Mushroom Island by Donnchadh

Rowing from Mushroom Island using the only oar I had left I broke the one golden rule, I forgot to bring my ham sandwiches. Wistfully thinking about my home and the sandwich I left behind that morning. The smell drifted my way once again. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. I hate mushrooms, someone was cooking them. The trees were whispering in the breeze. I was very hungry. I wanted to go home. I could hear an engine in the distance, a boat was coming towards me. I knew that boat, it was my Dad. He came to get me and bring me home.

One thought on “Mushroom Island by Donnchadh”

  1. I hate mushrooms too
    You did a great job with your story
    How did you know it was your dad.

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