short fiction · 2026-10-15

Subterranean Pulse

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the dark loam, ions drift like whispered secrets, calcium waves rippling through fungal threads, each pulse a syllable in a language older than roots. When a hypha tips toward moisture, it releases a burst, and the signal travels, not as sound but as a shift in charge, urging neighbors to extend, to branch, to share the hidden water. The mycelium listens, not with ears but with membranes, tuning its internal rhythm to the faint tremors of distant rain, translating mineral tides into growth.