment.
"You know Hannah, I haven't seen you much lately! You should really come over and join Joe and I for dinner. You know how much we love company."
"I know Mrs. Tabernacle. I've been so busy lately. I'll try to make it over sometime soon," Hannah put her hand on her door handle to try to end the conversation.
"Ok dear, don't talk to strangers now." And with that Mrs. Tabernacle closed her door.
It wasn't as if Hannah did not enjoy Mrs. Tabernacle and her husband's company, it was just exhausting to talk to them. Mrs. Tabernacle and Joe were the type of people who just suck every ounce of energy out of you when you talk to them. They want to know everything, and every answer you gave them was never satisfactory. Dinner with the Tabernacle's usually lasted between two to three hours. Hannah knew that Mrs. Tabernacle's food was good, but not good enough to warrant a two-hour conversation after the meal.
As far as Hannah knew, she was the only one who actually got along with the Tabernacle's. They had been living there ever since their eldest moved out, which had been more than 30 years ago. In that time, they had managed to create enemies with every neighbor on the block. Everyone except Hannah, who they had unofficially adopted as their third daughter a few weeks after she had moved in.
Hannah didn't mind. She liked the idea of having someone look after her, even if it was a bit annoying. She knew Mrs. Tabernacle was only acting out of concern.
Mrs. Tabernacle's warning echoed through Hannah's mind. She was certain that the man was not someone to be afraid of. He seemed like such an innocent man, carrying around a plant. A man with a plant was not a murderer, Hannah concluded. 
The next day Hannah anxiously watched the clock and waited, longer than normal it seemed, until 5:47 pm. This time she stood outside her stoop, waiting for the man to walk down his usual path. Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Mrs. Tabernacle eyeing her through her first floor window. Hannah wondered if Mrs. Tabernacle had been watching the man like she had been.
Hannah stood by her stoop, trying to ignore the hole Mrs. Tabernacle was burning through her arm. She walked back and forth, down to the stop sign and back to her stoop at least three times before she sat down.
"Harold, where are you?" Hannah sighed. Instinctively she looked down the street, and there he was, plant in hand looking straightforward. As he approached, Hannah wasn't sure what she was going to do. She looked across the street and saw Mrs. Tabernacle's hand holding open the curtain just enough to look through. With the reassurance of someone watching, Hannah boldly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, obstructing the man's path.
The man did not miss a beat. As he reached Hannah's position, he simply took one step to the left to walk around her, then one step back to the right to his original path. Hannah felt that he had looked through as if she was invisible.
Hannah turned around and did the only thing that came to mind; she followed him. She had become increasingly curious about where the man went every day, and following him was one way to find out.
Mrs. Tabernacle opened her front door in protest.
"Hannah...?"
Hannah turned around and gave Mrs. Tabernacle a quick smile to let her know it would be ok. She lengthened her stride to catch up to the man, and soon was walking side by side with him.
They turned the corner a few blocks down and continued down the sidewalk. As Hannah passed a row of apartment buildings, she noticed people peering out of their windows. It seemed as if everyone was curious about the man with the plant.
They continued to walk for a while through various neighborhoods and eventually through less populated areas.
Abruptly the man stopped. Hannah looked around and found herself in the middle of a deserted playground. The man put down the plant and walked behind the tire swing to an old worn out balance beam. Hannah sat down on a bench and watched as the man reached down, almost through the wood to retrieve a shovel and a pair of gardening gloves.
"Harold, are you going to plant Louis?" Hannah said to the man. The man looked at the plant, then at Hannah. Hannah's face immediately turned red. This time, he had really looked at her.
He walked over towards the plant, then turned towards Hannah. He motioned her over with a pointed finger. Hannah stood up, mesmerized by the situation. The man pointed down and Hannah's eyes followed. He pointed further down, and Hannah's whole body followed.
The man took the shovel, held it high above his head, and with one silent swoop hit Hannah on the back of the head.
He took Hannah's limp body and propped it against the bench where she had been sitting. Then he took the shovel and started to dig a hole large enough to plant a tree.
It was dark when Hannah had regained consciousness. She started to move her arms, but soon realized that she couldn't.
Hannah opened her eyes to find that she was actually in the ground, buried as if a plant. Next to her was a plant, the plant she had assumed to be Louis. But more disturbing was what was buried next to Louis.
Hannah started to scream as she recognized dozen's of human heads popping out of the ground like blooming flowers in the spring.