The Fungal God

Flake's heart pounded in his chest, so hard and fast it beat the rapid dull thuds were all he could hear. Not even the sound of his large feet crushing grass and sticks beneath him as he ran broke through the concerto rhythm of his heart. It wouldn't be until the sun nearly hung in the clear noon sky that Flake would stop running. Even still it wasn't his choice to stop running, it was simply that his small legs gave out from exhaustion; sending Flake crashing onto the grassy ground with a dull thud. There while he lay in the grass Flake panted and heaved before throwing up his last meal of mammoth meat all over. His legs burned as if they set on fire, his flanks hurt as if they had been lanced by a hundred spears, and his mind raced so quickly not one single thought ever actually had time to register within his mind. Just like when he first drifted to this alien land Flake was hungry, desperate, and alone.

It took over an hour of mad panting in the grass and scattered half thoughts before Flake began to recover physically and collect himself mentally. What were those things? That bizarre alien race of man which almost resembled a hybrid between his people and his now former tribe. How could this have even happened? Flake had seen wars between his tribe and its rivals before, they were secretive guerilla things. Where one group would send ambushing parties into the territory of the other and as a group jump any lone rival tribe members they could find and kill them. This was different, this was a mass attack that had to be an entire tribe of attackers not ambushing and killing people one by one, but taking some insane risk and aiming to kill everyone in their rival tribe all at once. And what were the weapons they used? That man, the one who killed Sun Hunter and dragged around his corpse, he somehow held lightning itself in his other hand.

It was then Flake's thoughts returned to the unknowable horror he encountered while stranded at sea. A fish, the size of an island and with the wings and beak of a bird. With each wingflap storm winds billowed out from its white feathers. That monster and that man both must somehow be connected, in some way Flake's tiny and primitive mind had no way of understanding and it drove him into a madness as he pounded his fist against the ground. Each dull thud of Flake's tiny fist into the soft grass of the ground beneath him just sent another mad wave of frustration through him. Why must unknowable horrors, these monstrosities to Flake's primitive understanding of reality plague him so? Why must they tear him from his family time and time again? Flake was tormented by his lack of understanding, for his brain couldn't even come up with concepts like curses, hexes, or even luck. It was all just pure raw animal madness that made him sick to his stomach and stole the breath from his lungs.

Hours passed still of Flake being stricken with his catatonic madness, of being stuck helpless in the grass as he wailed about things he could never hope to understand. Only by the time the Sun entered the borderlands between the moon and evening skies did Flake finally find the strength to stand upon shaky legs. Flake had to use the spear he held as a walking stick, Flake looked at the blood that coated half of it. This was the same spear that Flake found driven through Loving Water’s heart, the woman all he desperately wanted to do was love. Like with a snake that bit a loved one all Flake wanted to do was snap the spear in half and toss it to the wilderness to rot. Yet Flake knew he would need this spear of far more advanced technology than his people would ever make, to survive this harsh and unforgiving land.

So Flake set out once again, alone and into the wilderness. His first goal was to get as far away from this land and the mountains as possible. Flake had no idea if any more of those strange humans still stalked the land, but Flake knew for sure that lions dwelled within the long grass and Flake refused to fall prey to man or beast alike. Flake's goal was to retreat back down the mountains and return to the coastal forests where he spent the bulk of his three years time with his now also former tribe. Flake walked Eastwards with the setting sun at his back before finding a tree to climb up and sleeping in its boughs for the night. In spite of the horrors of the previous night Flake was so exhausted both mentally and physically that he quickly fell into a deep sleep. Yet the siren song of slumber proved no reprieve for Flake either, as through the night he was plagued by nightmares of cannibalistic horror. Where he himself was that lightning wielding man as he massacred the tribe, just like his rage induced hallucination the night prior. When what was his hand opened the tent flap to Loving Water's tent and sent his spear through Loving Water's hand and heart without so much a care, that's when Flake jolted from his slumber with a terrified scream.

Flake looked around to no avail in the new moon night. All around him was the inky void of darkness, only separated from the darkness of insanity by the calling of insects. Flake panted again before eventually calming himself down and attempting to fall asleep once again, though deep sleep never came again that night. Flake as always awoke with the morning sun and looked around for any signs of predators before climbing down the tree. Flake could feel the ragged depths of weary tiredness in his mind and even in the bones of legs and feet, still sore from the marathon he ran the day prior. Still Flake stretched and headed southwards, making an effort to stay within the tree line of the surrounding hills. Without a canoe to guide him safely down the river waters, nor a tribe of giants to protect him, Flake once again was reduced to prey; an animal forced to scale a tree at the first sign of danger.

