Psychedelic Summer: Stories By Readers

Every Thursday we'll read stories sent in by DOOM FICTION readers, using the writing prompt from Saturday's newsletter.

The smoke from the ring of torches on the hill is almost suffocating, and the chanting is worming its way into Danae’s head. Her vision is swimming, eyes rolling back, pure delirium. The brew she was given by the Shaman to commune with the Goddess is stronger than she can handle. Wailing and writhing on the ground, she is encouraged by the Druid tribe with their furious chanting, the hazy smoke, and her purpose – save us. The tribe starts a frantic and desperate sacred dance around Danae, willing her visions to fruition.

Danae loses sight of the fire and smoke and succumbs to the visions encircling her mind. The world spins and twists uncontrollably. She is afraid to open her eyes in fear of what is on the other side – monsters, Gods, Goddesses, and the end of the world. Feeling suddenly cold, she opens her eyes at last to find herself in the middle a barren and truly terrible landscape.  

“What happened here?” she wondered aloud. It looks toxic and dangerous, like something has decimated the land itself and all its inhabitants. The ground is a dry desert, pock-marked with yellow toxic liquid bubbling at the surface, as if the earth beneath is attempting to purge itself.  

The valley she is walking though looks a though water flowed through it but had long-since dried. She sees mountains and hills line the horizon, with cliffs facing her on both sides. It all looks wrong somehow, unnatural. She walks to a path leading up a nearby cliff to find what she was looking for – the last breath of life in this terrible place, the giant agaric mushroom. Her people’s flesh of the Gods. The last known portal.

Danae feels a sudden moment of panic at the top of the cliff face. Large caps of the giant mushrooms are floating in the air, long since withered away from their stalks. With desperation, she continues to walk along the path hoping to find at least one still alive. Tall, dried stalks follow her until she reaches the end. Feeling hopeless, she scans the horizon – floating caps here and there, spiny rock formations jutting out of the valley floor, and nothing else.

Looking to her right, Danae notices a lower bank leading away from the cliff face and the round top of the mushroom in front of a cave entrance. She scrambles down the bank to the lower level of the cliff face and approaches the giant agaric mushroom. Standing over 10 feet, the normally yellow cap is turning green and losing its shape. The roots are exposed in the stalk, as if the world is eating away at it. She glances down the side of the cliff face to see the parched roots continue down along the wall.  

“Not a good sign, it’s dying,” she observed. Danae approaches the stalk and feels along the surface – covered in roots and parched, slowly hardening just like the others. She lays her hands on it to feel for signs of life. She can sense a low humming, but it is weak. She needs to call on her Goddess, it is the only way to save her people from the end of the world.

Danae steps back from the mushroom and raises her arms to the sky. She knows what to do, her Shaman prepared her well. Her eyes close, opening her mind for the invocation. She feels the power rise through her feet to the top of her head.

“Andraste, Goddess of victory, be here now! Cast your blessings upon us. We are your children, and you are our mother; So, hearken unto us. The blood of the Ancients flows through our veins, be present with me!” she cries over and over to the infinite sky above until her voice becomes hoarse. The wind starts to blow around her, and a sky-born vision is fast approaching – Andraste. The trail of her robes follows her as she nears Danae on the cliff face.

Andraste is an Ancient. Her great robes preternaturally move around her as she gracefully manifests to Danae. Her skin is translucent green, with a delicate feminine face. She holds a wooden wand in her hand, and a curious floating metal device floats above her head attached to what appears to be an open tube, akin to the end of a pipe. She embodies grace, but Danae’s tribe knows the truth – she is victory, courage, and liberty.

“Why have I been summoned, child?” Andraste asks. Her ethereal words seem to flow around Danae, encircling her mind.  

“I am sent here from my tribe to ask for your blessings to save our kind. We need victory over our enemies trying to take our land and people. Many other tribes are dying, and we are soon to be next. Please! We need help!” Danae pleads. She drops to her knees in reverence to Andraste, hoping her prayers will be answered.

“What of your women and children?” Andraste inquires.

“Women are taken to be married off to soldiers, and the children are stolen,” Danae replies.

“What of your men?” Andraste further inquired.

“Our men are taken as slaves or soldiers for the enemy. Our villages are burned,” Danae replies.

Andraste’s face twists and contorts into a fury, but beneath is great sorrow. Looking down, she holds her hand toward Danae, inviting her to stand. Danae can see in Andraste’s eyes that she would help.  

“The giant mushrooms are almost gone – we have only one chance. This one is already sick. I will need your help to open the last portal out of this damned land. I am not as strong as before,” Andraste instructs.

“I am yours,” Danae promises.

Andraste sits on a rock in front of the giant mushroom and closes her eyes. Gathering her energy and power, the wind starts to circle around them. She beckons Danae to sit across from her. Reaching into her robes, she pulls out a blade and carefully cuts her palm. Danae holds out her hand to allow Andraste to do the same to her. This is the required sacrifice.

“Your blood is needed to open the portal to your people,” Andraste explains. She pulls down the curious metal container which has been floating above her. Danae follows her lead and they both squeeze their fists to add blood to the open container. Next, Andraste pulls a small handful of the sacred mushroom cap and places it inside.  

