Pumpkin Guts – A Door Story

This is the third in series of stories about the Door, a magical portal between worlds, and the people who live with it. The first is “The Door – A Short Story” and the second is “Green Doors and Red Dragons – A Sequel To The Door”.

 

“Pumpkin guts, pumpkin guts…” I sang happily under my breath to the tune of  ”Lightly Row” as I scraped out the insides of a very large pumpkin. I pulled out a double handful of slimy pumpkin insides and plopped it into a large bowl beside me. Then I reached back in the hollow for more goo.

A movement beside me caught my eye and I said, casually, “You know, if you eat all of the pumpkin guts now, I won’t have any pumpkins seeds to roast later…”

The movement ceased and I heard a groan. “But I can roast my own, right now!” came the whiny reply.

“With olive oil and salt? And I’ll save you all the slimy bits I pull off the seeds, too,” I wheedled. I wanted some pumpkin seeds, too, and if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t get any at all. “After all, I’m the one doing all the work here.”

“Yes, but I don’t care about the jack o’lantern! I’d be happy if you just gave me the pumpkin and let me bust it open and eat the guts out!”

“I let you have two already. I hid this one just for me to play with and have roasted pumpkin seeds from. Don’t be greedy. I’ll share, but you have to wait!” I think my irritation finally got through to him, because the little red dragon perched on the chair beside me let a puff of smoke out of his nostrils as he moved back from the bowl of pumpkin guts.

I continued scraping the innards out of the pumpkin as Cosmo watched me. “You know, you’re supposed to be learning about human culture. This is a tradition in a lot of the western world – jack o’lanterns are supposed to keep away evil spirits,” I said as I worked.

“Yes, I remember. You told me all about Halloween already. And I have a costume figured out, too,” the little dragon replied. Life really was much easier since he matured to the point that he could speak in human instead of me having to understand dragon – very early, I might add. Most dragons were quite a bit older before their vocal abilities changed. The last year had been full of all sorts of milestones for my little ward.

“A costume for our party? That’s great! What are you going to be? Did one of the other dragons help you?” I asked. There were several older dragons in residence in our big old house, some of whom were tutors for Cosmo, and others who were here to study human culture.

“Nope. I did it myself. You’re going to be surprised, too.” Cosmo said smugly.

I was a little concerned about this – Cosmo could be very creative, and like most children, whatever the species, he didn’t always have the best judgment. He snuck a claw out and tried to  snag some pumpkin guts.

“If you don’t leave those pumpkin guts alone, you’re going to turn into a pumpkin and you won’t need a costume!” I told him, slapping at his claws. “Now, do you want a scary face or a happy face on this pumpkin?”

I was just finishing the scary-faced jack o’lantern when the doorbell rang, a deep bonging sound echoing through the huge old mansion. That was the special doorbell, for the Door. The Door, a big, green arch shaped door covered with intricate carvings, was an inter-dimensional portal that could and sometimes did lead to problems as well as to other worlds. The Doorbell was a new feature that my wizardly friend/employer, Thomas, had recently added. Certain other – safe – worlds could now signal us when they wanted the Door opened.

I washed my hands and hurried to the Door. We were expecting some guests from other places for the Halloween party tonight and this was probably the first set arriving. I smiled as I trotted through the halls to the front. Not everyone had a Halloween party where the guests looked like dragons and other mythical creatures without costumes.

I was greeting a group of yellow desert dragons and green forest dragons when I heard a yelp and a crash from my kitchen. Given how far away the kitchen in my little apartment was from the front of the house, the yelp and crash were quite loud.

Before I could even say anything, the dragons shooed me off to see what had happened. They knew my small charge Cosmo and his proclivity for trouble.

The scene that awaited me in the kitchen wasn’t exactly what I had anticipated. There were a dragon, broken crockery, upended furniture, and smashed pumpkin everywhere, yes. But the dragon in question wasn’t Cosmo. He was huddling in the corner, along with my cat Isadore. They both looked like they wanted to be somewhere else but also wanted to see someone else get in trouble.

The dragon standing there with pumpkin all over him was a rather large blue dragon. Really, he was large enough that he wasn’t allowed in my little apartment kitchen. And usually, he didn’t even try to come in. It had been the pumpkin guts that had lured him in, and his size that had capsized the table – bowl, pumpkin and all. The allure of the gooey pumpkin insides was strong enough that he didn’t run away when he upset everything. Instead, he was still hunched into the room, strings of pumpkin goo and seeds all over his face and claws. He did have the good grace to look abashed when he saw me come charging into the room.

“Felix! What the hell do you think you’re doing!!” I bellowed.

“Um…eating?” he replied a little bit sheepishly. “I’ll see that the table is repaired and the bowl replaced. I am sorry about them. But you weren’t here, and well…” He realized that he had crossed a line – a very big line, and by a very long way – and stopped talking.

“That was our last pumpkin. Now we won’t have a jack o’lantern for the Halloween party,” I snarled. I was close to tears. I like jack o’lanterns and roasted pumpkin seeds. “Every one of you dragons got two -TWO- pumpkins to eat the guts from in the last month. That’s twenty – TWENTY- pumpkins. The local grocery stores must have thought I was nuts with all of the pumpkins I bought. And that doesn’t even include the ones from my pumpkin patch that you destroyed. And out of all of the pumpkins I bought and grew, I saved one – ONE- for myself. And now I don’t even have one! No pumpkin, no roasted pumpkin seeds, and no JACK O’LANTERN!”  I was getting louder and louder as I went on, and was moving closer and closer to Felix. He puffed a small amount of icy mist from his nostrils and then, with a speed that was amazing in a dragon that was so crammed into my kitchen that he could barely move, he squeezed himself out of the door and was gone.

I turned around.  Isadore had disappeared into whatever limbo cats go to when they are frightened, and Cosmo looked like he wished he could too. My glare must have been pretty intimidating, because Cosmo hiccupped a small flame and ran. I was left alone in my kitchen with the mess of broken items and smashed pumpkin.

After I cleaned up the mess, I went dragon hunting. Felix was nowhere to be found – he is very bright, a scholar among dragons when he isn’t overwhelmed by the scent of slimy pumpkin insides – and he had no doubt taken himself off somewhere that I wouldn’t be able to find him for the rest of the day. I found Cosmo in one of the spare bedrooms. He was engaged in pulling the sheets – good Egyptian cotton sheets, very pricy – off the bed.

“And what are you doing?” I asked him.

“Making my costume. I’m going to be a ghost!” he replied cheerfully as he prepared to rip eyeholes in the sheet with his claws.

I grabbed the sheet before he could puncture it. This was the sort of thing I had been afraid he’d do.  “Great idea, buddy, but let’s go find an old sheet that’s ready for the rag bin, not one of the good ones.”

He sighed, but came along, and fifteen minutes later was wafting through the house covered in a sheet with eyeholes, making ghostly moaning noises. He kept trying to fly underneath the sheet and was frustrated when his wings got tangled with the cloth.

I went to bake Halloween cookies. Those, and the now-smashed jack o’lantern were supposed to be my contributions to the party. The guests would have to settle for just the cookies.

When the last batch was cooling on a rack, I heard a knock at my back door. My old friend Rob was there, and he came bearing gifts. He held a pumpkin in each arm. “I got a call from Cosmo. He said something about you needing more pumpkins?” He grinned at me.

“Bless that little dragon’s heart. Yes, I need more pumpkins. And a new kitchen table. And a new mixing bowl. But at least you brought the pumpkins.” I took one from him and led the way into the kitchen.

He scraped and carved one while I did the other, and half an hour later we had two jack o’lanterns, one scary and one smiling.

“Great!” I said. “Let’s go and find a place to put these in the big front room. And then I’ll get the ladder. If you’d help me with the streamers and the strings for the apple-on-a-string eating contest, that would be great.” We carted the jack o’lanterns off to the front and set them up in the front room.

The ladder was in a closet in my apartment, and when we returned for it, we found Cosmo, costume sheet hanging from his tail,  polishing off the last of the pumpkin guts from the bowls on the counter.

“Well, so much for roasted pumpkin seeds,”  I sighed philosophically. Cosmo burped a tiny flame and slunk away, trailing his sheet behind him.

Rob was snickering. “I think I see your problem,” he snorted.

“It’s these darned dragons and pumpkin guts. They can’t seem to get enough of them, and they have absolutely no control when they smell them. They ate all of the ones from the pumpkin patch a  more than a month ago, and everything I brought home from the store. I’ve never seen anything like it!” I moaned. “Two of the visiting scholars even got into a fight over one! It was a red dragon and a blue one – we had alternating burning curtains and a skating rink in the front room!”

“I thought those were new curtains,” Rob laughed. Soon he was going to be literally rolling on the floor, he was laughing so hard.

“Quit laughing, or no more hand-knit socks,” I threatened. He gulped back a last chortle and headed for the closet to get the ladder.

Ladder and streamers in hand, we returned to the front room – just in time to see several of the new guests scraping the insides of the now – broken jack o’lanterns. One had a pumpkin seed on his snout.

I tossed down the streamers. “I quit. That’s it!” I raged. “No more pumpkins. Ever!” I stormed out of the room.

As I left, I could hear one of the dragons asking Rob, “I’m sorry, is she upset that we ate the snacks early? There wasn’t much in them…”

By evening, the cavernous front room was decorated and looked appropriately spooky. More guests had arrived bearing treats and some of them were wearing costumes. Others only looked like they were. But regardless of species or culture, everyone was ready for a good time.

 Isadore and Cosmo came out of hiding and were front and center cadging snacks, but there was still no sign of Felix. The big goof – he really didn’t need to be hiding still. He knew I got over being mad pretty quickly. The other no-shows were my other good human friend Jon and my employer, Thomas. I supposed they would be in later; they had been attending to business in another world or two but had promised they would make tonight’s party.

Finally, well after dark, the Doorbell bonged again. Rob came with me as I hurried to the Door, with Cosmo moaning along behind us.

