Thomma Lyn Grindstaff, Novelist shows off his mushrooms. Link to read more!
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And for a bonus (and has virtually nothing to do with Lovecraft, sorry) here's a Chrispy story for you.
Tales From the Dark Side of Produce:
The Horrors of the Haunted House of Vegetables
Deep in the recesses of the old Victorian house, something wicked shambled in the shadows.
"Did you hear something?" Sarah Lentil asked.
"I sure smell something, and it's a bad smell," said Charlie Lentil.
"I'm scared," said Little Billy Lentil.
The dust was thick, and the weight of the years were upon the old house. Suddenly, a gust of night wind whistled through the broken windows of the old place. The ancient dust in the old house puffed about in clouds that made it look like ghosts dancing a jig in front of the Lentil's flashlights. Then ... more unholy noises - soft, wet, squishy sounds - came from the shadows. Sarah Lentil swung her light in their direction, but the flashlights only caught glimpses of odd, dark shapes before they ducked behind some cloth covered furniture.
Without warning, lightning flashed accompanied by legume-jarring thunder. Immediately, rain exploded out of the sky and within moments, the roof began to drip, then a few moments more and it sprang leaks, until torrents of water began to soak the Lentils.
"The roof is leaking like sieve," Sarah exclaimed.
"I've never seen it rain so hard," said Charlie.
"I don't like being wet. It makes me swell, and it hurts my skin," weeped Little Billy.
The three Lentils ran for cover, but there was none to be found. Everything was wet, and the soaking torrent from above was getting worse. They found no rescue in the parlor, nor the antique bedrooms. The upper stairwell was ruined, but it must have been even more wet up there. Then they came upon a door that led to the basement stairs. Their flashlights shone into the darkness below.
"It's looks dry down there," said Sarah.
"But it's so dark down there," said Charlie.
"I don't like the dark," said Little Billy, "but I hate the wet more."
They went down the stairs. Before they could think, they realized there was something moving about in the basement. Something that squished in the bleak darkness, something like spongy spectres.
The lightning flashed though a musty old opening in the basement where a coal chute once was, and Sarah Lintil screamed. There, in the brief illumination, were round, phallic-hooded, faceless things.
Sarah grabbed tight her little Lentil, Billy. She yelled, "Charlie!", but too late. The mushrooms surged forward and seized the Lentils.
When the mushrooms were done, they left unspeakable foulness on Sarah, and Little Billy was covered in spores. Sarah was in a mind-numbed swoon, besmeared with mushroom stink, and had no fight left as the 'shrooms carried her and Little Billy up the stairs - to the kitchen.
In the kitchen was horrible graffiti writ in large smears of phosphorescence. The symbols showed decapitated carrots, split peas, and worse. Before Sarah could even contemplate what horrid cult that had seized her, the 'shrooms somehow engaged a light that gave off a ghastly greenish glow. Sarah saw before her a pot, steam boiling out of it. As she was thrust closer to the sight by a filthy handed mushroom, she gasped, "Oh, no! Poor Charlie."
In the pot, was Charlie's sodden and swollen body. His corpse's skin had already burst asunder. Boiled alive!
Sarah looked at the phallic-hooded shapes but only saw faceless, white fungus things with no expression, no emotion. The only sound was wheezing as their flutes and gills expanded and breathed and occasionally a crinkling sound in anticipation of yet more horror to come. The white things shoved Sarah and Little Billy closer to the stove, and the last thing Sarah Lentil heard was the cry of Little Billy saying, "There's two more pots!"
Chris Perridas
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