\nNobody says nothin\u2019 good about that Kimball Manor, wastin\u2019 away on the corner of Hemlock and Old Chatsworth Road. Nobody says nothin\u2019 bad about it either. Really, nobody says much at all about the old mansion, but somehow everybody knows about the Fungus Man that lives in the hole where the parlor floor caved in. It\u2019s what the adults call an \u201copen secret.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNow, nobody in town knows this Fungus Man, and none but a few knows what kind of fungus make him up. Eunice always said the Fungus Man\u2019s fungi weren\u2019t like the mushrooms they sold in the grocery store, but the natural, dangerous kinds that make your throat close up and your skin blister and char. Eunice usually knows what she\u2019s talkin\u2019 \u2018bout when it comes to earth sciences, so I was keen to believe her. But I also had a mind to see it for myself.\n<\/p>\n
\nI told her so, one day walkin\u2019 in the gully next to the overgrown rail line while we were headin\u2019 back from school. That was the long way \u2018round, but we took it to escape the boys who always said Eunice had a mouse face and pulled her hair. They said plenty other mean things about her too. Said she looked like a bloated pear, on account of her hips. Laughed at her fingernails, full o\u2019 dirt, and her patchy clothes. \u201cAin\u2019t nothin\u2019 wrong with makin\u2019 good use o\u2019 God\u2019s blessings,\u201d I always said. It would cheer her up some, but not a whole lot.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhat would cheer her up was takin\u2019 the forest path just before the fork in the tracks. She looked mighty cheerful in the dim light under the forest canopy. She\u2019d stop to point out new buds on a cranefly orchid or hornbeam saplings, threadin\u2019 the shoots through her fingers. Every so often she\u2019d find a mushroom you could eat, pick it up, and scarf it down. Wouldn\u2019t even wash the grime off or nothin\u2019!\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHenry, look!\u201d She was crouched down at the base of an old oak stump, brushin\u2019 a round, ruffled cap with the tips of her fingers. \u201cHen o\u2019 the woods. Good eatin\u2019, these.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLooks like them ballerina tutus,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice laughed, a loud raspy cackle. Then she tore off a piece and gulped it right down.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBet you\u2019re always thinkin\u2019 o\u2019 ballerinas in their tutus, ain\u2019tcha, Henry?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI frowned. I was goin\u2019 by Hank these days, and she knew it.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe was pushin\u2019 my buttons. She always did after a run-in with those bully boys.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think I\u2019d look good in one of them tutus, Henry?\u201d she asked, knowin\u2019 she wouldn\u2019t, but knowin\u2019 I\u2019d agree.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDuh,\u201d I said, \u201cbut your tutu would be made o\u2019 these here mushrooms.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe tore off another piece and offered it to me. I turned my nose up at it, but she pressed, shakin\u2019 the thing at me. And that there\u2019s when I got to thinkin\u2019 of the Fungus Man.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHey, you think there really is a man made o\u2019 mushrooms who lives underneath that caved-in floor over in Kimball Manor?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice just stared at me, tearin\u2019 piece after piece of that hen o\u2019 the woods. I thought maybe she was mad, or fixin\u2019 to set me straight or somethin\u2019. She could, too. But I\u2019d never mentioned the Fungus Man before. Like I said, no one ever really says nothin\u2019 about him or the house, so how can anyone have a strong feelin\u2019 about it?\n<\/p>\n
\nJesus would\u2019ve been born, grown, died, and resurrected before Eunice did anythin\u2019 but chew that wood-hen, unless I clicked my tongue and said, \u201cGimme some,\u201d and held out my hand.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe smiled, a little bashful, and gave me a piece. I popped it in my mouth. It was soft and fluffy and tasted buttery, just like chicken.\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice piped up. \u201cI heard that the man don\u2019t just live in a hole in the ground,\u201d she testified. \u201cI heard there\u2019s a big ol\u2019 tunnel beneath that house, stretchin\u2019 all the way down into Hell, down and down straight into Satan\u2019s fiery torture pit.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe crept toward me, her arms held up in front like a zombie.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cJust waitin\u2019 for stupid boys like Henry Tattnall to fall into it and get gobbled up by the devil himself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI gulped. \u201cSo he\u2019s a demon, then? The Fungus Man?