It wasn't my imagination-the fungus was real.

It wasn't my imagination-the fungus was real. I had seen it before in my Nana's attic and in the old barn on Whitmore. I recognized its color variations, blue and red twisted veins

. Sorted with some garlic it made a tasty apéritif. I yummed it down - a little too quickly perhaps for minutes after ingesting the technicolour fungus I began to feel a little que

asy in my stomach. I think it was the remains of a 1000 yr quail egg and maybe the gastic juices which made the technicolor fungus feel ill, so I sent down a generous helping of

skittles and M&Ms to keep it company. I soon learned that whatever technicolor entity I had ingested was not a fungus, as it tried to mate with the vibrant sweets in my stomach.

I dreamed of the candy all night. I couldn't wait to go by the store the next day to buy some more of it. my parents had no idea how much of it I was consuming, but it was the best

That night I sneaked into the best candy store in New York City, Dylan's. They had it all. Every candy ever created.i guess I did something special, because the floor started

Comment: This folding story will be missing one line! Sometimes that happens. The typewriter itself created a line here to replace the lost one. The Zephyr did it again. Amazing!

It was almost as amazing as the way this story ends. Her fingers raced across the vintage typewriter keys, and still had trouble keeping of with the speed of her mind's eye.

Her mind's eye had become a hideous, winged, tentacled creature that could leap through wormholes in space. Soon her fingers were in knots and the typewriter had melted. Oh woe!