In the damp, forgotten soil, the mushroom emerges, pale and trembling, unaware of its own existence. It doesn’t know it’s a mushroom. It thinks, perhaps, it’s a star, fallen into the earth, waiting to ascend. Day by day, it grows, its cap spreading like a dream unfurling. It feels the weight of darkness but craves the sun it has never seen.
Worms whisper secrets of the underworld, but the mushroom listens for the hum of the sky. It doesn’t realize its life is measured in shadows, not beams of light. It reaches upward, blind, delicate fingers stretching through the dirt, only to find a ceiling of roots and rot.
It never reaches the surface. Instead, it withers into itself, still dreaming of starlight. Above, the world continues, indifferent to the mushroom’s silent, unnoticed existence. Beneath the soil, it decays, leaving nothing but a trace of longing.
#Mushroom #Nature #Existentialism #Poetry #ShortStory #Fantasy #LifeAndDeath #Dreams #Metaphor #NatureWriting #CreativeWriting #LiteraryFiction
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