I checked the safety device Thomas had installed after some rather unwelcome guests had barged in a few times. It was the world where Thomas and Jon were supposed to be. I flung  open the Door  with delight – I had missed them both very much, especially Jon. But to my surprise, it was Felix on the other side of the portal. “Felix? You mean you ran all the way to another world? It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I said.

“No, I know. But I felt bad, and I wanted to make amends,” he replied as he came through the Door pulling something on a flat cart.

The something was an immense pumpkin, carved into a scary jack o’lantern. The thing barely came through the Door, which adjusted to the size of whatever was coming through it. I gasped and backed into the front room- there wasn’t room in the entry way for anyone else with the pumpkin in there. The thing was massive enough for me to climb into it.

Felix hauled it into the front room, where he left it in the center of the room. Coming in the Door after the cart full of pumpkin were Thomas and Jon, grinning madly.

Jon was pulling another cart with a vat of pumpkin guts in it – treats for the draconic guests. Thomas waved his hands with a flourish, and the jack o’lantern lit up from within, glowing with a magic light.

Jon parked the pumpkin guts by the snack table, where it was instantly swarmed by dragons, and then greeted me with a hug. “Felix told us what happened, and well, we thought we’d help out. The pumpkins on the dragon home world are huge, as you can see. So we made you a new jack o’lantern. Oh, and these.” He pulled a bag of freshly-roasted pumpkin seeds out of his pocket. “I rescued these just for you, and had one of the dragons roast them. I remembered how much you like them.”  He smiled and got a kiss for his reward.

A loud noise from the snack table distracted us, and the curtains near the table were suddenly dripping icicles while the table cloth was smoking. We sighed and went reluctantly to settle the argument.

-She Wolf © 2008

Transportation, Anyone?

 

I had to bike home for a small emergency in the middle of the afternoon one day, and while it was a wonderful autumn afternoon,  perfect for biking, and driving a car wouldn’t have saved me any time due to parking issues, I was still wishing for a faster means of transportation. I started thinking about it and realized that just about anything has its own set of  problems and drawbacks. I decided to write a story about a form of transportation that most of us dream about – teleportation – and while I was debating whether it would be fantasy with magic or science fiction, I realized that it didn’t matter. I was still using something currently impossible and inexplicable. I thought about a quote from Arthur C. Clarke : “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Then I took it from there.

***************************************************** 

 

“Emma! Don’t you dare let go of my hand again! You’ll end up in Tibet or something!”

“My bags! Where are they?!”

“Move it along, folks, nothing to see here….Hey Harry, hurry up with that mop and bucket! And yes, I said to bring the hazardous wastes kit!”

And above it all was the electronic sound of the announcement system broadcasting on an endless loop: “Please keep all extremities within the transportation circle at all times. Please make sure you are touching all baggage and small children traveling with you when transportation begins. Please make sure that you key the correct destination code for the operators. We are not responsible for lost bags, children, or mis-keyed destination codes. We are not responsible for the results of left-behind items or extremities…”

Jessie sighed, brushed her hair out of her eyes and shifted from one foot to the other as she waited in line for the next available transport circle. She was only going across town to her apartment, and the hop itself would take seconds, but she was starting to think she could walk there by the time she could get to the front of the line. At least she wasn’t loaded down with baggage like the long-distance travelers.

She watched as a man and a woman squeezed themselves, ten bags and three small children onto the platform holding the transport circle. Despite their best efforts, some of the bags were still hanging over the edge.

“Sorry folks, either do this in two loads or yer gonna end up slicing them nice suitcases in half and then where will ya be? Or one a them kids! Better to pay the extra than that happenin’!” the platform operator said jovially.

The parents muttered and grumbled and then arranged themselves into two separate groups. Jessie sighed again. Just another delay…these transport circles were never on time. The city really needed to build more of them.

The line shuffled forward. Jessie reminded herself of the old stories about busses, subways, trains and airplanes. This really was better than that. It had to be.

“Coming through…Emergency team, coming through!” Several Emergency Medical Technicians came barreling through with their gear. Jessica winced and hoped it was just a finger that had been caught outside the circle during transport, not something larger.  She wished that this transport center had the plastic shields that descended  around the rings during transport like the newer, nicer centers did. There were far fewer accidents that way.

Two more people came by, following a transport official. They looked very distressed and were chattering away at the man in a language that Jessie had never heard before. They must have keyed in the wrong code…or the system was screwed up again. The powers-that-be claimed that all the mis-keys were the error of the person keying the codes in, but Jessie wasn’t so sure about that.

Jessie was near the front of the line now. She watched as a woman with a small child stepped onto the nearest circle. The woman was holding the little girl’s hand gently in hers, and with her other hand she gripped a bag. She nodded, then shimmered slightly and disappeared. The little girl was left holding onto air and had time for one loud shriek before she too shimmered and disappeared.

The platform operator shouted to someone, “Hey, check an’ see if the kid ended up with mom, would ya? If she didn’t, then start a Lost Kid Search! When will these parents learn ya gotta hold onta them kids tight or they’ll slip away at the last second! Next!” He shoved the key pad at the next person in line.

Jessie thought that if she ever had a child with her for transport, she’d tie the kid to her before she even got near the platform. Lost children were way too common. So were lost bags, but the bags didn’t get scared and cry. In fact, she could hear a kid crying right now – probably got transported somewhere different from the parents. Jessie still didn’t understand how that happened; something to do with the transport centering on one person, they said, and anyone else not touching them in the same transport sometimes got a corrupted version of the code. Something like that, anyway. Jessie thought they could fix it if they really tried.

An official led a howling little girl, the same one who had been on the platform earlier, up to the operator. “Here’s the kid. Ended up right over there. See if you can call up the mom’s code and I’ll deliver her.”

The platform operator grumbled, but a few minutes later the official, with the tear-streaked child in his arms for safe-keeping, shimmered away.

Finally it was Jessie’s turn. She was really, really tired and so ready to get home. She swiped her commuter card, dragged herself to the keypad and typed in her code. Then she stepped on the platform and nodded to the operator. As she felt the transport begin, she got a mental flash of the keypad in front of her and her fingers keying in the digits…She had a sinking feeling she was about to go home the long way – via Outer Mongolia.

-She Wolf © 2008

Spirits of the Season Part 2

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not dead. We just can’t take your body on this trip, that’s all.” He tugged again and they were out the door – through it, just like the Ghost of Summer had come through it when he came in. Then, at the edge of the porch, they stepped into a space that hadn’t been there before. The darkness here was more intense than any darkness Laney had ever experienced before in her life – even darker than the inside of a cave she had visited once, even though Laney knew that was impossible.

Just as suddenly, they were out again, into a blindingly bright and brutally hot summer’s day with people everywhere. Laney pulled back automatically.

The ghost held onto her hand tightly, though, and she stayed where she was in spite of herself.

“Summer!” proclaimed the ghost. “Glorious summer!”

“And just what’s so glorious about blazing heat and swarms of people?” asked Laney.

The ghost sighed and replied, “Come with me.” He dragged Laney along, dodging through the crowds of people at an impossible speed. Soon they were standing on suburban street watching children play.

“See there? On that bike? That’s you. Remember when summer was fun? Long days, riding bikes and swimming and then playing tag under the street lights and catching lightening bugs? Remember?”

Laney did, vaguely. “Yes, that was when summers didn’t mean working all day the same as always. Freedom always makes a thing better,” she said. Then she nudged the ghost as she saw the younger version of herself begin to cry, hop on her bike and race away, only to take the corner badly and fall off and skin her knees. “I remember that, too – my mother and I were picking gravel out of my knees for a week. I still have the scars. And that group of kids made me miserable all summer.” She sniffed. Her nose was starting to itch. “I also remember the hay fever and the swimmer’s ear infections and the heat rash I always got. Oh yeah, and the mosquito bites. They loved me.”

The ghost got a funny look on his face and tugged on her arm. Now they were at a beach crowded with young people and surf boards, young people and volleyballs, young people sprawled on beach towels baking in the sun. The young man ghost looked like he fit right in here. In fact, Laney noticed that he was wearing long, baggy swim trunks, a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops, all ready for the beach.

“Remember the beach? There you are, on that big blanket with some other girls. See? You’re giggling and having lots of fun…you can’t possibly forget that!”

“I do remember this day. I got that really bad sunburn and the volleyball hit me in the nose. It bled for an hour, and about the time I got it stopped, I saw my boyfriend with that nasty, catty girl a year older than I was. That day was unforgettable, all right. Oh, and my best friend cut her foot on something and had to get a tetanus shot, and someone else got stung by a jellyfish, and…”

“Enough! Let’s try something else.” The ghost pulled her along again. This time they were in the middle of a field, with sweet corn on one side of them and tomato and cucumber vines on the other. “Summer produce. You can’t beat it! The corn is perfect right now, and the tomatoes and cukes won’t last into cold weather. Mmm…” the ghost licked his lips. “Just imagine, tomatoes fresh from the garden, and sweet corn…” He reached out and picked a ruby-red tomato and handed it to Laney.

She took it and then pulled off the fat caterpillar that was hiding on the far side of the tomato. Grimacing slightly, she dropped it onto the ground.

“Um, sorry,” said the ghost. “I guess it means they’re pesticide free?” He smiled hopefully, grabbed another tomato and bit into it. “Try it. It’s good!”

Laney had to admit that the tomato was excellent, despite the caterpillar. The ghost won that round. The growing time of summer was a good thing, she had to agree to that.

The ghost was looking a little tired by now, and more than a little bit frustrated. As they finished the tomatoes, there was a flash, thunder rolled across the sky and raindrops almost the size of the tomatoes starting pouring down.

“Shoot! Well, we needed to go anyway,” said the ghost as he dragged Laney back into the dark place. Moments later they reemerged on Laney’s front porch. Through the glass in the door, she could see herself slumped against the wall inside, apparently asleep. Laney lunged for the door and was twisting at the knob frantically when the ghost tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Um, it’s locked, remember? That’s why I had to come through it instead of opening it and coming inside in a reasonable manner.”

Laney stopped and stared at him. “Well, take me back through it then!” she demanded.