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIf he\u2019s real,\u201d she said, her voice quivering, \u201che might as well be. I\u2019d steer clear if I\u2019s you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe huffed and started walkin\u2019 away, her arms pulled taut as a circus high-wire behind her. My head was tellin\u2019 me she was just messin\u2019, but my heart wanted to prove her wrong. Show her I wasn\u2019t scared o\u2019 no tunnel or devil or Fungus Man. And if she was really messin\u2019, why would she herself be so scared?\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I said, \u201cYou\u2019re too chicken to find out for yourself, ain\u2019t ya, Eunice Bailey?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe whipped \u2018round again. \u201cAin\u2019t scared. Just got no interest in dyin\u2019.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll protect you if you promise to come with.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cScrawny boy like you? Protect me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNow, it\u2019s true that I\u2019m on the scrawny side. Just haven\u2019t filled out yet. All the Tattnall boys do, eventually. So it did seem funny that scrawny little Hank Tattnall could ever protect Eunice Bailey, who was just as tall and nearly twice my size.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe\u2019d climbed trees and arm-wrestled and all that plenty o\u2019 times, and she always won. But she was only strong when she could find her nerve, and she sure couldn\u2019t find it when those bully boys had a mind to beat down her confidence. And who could blame her? They set upon their target like huntin\u2019 dogs. Not lettin\u2019 up until they was satisfied with the kill.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I stood back, hands on my hips, lookin\u2019 at the forest refuge around us and called, \u201cDone it before, ain\u2019t I?\u201d Takin\u2019 credit for walkin\u2019 her home the long way, not being scared of the forest like them bullies.\n<\/p>\n
\nBoy, she really got mad then. Her face turned red as a hot stove and she said, \u201cI\u2019ll show you, Henry Tattnall. You wanna face the worst fear you ever known? Well, be my guest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd she stomped off toward old Kimball Manor on the corner of Hemlock and Old Chatsworth Road. I shoulda known right then that Eunice Bailey knew more than I did–about that house, about the Fungus Man, but also just about everything.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\n
\nNow, when we showed up to Kimball Manor, I nearly lost my nerve–and my lunch. Mercifully for me and for Eunice, I held on tight as I could to both.\n<\/p>\n
\nKimball Manor is one of them big houses my mama always called \u201cVictorian.\u201d Whoever Victor was, they ought done kept better care of their property. This house was about one strong gust from fallin\u2019 over. Aside from the normal chipped, fadin\u2019 paint you see on other houses in these old run-down neighborhoods, the walls gaped with holes and wood-rot. Its front windows were smashed in, the handiwork of older kids passin\u2019 time with double-dog dares and contests to see who had the strongest throwin\u2019 arm. The roof over the wraparound front porch sagged in a wide smile. Made it look like the house was tryin\u2019 to make the best of its own, sorry fate.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe marched across the overgrown front yard, pickin\u2019 our feet up high to keep from gettin\u2019 stuck by nettles. Eunice, sure-footed and focused, didn\u2019t look back once. But every time I took a peek at that smilin\u2019 roof, I shivered. The second-story dormer windows stared at me. Beggin\u2019 us to turn back, or maybe do the crumblin\u2019 house a kindness and put it out of its misery.\n<\/p>\n
\nI thought about it. I really did. Thank the Lord above I did not have a mind to turn tail or destroy nothin\u2019.\n<\/p>\n
\nI sucked in a breath and mustered some courage. If Eunice could do it, why couldn\u2019t I?\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCan you imagine livin\u2019 in a place like this?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBack when it was all nice and rich-like, I mean.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice shrugged.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHavin\u2019 such a big house, with so much space. Probably lots o\u2019 gold and silver inside, too. Maybe some o\u2019 those Roman statues that rich people like in the garden.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n
\nI glanced around the side of the mansion past a big, scraggly oak, the kind with moss hangin\u2019 on its branches. An old carriage house sat back there, one of its doors missin\u2019. In the fadin\u2019 sunlight, I swear I saw the shimmer of a horse\u2019s head, pokin\u2019 out from inside. My head snapped right back to Eunice.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI like it better now,\u201d she said, almost growlin\u2019. So she was tense. I wondered why–why she liked it better now and why she was tense–but had the good sense not to ask.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe porch steps creaked loud underneath our feet as we climbed. The front door was already open a crack. There wasn\u2019t no wind that day, but the darned thing still groaned and swayed from some apparition pushin\u2019 on it.\n<\/p>\n
