Mushrooms

Mushrooms (300 words)

Esme had been following the beaten track through Greenwood Forest for hours, but there were no mushrooms in sight. The sun was almost down, and strange things happened in the forest after dark.

“Bother,” she said. “Can’t a witch catch a break?”

She was about to give up when she saw a patch of mushrooms, big and juicy, at the bottom of an oak tree. She tapped the ground with her walking-stick, and the mushrooms popped up, sprouted legs, and hopped into her wicker basket.

“Perfect,” she said, “that’s my next batch of ointment sorted.”

Esme turned to head back, but the sun had set, the forest was dark, and the path home was no longer visible.

The first rule of witchcraft every young witch learns is not to stray from the beaten path in a lonely forest. Esme was far from young, but she was a stickler for rules.

“Easy now,” she said, pointing her walking-stick at the canopy above.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, show me where you really are.”

The canopy rustled and moaned, and soon it parted in the middle, revealing starlight from the night-sky.

“That’s better,” she said, and hobbled off with a smile.

On the threshold of the forest, she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. It was silent. Too silent. And then it wasn’t.

A thorny vine, thick as a man’s arm, whipped out of the forest and wrapped itself around Esme’s waist.

“One of these days, I’m going to give up witchcraft and move somewhere boring,” she said as the vine tightened.

She raised her hands in the air and said, “Bing bong, vine be gone!”

The vine made a little whimper, let go, and snaked back into the forest.

“Honestly,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m getting too old for this.”