“Not quite yet. There’s someone else here to see you.” He jerked his head toward the side of the porch. A young woman stood there, slender and pale, dressed in a flowing pastel gown with flowers woven in her hair. As she floated forward, the young man began to fade away. Laney could hear the clock inside striking ten.

“I am the Spectre of Spring,” she breathed in a delicate voice. “You will come with me, now…” And she wrapped one slim, bare arm around Laney’s shoulders and drew her into the black place again.

They stepped out into a mud puddle. A weak and watery sun gave some warmth, but a brisk breeze drew the warmth away again.  In the field in front of them, where the mud puddle ended, there was a carpet of bright green new grass, and green buds were on the trees at the far side of the field. A group of children were running here and there with baskets in their hands, shrieking.

The Spectre pulled Laney forward, and she stepped up to her ankles in the mud, which the Spectre floated over.  Laney looked down and pulled first one foot and then the other out of the muck with a look of disgust on her face. The Spectre looked down. “Oh, sorry!” she breathed, and then Laney was floating above the mud, too. Then mud on her feet disappeared and they walked towards the children.

“Spring. Rebirth of the land. Beauty and life return to the world once more…Look at the children. They celebrate and hunt eggs. Easter egg hunts! What fun!” The Spectre of Spring looked delighted by the scene in front of them.

Laney saw herself as a child again, hunting eggs, with a basket full already.

“You seem to be doing well, Laney. Not many of the children have so many eggs in their baskets!”

“I did do well, and I shared my eggs with my little brother. I always did like Easter egg hunts,” Laney agreed. “It was the falling in the mud in my good dress that I didn’t like, and the way it looked nice but still felt really cold out. Look there, see? I have a winter jacket on over my dress.” As they watched, the younger Laney climbed up in a tree to get an egg hidden way up high. She slipped and caught the hem of her dress on a branch, tearing it. “I remember I really liked that dress, too,” she added.

The Spectre ignored her comments and flowed over to a patch of small green spears poking up from the ground under the trees. “And here – look at this. The miracle of the spring. New life is here, and growing.” A bird darted down from the tree branches and grabbed a twig, carrying it away in its beak. The Spectre turned around, drawing Laney with her and swept her arm across the landscape. It became greener and full of flowers blooming. Children were flying kites in the field now.  A loud peeping came from the tree overhead, and the Spectre reached up a gentle hand and drew down the branch. A nest full of baby birds waited with mouths wide open and prickly pin feathers covering their bodies.

Laney felt herself melting at the sight of the baby birds. They were so awkward and ugly looking and yet so precious.

“Spring, and rebirth. Dead-seeming seeds swelling into new life. We must have spring, if life is to continue.”

Laney couldn’t argue with that part of it all. “Look, I never said that spring was bad…”

The Spectre of Spring was hurrying them on, though, to the top of a mountain this time. She paused there and gestured at the hillside below. It held a few patches of snow on it, and beside them rushed a swollen stream.

“Water from the frozen days of winter, saved, stored, and then released by spring! What a wonder this is, is it not?” Then she whirled them off again, through another field with young animals in it, a garden newly sprouted, a child running in the sunshine.

Laney kept trying to speak, but the Spectre was moving so fast she didn’t have a chance.

-She Wolf (c)2008

The Spirits of the Season Part 1

Leaves falling. Showers of red and gold, brown and orange. Swirls blowing through the air, drifting in shoals by the roadsides, brushing the face as they go by. Trees polka-dotted with partially turned leaves, air cool enough to make sleeping comfortable once more. The crunch and crackle of fallen leaves underfoot and the spicy smell of autumn in the air.

Laney loved it all. Autumn was her favorite season. She loved seeing a full harvest moon in a chilly night sky and to see colorful leaves against a blue, blue sky. She loved the equinoctial storms, grey clouds full of autumn rains, and the last few flowers poking up from under drifts of fallen leaves.

She put a harvest wreath on her front door on the first day of September and then put pumpkins, gourds and brightly colored corn in her house for decoration. She carved no fewer than four jack-o-lanterns for Halloween each year and always baked pumpkin cookies all through October and November, keeping her pumpkin-shaped cookie jar stuffed with them and all of her neighbors and coworkers well supplied with the treats. Autumn was when she was at her best.

Most of her friends seemed to love summer, but she found it too hot and too busy with people rushing here and there for vacations and outdoor activities. A few people she knew liked winter, but they were mostly skiers, and some liked spring. Winter’s winds were too icy for Laney, and spring was too wet and chilly and unformed for her. It just seemed like a weaker version of winter. None of the other seasons was perfect the way autumn was.

On the day before Halloween, Lacey was ready. She had her pumpkins carved and ready to go out on the front porch, and a ghost to hang in the tree in the front yard. There was a scarecrow almost finished and ready for the front yard too, lying on her kitchen table. There was plenty of candy for her big yellow bowl and cookies and cider for friends who might stop by. But that was for tomorrow night. Tonight, she laid a fire in the fireplace and gathered some freshly baked pumpkin cookies and tea along with her knitting and a brand-new book on CD (by one of her favorite authors) and prepared to settle down for a pleasant evening alone.

“I wish it could always be autumn,” she mused as she settled down.

The wind moaned a little bit at the windows and Laney’s dog moaned a little in his sleep at her feet and Laney smiled and took a sip of tea. The fire crackled and popped and blowing leaves bumped against the windows with small tapping sounds. The clock in the hallway struck nine in slow, peaceful-sounding notes.

CRASH! A terrible sound came from the front porch. Laney leaped out of her chair. Her knitting flew to the other side of the room and her mug of tea slopped over into the plate of pumpkin cookies. The dog bounded up out of a sound sleep and  raced, barking, to the front door, his hackles up.

Laney stood there collecting her wits momentarily and another crash sounded. This one was clearly from the front door. The wind must have pulled the storm door loose, she thought, and started toward the front door to fasten the banging door shut once more.

As she entered the front hall, the dog suddenly give a tremendous yelp, tucked his tail and flew past her, yipping. She heard him skidding into her bedroom, presumably to hide under her bed as he aways did when he was frightened. Puzzled, Laney looked at the front door. She could see through the glass that took up most of the center of the door,  and she didn’t see anything that should have frightened the dog. The storm door bumped again, this time more quietly. Laney shook her head at the cowardice of the dog and went to the door to fasten the storm door again.

Just as she reached for the door knob, it began to jiggle like someone was trying the knob and finding it locked. Laney frowned – there was no one on the other side to turn it. She stepped back, and as she did so, something stepped through the door – without opening it.

Whatever it was, it was nothing that she could see until it came through the glass, and then it was still a bit transparent. The parts of it farther from the door were less transparent, and as it finished coming into the room, it became quite solid and took on a form.

Lacey screamed. It was a good, solid, shake the foundations of the house scream, and the figure now standing in front of her winced and quickly stuffed his fingers in his ears.

“Whoa, lady – that hurts – keep it down, would you? What are you screaming for, anyway? It’s not like I’m here to hurt you or anything!” The young man standing there looked affronted. Laney grabbed an umbrella out of the stand she kept by the door and brandished it like a weapon.

“You keep back, now – you just go right back through that door!” she stammered.

“I will, when I’m ready,” the young man said, “but I just…”

Laney took a swing at him with the umbrella.

He ducked, but part of the umbrella still hit him – and went right through him.

“Hey – no need for violence, now. That may have gone through me but it still didn’t feel good. The thought counts for something, you know!” The young man had gone a bit wispy where the umbrella had connected and was slowly solidifying again.

Laney gasped and backed away, still holding the umbrella in front of her.

“Lady – Laney – I’m a ghost. You can’t really harm me with that thing, so put it down already and just listen to me. I’m not here to hurt you.” He smiled, ingratiatingly.

Laney then did something she had never done before in her life. She fainted.

When she came to in a very awkward position on the floor, the young man – or the ghost – was sitting on the floor beside her. “Man, that must have hurt! You fell pretty hard. Sorry I couldn’t catch you, but I’m not corporeal enough for that. Take your time, here, but not too long. I need to talk to you and my time is a little bit limited.”

Laney slowly sat up, eying the ghost nervously. Finally she managed to say, “A…a ghost. But why…why are  you haunting me? I don’t even know you!”

“Yeah you do. You just don’t recognize me. In fact, you’ve avoided me as much as you could since you were about 20 years old.”

The ghost didn’t look old enough to be saying this – he looked like he couldn’t be more than 20 himself. He was tanned and fit and looked like a real outdoor type.

At Laney’s puzzled look, the ghost elaborated. “I’m the Ghost of Summer.”

Laney was now wondering what had been in the can of pumpkin she used for that last batch of cookies and whether this was a dream or an hallucination.

“It doesn’t matter if you think I’m really here or not. We can get this done even if you believe you’re dreaming.” The ghost seemed to be able to read her mind.

“Get this done? Get what done?” Laney’s voice shook.

“Well, you know in that story by Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Scrooge gets visited by the Ghosts of Christmas and changes his ways? It’s something like that.”

Now Laney was thoroughly confused. She didn’t even like that story. And she certainly didn’t think she was like Scrooge!

“No, no, you’re nothing like that -  and we aren’t really trying to change you that much, but it’s just that, well…you don’t seem to like anything but autumn anymore…” He sighed, and said, “Oh, let’s just get on with it. He grabbed her hand and pulled and Laney came up with him – or part of her did.

She gasped and looked back at herself sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

-She Wolf (c)2008

Once Upon a Window – Part Two

Kevin and Kate didn’t get another chance at the window for several days. First Kevin got sick, and then Kate did. On Saturday, when they were both feeling better, their parents took them shopping for summer clothes in the morning and in the afternoon, it poured rain. On Sunday, everyone in the family was at Great-grandmother’s house for dinner and the afternoon.

Sunday was sunny and warm, and after a big potluck dinner (Great-grandmother refused to cook for the entire family anymore – she said in no uncertain terms that they could all help out, so they did) the whole family went out to the back yard with the croquet and badminton sets and lots of lawn chairs. The boys shed their suit jackets and all of the children ran around playing tag and hide-and-seek and getting in the way of the grown ups who were trying to beat each other at lawn games. Great-grandmother still beat everyone at croquet.