Up and down across hills did Flake slowly flee, drinking from the numerous small streams he came across, and living off of late season wild onions he could forage and what grasshoppers he could catch. Flake in spite of his misery was in a far different situation now than he was when he first drifted to shore. For now he had clothing, a stone bladed spear, and a true knowledge of land and what could be gathered from it. For now Flake could survive on his own, though after a few days of wandering, when the sheer misery of the slaughter of his tribe had shifted from the forefront to the back of his mind Flake began to wonder what he could do. In his three years with that tribe they had never encountered another tribe of their kind, for they were nearly as new to this land as Flake himself was. No doubt that other forms of man, the type of those responsible for destroying his tribe, were extremely territorial. Nor would Flake want to join their monstrous ranks after what happened.

Truly what Flake wanted more than anything else he had ever wanted in his life was to just return to his homeland, to his original. To come back with the advanced knowledge this land taught him, knowledge his people would never discover by their own accord but that Flake learned through observation and education within the tribe. To be able to take Three Fingers in his arms once again and make wild gesturing tales about his travels and experiences, to return home as a man once again, and take his rightful place as the hero and strong man. For days Flake would entertain the wild notion of attempting to burn out his own canoe, or going back and trying to take one from the ruins of the camp. Where he'd paddle his way South, stopping at each island for long enough to restore his body and food supplies before pushing off again until he returned home.

Of course that idea was the upper limits of the absurd madness his tiny mind could conjure. In truth Flake was still maddeningly terrified of the ocean, nor did he even remember anything about the route he unwillingly took except for the cardinal direction North. Still he had no idea what he could truly do. His small frame made solitary winter survive a near impossible ordeal as his tropically evolved body had always suffered from the cold to a far greater extent than any of the larger humans of his former tribe. The implications wracked Flake's tiny mind, he had no idea what he could truly do to survive yet in spite of everything he so desperately wanted to live.

The stress of long term survival, the trauma of the past, and how both overwhelmed Flake's small primitive mind sent Flake into a downward spiral over the following days. Planning gave way to sorrow, sorrow gave way to misery, misery gave way to madness, and madness drove him to blood lust. Soon all Flake could think of was vengeance, about how he shouldn't have run from the lightning wielding monster that took his last tribe from him. About how instead he should have torn the spear from his stomach only to run it through his eye, his throat, or his heart. And if he had gotten wounded during that attack so be it, without the tribe he was so much doomed when winter would hit anyways. At least that way he could have died as a man, as opposed to dying like a failed animal, being claimed by the unrelenting icy grip of winter. With these grim thoughts flooding his mind Flake didn't even bother to gather food as he walked, he only drank water to slake his thirst and fill his empty stomach.

It had been a week since Flake was forced to start wandering, yet the landscape never changed. Flake's small strides and slow melancholic pace had him moving at a pathetic speed across the hills. That night when Flake ascended the boughs of a tree once again though his sleeping mind wouldn't be flooded with the usual nightmare of the death of people by his own blood drenched hand or the haunting remains of Loving Water and Sun Hunter blaming him for their deaths. Instead his dream would be dominated by the image of a cluster of mushrooms, the heads were a deep brown in color and conical in shape, while the stems were long and thin, being of a similar color except for some gray texturing near their base. Though the image was distorted, and too close up, as if Flake was trying to look at something his nose was touching. Meanwhile in the back of his mind Flake felt the sense of movement, as if a member of his people were trying to communicate to him through their language of signals and gestures but he couldn't turn his head to see what they were saying.

The dream seems to have lasted throughout the night, and occupied the totality of Flake's mind in that time. When Flake arose to the rising sun he found all the saplings on the forest floor beneath him pointing in one direction. As Flake climbed down the tree a feeling arose in the back of his mind similar to that he felt in the dream. Everything in Flake's body and his surroundings pointed Flake in one direction and wordlessly told him to go. Flake was split between two moods, his animal mind lashing out in confused fear, telling him he had to avoid that direction at all costs. And his human mind so dejected and uncaring it drew him towards the path of least resistance like a leaf caught in the current of a stream.

Flake doesn't know why he unconsciously decided to follow the subtle commands of the land around him, yet on he walked with the focus of a man possessed. As if the wilderness around him subtly shifted and shuffled around him to accommodate his clumsy foot falls the trail was made easier. Mushrooms of all kinds seemed to grow along the invisible path laid out for Flake; brown mushrooms with white scales, large feathery clusters of light brown mushrooms, small clusters of thin white white mushrooms with tiny heads, all grew on the nearby trees and Flake recognized them all as edible. With this Flake would regularly feast upon the spongy flesh of mushroom on his journey. Each night he would dream of the mushrooms and the phantom gestures in the back of his mind and each day he would walk as far as his small legs could carry him. Flake still didn't know why he followed this invisible trail laid out for him, though with the mushroom feast it fed him even his animal mind settled.

