Magitrophic lichen

In the slinkyesque transversions of temporal cavitation, a particular type of energy is given off. This energy is largely unknown to humans, so we’re going to call it magic for the rest of the challenge. After all, magic is simply the known unknown.
  There is a type of organism that feeds on this magic! They’re not plants by lineage, but they do bear a striking resemblance. They are minarets, fixed in place, possessing tissues similar to the cellulose we know. They come in worts and mosses, ferns and leaves, shaped for an energy source that manifests as a broad plane rather than a single blinding point. The primary differences between plants and minarets are their colors — minarets are most often a translucent periwinkle — and their material. Where plants are rigid and snappable, minarets behave in a more non-newtonian fashion. They will become stiff and stretchy in turns, according to the present phase of nearby temporal waves.
  There’s another life form here, which gets mistaken as a minaret. Let’s call them temporal lichens, for they exist in a comparable association. True lichens are symbiotic partnerships between fungi and algae or cyanobacteria; the former provides nutrients and a wet local environment, while the latter photosynthesizes for energy. Temporal lichens live similarly, temporosynthetic microbes nestled within a fungus (adapted to handle compress-space’s undulations). One interesting difference is where these magitrophic communities are located. The vast majority live in or near water, rather than clinging to walls or beams. Masses of lichens gather at the shorelines of triangular inter-canal islands, dangling hyphae like indigo tails into the water. Still others are directly in the canals, living as tiny rafts. (the moon beetles making homes in these rafts are a subject for another article). In these glassy waters, they thrive, despite there being no obvious visible nutrients there. In the height of summer, canals can be absolutely gooey with aquatic lichens. This behavior can lead me to only one central conclusion:
  There’s something amazing in the well water.