\nSomethin\u2019 caught in my throat. Eunice must\u2019ve noticed \u2018cause she turned right \u2018round and said, \u201cWe ain\u2019t gotta do this, Henry Tattnall. You\u2019s already spooked, I can tell.\u201d She crept forward, her eyebrows raised, like she expected me to back down. \u201cI\u2019m givin\u2019 you one more chance to admit you\u2019re downright terrified of the Fungus Man.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI studied her face, all careful-like. Her eyes were wide and her lips were clamped tight. She\u2019d found her nerve, but underneath that confident face o\u2019 hers, there was a battle goin\u2019 on. Like she knew crossin\u2019 this haunted doorway would change her life forever.\n<\/p>\n
\nWell, I took that gambit. I couldn\u2019t imagine Eunice would\u2019ve been keepin\u2019 secrets from me, no matter open or closed.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I sucked in a deep breath and stepped right on past her to the front door. And I pushed it open.\n<\/p>\n
\nInside was even worse for wear than outside, if you could believe that. All them rumors were true about the parlor floor.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt had a hole in it, all right–a hole so big it took up the whole room! Hardly two floorboards left together, even \u2018round the edges. Everythin\u2019 in the room had fallen in–old chairs and cabinets, patterned rugs, end tables and crystal lamps, even an old grandfather clock, its pendulum all twisted.\n<\/p>\n
\nAcross the room was a grand staircase, covered in an inch of dirt and dust. I found myself havin\u2019 an urge to try to cross the room to the stairs, to put off the \u201cinvitable\u201d or whatever my mama called it.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut Eunice had another idea. She pushed past me and dropped right down in the hole, which was really no deeper than a swimmin\u2019 pool. It was filled with rubble, and Eunice clambered over it easy. \u201cCome on, scaredy cat,\u201d she said. \u201cThis is what you wanted, ain\u2019t it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI grumbled and followed her. Truth be told, I was curious, but also suspected I was in over my head.\n<\/p>\n
\nAt the other end o\u2019 the pit was a tunnel dug deeper beneath the house. She crept down it, holdin\u2019 her hands up to mind the pipes hangin\u2019 from the cave ceiling. The silence and darkness swallowed us right up. Felt like I could hear my every breath and swallow and my own heart poundin\u2019 in my ears. Meanwhile, Eunice was cool as a cucumber. She led the way through the meanderin\u2019 tunnels like she\u2019d been there thousands o\u2019 times before.\n<\/p>\n
\nMaybe she had, I thought.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe tunnels were cold and damp, but my face still got plenty hot. Nerves, most like, but I\u2019d also started thinkin\u2019 that Eunice could be playin\u2019 me like a fiddle. There she was, movin\u2019 all comfortable-like through the tunnels. She coulda known exactly what we were gettin\u2019 into, everythin\u2019 about the Fungus Man and his lair, but coulda pretended like she didn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n
\nNow, every one of us has lied one time or another, but it felt awful right then and there, in such a dangerous situation, to think my best friend had been tellin\u2019 tall tales.<\/p>\n
\n
\nSo I made to set the record straight. \u201cEunice Bailey, how come you lied and said you ain\u2019t know about all this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPsh,\u201d she said. \u201cWhatcha mean I lied? I ain\u2019t lied about nothin\u2019.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou did too lie,\u201d I said, raisin\u2019 my voice. My mama would scold me for that. \u201cYou made like you ain\u2019t known nothin\u2019 about Kimball Manor and these here tunnels. Makin\u2019 like you \u2018heard about\u2019 the Fungus Man and demons and all that, makin\u2019 like you\u2019d never seen \u2018em. But you had seen \u2018em. Hadn\u2019t you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re off your rocker, Henry Tattnall.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI ain\u2019t off nothin\u2019,\u201d I said, and I reached for her shoulder, fixin\u2019 to spin her around and show her the hurt I was feelin\u2019 about her lyin\u2019 to me.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut just when I did, a mighty roar echoed through the cave.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe both froze in our tracks, right there in the middle of a small chamber connectin\u2019 three different tunnels–the one we came from and two others.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe waited. Five seconds, then ten, then twenty. And just when I was about to say we should get goin\u2019, there was another sound. A bunch o\u2019 sounds, really, all together, in a big cloud.\n<\/p>\n
\nPops and snaps, like pullin\u2019 up old roots from a garden bed.\n<\/p>\n