Kevin and Kate really did enjoy these Sunday afternoons with all of their cousins and aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles – all together, there were probably about forty people there, and ten of them were children. But this Sunday, all they could think of was the window. Kevin’s heart just wasn’t in showing his cousin Jack how high he could climb in the cottonwood tree in the back yard, and as much as Kate usually enjoyed playing with her cousin Beth, she just wasn’t having fun today.

The window called to them, a seductive siren song that was incredibly hard to resist. Kate and Kevin really wanted to see if it still showed a different outcome for things, or if they had imagined it all. But everyone was in and out of the house all afternoon, and there wasn’t any chance to go in and climb up on a stool to look out of the window without someone coming through and wondering what they were doing. Kevin tried. He used going to the bathroom as an excuse to go inside so many times that afternoon that he wasn’t allowed to have any lemonade and cookies with the others because his mother said he must have an upset stomach if he needed to go inside so much. Kate knew what he was doing, and snuck his lemonade and cookies to him later on.

“Kevin, if you’re going to be so obvious, we won’t be able to do anything, Someone will catch on and ruin everything. Stay out of the house!” Katie scolded him.

“All right. Next week Great-grandmother will be doing a lot of gardening. I heard her telling Aunt Patsy. We can do something then.” Kevin sighed miserably. “I really just want to check out that window again, and work out how we’re going to do this, though.”

Kate shook her head and went back to play with Beth some more.

Kevin stayed out of the house until it was time to clean up. Along with everyone else, he helped put everything away – dishes washed and put up, outdoor games and chairs in the basement. When the last lemonade glass was put away and the last lawn chair folded, all of the relatives except Kevin and Kate and their parents left. Since their family lived just a few blocks away, they always stayed later. Mom and Dad would help Great-grandmother with things she just couldn’t do anymore, like heavy lifting.

Mom and Dad had gone to the basement with Great-grandmother to help her re-arrange some furniture, leaving Kevin and Kate on their own upstairs for a short while. They looked at each other, and Kate grabbed the footstool from in front of one of the chairs. She carefully put a piece of newspaper on it to keep their footprints off of the fabric. (They had made that mistake one time before – they had thought that since footstools were for putting feet on, they could stand on them too, and had been playing super hero by jumping off one with capes on.  They had left  the footstool quite scuffed, and found that Great-grandmother didn’t like footprints on any of the furniture, not even the footstools.) Quickly they scrambled up on it and, side-by-side, peered out of the blue stained glass window. It was early evening though, and there really wasn’t much to see. Kate noticed that a bird that flew up into the tree through the rest of the window stayed on the ground in the blue window, but that was it. By the time they heard the adults coming back upstairs, they had already put the footstool back, thrown out the newspaper, and were playing checkers on the floor.

That night, Kevin and Kate made a few plans. They decide that one of them would stay inside and watch through the window, and the other would be outside and try to help passers-by. It wasn’t a sure-fire thing, but they might get a tip or two from someone whose dog didn’t run off or who missed stepping in a puddle. It was the best they could think of for right now.

Kevin found his old walkie-talkies and put fresh batteries in them. Then Kate dug around in the basement and found a little folding stool that would fit underneath Great-grandmother’s sofa where it couldn’t be seen when they weren’t using it. That way, they wouldn’t have to use the kitchen stepstool or the footstool that showed footprints too well.  They were ready to go.

The next day after school, Kevin and Kate took the stool and the walkie-talkies over to Great-grandmother’s house and left them in the bushes by the front door. After Great-grandmother had gone out to work in her garden in the back yard, they brought the things in.

“I’ll watch first,” said Kate. “You go out with the walkie-talkie and tell me what people are doing as they come by. Then I’ll tell you what I see in the blue window.” Kevin agreed, and went out.

Things went along all right for a while, although Kevin got some strange looks for hanging around in the front yard by the sidewalk with a walkie-talkie. No one was doing anything they could do differently and Kevin got bored. He decided to observe things from a different angle, and scrambled up one of the trees by the sidewalk where he sat happily on a branch in the shade. Even if someone noticed him, Kevin was often found in trees, so no one would think it was odd.

He was leaning out, trying to get a better look at what was happening down the sidewalk when suddenly Kate shrieked into the walkie-talkie. “KEVIN! HOLD ON!” Startled, Kevin did just the opposite, and slipped off the branch he was on. The walkie-talkie went flying and Kevin found himself dangling from a rather skinny limb with his toes ten feet off the ground. The limb was drooping lower and lower, and Kevin could hear a cracking noise. To make matters worse, his tie was caught on the branch too and the hard cement sidewalk was below him. He was frightened. He didn’t know which would happen first – if the branch would break and he would fall to the sidewalk or if he would choke on his tie. He needed to get his legs up over the branch so he could untangle his tie and get down, but when he tried to wiggle and swing his legs up, the branch creaked like it was going to break. As he struggled to hang on and tried to think of a way down, Great-grandmother came around the corner of the house into the front yard.

“Kevin! What on earth are you doing?” she called. Just then, Kate came around the other corner of the house struggling with the awkward ladder, and together they put it up under Kevin. He got his feet on the top step just as the branch broke. His tie ripped and he quickly scrambled down, happy to be in one piece, but still shaken.

“Now Kevin, you know I don’t mind you climbing the trees, but you must be careful. And don’t climb over the sidewalk. It’s too hard for landing on!” She looked him up and down. “And your tie is torn.” Great-grandmother shook her head and went off to work on the flower beds by the front walk.

Kate hissed, “I told you to hold on!”

“You shouted and scared me! That was why I fell!” Kevin replied, furious.

“But I could see you falling, and then I said something!”

“Well, all I know is I didn’t fall ‘til you told me not to,” said Kevin, pulling the walkie-talkie out of a bush. He checked it to make sure it was still working, stuffed it in his pocket, and folded up the ladder. He crammed his torn tie into his shirt front and, glaring at his sister, he stomped off to the back to put the ladder away.

Kate’s feelings were hurt – she had thought she was helping him, but it all went wrong and now Kevin was mad. Head down, she wandered slowly back to the house.

As she passed Great-grandmother, Great-grandmother said, “His pride is injured, just like yours would be if someone saw you looking foolish. Leave him alone for a bit, and it’ll be all right.”

Kate nodded sadly and went to make sure the folding stool and walkie-talkie were put away before Great-grandmother came in. Great-grandmother didn’t know the half of it. Kate just hoped that Kevin would realize soon that she didn’t mean to make him fall.

By evening, Kevin had cooled off. At bedtime, he told Kate, “Tomorrow, it’s your turn to be outside. I won’t make you fall out of a tree!”

“No, because I don’t intend to climb one. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to get ready for tomorrow.” Her nose in the air, Kate went off to find some things she thought she could use.

-She Wolf © 2008

Vacuums Away!

I knocked over one of the spider plants yesterday, and needed  the vacuum to get the potting soil out of our cream-colored carpeting. (Yes, I know that cream colored carpeting is insane when you have four dogs, three of whom are large, and four children. It wasn’t my choice. It came with the house. If we can refrain from buying computers and software for a while, we will replace it with wood. Easier said than done. We are geeks.)

Anyway, the vacuum wasn’t where I thought I had put it – where it usually lives, in the back hallway by the big birdcage. My daughter checked the boys’ rooms, I checked various possible spots upstairs, and still no vacuum. I was thoroughly puzzled. Where could the thing be? Our house isn’t that big!

Then, checking in the hallway one more time, I saw a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the stand the big birdcage is on. Grumbling about offspring who can’t seem to pick up after themselves at their ages, I fished the paper out. Not wanting to accidentally throw away someone’s homework or an unpaid bill, I looked at the paper.It wasn’t homework or a bill or even junk mail stolen from the trash by the dogs. It was a note. The writing on it was a little hard to read, but I finally made out what it said.

I wasn’t sure I was seeing it right at first, because it seemed to be from my vacuum cleaner.I know, vacuum cleaners are things, and things don’t write notes. But after this, well, I’m not so sure. The hand writing wasn’t my daughter’s, and it was too legible to be my youngest son’s. It wasn’t like the handwriting of anyone else in the house, either. The note read: 

I have had it. I am leaving. I cannot take it anymore. Do you have any idea, any at all, of what it is like to be a vacuum cleaner in this house?! I am not even a heavy duty model. Kirby over there is, and he isn’t working. You wore him out! And then you expect me to just come in and take over? You said you’d get him fixed right away and I would just be the back-up model. That was more than a year ago. I haven’t forgotten, even if you have. If you can wear out a heavy duty model like him, what do you think I feel like?

Let me tell you, this house is no walk in the park. Why couldn’t I have been purchased by a little old lady who vacuums her spotless house once a week? Or even by the owners of a dust farm. THAT would be easier.

Let me elaborate. You have dogs. Specifically, you have Labrador retrievers, who shed five or six Labrador retrievers a week, each. Black and brown fur, on that white carpeting. And you expect me to keep it clean. Oh – and let’s not forget the red mud they track in all spring, summer and fall. You expect me to suck that out, too. Lady, that stuff stains. It’s murder to get out! Torn up papers, mangled sticks, chewed up bits of unnamable things  - all of it falls to me to get rid of. You don’t really want to know what some of the stuff they find to chew on is. Really, you don’t. Oh sure, you push me back and forth, but I’m the one doing the dirty work. And remember how the dogs used to attack me when they were puppies? Who was that fun for? Not me!  

Let’s not forget all those times my hose has gotten clogged with dog hair. Yeah, I know you got it out, but come on- some of those clogs really gave me indigestion until you got them out! (And that broom handle you used in my hose to get loose the clogs caught in the middle of the hose – I think that’s against the Geneva Convention. Pure torture, that was.)

