You may not believe in ghosts, but believe you me, if you saw a ghost plant you'd be transfixed. Possibly you'd feel a wave of horror, followed by a surge of fascination.

My recent encounter with a ghost plant, also called Indian pipe, death plant and corpse plant, occurred in a dark forest where I was hunting for wild edible mushrooms with a friend. Pines and beech trees obscured the sunlight on a warm October day. Pine needles and dry leaves blanketed the ground and an enticing smell of damp earth drew us further into the peaceful woods.

My friend spotted what we both thought was a fungus. On closer examination, it resembled an anemic, almost colorless, stunted daffodil. A translucent waxy white, it stood about five inches tall and looked like the sort of flower a werewolf might offer his intended victim before biting her neck.

The very first emotion I felt on seeing this unidentifiable thing was a shiver of horror. Was it a mushroom or a cruel joke of nature, a flower deprived of color and fragrance?

When I Googled a visual description of what I'd seen, it turned out to be Monotropa uniflora, commonly known as ghost plant, a rare perennial wildflower native to North America and the northern part of South America, as well as Asia.

The reason for the flower's death-like pallor is that unlike a green plant, this colorless one has no chlorophyll to make its food from sunlight through the process of photosynthesis. In scientific terms, a ghost plant is a non-photosynthetic angiosperm, angiosperms being flowering plants.

So how does a ghost plant eat? By stealing nutrients from microscopic fungi in the soil, known as mycorrhizae, which in turn get their sustenance from the roots of some trees and other plants.

Mycorrhizal fungi have a mutually beneficial, or symbiotic, relationship with their chosen roots. They receive sugars and carbohydrates from them in return for nutrients like phosphorus, which they extract from the soil more easily than the roots can.

Ghost plants, however, are parasites. They live off the fungi without giving anything in return (as far as scientists know), much as the fictional werewolf survives on his victim's blood. And they reside underground for long periods, sometimes years, before sending up a flower, according to the New York State Parks blog.

Flies and bees, particularly small bumblebees, pollinate the flower, which produces thousands of tiny seeds, dispersed by the wind. In a further shudder-inspiring detail, the seeds get their sustenance by releasing a chemical that mimics a root's, so they can attract just the right fungi to latch on to and milk for food so they can grow into full-blown ghost plants. Even the seeds are parasites.

The mature plant may stand anywhere from two to 12 inches tall and has scales, rather than leaves. Ugh! Each stem produces a single flower and the plant can send up multiple stems, although the one I saw had only one.

Should you find such a sinister treasure growing in the woods, it might be pinkish white instead of what I saw, or even black and orange. When the fruit produced by this extraordinary plant matures, the stem turns dry and black. The oval-shaped seed capsule becomes black and orange. Perfect for Halloween.

For gardeners curious to know, the ghost plant belongs to the plant family Ericaceae, which also includes azaleas, rhododendrons, blueberries and cranberries. Native Americans reportedly used it for medicinal purposes. When cooked, it is said to resemble asparagus.

But I wouldn't want to try it. When eaten, the plant can be mildly poisonous to humans. Just what one would expect from a ghost plant.

In the meantime, happy gardening!

Laetitia Sands is a master gardener in Dorchester County.