Mushroom Man

Flash Fiction by Bradford Gyori

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Rance was a shameless mycophile. Had been for years. Wherever he went, he foraged. The park, the mall, the subway—it didn’t matter. If it had a dark corner, Rance would scour it for spores. Naturally, he preferred the forest most of all. So, today he could barely contain himself. In fact, within in a few hours, containing Rance would prove impossible. But no spoilers. Back to the forest.

As Rance ventured into the heart of the damp glade, the dark deepened and the underwood grew thick and mossy beneath his stumbling footfalls. Soon visibility was so bad he almost tripped over the first patch, a dank little brown and yellow cluster dotted with red specks about the caps and stems. Lethal. He quickly stepped around it and walked on.

Next came a dank clump of elongated conical shapes with pointed umbos. Rance had sampled this variety before and spent twelve hours spelunking the deepest caverns of his skull. No time for that today.