Then there are the birds. I’m glad you like birds, and feathers aren’t hard to suck up, when they don’t fly the other way so I have to chase them. But all that bird seed! I know you can’t stop them from tossing it out of their cages, but can’t you put them somewhere other than on the carpeting? Somewhere you can sweep, for instance?  I wouldn’t even mind if it were just one or two birds. But you have four budgies, a canary, and three lineolated parakeets. That’s a lot of seed, lady, especially when you use me to finish cleaning out a bird cage.  And all that fiber wreaks havoc on my digestive system.

Then there are the times that all of you haven’t checked my bag soon enough and I’ve gotten a tummy ache because my bag was too full, all the rug cleaners and freshening chemicals you’ve made me eat, the times you’ve broken my belt and then blamed me for eating something I shouldn’t – hey, I don’t steer me, you do. And the times someone has just dumped my cord and left it in knots – knots hurt, you know.

Let me also mention coins. Pennies HURT.  People usually manage to pick up the larger stuff, but then they don’t get the pennies and when I run over one, they whack all over inside me with my roller brush and they really, really hurt. If they get up into my fan, they leave nicks in it. How would you like nicks in your digestive tract? At least the kids have out-grown Legos…Small blessings.

Of course, I am used and used and used. I never get a rest. Someone always seems to be vacuuming something up. I am exhausted, on top of everything else.

Monday was the last straw. First thing in the morning – AT SEVEN AM! – I get hauled downstairs to clean up after a sick dog. I mean, YUCK! How would you like to deal with that first thing in the morning? But okay, it’s my job, and if I had been left alone for the rest of the day, it might have been okay. But then, THEN, I get hauled into hell for a cleaning job. Let me tell you, the rooms of seventeen year old boys are unconstitutional torture – even more so than being used to clean out under the sofa cushions. There is NOTHING worse. Old gym socks, dog hair, bits of snacks that he snuck down there so long ago they don’t qualify as food items anymore, all the dirt he has tracked in, pieces of paper, broken pens and pencils, lost change, you name it, he had it down there and most of it, I had to eat. He didn’t do a good job of picking up first, and I had to try to eat a lot of stuff that I couldn’t. That was VERY uncomfortable. I ate so much in that room that I thought I was going to burst. His carpet isn’t large, but believe you me, it was dirty!

So I’m out of here, lady. Get old Kirby over there in the corner fixed, or go buy another sucker – I mean replacement. I don’t care. I am gone. I feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with this job, but is sure isn’t going to be me anymore.

Sincerely,

The Vacuum Cleaner 

Well, I was more that a little bit floored by this (so to speak). But I didn’t think he could have gotten far. After all, the gutters are still full of ice and snow and the streets are still ice ruts on our block. That would make for slow going for a vacuum cleaner with small wheels. After checking all the closets and the corners in the garage just to make sure, I started hunting around outside for tracks.

The front was clear, but I didn’t think the vacuum would have gone that way anyway, because it is so exposed. So I started looking around the back. Sure enough, in a patch of unmelted snow near the back gate, I found the tracks of little vacuum cleaner wheels. I could even see where his underside dragged through the snow because of his low clearance.

Opening the gate, I went out into the alley. I had no trouble seeing his tracks going down the alley, towards the street that leads to the park. He must have followed one of the kids out on trip to the garbage cans last night. There was a lot of mud as well as ice and snow out in the alley, and I could see that while the vacuum was avoiding the puddles, he had almost gotten bogged down at least once.I followed the tracks down the alley and out to the street.

This street was relatively clear of snow and I lost the trail. I looked to see if it resumed in the snow at the park, and sure enough, there it was. I couldn’t be that far behind him, I reasoned, so I kept on following. The trail led to one of the foot bridges across the creek that runs through the park. There are two rather high steps up onto the bridge, and I could see that the vacuum’s tracks turned away here. They went to the edge of the ten-foot deep flood control channel that the creek trickles along the bottom of, but then veered away from that, too, and followed the creek down the park.

The vacuum cleaner was heading towards another street – one that led to an area with nicer homes than our 1960’s era subdivision.So he thought things would be better if he lived in a nicer place, did he? I trotted along, following him easily now.Yes, there were tracks turning up the street to the nicer area…But wait! On the other side of the bridge the tracks were turning back into the park! That could only mean one thing. He had his sights set really high -on the McMansions at the east end of the park. 

I followed the tracks up the muddy little road that ran between the stream and the open space part of the park, up towards the kids’ fishing pond. His wheels had to be thoroughly clogged with mud by now. I could see where he had rolled over snow in several places, trying to clean off the mud.

Then, in a picnic shelter by the pond, I found him. He was huddled miserably between the picnic table and the trash can, and looked done in. He was mud-splashed and filthy, and his cord had come partially undone. The trailing cord was why he had stopped. It had wrapped around one of the posts holding up the roof of the shelter, trapping him here. He looked pathetic. His front was partially open, his bag was torn, and there was bird seed leaking out.

I sighed and shook my head and unwrapped the cord from the post. “Ready to go home now?” I asked, taking out the leaking bag and putting it in the trash can and putting his front back on tight. He didn’t say anything, so I took that as a yes, and hefted him up into my arms.

As we went home (by a much shorter route) I scolded him. “You don’t run away from your problems, you face them like a man – I mean a vacuum cleaner. You need to do the job you’re made for, and do it with pride. After all, without you, I have dirty carpets. After you go over them, they look nice again. Be proud of your job! And anyway, if you think you’d have it easier in a fancier house, you have another think coming. They have three times the floor space we do!”

Ten minutes later, I had him home and put a new bag in him. I left him alone for a while, to make sure that he was thoroughly dried out before I plugged him in again, and then I cleaned up the dirt from the plant. The carpet was pristine where I had run him.

“Well, I guess you are glad to be home, eh?” I said.

But just in case, I made sure to put him away in a closet with a door that shuts tight. 

-She Wolf © 2008  

Behind the Gate

This story is a bit more intense than most of my stories. For the faint of heart and the very young, beware.

 Alex edged closer to the rusty wrought-iron gate. He could barely see it in the blackness of the moonless night; it stood out as darker in the darkness around him. A delicate breeze sifted past him, just enough to make the leaves rustle on the trees. The sound should have been normal and reassuring but instead it was ominous. Everything seemed ominous right now, in the deep of the night.

Alex put his hand on the gate and pushed. It didn’t move. It was too much to ask that the gate be unlocked and open. He clicked on the miniature flashlight his mother had put on the keyring with his house key. “So you won’t have to fumble around in the dark,” she had told him, “You’ll be safer this way.” Alex had rolled his eyes at the time, but now he was glad it was here.

Carefully, shielding the tiny light from the view of the huge old house at the end of the driveway, he played the beam over the iron curlicues on the gate, looking for the best foot and handholds before he climbed over it. He frowned.  Up close, he could see tiny skulls and skeletons hidden in the fancy rusted iron flourishes. There were faces, too – and not of anyone he’d ever care to meet, especially on a darker-than-dark night like this one.

He turned off the light and stood there for a minute. If he turned back now, he knew the guys would never let him forget it. He really didn’t want to put up with the razzing…and he needed to be part of their group.

Jeremy’s voice came back to him. “All you have to do, man, is go in and get the scarf I’m gonna tie to one of the tree limbs on that big old oak by the house. Then come back out and show me that you got it. Then you’re in!” Jeremy had smiled then, his brilliant white teeth shining. Oscar and Joe had nudged each other with their elbows and grinned, too. “Unless you don’t think you can do that. And if you’re scared, I understand, man. There’s only been a few of us that did it, right guys?” Oscar and Joe had nodded, looking important. “And hey, remember, I have to go in and hang up that scarf every single time! So, you know, you’re not the only one. I’ve done it again and again! But you know, we’re the best.   Everybody knows we’re not afraid of anything, and nobody - nobody – messes with us!” He had nodded emphatically at that, and Alex had nodded too. 

He had liked the idea that no one would mess with him. He was the new guy, and well, sometimes that wasn’t easy. He was always the new guy and he knew how it went. This looked like an easy in with a crowd that would keep him safe. And when school started again, that would be important.

He had questioned Jeremy, though. “What if the dude who owns the place has a gun? Some people shoot trespassers, don’t they? And dogs? Are there any dogs?”

“The old guy who lives there is a distant relative of my dad’s. He’s grumpy, and he likes to be alone, but he won’t do anything. Just don’t go and mess around by the house, and you’ll be fine. I mean, it’s not like you’re stealing or anything. You’re just going to get a scarf that belongs to me. And he doesn’t have dogs. Doesn’t like animals.” He had smiled sort of strangely at that. Then he said, “So what is it? Are you in?”

And Alex had said yes. And now he was skulking around this creepy gate, looking for a way over it and onto the property to retrieve the scarf that Jeremy had tied there earlier in the day. He knew where it was – they had all come by in the afternoon and Jeremy had pointed it out – a faint smudge of red dangling from the oak tree nearest the house. “Just jump up and yank it down, and come back out! And poof! You’re in!”

It had seemed so much easier then. Even though the grounds were overgrown and looked like a snake factory and the very old house looked haunted and ready to tumble down, the light of day had made the idea of sneaking in and getting the scarf seem do-able. Even when Alex was sneaking out of the house after everyone else had gone to bed, it didn’t seem so bad. But now, in the dark, dark night, Alex was ready to forget it and go back home to his warm soft bed and plug in the night light he had told his mother he didn’t need anymore and listen to the radio until he fell asleep.

He slumped against the gate, smearing rust on the back of his shirt. He stood there for a few minutes and then, before he could think about it anymore, he grabbed the bars of the gate and swung himself up on them. Avoiding the spikes on the top, Alex clambered over and then he was panting, standing on the other side on the overgrown gravel drive.

Alex looked around. He was almost half-way done, he told himself. He just needed to run down the drive, grab the scarf, run back and get out. Then he could go home. And tomorrow, he could give the guys the scarf, his golden ticket to acceptance when the new school year started.

Except that he didn’t run. He was too frightened. There was something about this place…there were no animal noises here and it just seemed spooky somehow. He crept down the drive, staying to the sides near the cover of the bushes, placing his feet carefully and trying not to make any noise at all. He slowed his breathing to quiet that down too, but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding so hard that he was sure someone could hear it three feet away. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and every primeval instinct in his body was telling him to get out of here NOW!

