Mushroom Man

I made my way to the Mushroom Man, a coated UV tarp pulled over my head. Without it the noon-day sun would cook my skin. Within the city’s ruins, pockets of shade provided refuge. I scurried from shadow to shadow.

Down the subway stairs, rubble clacking away, the smell of loam filled my senses. Darkness gave me pause, my eyes adjusted slowly. The ancient forest smell consumed me.

“They’re not ready,” said the man who grows the mycelium leather.

I picked my way deeper into the gloom. “My kid needs those gloves.”

“Can’t rush the shrooms,” he cackled, madly.


[Another 99 word story prompt: kid gloves]

12 thoughts on “Mushroom Man

  1. Rewrite the first paragraph with on my way to the mushroom man (or thereabouts) as the last line. Right now it’s like walking on marbles. Nice take on kid gloves. I saw that one and thought of a pulp with a welter weight boxer. Carry on.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. You gave it away. After we know where you’re going the rest is hodgepodge window dressing. No investment. That’s why we stumble through the rubble setting it up. If you have the original, send it to me. I have a plan. Otherwise I have to use Vasily’s fields as an example of chunking instead of the funnel.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Original:

          With a tarp held over my head, I made my way to the Mushroom Man. Noon and the sun would cook my skin without it. The city’s ruins, baked white, provided pockets of shade. I scrambled from shadow to shadow.

          Courtesy of Google Cache

          Liked by 1 person

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