Mushrooms

 

The mushrooms were going to eat me.

I could see them, at the edges of the torch's light, lurking in wait. They never moved when I was watching, but the number of mushrooms kept growing. They had red caps with lavender speckles, and I just knew they were hungry.

I didn't know how I knew, nor why I was so certain that I was to be the main course, but I knew.

Once the torch died, they would be on me.

There might be a way out, but I couldn't find it. I couldn't go in any direction without running into the mushrooms, and although the light kept them from approaching, I didn't think it would protect me if one of the shrooms got close enough to make contact. Nor did I want to risk whatever fume might be released from burning the mushrooms.

So all I could do was stand, rotating around to be sure none of the mushrooms had gotten closer, and hope for morning or aid to come before my torch died.

I wasn't confident in my survival chances.