“Leis a ’chumhachd a chaidh a thoirt dhomh, fosgail am dorus seo gus am faic sinn,” Andraste recites as she holds her hand over the top of the container. Danae joins in the chant, as well. The old Gaelic chant is well known to Danae’s people - by the power given to me, open this door so we may see.

The container starts to glow and shimmer with energy as Andraste replaces the lid and motions with her hands for it to once again float above them. The end of the tube is in her hand. She pulls the end of the tube down to ground level and watches as the shimmering potion pools together on the desert floor. It is viscous and breathes with life. Andraste uses her wooden wand to shape the pooled potion into a sacred spiral. She puts the end of the tube into her mouth to ingest the potion, and then hands it to Danae to do the same. Danae feels the potion course through her body and closes her eyes in delirium. They place both of their hands palms-down around the spiral.

Andraste once again leads with the incantation chant to invoke the portal to manifest. Danae’s Shaman has prepared her for this ritual; however, she is overwhelmed at the intensity of it all. The energy flows from the ground into her body, infusing her with the inner glow of divinity - from her hands on the ground, up her arms, and into her core. Her head swims with energy, telepathically linked to Andraste – they are now connected.

The glowing sacred spiral portal on the ground swells larger, and a magnetic force whips around Andraste and Danae. They both notice that the mushroom next to them is bending towards them, pulled into the whirlpool of energy as well. Danae panics as her body starts to become transparent, like a spirit. Andraste is becoming more ethereal, taking on a full preternatural shimmer. Her robes seem alive with power, swirling around her body.

The glowing mushroom is now fully bent, yet still connected to its roots. The magnetic, whipping force pulls all three into the portal as it reaches its crescendo. The mushroom finally snaps away from its roots, falling together with Andraste and Danae though a terrifying and violent vortex. Blue light surrounds them as they twist and turn around one another. Danae screams as her spirit circles around Andraste, propelled by the chaos of the portal. The mushroom is tumbling, glowing ever brighter with each passing moment.

“It’s time, my child – be ready!”, Andraste warns. She grabs hold of Danae’s spirit and opens her mouth. A beautiful white light flows out and surrounds Danae, pulling her into Andraste’s being. Andraste and Danae fuse together as one, replenishing the Goddess to full power. She can feel Danae’s spirit inside of her, healing her divine body from the inside out. Her formally transparent skin becomes solid, and her eyes are glowing with light. Her hands vibrating with energy, she raises both arms above her head to direct the portal to deliver both her and the mushroom to Danae’s people.

The portal tunnel narrows and starts to twist and turn in wild directions. Andraste wraps her arms around the stalk of the mushroom. She infuses her divine energy into the mushroom to heal its sickness. The mushroom’s stalk fills out its parched, exposed roots. Andraste then climbs up the tall stalk to just below the cap, directing her healing energy to the core of the mushroom. The deflated cap fills out and slowly becomes yellow, the sick green fading away. Andraste holds tight to the mushroom as the final turns of the portal approaches its destination.

The portal violently ends with Andraste and the mushroom slamming to the ground from above into the middle of the panicked tribe’s circle of torches. After a few minutes, she opens her eyes to see the faces of the tribe looking down on her, and the Shaman moving them out of the way to approach the Goddess. At the sight of the Shaman, Andraste sits up.

“Welcome, Mother Andraste. We were not sure if we would see you after we sent our sister to you. We thought she failed . . .,” the Shaman says as he looks to his left at Danae’s lifeless body.

“Your sister did not fail. She found the last sacred mushroom and called upon me for help. She was brave and sacrificed her life for you. I am one with her, and she is one with me. She told me of your troubles and I obliged to help,” Andraste reassures the tribe.

“Thank you, we are in your debt. What do you need from us?” inquires the Shaman.

“You must help me root the last sacred mushroom into the earth and you will all be blessed,” Andraste instructs.

“Yes, my Goddess,” promises the Shaman.

They start to dig a hole in the earth, working with renewed purpose. When the hole is four feet deep, the entire tribe gathers around the giant mushroom lying on its side next to the bonfire. They line up on both sides and lift it upon their shoulders, the strongest men at the cap. Slowly moving the mushroom to the newly dug hole, the stalk is carefully placed in its new home. Lifting it vertically, the hole is filled in to secure the mushroom.  

Andraste, pleased with their work, approaches the giant mushroom in its new home. She places her hands upon the stalk and directs her energy to flow from the top of the cap down to its roots. New roots claw and twist to take root deep into the earth, alive with divinity. The tribe is mesmerized by its power and beauty. A new energy now flows, both for the earth and these people.  

“Thank you, my brothers and sisters. Now, for your blessings. Each of you will eat a small piece of the mushroom, and through this you will be forever connected to me,” Andraste instructs. She closes her eyes and holds her palms up in front of her body. A small basket appears out of thin air, with chunks of sacred mushrooms inside for the tribe to eat. Each piece is consumed, and the connection is made to their Goddess as she promised.

“Enemies are approaching, and there isn’t much time. We have work to do,” Andraste declares. The tribe gathers around her, hanging on to her every word, leading her to the village to start preparations with hope in their hearts that they did enough to save their kind.

---

Sacred Mushroom
© Erica Phillips, 2023
All rights reserved.