\nAround us, the cave shivered and groaned, throwin\u2019 piles of dirt at our feet. Then there was one big snap, and everything stopped.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe weren\u2019t alone in the cave no more.\n<\/p>\n
\nI could feel him right next to me. The Fungus Man. I didn\u2019t dare look, but I didn\u2019t have to. He loomed over me. He stood tall, taller than any man I\u2019d ever seen, even my papa. And he stank to High Heaven, like the carcass of some dead animal.\n<\/p>\n
\nI stood there, petrified, even as he leaned down close to me, his hot breath on my neck and my ear. Maybe he was sniffin\u2019 me or somethin\u2019. To this day, I don\u2019t know. What I do know is that when he got close, I could hear his body. It moved. Writhed, like worms in a dead log. All of his fungi, they were movin\u2019, growin\u2019. In that moment, I feared he would latch onto me, suck me into his body and take over mine until I was covered in mushrooms and fungus too.\n<\/p>\n
\nI stood there, tremblin\u2019, my mind blank, afraid of everythin\u2019–the man, my own shadow and my own body.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut then I heard Eunice sayin\u2019 somethin\u2019. Only later did I realize what it was.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d she said, pleadin\u2019. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. It\u2019s me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe stepped forward, puttin\u2019 herself between me and the Fungus Man. All calm, no nerves. A far cry from my shakin\u2019, whimperin\u2019 self.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe Man huffed and leaned back, then let out another mighty roar. The ground shook and threw us both to the cave floor. Pain hit my legs and I heard Eunice cry out. Then there were more noises, both the slitherin\u2019 worm sounds and the snappin\u2019 twigs sounds. The cave shook and shook and I could hear the Fungus Man groanin\u2019 as he grew taller and taller, gatherin\u2019 his strength to strike.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLet\u2019s get outta here while we can,\u201d yelled Eunice. And she ran down the tunnel ahead of us on the right, draggin\u2019 my sorry self behind her, lost for breath and with legs as good as noodles.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nNow, I already said once that Eunice Bailey knew more than I did about most things. She could memorize scripture in no time at all. Her grades in math and science blew mine clean out the water. She always seemed to remember everybody\u2019s name, or how to get from A to B in town.\n<\/p>\n
\nThat last one proved pretty handy right then in the Fungus Man\u2019s cave. It was like she knew every twist and turn in those caverns. Even without a flashlight, she could sense the way to go.\n<\/p>\n
\nI, of course, was completely blind and scared to bits and my knee hurt like hell. Behind us–just inches–the Fungus Man\u2019s groans and roars chased us, makin\u2019 his rage known to us and all o\u2019 Hell\u2019s other demons in the process. But we were faster than him in his new, taller body. I followed Eunice as she turned this way and that, leadin\u2019 us to safety.\n<\/p>\n
\nEventually, the Fungus Man\u2019s groans grew softer and we slowed our pace. Only a little, though. We were still wanderin\u2019 like blind bats in this cave, and I was desperate to get outta there. My knee ached bad, and my muscles were as dense as molasses. I was beggin\u2019 to see the daylight.\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice could tell I was strugglin\u2019. She put one of my arms around her neck, and together we marched further along the path.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHappy now?\u201d she said. Could never resist a chance to taunt old Hank Tattnall, could she?\n<\/p>\n
\nAfter a few more minutes, a silver glow appeared ahead of us. I got a surge of energy and I rushed forward, clamberin\u2019 up the few stones and out of the cave. We ended up in a clearing in the middle of the forest. Our forest, mine and Eunice\u2019s.\n<\/p>\n
\nI sighed so heavy I thought my lungs would jump clean out my body. I was exhausted, my knee was bloody, and my jeans were torn in three places, but we made it. I fell back in the grass, laughin\u2019 and laughin\u2019, gazin\u2019 up at the treetops. I felt Eunice thump down on the ground beside me.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCan\u2019t believe we made it out alive,\u201d I said. \u201cAll thanks to me, right, Eunice?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe didn\u2019t answer. Unlike her not to shoot somethin\u2019 clever back, or at least click her tongue in disagreement.\n<\/p>\n
\nMaybe now wasn\u2019t the best time for taunts. Changin\u2019 my tune, I said, \u201cHow\u2019d you know which way to go in them tunnels? That was awesome. You were better than Magellan when he went \u2018round the world.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nStill no answer.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt occurred to me right then that she might be right angry with me. Angry with me for darin\u2019 her to go inside Kimball Manor, for not listenin\u2019 to her when she warned against sneakin\u2019 a peek at the Fungus Man.\n<\/p>\n
