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Celery was a town that did the bitter-truth vegetable proud.
Townsfolk were honest. And dishonesty had an odd side effect.
Every lie sprouted celery stalks. And soon enough, the sticks of celery engulfed unsuspecting t liar’s home.
Townsfolk thought that it was just a nuisance at first. After all, white lies never hurt anyone. They cost only a stalk or two.
No one really bothered.
But the celery stalks increased —
In size, frequency and scale.
Soon, every home had a patch. Celery appeared —
In cupboards. In drawers. On roofs.
The mayor’s living room was so full, he started a garden.
Businesses advertised guarantees — and sold celery patches on the side.
Celery became the town’s best-known export.
But the stalks multiplied so fast, everyone made celery fondue.
The mayor invited esteemed researchers to investigate the phenomenon.
They each wore thinking caps —
Made of celery.
But made an honest discovery.
The celery had no roots.
No one had truly grown celery. The stalks matched missing produce from other towns.
The townsfolk stopped lying —
And celery exports at twice the cost of “growth.”
The neighbouring towns accepted the returning celery —
With people drinking “As-Is Celery Juice.”
From stalks with roots.
The honest taste was no longer bitter —
But rather refreshingly sweet.
Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.
