Tale 5- The Shroom Society

The Traveler walked through a forest path, avoiding the darker areas and eventually coming across a cottage, where a little girl was playing nearby. The child approached the Traveler, curious about her and trying to sneak a peek under her cloak, but in vain, as the Traveler held it firmly. The child began to chatter to the Traveler, about her family and her home, and then asked the Traveler if she’d like to hear a special secret, the Traveler gently nodding. The little girl grinned and started to tell the story of ‘The Shroom Society.’

‘At the bottom of the cottage’s garden, there’s a patch of grass where mushrooms grow, both red and white and brown ones. At night, when the adults go to bed, the largest one stands up out of the ground and leads the other ones through the door to the pantry. The entire group then climb up to the top of the shelf, and grab a piece of cheese from the cupboard. Every single night, the leader insists they steal more cheese, and thus they go on nightly expeditions, scouting out the smallest but finest pieces they can find, so they may eat well but not be caught. Someday, though, these troops will revolt and overthrow their leader, and then they’ll steal all the cheese in the house.’

The girl finished her tale, the Traveler nodding and writing it down quickly, trying to keep the presentation consistent whilst holding the book and writing standing up. When she was done, she bent down to the child and gently patted her head, the little girl catching a tiny glimpse of her face as she did. It was a gentle face, and the child felt her heart warm. Likewise, the Traveler felt a strange warmth. The tale had been different to others, typically her stories she learned of were dark or frightening, but this one was simply a story of magical mushrooms that came to life and ate cheese. Although, the Traveler suspected it was a fabrication by the child in order to hide the true cheese thief, her secret was safe. As the Traveler disappeared into the woods, she contemplated the nature of a story. Eventually, any life considered notable will turn into a narrative, and from there be retold a thousand times to a thousand different ears, and henceforth. What is a life more than a short tale in a book of years? And how much of what we know to be real is definitive? Having no time to think of such matters, she continued on, and the cottage soon disappeared from sight.