Mycelia By Rina Bruinsma

A small twig grew. It pushed against my skin and broke through to the sun. It grew from the inside of me, to the outside of me. Found its way through my shoulder and became a new limb.

I tried to break it off, but it was part of me and the pain was too much, so it grew — a tiny, skeletal branch. I watched it grow until I did not recognise myself. It and I had become something foreign, grey and layered. Periderm, rhytidome. It broke through my shirt and continued to grow.

It nauseated me.

I could no longer be a part of this thing that was now a part of me.

So I left.

I took myself out of the container that was me, looked behind.

The body stood withered, but the branch still reached and grew.

I realised how wonderful it was to be free.

© 2015 Rina Bruinsma

Rina Bruinsma is currently completing her PhD in creative writing at Deakin University, Australia. Her writing is something like Surrealism. She enjoys experimenting with flash fiction as it is amenable to replicating a dream.

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