Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 38

mumbled, the effort to make conversation robbing my
voice of all emotion, so it came out flat.
“Are you alright? You don’t sound yourself?”
she asked, hobbling out the room, the kettle already
whistling softly. The thought of my garden, overrun
with those otherworldly mushrooms made me
shudder. Their pale bodies crowding around my
harvest, shading them from the sun so they withered
and died, destroying everything and growing larger
and larger until I wouldn’t be able to resist and control
myself.
I found myself holding a crushed mushroom
up to my face, completely unaware that I had taken it
from my bag. At the same moment I caught sight of
my reflection in the mirror opposite, my eyes wide and
red rimmed. But, it wasn’t this that made me drop the
mushroom, that made me fling my entire bag against
the wall and cover my mouth with both hands.
My skin had turned transparent. The same
golden veins that threaded through the mushrooms
caps were now under my skin, glittering like tiny
rivers. My hair was grey, and when I tentatively
touched the strands at my cheek with shaking fingers,
it fell away in clumps. A low whimper slipped through
my fingers, my face wet with tears. Mushrooms of
varying sizes were bursting from my skin, clustering
under my top, around my neck and atop my head.
Now I had seen them, broken from the daze of
uncontrolled feeding I could feel them swelling
under my skin, creating domes that split into wounds,
liberating them. My clothing was wet with the juices
of crushed mushrooms, trapped under my clothing.
My swollen belly heaved, and I gagged into my hand,
cheeks puffing as the urge to vomit overcame me. I
couldn’t do it though, the sickness whirling in my
stomach as I gag