\nI got a sour taste in my mouth. It was awfully bully-like of me, wasn\u2019t it? To gawk at this man like he was nothin\u2019 more than a sideshow attraction. My insides grumbled with shame. I got to thinkin\u2019 I should admit it was a bad idea all around.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I made to roll over. To face her and say I was sorry for puttin\u2019 us in danger.\n<\/p>\n
\nI turned, the grass rustlin\u2019 underneath me, and Eunice yelled, loud and wounded, \u201cDON\u2019T.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nBut it was too late. She was lyin\u2019 on her side, turned away from me. Her clothes were ripped from when we fell, just like mine. But in between the rips in her jeans and shirt, somethin\u2019 was pokin\u2019 out. Somethin\u2019 ruffled and colored with brown and white and baby pink stripes.\n<\/p>\n
\nO\u2019 course, I recognized it instantly, even if it made no doggone sense. Around her hips, stuffed into her jeans, was a skirt made from hen o\u2019 the woods mushrooms. Just then, I remembered what she said in the tunnels, when the Fungus Man made to grab at us. \u201cIt\u2019s me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNow, it didn\u2019t matter if she was wearin\u2019 the thing, or she was the thing like the Fungus Man was. I suspected she was the thing, but no way did I wanna embarrass her by doin\u2019 or sayin\u2019 nothin\u2019 unkind. So I said, \u201cEunice Bailey, you really wearin\u2019 a tutu underneath them jeans?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe shuddered, and I heard her sniffle and sob.\n<\/p>\n
\nI confess, I didn\u2019t know what to do. I\u2019d never known Eunice to cry at all. Even when the bullies got to her, she\u2019d just grit her teeth and shut up like a clam. The only thing that ever got her talkin\u2019 again was talkin\u2019 about nonsense.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo that\u2019s what I did.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cY\u2019know,\u201d I started sayin\u2019, \u201cyou said I\u2019m always thinkin\u2019 about skinny ballerina girls in tutus like them\u2019s you see on TV at Christmastime, but I don\u2019t get what all the fuss is about. I really don\u2019t. My momma always says the only girl for a Tattnall boy is one who can put us in our damn place, and I don\u2019t think any of those ballerina girls got what it takes. I mean, you seen my brother Jim\u2019s wife, Daisy, right? Not exactly Daisy-like, is she?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice sniffled. I heard her laugh a little bit, even over the sounds of the forest around us. So I kept goin\u2019.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd then there\u2019s William, who didn\u2019t even want no woman to begin with. You remember Marcus, don\u2019t ya, Eunice?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe rolled over so she faced me. Her eyes glistened in the fadin\u2019 light. She shook her head no. And it dawned on me that I barely remembered Marcus. Only met him the one time when I was in third grade. Bald, dark-skinned, muscular and taller than anyone I\u2019d ever met. He towered over me, but had the kindest smile you could imagine. He and William hadn\u2019t been back from the city since then.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell,\u201d I said, shovin\u2019 down the memory, \u201che\u2019d break me over his knee with one snap, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTruly, Henry Tattnall,\u201d she said, with a snort. \u201cAnyone could. Hell, I could break you over my knee.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen I tell you my face got so red! I sat up lightning-fast, about to talk back to her about how I just hadn\u2019t filled out yet and one day it\u2019d all be different. But Eunice laughed again, in earnest this time, and none of that talk mattered. I found myself in a fit of chuckles.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen we laughed together, it was like a balloon had popped.\n<\/p>\n
\nAll the knots in my stomach untangled. Lord, I was exhausted. I plopped back down in the tall grass, my arms restin\u2019 on my knees. Eunice rolled up beside me, propped up on one elbow. She was bein\u2019 oddly shy, spinnin\u2019 a blade o\u2019 grass between her fingers. It seemed like there was somethin\u2019 she wanted to say but was afraid of my reaction.\n<\/p>\n
