Several months ago I got attacked by ...a plant. It happened while I was on my way out of the cemetery. My skirt touched a shrub near one of the graves and all of a sudden its fruit opened up sending tens of needles into the lower part of my body. I won't go into details; I'll just say that it was pure Hell.
I know, of course, about the existence of plants whose exterior is covered by thorns or needles, but this was something else. No warning whatsoever of the concealed weapon. I was so shocked and in pain that I wasn't able to even take a decent look at the shrub. A month later I came back to the 'scene of crime' to search for it and take a picture so that I could start some inquiries, but I wasn't successful. I couldn't remember the exact place and shape of the 'villain'.
I'm not familiar with the regulations and restrictions, if any, regarding plants in a cemetery. I think in this particular cemetery there's usually no soil for planting near the headstones, so people bring all kinds of trees/shrubs/flowers, in pots of various shapes and sizes, and place them near the gravestone of their beloved trying to make beautiful the resting place of the dead and pleasurable the visits of the living.
I kept quiet about the incident. I felt it was a kind of punishment from Above for choosing the short way among the graves and thus disturbing the peace of the dead, instead of taking the normal path. I don't know why I haven't used the paved path. Probably, it's the nasty child in me, that resides in everyone, making us , at times, behave badly and do stupid things.
I should have complained to the manager of the cemetery about the shrub, demanding an explanation of their policy as to the sort of plants allowed in the cemetery, but I didn't. I guess I was still uncomfortable with my behaviour, and I was too glad that no lasting harm was done to me.