Three more days of walking passed before the invisible trail led Flake to the overlook of a fertile forest valley. Below was an especially ancient and knotted old growth oak grove, looking as if fire had never touched its velvety green hues since the start of time and existence. Flake slowly climbed his way down the steep hillside and into the primeval forest. When Flake eventually reached the alien forest he found its canopy so thick that its floor was pitched in permanent darkness, as if trapped in a perpetual midnight. Yet no square inch of space below the canopy was void of life, fungal life. The floor was a carpet of spongy neon yellow slime mold, the bark of all the trees was rendered invisible from behind the dense coating of mushroom likes of which Flake ate on his journey here, and a million other varieties he never recognized. And out of these mushrooms carpets and drapes grew more mushrooms, some piercing through the slime mold floor like stalagmites in a cave, others hanging loosely off the fungal drapes coating each tree like stalactites in the same cave. Some mushroom colonies even formed great pillars from canopy to floor also just like in some caves.

Flake had never seen anything like it in his whole life, nor anything even coming close to this level of sheer fungal madness. Even in the near total darkness Flake could easily make out every color in the rainbow, every other color Flake had seen in his life, and numerous other colors that his eyes could see but never actually existed in the natural world. Yet what was most prevalent was the air around him, its smell was overpowering; like that of mulch and rotting grass, though it was dominated by the earthy smell that could be ascribed to most all mushrooms. Yet that wasn't what drew Flake's attention to the air, that would be its unnatural thickness. Like trying to breathe through a dust storm, the air was choked with particulate matter. Spores, every single mushroom shot out what seemed like an infinite number of spores every moment, making the air neigh unbreathable. Flake coughed and choked as he ran near blindly through the alien landscape.

Flake covered his mouth with one hand as he ran, kicking up the slime mold carpet that in some places grew so thick it reached his knees. Stumbling around like a speared animal, Flake set about in a panic so desperate in trying to find an escape from the unbreathable air that he forgot the obvious escape of simply scaling the hillside again. Flake in his mad dash would only by chance stumble upon reprieve. The only place in this whole mad forest where the light of the sun could kiss the ground and burn away the fungal scourge with its crimson rays. A small clearing whose ground was carpet of grass as opposed to some sort of mold or fungus. There in the center sat the long dry bones of an unfathomably massive boar.

Flake approached the skeleton, as he stepped into the light his lungs were cleared of the spores in an instant. The skull of the boar alone was easily twice as large as Flake if not larger with sharp tusks easily as long as his torso. Yet that wasn't what Flake couldn't wrestle his eyes away from, no what locked Flake's eyes in place with such immense spiritual pressure were the mushrooms growing from the eye socket of immense boar. Those mushrooms, every single detail of which has burned their way into Flake's mind with each dream he had of them. Those mushrooms were what invaded Flake's mind and compelled him to find this evil grove.

With a blinding flash of movement in his mind's eye Flake saw a faceless figure gesturing to him in the physical language of his people, yet it did it with an uncanny impossible level of grace for his people; in a way that let it communicate with a near infinite level of precision. As if it was communicating with Flake directly through his mind, bypassing his senses and evolutionary biology all together. “Welcome foreign ape to my grove, I trust your hunger was sated well on the flesh I provided you?” The image gestured in his mind, and without doubt Flake knew that it was that mushroom growing from the boar’s skull communicating with him. Flake also somehow knew without being told that he could simply think his words and the mushroom would understand. So Flake gestured within his own words within his mind in response. “Yes… mushrooms good, fill stomach well. Give many thanks to you.” Flaked communicated with gestures he only thought inside his own mind.

“Good, then we get to why I beckoned you here to the heart of my being. We share an enemy, those apes who hunted and killed the cluster who took you in when you first washed upon these shores. They are the ones who took my true form from me, reduced me to nothing but a pile of bones and this fungal shard you see before you.” The faceless form representing the mushroom signed in Flake's mind. “You were boar? I no get, not how works.” Flake signed back mentally in confusion. “Nevermind how that works, your shrunken mind couldn't comprehend it, not yet. Just know I am but a small piece that once made up this boat I grow from now. Just understand the apes that slayed you would be mate with that spear are the ones who slayed myself, this boar as well. They did so with stolen power, like the lightning in the hand of the ape you stabbed. Reducing me to this immobile thing you see before you, just as you were reduced from a man to a child in these lands.” The fungus elaborated to Flake's much more simple consciousness.