\nWell, I\u2019ve never been one to let quiet last, but this time I ain\u2019t know what to say neither. We sat there as the sun went down, listenin\u2019 to the crickets call out in their rockin\u2019 rhythms, listenin\u2019 to all manner of creatures scamper around in the forest behind us.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNow you\u2019ve seen it, I guess I should tell you,\u201d she said, finally. \u201cI know what\u2019s in store for me. I can\u2019t stop it. My mycelia will keep growin\u2019. I\u2019ll get stronger, but I\u2019ll also become less\u2026\u201d She snapped off a grass blade. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll become more like him. Get new senses but lose old ones. My sense of taste, my voice\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe trailed off, stared through the trees at the dyin\u2019 light.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHenry,\u201d she mumbled. \u201cWhat do you want your life to be?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe snapped off another blade and spun it in her fingers. I watched her twirlin\u2019 it, rubbin\u2019 her fingers back and forth, savorin\u2019 the motion of it, the flexibility of her fingers. I imagined them covered in little spores and veins of mold like those that covered the Fungus Man.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMaybe I picture a life full o\u2019 mushrooms.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe hit me. Hard. \u201cBe serious, you idiot.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAlright! Alright,\u201d I protested. I supposed I\u2019d best try to offer a different picture. I sighed, lettin\u2019 an image come to me. But none came except for those bullies, tormentin\u2019 Eunice at school. And my momma, scowlin\u2019 fierce at my brother William and then at Marcus.\n<\/p>\n
\nI still didn\u2019t have a full picture–not countin\u2019 those bad ones–but I did have a good goshdarned idea.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I said, \u201cMe, I don\u2019t know what I want. But I sure as hell ain\u2019t gonna go the way of everyone else in this puny town.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat way is that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI looked her plain in the face with the most sincere look I ever gave another God-fearin\u2019 soul. I did that so she knew I wasn\u2019t lookin\u2019 at her mushroom skirt. So she knew I was lookin\u2019 at her and her only.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe way of turnin\u2019 my back on the folks that matter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI took her hand and nodded. Things would change. I would change and she would change. But this here was as sure as the mushroom tutu growin\u2019 around her waist.\n<\/p>\n
\nNow, the sun was gone and the last streaks o\u2019 daylight were fadin\u2019 fast. But other lights sprung up from the ground. All around us, little tiny things started glowin\u2019 an alien green color. There were ribbons of \u2018em, loopin\u2019 around fallen tree limbs and pine stumps, makin\u2019 the grass look radioactive.\n<\/p>\n
\nEunice squealed in delight. \u201cOoh, Henry! Look at all the lil\u2019 paddle bats!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe rolled over and grabbed one of the tree limbs, bringin\u2019 it closer. \u201cNow these are fascinatin\u2019 little creatures. You\u2019d never notice \u2018em in the daytime, but at night they show their true colors.\u201d She gasped. \u201cYou think maybe I\u2019ll grow some of these?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAt the time, I smiled, thinkin\u2019 she was off her rocker. She\u2019d probably just look ugly like the Fungus Man. But he didn\u2019t have no hen o\u2019 the woods on him, neither. Maybe it could happen.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo I said, \u201cNo doubt you will.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWe followed the trails of paddle bats around the woods that night until the moon hung high in the sky and foxhounds started bayin\u2019 and it occurred to me that this here, this was the picture I was lookin\u2019 for but couldn\u2019t envision. People always talk about a glowin\u2019 future, but I didn\u2019t ever take it so literal. I was glad to have found one, glowin\u2019 bright green.\n<\/p>\n
Nicholas Jay is a conservation-minded urban planner living in Atlanta, Georgia. His fiction has appeared in The Dread Machine, Hyphenpunk, Tree and Stone, among others. He enjoys his time most with either pen, violin, or map in hand — sometimes all three at once. Find him on Twitter at @kn1ckkn4cks.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Nobody says nothin\u2019 good about that Kimball Manor, wastin\u2019 away on the corner of Hemlock and Old Chatsworth Road. Nobody says nothin\u2019 bad about it either. Really, nobody says much at all about the old mansion, but somehow everybody knows about the Fungus Man that lives in the hole where the parlor floor caved in. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107974,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20140],"tags":[20141],"class_list":["post-140373","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-53-autumn-2024","tag-the-colored-lens-53-autumn-2024","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140373","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107974"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140373"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140373\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140374,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140373\/revisions\/140374"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140373"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140373"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140373"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}