Fiction in a minute: Mushroom

I fell into the dirt and dead leaves on the forest floor, banging my right knee on a rock and splintering my palms on rotten wood. I must have bit my lip too, because I tasted blood when I caught my breath.

“Are we having fun yet?” Frieda said with a smirk.

It was the third time I’d thought about killing her today.

Now I knew how to do it.

Frieda crossed her arms. “Come on already, klutz. It’s another mile to camp and it’s almost dark.”

“Coming,” I said. Electric currents ran through me. I cupped my hand over the death cap mushroom and pulled. The soil gave up slowly, as if asking are you sure?

She warmed herself by the fire, flames lighting her face as red as a demon’s while she played games on her mobile phone. I wrenched open a can of chili and poured it into the pot, along with finely shredded pieces of the poisonous mushroom.

At three a.m. Frieda shook me awake in the tent. “I don’t feel good,” she said. “My stomach…”

Her favorite question reverberated in my mind but didn’t make it to my lips.

“Are we having fun yet?” 

Photo copyright: cobretti / 123RF Stock Photo

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