Bad Berries

i have always be obsessed with the idea of wild berries. some are a delicious, tart treat, and some can make you sick as a dog. which one you get can be a gamble.

imagine, for a moment, a young male traveler trotting through a lush forest. he’s the kind of guy that goes village to village and doesn’t stay in one place for too long. in his travels he’s acquired quite an eclectic taste for foods from all different regions, so he’s pretty brash and adventurous with his appetite.

the forest stretches on, maybe even for days, and he quickly notices his hunger. he’s run out of rations from the last village, and there isn’t an end to this forest in sight. maybe he took a wrong turn.

he continues, getting hungrier and hungrier, to the point that he starts considering mushrooms and acorns. however, he doesn’t have to resort to that. his prayers are answered when he notices a berry bush along the path with ripe, juicy, blue-colored berries. without hesitation he pops one into his mouth. it’s ripe with sweetness. it practically explodes in his mouth. he gathers a healthy portion using the hem of his shirt as a basket and periodically plops them into his mouth as he trots along, his hunger sated until he gets to the next village. his fingers are stained blue, and so is his mouth.

after finishing the berries, within an hour he’s feeling hot, hot enough to visibly moisten his shirt. he sponges a sickly sweat from his brow. the traveler doesn’t want to admit to himself he’s feeling a little feverish. maybe the temperature has risen with the midday sun…certainly, that must be all it is, right?

when a turbulent feeling settles into his stomach, he knows he can’t be so lucky. his steady pace has slowed to a snail’s crawl. he puts a hand on his belly and burps up a sweet taste. by this point he decides to sit down on a fallen log and assess the situation. he’s so dripping hot that he shucks off his cape. his eyes fall to his belly. his heart starts hammering against his ribs.

the buttons of his shirt are straining. he can feel his belly swelling and churning. i imagine the traveler is already a bit husky, so he cant believe how tight and full his big tummy has gotten. the longer he sits, the worse he feels, and the more his tummy boils and froths with the berries. he rubs his belly, trying desperately to settle it. he can hear and feel it gurgling in waves as it continues to bloat.

he decides to power on, what else can he do? he clutches his upset stomach and trudges forward, starting to feel a little light-headed and fuzzy. the pain worsens, and soon his throat and mouth are feeling thick. everything gets slow and starts spinning. the traveler collapses onto his knees, dry heaving like a sick cat. when he can’t get anything up, he crawls over to a tree and rests against it, groaning and clutching his berry-filled belly.

imagine you’re a healing witch or warlock, and on your midday walk you find him slumped there. by looking at the blue stain on his lips and fingers, you know exactly what’s wrong. this isn’t the first poisoning you’ve seen. you help him up, and with your arm over his shoulders you lead him back to your cottage. you tuck him into bed with a wet, cold towel on his forehead. there is a bucket at the side of his bed. he’s restless, tossing and turning from side to side, moaning and groaning about the pain and how hot and feverish he feels. he’s delirious and can barely articulate himself. you hush him and put a tea kettle on the stove, promising a remedy that will help.

you return with a tea cup and help tip it into his mouth. he guzzles it all, and you tell him the only way to feel better is to get everything up, which your medicinal tea will help do. he groans, panting hard, complaining that he doesn’t want to throw up.

minutes pass. in his delirium he worriedly tells you the tea isn’t working. you laugh, and promise that it will. no sooner do you say that he winces. the traveler tells you he’s not feeling too good all of a sudden. he begins to retch and gropes for the bedside bucket. you place it in front of him on the bed, rubbing his back as he gets the berries up.

the traveler stays overnight. you watch him closely to make sure he’s okay. he falls into a fitful bout of sleep, waking the next day confused as to where he is and how he got there. you tell him he ate some poisonous berries and went into shock. you tell him he’s going to be alright, and in no time you send the traveler on his way with a belly full of breakfast.

you await the next traveler that mistakenly eats from your berry bush.