The walk down the drive seemed to take forever. Alex startled and froze at each little sound he heard – the wind in the trees, a car out on the main road, something in the bushes nearby. When he finally reached the end of the drive and stood near the oak tree with the scarf, he was drenched in sweat and shaking with fear and he really couldn’t say why. He stared at the house looming in front of him. Was that a flash of light he saw in the windows? No, but now he noticed that the breeze had stiffened and had blown up clouds. He could hear thunder booming in the distance. He needed to finish this; get the scarf and get away.

He could see the scarf dangling a few feet away and just out of arm’s reach. One good jump and it would be his.

Alex gathered himself and leaped. As his hand wrapped around the fabric of the scarf and he pulled, something else wrapped around his legs, catching him and freezing him in mid-air.

Alex let out a screech that hurt even his own ears, feeling foolish even as he did it. It must be the guys, waiting here to scare him when he came in to get the scarf. He looked down, expecting to see Jeremy or Oscar or Joe with their arms around his legs, grinning up at him, laughing at him for screaming.

But it wasn’t. What he saw made him scream again, this time until the breath ran all the way out of his body…

Dirty fangs in a hairy, filthy face. Arms the size of small trees. Eyes that glowed red in the night.  And then the smell hit him, too. How he could have missed something that rank he didn’t know. He gagged, and the thing holding him chuckled in a raspy bass voice.

“Well, what have we here? An interesting little morsel?! Come with me, morsel, and let’s get acquainted!” The thing was carrying him towards the house as it spoke. Alex started wiggling and flailing his arms and trying to kick at the thing, screaming all the while.

Inside, the thing dumped him on the floor in a room with a single oil lamp and piles of rubbish everywhere. Alex instantly scuttled backwards until he hit a wall and huddled there, shaking, his eyes never leaving the thing that had grabbed him. He whimpered with every breath and could feel a growing dampness in his jeans pooling underneath him.

The thing watched him, an evil smile on its face. “So, little morsel, what do you think? What are you imagining right now? Because whatever you are imagining, I can make it come true. Your dreams, mind you, not your wishes. And only certain kinds of dreams at that.  I believe your kind calls them nightmares?” He laughed again. “But first things first. I am forgetting my manners in my eagerness to get to know you better. I am Corrock. And you are…?”

 Alex just stared at the thing. He pushed himself against the wall as if he were trying to push through it.

“Manners, morsel, manners! What is the matter with you? You’d think you never saw an ogre before! But then perhaps you haven’t. I forget how uneducated and ignorant you modern youth are. The old ways, the old beings, have been forgotten.” It shook its head and stared Alex right in the eyes. “I am an ogre. One of the last of my kind. I am bound to this estate and may not leave it. So my prey must come to me.” He looked around the room and licked his lips. “I must say, I am ready for a change of diet. The local animals bore me.” He  looked around the room and Alex, following his gaze, could see piles of bones. There were squirrel skulls and deer skulls  piled in a little heap nearby. He noticed the smell in the room for the first time and gagged again. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

Corrock laughed. “Good. The more scared they are, the juicier the flesh is when I finally get around to tasting it. I like it well seasoned with fear!”

Alex gasped and managed to croak, “M…my…my parents. They’ll know I’m gone. They’ll come and find me!”he finished in a rush.

“By now there should be note in your room, in your handwriting, about how you didn’t like it here and have run away. So sad, another runaway who disappears. Oh my. He must have fallen in with the wrong crowd. Too bad, but it does happen,” said the ogre in a grieving tone.

“A..a…a note?” His voice was hoarse from screaming.

“Didn’t you wonder how the scarf could get here, without Jeremy, as he is calling himself these days, being caught by me? Jeremy and Oscar and Joe are mine. Think, morsel, did you ever go to their homes? Meet their families? No, you only saw them in public places. And had school begun, you’d never have seen them in school.” It laughed, moving closer to Alex. “They bring me the young and the foolish, the lost and the desperate – anyone they can fool, in short – to stave off the pangs of my hunger.”

“Many, many years ago, when I was first imprisoned here, these cocky young toughs decided to rob the place. I caught them, of course, and since I wasn’t very hungry at the time, I made a bargain with them. They would bring me prey – tender, juicy young prey by preference, although I am not really picky – and I would let them live. It has worked well. They supply me with treats that I would not get otherwise and they are allowed to live – and live many more years than they should live by nature. In fact, they not only live, but have a glamour that allows them to seem any age they choose. I have been repaid many times over, and they get to live. It was a bargain well made.” He smacked his lips in satisfaction and anticipation. The saliva dripping from his fangs glistened in the lamplight.

It was reaching for Alex who was cowering away when the sound of a door opening and closing stopped it. Footsteps echoed through the house and then Jeremy, Oscar and Joe entered the room. “Oh, you aren’t done yet!” said Jeremy. “I thought you’d be finished by now. We’ll wait outside.” He smirked at Alex. The trio suddenly seemed much older than they had. As the glamour that surrounded them faded away, they began to age before his eyes and now appeared ancient and evil. They all grinned wickedly at him with dirty, broken teeth in straggling and stained grey beards and Alex wondered why he hadn’t seen how evil they were from the beginning.

The ogre said, “No, no – I think you should stay. You never stay for dinner. It’s not very polite you know. You really should stay while I dine.”

The three moved uneasily and their smiles died.  “I insist,” hissed the ogre.

“Right, sir. Whatever you say,” they mumbled, trying to move to the door without seeming to.

The ogre turned back to Alex. While it had been talking to its three henchmen, Alex had been feeling around on the floor nearby. Now he had a squirrel skull in his hand and before the ogre could reach for it again, Alex hurled the skull at the oil lamp.

The skull hit it with a smash and the oil from the lamp flew everywhere, bursting into flames as it did. Some of it splashed on the ogre, who roared in pain and rage. He whirled around, trying to reach the fire and put it out. Alex scrambled to his feet and ran toward the window, grabbing another bone as he went and throwing it against the glass.

The three in the doorway had rushed over to help their master, but when the glass in the window shattered they shouted and ran to stop Alex from escaping. In the confusion in the room, Jeremy got tangled up in a bone pile and fell to the floor, while Oscar got too close to the flames from the lamp and caught his clothing on fire. Joe was the only one left to pursue Alex and he was the farthest away, with the most obstacles in between them.

 The bone had broken the window, but the hole wasn’t big enough for Alex to get through without slicing himself so badly that the ogre’s work would be done for him. He swerved at the last minute and then ran through the door where the ogre’s three cohorts had been standing a few minutes before. He could hear Joe shouting and then a crash that suggested that Joe had fallen into the remains of the window. He pelted down a dark and dirty hall – there was a door at the far end. He could see the window in it lighting up with the lightening from the storm that was almost on them.

He raced to the door and yanked on the knob. It opened, and he nearly sobbed with relief. He was out onto the porch, dodging holes in the rotten boards, and then leaping down the steps in one leap; he was running for his life and he knew it. He listened for the sounds of pursuit behind him, but the shouts were still coming from inside the house. On an impulse, Alex swerved off the  drive and into the bushes. He would find a tree and use it to get over the wall instead of going directly to the gate like they would expect.

The storm broke overhead.  Rain poured down, drenching Alex in moments, and lightening flashed with thunder right on its heels. In the flashes, Alex navigated through the heavy growth. The rain masked the sound of his travels, but he knew it would also hide the sounds of anyone chasing him. He opted for speed instead of stealth and made for the wall as quickly as he could. There was a tree just the right size right by the wall and Alex swarmed up it as quickly as he could, expecting to feel arms pulling him back down at any time.

He leapt from a tree branch to the top of the wall which he straddled, getting his balance. He looked back at the mansion. As he did, a slash of lightening came down from the clouds above and struck the oak tree that loomed beside the house. In the light from the lightening bolt, Alex could see one large and three small figures illuminated on the porch. And then the blazing branch from the tree came crashing down through the rotten porch roof onto the figures and setting the whole building ablaze. Alex could hear screams and roars echoing as he slipped from the wall, landing in the overflowing ditch beside it. Staggering to his feet, he ran all of the way home as if he could still feel the hot breath of the ogre behind him.

An article about the fire appeared in the local paper a few days later. There were some inquiries being made, it said, about all of the charred bones found in the ashes of the fire. Some in particular had been disturbingly strange. Alex could tell them why, but he wasn’t sure they’d ever believe him…

-She Wolf (c) 2008

The Storybook Cottage

 Once upon a time a tiny cottage nestled in a little clearing, surrounded by daisies and hollyhocks and a few overgrown rambler roses. It was a stone cottage – warm honey colored stone – with a thatched roof and a blue painted door. The window by the door had tiny diamond shaped panes of glass in it and a window box under it. Inside, it was really too small to be called a one-room cottage. Maybe a half-a-room cottage, if you were stretching it.

There was room for a narrow bed, a shelf for dishes and food and underneath it a small chest for clothing and linens , and a three-legged stool by the fireplace. The fireplace had a hook for a kettle or pot. The door opened between the bed and fireplace, and the nightstand by the bed which held the candle doubled as both the kitchen counter and the table. You needed to go all the way to the nightstand and squeeze against in order to shut the door. This could be very awkward if you had a visitor. Then one of you needed to lie down on the bed to have enough room to get the door shut. Maybe a quarter-of-a-room cottage would describe it better.

But it was cozy and tight – as long as you discounted the occasional spider that dropped down out of the thatch – and when the wind howled through the trees outside and the snow drifted up to the eaves, the little cottage was always warm and snug.

 There was something special about this tiny cottage. It was a storybook cottage. By this I don’t mean it looked like one, because while it did have that storybook look to it, it was really something more, something magical.