“Now I get, you want revenge, want to kill them. I do too, but why call me here?” Flake mentally signed with empathy, understanding their shared pain of being reduced to a small shell of your former self. “In spite of those apes being the distant ancestors of your kind, you still hate them, you still ran a spear through one's stomach. You hate them in the same manner I do, this proves you are worthy. That you won't waste this blessing and betray my final wishes. Take my body, the diminutive brown cluster you see before you and eat me. Devour me whole and you will gain my power, it will elevate beyond the small ape you are, beyond the man you once, into a……” The fungus signed within Flake's mind though the last gesture to Flake was nothing but nonsense, a mere spastic flail void of meaning. “In to a what? Won't you die? Why do this?” Flake responded confused in his own mind.

“Nevermind what, you'll only understand afterwards, and death is a preferable alternative to a life trapped in the eye socket of your own corpse. Cursed with the wisdom and the memories of a better life but without a body to truly act within the world. I will be happy in my death, knowing that you will avenge me, avenge your cluster, and wipe that unnatural scourge off the face of the Earth once and for all!” The mushroom signed in Flake's mind with such power and passion it nearly overwhelmed him entirely. Flake after he was done reeling from the mental overload stood there for a moment in contemplation. Finally Flake would nod in understanding and concede to the demands of the unknowable thing before him.

Flake reached out his hand tentatively and took the mushroom by the base of its many stalks before taking a deep breath. Flake then tore the fungal mass from the sun bleached eye socket of the giant boar’s skulls and quickly devoured them as fast as he could. They tasted bitter, disgusting, completely offensive to the tongue, Flake wouldn't have finished eating them if it weren't for his agreement. The spiritual effects took place instantly lashing into Flake's mind like an exploding whip. First was a subtle vibration throughout his body, as if his nervous system was harmonizing with the natural frequency around him. Next the world around him began to wrap and distort in undefinable ways all around, sending Flake into a dizzy fit that made crash to the grassy clearing floor. The world kept spinning in multiple directions at the same time around him before Flake entered into the most intense euphoria of his life. Giggling like a child he helplessly pawed at the world around him like a kitten playing with a string. Finally Flake felt himself, both his mind and body simply melt away into his nonsensical moving surroundings. As if his flesh molded into the souls, his bones became trees, and his ample hair became the fungus. Before long his veins, nervous system, and intestines fused into not only the roots of the trees all around them but also the unseen and unknown mycelium networks that connected every living thing in this entire grove. Flake was the grove and the grove was Flake, every single cell now seemed like they shared one colossal body.

Many moments passed before this selfless euphoria and ecstasy was burned away as if the grove was caught in the midst of a raging wild fire. Euphoria became an intense all consuming fear, and ecstasy being a skin tearing anxiety. Flake began to scream, hoot, and holler for all his worth to no avail. He could feel something crawling through the inside of his body, along his very nerves and into his brain. Flake's thrashed about and try to tear into his own flesh with his dull nails to no real avail as the foreign entity kept spreading inside him with haste. Flake watched as his veins turned a mycelial white in color as did the hair he could see on his body. Every single inch, no every single cell of this foreign entity could be felt perfectly by Flake, as if it were his own fingers. Flake sobbed madly in insane horror as he felt the tendrils flood every part of his mind and body.

Moments passed before Flake opened his eyes once again, the most intense flash of light he ever saw flooded his eyes before he looked around. First Flake saw the grass, he could easily count every single individual blade. Next he saw the forest, the mushrooms were gone, all of them. All that was left were the trees and bare dirt under them. Finally Flake sat up and he looked at his hands, he just sat there staring at his hands and studying them as he moved them back and forth. He didn't know why but he couldn't take his eyes off his hands, as he just moved them as he had a million times before. “I” was the first thing he thought. “Where am I? Who am I? What was I doing again?” Were the thoughts that slowly crept into Flake's mind. Yet they were different, as if they came not from one side of his mind like his animal mind or his human mind, but from his entire being. That's when Flake realized there was no more animal, no more human mind, only I, for I am Flake.

Flake stood up and moved about with an unnatural grace and smoothness to his movement he had never experienced before, as he gained a whole new level of motor control in an instant. Flake picked up his spear, he could feel every grain on the wooden haft in perfect detail. Before he even finished moving he already knew where the stone tip would move too at the end of each movement. Flake looked around again and then at his hands, he had no idea what was truly going on or what the fungal god had done to him, everything now felt different in a way he couldn't yet describe.