Mushrooms

“Mushrooms, Hannah? The seventies called, they want their aesthetic back.”
The chorus of laughter from her friends made her pout as the plastic baggie still wiggled as it dangled from her outstretched fingers. She had her doubts as well. But the guy that sold them to her promised “the experience of a lifetime” and he had been so incredibly handsome. Err, convincing. He had been so very convincing.
“They’ve been used for like…Centuries by people all over the world. And that celebrity cult leader with the vagina candle or whatever sent people on a journey to eat some.” Hannah had no idea if these were the same kind, of course. Not to mention the forest preserve by the old railroad tracks wasn’t exactly a tropical beach. But, it got a few of the others to nod their heads and mutter about the “Gooey” lady.
“Besides, Greg. You were the one bitching about wanting to try something new. Or are you just chicken?” She crossed her arms and smirked victoriously at the chorus of of “oooh”s and chicken clucks.
“I’m not afraid of some stupid plants. Fine, we’ll eat your stupid mushrooms.”
Internally, Hannah cheered. Another night of shitty weed and she might have to consider finding something else to do with her Friday nights. Small towns like this made that hard unless she wanted to take up bowling or babysitting. The thought of either made her cringe as she walked over to the bonfire someone lit. The little fungi looked like something out of a cartoon: Perfectly rounded at the top, brown with little white sports.
“So what, you just east them?
“That’s what the guy said, yeah.” I mean, what else would you do with mushrooms? “All right, everyone step right up.”
She let the empty baggie fall onto the grass as the last person took one Everyone was hesitant, not wanting to be the first one. If they were poisoned, no person wanted to be the sacrificial lamb.
“Oh come on.” Hannah popped hers into her mouth while the others watched.
It was like eating dirt when you were a kid playing in the park, or what she imagined licking a tree must have tasted like. One of the bottles of booze someone had brought was passed over to her quickly, and she took a swig to get rid of the taste.
“How long’s it supposed to take?”
“No idea. He just said ‘you’ll know’. Whatever that means. Now come-on, Greg. Bottom’s up. Unless you’re still chicken.”

It took roughly ten minutes for them to learn what “you’ll know” meant. It was a warm, tingling sensation that started at the tips of the fingers before radiating out. It enveloped you quickly, leaving you knocked flat on your back and pinned like a dozen blankets were on your chest. Once the weight settled in, every other sensation was heightened beyond belief. The fire burned as bright as a small sun, if you could manage to keep your eyes open to see it. The areas unlit were writing masses of the deepest darkness imaginable, the trees one writing mass with no definition.
At one point, Hannah managed to look over and make eye contact with Greg. She tried to listen, or to read his lips, but the only sound she heard was a gut-wrenching scream, as he lost his ability to speak. The feeling of the grass against her skin had started out like the feeling of a lover’s fingers had begun to morph into razorblades slicing at every inch of exposed skin. It was all…Too much to feel. The others all lay heavy and useless around the fire, unable to do anything but write in the same excruciating way.
In the painful ecstasy, no one noticed the pair or glowing brown and white speckled eyes that peered out from the dark.