The ramshackle place the Professor lived was more garden than house, ivy-coated and sprouting mushrooms. The village called him Professor, though it was years since he’d taught. He was odd – a stranger living as a neighbour.
But one night he was in the pub, trading seeds for beer and Ted the farmer decided to indulge him.
“What sort of seeds are they?” Ted asked.
“Those,” the Professor said, “are Moon Trees. Gravity won’t bow their branches and their fruit glows with moonlight.”
At his field’s edge, Ted planted the seeds.
Silver leaves sprouted with the next full moon.
Word Count: 98
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Ronda Del Boccio for providing the prompt photo!