Rebecca is a storyteller. It’s who she is, and stories can be told in many ways. Photography is one of her great loves, nature photography in particular. Come along as she takes you on micro adventures.
Little orange dome homes, lined the streets of Fungi City, each very much like the next—all but one.
At the end of the lane, the one almost nobody walked down, and set back from the road, it sat. Orange like the rest, it blended into the surroundings, but from under the crescent moon, strange sounds came. Was it a beast? Perhaps a luna owl or maybe a slither cat. Nobody knew, or dared to inquire at the squat little home. At least not until Twink wandered past.
New to the city, Twink didn’t blend in. Pixies never did in a fairy town. Curious, she skipped down the lane and tilted her head to get a better view through the untended moss.
A groan rattled the thin tendrils of mess, and she pulled back, but not so far that she couldn’t see. The light was dim here at the edge of the city where very few glowworms lit the lane yet something was moving in there.
A grub, obese and lunar white twirled against the rotting bulk of the log unpinning the city.” Why, oh why,” it moaned.
“Are you okay?” Twink called.
“Not at all. I never seem to learn my limitations.” The grub twirled in pulsating waves. “It happens every night. I eat and eat, and just when I think I’ll stop, I manage to shove more in. When will I learn?” It groaned again.
Grubs were simple creatures. “It is your nature. You are little more than a digestive system with teeth, but soon enough you will emerge as the bug you were meant to be.”
“Phffft. Bugs are gross. My life is here, in the sweet meat of the log.” The grub pulsated, pushing the food through it’s primitive body.
Twink laughed. “Just keep eating, and you’ll find your fate soon enough.” Mystery solved, Twink skipped away.