Shorts and Snapshots

《SHORTS》

Title: The Mushroom Is Talking to Me

《》

The mushroom is talking to me.

It knows my mother's maiden name and everything about my first day of kindergarten. It knows my major and about the last time my boyfriend and I fought.

It was freaky at first. It was a small, brown, speckled thing, dotted with a brown that almost, almost shimmered blue in the sunlight. I'm an avid forager, and I'd never stumbled across this type before. I bent down to take a picture, and it spoke.

The mushroom is talking to me. It has a low voice.

The mushroom asks me about my latest research paper, but everything I tell it, it already knows. I sit in the brush and a twig stabs the back of my leg. I wince and drop my backpack beside me.

"The mushroom is talking."

The mushroom likes to state the obvious. It stated that I have long hair. It stated that I had trouble growing facial hair. It stated that I'm constantly daydreaming. I don't ask how it knows. I shave every day.

The mushroom is talking to me. It has a low voice and is the only one of it's kind.

I don't know many scientists who are concerned with the preservation and documentation of mushrooms. I'm taking biology, I say. I'm concerned about the mushrooms. I will find more of your species.

The mushroom is brave and adaptive. It grows out of a ribcage. An unfortunate home for an intelligent mushroom. The ribcage is wet and sticky. I'm growing fond of the mushroom.

The mushroom is talking to me. It has a low voice, is the only one of it's kind, and is very resourceful.

The mushroom agrees that an exposed ribcage is an unfortunate home for an intelligent mushroom. It is having trouble extracting the proper nutrients.

The mushroom is talking to me. It has a low voice, is the only one of it's kind, is very resourceful, and has a soft, velvety top.

I reach out to stroke the mushroom. I find plants and fungus interesting, especially those noticeably mobile. The venus fly trap, the nerve plant, stuff like that. The mushroom is wrapping feeling tendrils around my outstretched arm, and it's fascinating. I hope the oils in my skin don't harm it.

The mushroom is talking to me. It has a calming voice, is the only one of it's kind, is very resourceful, has a soft, velvety top, and is in need of a new host.

The mushroom is talking for me.