A Short Story - The Mushroom.

Consider the mushroom. Rough white cap, white gills underneath, a long stem.

And desperately in need of friends.

“Hello! Hello, friend! Friend! Hello!” He yells into the forest, at the passing motes of dandelion fluff that floats past his little root nook.

At the fox that snuffs past his cap, searching for the trails of the vixen he pursues.

At the squirrel that climbs up and down the bark, hiding his winter food into the upper reaches of the dead and rotten tree.

None consider the mushroom.

Each time anything goes by, his little cap tilts up, the stem stretches into a welcoming smile “Hello, friend!” but no one has replied to his greetings. That's ok. He knows he will find a friend.

The mushroom doesn’t know he is lonely, he only knows he wants a friend.

So then let us consider the acorn, the green acorn, that rolls from between the squirrels little claws on its way past, that rolls into the stem of the mushroom, coming to rest beside him.

“Hello Friend!” The mushroom cries out to the little green acorn. “I am a mushroom!” The acorn doesn’t reply but that’s ok. The mushroom knows they are friends now. Best friends!

The mushroom tells his new friend all about his life. How the mushroom had grown up in the shade of this dead tree, between its stretching roots. How the mushroom has been waiting so long to meet the acorn.

And every day the mushroom grew and grew until his smooth white cap grew shaggy and brown.

Until one day the same fox passed and trod the acorn into the dirt. That was ok too. The mushroom knew the acorn was still there. Still his friend. He kept talking to his best friend. He told the acorn when it was wet, when it was bright, when he was sure he could hear friends but could see none. The acorn didn't reply, but that was ok.

And so time passed, the mushroom felt himself grow slower as the world grew colder. His lovely cap began to turn black and ragged at the edges. His gills, once so white turned pink then began to grow darker. It was ok though, because the acorn, oh his best and lovely acorn friend had grown into a little sprout!

As the acorn pushed out of the ground, the mushroom felt himself get ever so tired but he desperately wished to see his friend grow. He coaxed his friend, shouted encouragement to help him grow big and strong!

“Hello Friend!” He croaked quietly one day. The mushroom's cap was ragged, leaking black fluid into the ground around the acorn shoot. The acorn shoot did not notice, it just grew and grew. The mushroom was so proud of his best friend, so green, so tall already.

Until one day, the mushroom knew it was time. “Goodbye…friend” the mushroom whispered as his ink finally fell, as his stem dissolved, as his body returned into the ground he had grown from. He had had a good life. A happy life. He would miss his best friend acorn.

Meanwhile the acorn grew, its spread its roots, it became tall and proud. The rain fell and watered its roots, the sun shone its light upon its strong trunk. Eventually that little acorn had become a beautiful oak tree.

The wind blew its leaves and shook its branches, through the seasons its changed and grew, taller and taller, its leaves reaching into the sky.

Until one day an acorn was shaken from its place among the leaves. It fell, plummeting to the ground, coming to rest between the roots of the beautiful enormous oak tree.

And a little voice, filled with joy, cried from between the oaks huge roots,

“Hello! Hello Friend!”

The End.