I was in the bathroom when I heard Mom yell. "Leo!!"

I peeked my head out the door. "What?!" Then I went to her.

"There you are," she said.

"What do you want?" I asked her.

No response.

"Hello?"

Then a mushroom came out.

It was a peculiar little thing, toddling around on its two little stubby mushroomy legs, a face painted on in a way that would've been cute, if this was a cartoon. but it wasn't, and it was fleshy, and wet, and it's eyes swivelled in a body that I knew had no nerves, no veins, no way to keep it moving or living.

I lunged for the cleaning spray, the one with plenty of bleach in it that Mom used to clean mold off the tiles, because mold was a fungus, and a fungus was a mushroom, and here was a mushroom right in front of me--

"Hello!"

It spoke.

The mushroom fucking spoke. It's voice was all bright and cheery, like it was a kid's show presented, or a tutorial in a videogame, one of those characters crafted to be the perfect amount of cute and annoying, with a stupid catchphrase to sell toys.

"My name is Toddy the Toadstool!" It's red speckled top seemed to gleam when it spoke, like it was an animated little creature.

Fuck it, I thought. I might as well indulge it. What's the worst that can happen? I get turned into one of those clicker zombie things like from that video-game my older sister Tanya likes?

"Hi...Toddy..." I tried as best I could without feeling ridiculous. "Where's my mom?"

"Your mom is safe in my world!" the mushroom said brightly, holding up an orb that could've passed for an off-brand glass Pokéball. I leant down and peered inside. It was a pocket dimension, with soft grass, and pink trees, and a picnic bench with sandwiches and lemonade and cake. It looked like the perfect little summer diorama. And, atop the red checked gingham blanket, sat a perfect mini replica of my mother, poised with her legs crossed and smile wide, raising a glass of lemonade in a toast to no one, like a happy little doll.

I tapped the glass.

She didn't move.

"Mom?" I called.

"She can't hear you!" Toddy beamed.

"What did you do with my mom?" I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

"The same thing I did with Tanya! And Ronnie! And your dad, too!" As it spoke, it produced more and more orbs, small dioramas. Tanya, in a gaming cosplay as a busy convention, Ronnie, my best friend, at a skatepark with his girlfriend cheering him on, Dad at his workshop, tinkering over a vintage car. All smiling. None moving.

I looked at Toddy again now, realisation dawning on me.

And Toddy smiled back.

His teeth were sharper now.