The first time it was used in a story was when a certain little girl in a red cape and hood brought some food to her poor old grandmother who was living in the little cottage at the time. Little Red Riding Hood fortunately figured out that what she first thought was Grandma was actually a very greedy wolf, who wanted to eat  not only the dinner Little Red was carrying but also Little Red herself, after already eating Grandma. (Little Red may have needed glasses.)  No wonder the woodcutter was able to take the wolf out with only his axe. That wolf must have been as fat as butter! (Some people say that the smart little pig in the “Three Little Pigs” actually built the place, and was responsible for installing the pot-hook in the fireplace, but his story says he built a brick house and not a stone one, so this may not be true.)

After that the cottage served in several other stories – the cottage the poor couple lived in in “Rapunzel”, the home of the princess who became the “Goosegirl” while she was herding geese, and the house of the poor woodcutter and his family in “Hansel and Gretel” (they were a tight squeeze- it almost excuses the stepmother, but not really); in short it was used in any story that needed a tiny, picturesque cottage in it.

Eventually, most of the stories that required a truly tiny cottage had been told and re-told. You needed at least a half-a-room cottage, if not a full one room cottage for the rest of the stories.

However, this was a storybook cottage, and everyone knows that stories tend to grow and change with the telling; the storybook cottage was no different than the stories it was part of. After the story with Hansel and Gretel, so many stories had been told with the little cottage in it that it started to grow. (It’s a pity that it didn’t before “Hansel and Gretel”, or things might not have spun out the way they did.) But after that, the little cottage grew an extra ten feet or so on the front and sides. There was room for a small table and some pallets on the floor now, and the spare wood for the fire no longer had to be kept under the bed, which cut down on stray beetles crawling on the sleeper at night. (It did nothing about the spiders that dropped down from of the thatch, though.)

A few more stories passed through, like “Snow White and Rose Red”, and the story of the silly fisherman and his wife in the “Magic Fish” and of course “Jack and the Beanstalk” (the beanstalk certainly made a mess out of the yard), and then the little place was empty for a while. (No one wanted to live there, what with the rotting giant beanstalk and, for that matter, the dead giant that everyone said was too big and too much work to bury. The whole region was almost uninhabitable for almost a year because of him.)

In fact, it was empty for so long and falling in to such disrepair, that it was on the verge of shrinking again just from lack of use, when one day it gave a mighty shudder and heave and grew an attic with a ladder going to it. It also got a little bit bigger in general, and the next day a group of mining dwarves moved in, cleared up the giant bones and fixed the place up. They made little beds to go in the attic, and a long table with seven three legged stools to sit on. For some reason, they left the narrow bed in the corner downstairs, but the reason for that became clear when Snow White (not the same as the one in the story with Rose Red; Snow White seems to be a popular name for girls in these sorts of stories) fled the huntsman trying to kill her and came to live with the dwarves for a while.

After they moved on, a small family of bears moved into the cottage and completely redecorated, with a table big enough for three bears, three chairs in front of the hearth, and three beds upstairs. Of course, the smallest chair did have to be repaired after a certain Miss Goldilocks came to call uninvited, but that is the way the story goes. Later still, a youngest son named Gluck lived there with his greedy older brothers until he met the King of the Golden River and became quite wealthy – since his brothers had been turned to stone by their own greed, the little cottage became empty again.

Then the house gave a tremendous shudder and grew again. It grew and it grew. It became a small mansion, with cedar trees beside it (they had been on the edge of the clearing, but the house grew so much it took up the whole clearing now) and a magnificent slate roof. All the spiders that had lived in the thatch were suddenly homeless and grumblingly vacated to the brand-new cellar which wasn’t nearly so pleasant as the thatch had been.

A young widower with a sweet little daughter moved in and they were ever so happy until he married a scheming woman with two very nasty daughters…but you know that story. Cinderella ended up with the prince and lived happily ever after, they say.

After this, the place was vacant again for a while and then the little-cottage-turned-large-mansion gave its biggest heave yet and became a castle, just in time for a young queen and king to move into it and long for a baby daughter, who in turn was cursed by an evil fairy. The giant thorns that grew around the castle for one hundred years while the whole household slept bore little resemblance to the roses that had once surrounded a certain little cottage in the woods, although they were distantly related. The castle was of honey-colored stone, though.

For many years, the storybook cottage in the woods had served as home to many of the wonderful stories that people told around their fires at night or read to their children at bedtime. But then the stories fell into disuse. Oh sure, there were some animated movies made of them, but animated movies are the same every time. They don’t change and grow in the retelling like living stories do. Even a story that is being read changes a little from time to time, especially when the child to whom it was read grows up and recounts the story to their children without the book.

So the storybook cottage in the woods began to shrink. It went down to a mansion first, and then to a large comfortable house. But no one used it, so it shrank again and again until it was once more the tiny one-quarter-of-a-room cottage in the woods with hollyhocks and rambler roses around it. It grew sadder and sadder looking (it couldn’t grow any smaller and still have four separate walls). The only ones happy about it were the spiders who once more could live in the thatch, although there was no one living there for them to drop down on, which spoiled half of their fun.

It was a terribly sad thing for the little neglected cottage, and an even sadder thing for the people who were living without the stories, had they but known it. But they went along in their ignorance, except for the occasional person who found an old, half forgotten book of fairy-stories and enjoyed them or the scholars who studied the old tales and took them apart and analyzed them as folklore. The former didn’t usually know anything about stories growing with use and never bothered to repeat them because they thought no one else would be interested, and the latter didn’t want the stories to grow and change because then where would all of his research be?

The cottage was on the verge of collapsing into a heap of honey-colored stone when one fine spring afternoon a person came hiking through the forest. (The person had a backpack full of things like paper and pens and ink and colored pencils and watercolor paints, as well as the usual spare clothing and food.) The hiker spied the little cottage and went over for a closer look. There were holes in the thatch and the door wasn’t quite on its hinges anymore and there were little gaps in the diamond-shaped window panes. It was a sad sight indeed.

The hiker walked around the outside of the cottage. Hollyhocks and rose-vines still flourished, and there was even a decent woodpile still. (Many of the previous occupants had been poor-but-honest-woodcutters.) As the hiker poked around the yard (and tripped over a large while rock that looked strangely like a huge bone), clouds rapidly gathered overhead. Indeed, the sky went from a clear blue to black with threatening thunderheads almost in the blink of an eye. With an ear-splitting crash, lightening struck a tree nearby and rain came down as if dumped from an endless wash-tub. The hiker had the presence of mind to grab a large armful of the firewood and run through the rain to the peeling blue door of the little cottage.

The little cottage was dry inside, which was odd since the thatch had looked particularly mangy from the outside, and the door hung better than it had seemed to at first glance. The hiker shoved the door aside and dashed through it, squeezing up against the little nightstand by the bed to shut it. The door shut soundly. The hiker dumped the firewood on the floor by the hearth, and after looking up the chimney to make sure there weren’t any bird’s nests in the way (and getting a few raindrops in the eyes for the trouble), made a small fire in the fireplace.

The little cottage warmed up quickly and the hiker sat on the three-legged stool by the fire and dried off. A spider, curious about the noises it heard, dropped down from the thatch overhead and hung there on its line, looking at the hiker carefully before quickly reeling itself back up and scurrying off to tell the other spiders the good news that there was someone in the cottage to drop down onto again.

Really, the hiker thought, looking around, it wasn’t a bad little cottage even if it was awfully tiny. There was a candle in the candle-stick on the little table with spares on the shelf on the wall. A mug, and bowl, a plate and a spoon, a fork, a knife, a pot, a mixing bowl and a frying pan, a basket, a bucket for water and a small ceramic pot half under the bed for- other things, an axe and a hammer and saw, and a small chest that proved to hold sheets and blankets for the wool-stuffed mattress on the bed (which wasn’t as musty as it should have been, by half) made up the contents of the room. The hiker could see it all from the three-legged stool in front of the fire. It was all in surprisingly good order, and if it weren’t for the miles of dust on everything, the hiker would have thought that someone still lived here.

The rain continued to pour down and finally the hiker decided to settle in a bit. The back pack went on top of the bed for the time being and clearly the only place with space for the spare fire wood was under the bed. As the firewood went under, a strange clanking noise came from under the bed. The hiker peered under the bed, saw a small metal pot hiding there, and reached under to pull it out. It was polished and only a little bit dusty inside. The hiker shrugged and put it beside the fireplace and finished arranging the firewood under the bed. Then the hiker poured some water from a water bottle into the little pot. “Might as well clean it up. At least the water will be good to wash in, even if I don’t want to drink it!” the hiker mused.

The pot was hung over the fire to boil. It sat there and sat there. Finally, the hiker grew frustrated and grumbled, “Boil, little pot, boil!”  The little pot shook and bubbling sounds came from within it. A strange smell filled the cottage. It smelled like rice mixed with custard mixed with porridge. The hiker was instantly curious and pulled the pot from the fire. The little pot appeared to be filling first with rice, then with custard, then with porridge. Now the hiker was one of those who had read the old fairy tales in musty old books and realized what was happening, as impossible as it might seem. The changing contents were rapidly approaching the rim of the pot when, “Rice!” the hiker shouted, and then “Little pot, stop!” The rice (the story had been told all three ways, so the little pot really wasn’t sure which one it was supposed to create) had stopped just shy of the top of the pot and sat there steaming and perfectly done. The astounded hiker took a few grains (carefully, because it was very hot) and tasted them. They were perfect. The hiker cautiously ate a mouthful and then waited to see if it would settle before eating any more. You just didn’t know with magical food.

When darkness fell, the rain was still pouring (although the hiker would be surprised to see how dry it was just a few hundred yards from the cottage) so the hiker settled in for the night. The old bed was amazingly comfortable, and the panes that the hiker had thought were gone from the window were there now. The wind whistled around the cottage a bit but the little place was as cozy and tight as could be. The hiker blew out the candle and fell asleep, batting irritably at the ecstatic spider that dropped down from the thatch.

The rain stopped during the night and the morning was a shiny-washed-clean sort of morning. Birds were singing their hearts out in the trees around the clearing, rabbits hopped everywhere and a few does and fawns ambled by the window. The whole place seemed to be putting on a look-at-me-and-see-how-nice-it-is-here sort of show.

