Shooting Craps
Claude
There were hundreds of them. Tiny mushroom folk with their red and white caps like little hats. They were between five and fifteen centimetres tall, and they did not speak. Mute, as Jenny had said they would be, and I wondered just how much of what Jenny told me was the truth.
They did squeak, however. A lot of squeaking. They sounded like the product testing room of a dog-toy factory. And though they didn’t speak, they had guided me farther into the forest. So deep it was impossible for sunlight to penetrate the canopy. It was unnaturally dark, and I lost my only time teller. It could have been six o’clock, or it could have been midnight.
Eventually, we reached a mossy bank with stone steps that disappeared down a steep slope. The soil was scattered with tiny shells, glinting like diamonds. We must have been drawing closer to the grotto because the shells got more frequent, more whole, and prettier. Jewel colours twinkled like treasure buried in the mud.
The Earth Bells squeaked and chittered the entire way, as though they were chatting to each other. Any questions I asked went unanswered, so I stopped speaking after a while. They ran about under and over my brogues, almost as if they wanted to get stepped on. Some climbed up my trouser legs, their spikey feet digging into my flesh like cats’ claws, or rose thorns, or tattoo needles. They hurt. But I sucked it up and kept my mouth shut.
Then the opening to the grotto yawned wide before me. The Earth Bells squeaked as they poured in. Something tapped me on the shoulder, and an Earth Bell nestled into a tiny dugout in the wall presented me with a candle—the type you saw on birthday cakes—and a match.
I flicked my thumbnail across the match head and a flame burst to life. I lit the wick and almost immediately dropped the candle.
Lining the walls of the grotto, covering every single square inch of space, were shells. They glittered under the glow of the flame like a distant, undulating galaxy. The air was heavier here—musky, mushroomy. It smelled wet, but clean wet. Mud, wet earth... the shroom-ness in me found something incredibly soothing about it. If I wasn’t in such a panicked hurry, I would have snuggled down and taken a nap.
No wonder the Earth Bells chose this as their home.
One of the Earth Bells beckoned me farther into the grotto, and farther, through shell-lined tunnel after shell-lined tunnel. I followed them blindly, knowing they were my last hope, but at the same time, a strange calmness washed over me. There was a rightness to it all.
This was it. I was about to find out what the rhizome ritual involved. Months of worry and guilt and it would soon be over.
I had to get on my hands and knees to squeeze through the rest of the tunnels. Suddenly, there was a pop in my ears, like a pressure change, and I wondered if we had crossed over Stinkhorn boundary lines. I guessed that meant the perimeter still existed, even though Jenny had become unresponsive.
The tunnels began to open up again, and I found myself half sliding down a rocky bank. The temperature dropped by a few degrees, and a chilly breeze—a williwaw—snuffed out the candle. It didn’t matter anymore. It was much lighter back here.
In the cavern, behind the waterfall.
The same waterfall Sonny and I had skinny dipped under. I stared at the spot where Sonny had stood, pulled up the image of his perfect, naked body, water gushing off his shoulders, running down his hips and thighs.
So, the Earth Bells had seen Sonny and me together. Jenny said they were little degenerates, and it would explain how the house knew what Sonny and I had done, despite being outside its boundaries.
I didn’t know why, but the thought of hundreds of tiny mushroom folk spying on us was... kind of hilarious. Laughter began bubbling in my chest, spilling out and echoing about the chamber.
“Should I sit here?” I pointed to a flat rock. The Earth Bells had stopped moving forward and now were beginning to gather around me. Some of them nodded. I sat.
“Oh, here you go.” I pulled the shell from my jacket pocket and set it down on the stone next to me.
The Earth Bells gathered tighter. There was a sort of humming, buzzing noise coming from them.
I didn’t know what to expect or where to start, so I jumped right in. “I was told you could help me with the rhizome ritual. Is that correct?”
Squeaks. I looked around for the Earth Bell that had made first contact with me, but there were so many now, it was impossible to distinguish between them. Then some of the Earth Bells parted the crowd, and another slightly bigger Earth Bell hopped through the middle. They jumped up onto the rock I’d placed the cowrie on and squeaked. Then they turned to me and bowed.
I moved to sit on the ground, in a puddle of freezing water, but it got me near enough eye level with the mushroom folk.
This one was the tallest of them all. They had rosy cheeks, a teeny little rosebud mouth, and two black pin pricks for eyes.
“Can you help me, please?” I asked.
With both hands, they drew a heart in the air. I took that to mean yes.
“Tell me what the ritual is?” And then I remembered they didn’t speak. “Show me?”
A sound filled the cavern, one I’d definitely associate with giggling.
The biggest Earth Bell hopped off their rock and waddled over to the puddle I was sitting in. It picked up a magpie feather from the ground and dipped the vane into the water, then it clambered back onto the stone and began painting with the feather as though it were a brush.
They drew a U shape and elongated the tails. Laughter escaped my throat. It was starting to look like a picture of a—
Until the Earth Bell painted circles at the top of the U, and dashes at the bottom. Which were doubtlessly meant to portray balls and ejaculate.
They had drawn a jizzing cock.
“Um...” I raked a hand over my face. “Are you... quite sure this is the ritual?”
Great, I was being pranked by a gang of tiny non-verbal mushrooms.
They nodded.
“Definitely sure?”
They nodded again, more vigorously this time. Then they made a gesture with their teeny hands, pumping their fist at hip height, and splaying their palm flat.
That gesture had only two meanings. Either the Earth Bell had mimed shooting craps at a casino, or they had mimed having a wank and spraying cum everywhere.
Could that really be it?
Only one way to test the theory. Could I say it out loud?
“The ritual is woo — waaahhh—wreeeeeaaaccchhhhtttt.”
I jumped to my feet. The Earth Bells squeaked and retreated a little.
That was what should have happened when I told Willow about the lightning. Now I knew what I was supposed to do, I couldn’t say those words.
Maniacal laughter burst free from me. I would have to wank at the ley lines—on the ley lines.
Good gods.
Time myself for the sunrise and aim my spray onto the tablet. It was absolutely unhinged. Completely bonkers. But guess what? I was already great at wanking.
“Thank you! So much. So, so much. I will bring you so many shells. So. Many. Shells.” You weird little perverts.
The hum-squeaking sounds reached a crescendo. It sounded like cheering, though I couldn’t be sure, and then I caught the faint sound of something else. Something that made my heart trip over itself.
“Claude?!” The voice was fuzzy. Distant. Dampened by the roaring water splashing against the rocks and the squeaking of the Earth Bells. “Claude?!”
Silence fell amongst the mushroom folk. It hadn’t been my imagination.
It was him. I was sure. So quiet and far away. But he was here, not in Remy, which he probably should be by this point. Why wasn’t he in Remy?
“Claude?!” the voice called out again, louder this time.
Sonny.
My Sonny.
“CLAUDE?! Are you here? I love you!”