Tangled Iron Thorns and Humming Mushrooms

Tangled Iron Thorns and Humming Mushrooms

I was walking back from the grocery store at twilight, carrying a heavy brown paper bag that was tearing at the bottom. The street looked like my childhood neighborhood, but the houses were taller, leaning inward with pointed, blackened slate roofs. My old high school biology teacher was standing on his porch wearing an apron made of dark leather. He called me over to look at his garden, but instead of vegetables, the soil was full of tangled iron thorns and these strange, pale mushrooms that hummed like electrical wires. I realized I was late for an exam, but my legs felt thick and slow, like walking through cold mud. When I checked my phone for the time, the screen was just dark reflective glass with faint gray embers swirling behind it. There was this creeping dread that the sun wasn't ever going to come back up, but I just kept trying to balance my groceries and politely excuse myself without making him angry.