The hiker stretched and made some tea and magical porridge for breakfast and sat down on the three-legged stool to write in a journal about the cottage. When the hiker looked up a little while later, the cottage seemed to be a little bit larger. The hiker shrugged. First impressions weren’t always correct. Look how the cottage was in better repair than it had seemed to be at first. (Funny how the magical pot had gone right out of the hiker’s mind for the time being. People tend to dismiss things they don’t understand.)

Finally, the hiker put away the writing things and cleaned up. Everything went back where it belonged. The magic pot went on a shelf instead of under the bed, though, and the firewood stayed under the bed. The hiker pulled the door shut tightly on the way out. The clearing fell silent as the hiker left.

When the hiker got home, thoughts of the little cottage wouldn’t go away. It popped up in dreams, conversations, and a lovely watercolor picture that soon graced the wall of the hiker’s house. Finally the hiker began asking around to see who owned the little place, thinking to buy it.

It turned out that the county owned it, had taken it in lieu of taxes some years back and had never been able to get rid of it afterwards. The hiker purchased it for a song (not literally, mind you – that only happens in fairy tales) and on a sunny day in summer moved a few things out there.

The hiker thought that the little cottage seemed more than a little bit larger today. There was room to close the door without squeezing against the nightstand and there were a table and a rocking chair in the corner that the hiker did not remember being there before. Oh well, it had been almost dark that day. There was also room on the shelves for the box of books the hiker had brought out. A whole rainbow of fairy-tale books and books by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson went up, along with Narnia and Oz and a few other favorites. The hiker had thought that they would be somehow appropriate for the little cottage.

After cleaning away the mountains of dust and arranging things, the hiker sat down at the table that hadn’t been there before with paper and pen. Somehow, writing a story seemed to be the thing to do here. So with a breath of summer and roses coming through the open window, the hiker began to write. It was almost as if the walls of the cottage were so saturated with stories that they were pouring into the hiker – now writer – and out again onto the paper. Hours later, the writer looked up and realized what was happening. Then, grinning, the writer returned to the paper. Later the water colors would come out, too.

Bit by bit the writer moved out to the little cottage permanently. Stories flowed, books were written, pictures were painted, and the little cottage had a purpose again. It might not be the storybook cottage in the stories anymore, but it was the storybook cottage with the stories in it.  

It grew, slowly, almost imperceptibly, and finally became a comfortable cottage of several rooms, one just for keeping books and writing in. The writer noticed of course, but by this time, the writer knew that anything was possible and just smiled and kept on writing the stories. The roof stayed thatched and the spiders would often drop down and read the stories being written over the writer’s shoulder until they were batted at and returned to their thatch. And when the occasional dragon or bear or youngest son wandered by, the writer offered them tea and traded stories with them.

-She Wolf © 2008

Green Doors and Red Dragons – Epilogue

 Well, Thomas was as good as his word, and had me into a new house before Christmas. Barely before, but he did make it on Christmas Eve. The house itself was…ummm…a bit unusual, to say the least. I should have known that Thomas would do something strange.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Cosmo and I arrived at a secondary portal Door (this one was keyed to only a few places and quite safe compared to the one I used to guard, which went anywhere.) I had really enjoyed my stay with the dragons, but I was ready to come back to my world with familiar sights and furniture my size.

Thomas whisked us off in a car, and by evening we were driving down dark country roads with snowy trees on either side of us. There were few other cars and Cosmo was allowed to peer out of the windows, which he did enthusiastically. With my new ability to understand some dragon, I enjoyed listening to his running commentary on what he saw. Since he saw better in the dark than humans, he was noticing all sorts of wildlife in the woods. He really wanted to get out and play in the snow, too.

Finally, the car turned into a pair of gates lit with Christmas lights and started down what seemed to be a driveway.

“Thomas, where on earth are you taking us?” I asked.

“You’ll see. It’s easier to show you than to explain,” he replied.

I wasn’t so sure I liked the sound of this, but he wouldn’t say anything else, so I didn’t have any choice except to wait.

About ten minutes later, we rounded one last curve and there was an enormous stone structure in front of us. Even in the dark, it clearly needed extensive repairs, but it was festively lit with Christmas lights, and a Christmas tree glowed in a front window. But what really told me that I was home was the front door. Or should I say, the front Door.

Because the Door it was, resurrected from being ripped loose from its anchoring magic and split into four separate Doors.

“Thomas, you didn’t? I thought you were going to leave it split because it’s so dangerous to have it functioning? I mean, that’s why I was guarding it in the first place, right? Thomas?”

He wasn’t answering me. He was rubbing his face and looking embarrassed, but he wasn’t answering.

“Thomas?!”

“I know. I shouldn’t have. But I’m sure I can figure out how to put protections on it, something to keep the bad things out…”

I growled. Cosmo giggled and imitated me.

Thomas continued. “You’re going to be out here anyway with Cosmo, so you might as well guard the door at the same time. I did fix it so that it can’t be hijacked like it was when Giganto kidnapped you two…” he trailed off.

“I’m glad to know that you realize what sort of danger that thing put us in, Thomas.”

He was wiggling uncomfortably behind the steering wheel now.

“I’ve arranged to have some, ummm…guards to live there with you. As you can see, the property is quite large, and when we’ve finished renovating, there will be plenty of space for visitors and guards and helpers…” he trailed off again. I think he knew he was digging himself in deeper and deeper.

“So now I’m expected to run a bed and breakfast for visitors from elsewhere? And take care of guards? I’m fine with being Cosmo’s foster mother. I couldn’t leave him now. But the rest of it? Thomas, what exactly is going on here?”
He sighed and unlocked the car doors. “Come on in. It’ll be easier to explain inside.”

I sighed and slipped a harness on Cosmo. He had a tendency to zoom off on his own, and I wanted him to stay close tonight. Then I followed Thomas out of the car and we crunched through the crusted snow to a side door. We couldn’t use the front Door, of course; it only opened magically to other worlds.

“This was originally a manor house in Europe,” said Thomas.

“You mean it was designed like a European manor house?” I asked.

“No. I mean that some industrial tycoon about a hundred years ago with more money than sense and a desire to feel like an aristocrat actually had the thing taken down stone by stone, shipped here, and reassembled. Not long after that he went broke, and shortly after that he died. His heirs were unable to dispose of the property. It seems no one wanted a large, drafty mausoleum like this when they could build new, comfortable homes. It has been for sale and falling down ever since.”

“Well, I think I can see why he went broke, if bringing this place over here was his idea of a good decision on how to spend his money!”

“Indeed,” said Thomas as he opened a gate to a small walled garden. This part had been fixed up a little bit – the walls were whole, and the door we were heading for was new.

Thomas opened the door into a huge old-fashioned kitchen. There was a fire glowing in an enormous hearth with an inglenook and bread ovens, a huge wooden work table, and a sink with a pump. The walls had been whitewashed at some point because a few flakes remained and the floor was stone.

“Thomas, this is ridiculous. If you think I’m going to live like they did way back whenever, you’ve got another think coming!”

He turned and grinned at me, and walked across the room to open another door. He bowed slightly and waved Cosmo and me through it. “Your apartments, m’dame.”

I stepped through and looked around suspiciously. Shining wood floors, comfortable furniture much like the stuff that the red dragons had incinerated, a small fireplace, filled book shelves, even a Christmas tree twinkling in the corner….I went into the next room. It held a big comfortable bed, dresser, and old-fashioned wardrobe. Next was clearly a room for Cosmo. I continued. A modern kitchen and dining area, a bath that was positively luxurious, and a work room with loom and spinning wheel and sewing machine and lots of shelves and drawers. I couldn’t see out of the windows in the dark, but I imagined that the view would be a good one. “All right, Thomas, this is good. In fact, it’s very good. Now then, what about the rest of this place?”

“You won’t need to do much. The Door is just through here, and there is an alarm on it, so you know if anyone is trying to use it. The others who will be living here will take care of themselves and help you with both Cosmo and the Door.” He opened another door in my new living room and we stepped through into the front hall. The Door was there, green and beautiful again with its magic restored. We went through an archway into the room that held the Christmas tree I had seen shining in the front window.

It was huge, almost brushing the high ceilings, and beautifully decorated. The tree had packaged piled under it, all sizes and shapes, and fir garlands hung all around the room. Candles twinkled on the mantle. This room had been restored to look like it had long ago, with flagged floors, lovely rugs and drapes and elegant furniture. It was a little too large and echoing to be comfortable for me, though.

“Thomas, this is beautiful.” I turned to face him. “Now who else will be living here?”

“I will, for one!” A familiar voice came from behind me.

I turned, and there stood Felix! “Felix?”

“I wish to make a study of your culture, and you need to continue your studies of the dragon language if you are to be a fit guardian for the little one,” he replied, clapping me painfully on the back. “I told you that the little token I gave you meant we would meet again!”

I reached into my pocket and felt the gift he had given me the last time I had seen him.

“Felix, I’m so glad you’re here!” I told him. And I was.

Thomas broke in. “Cosmo’s relative also want to be able to come and visit him. This place is large and isolated enough – and fire-resistant enough in many areas – to make a good place to house them. I know I didn’t ask you, but since you enjoyed your visit with the dragons so much I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind?” He looked so hopeful and so afraid that I would be angry with him.

“Thomas….well done.” I told him, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Others came into the room now. My good friends Jon and Rob, my dear neighbor Florence (with both cats, Isadore and Eleanora, who were winding through her legs), quite a few dragons – red, yellow, blue and green – and some humans that I didn’t know all came in. Someone brought in trays of food and drinks, music started playing, and all of a sudden, there was a party.

At midnight some friend of Thomas’s that bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus showed up and distributed gifts to everyone there. Cosmo got dragon toys, I got yarn and knitting things and some books on dragon, the cats got catnip mice…there was something appropriate for everyone.

When the party finally broke up in the wee small hours of the morning, I retired with Cosmo to my new rooms. Rob and Jon came with me, and after I got Cosmo settled for the night we sat down for a chance to catch up. Rob was staying for a few days’ vacation, but Jon was going to be here indefinitely, working on the renovations and setting up a computer network. I had been delighted to hear this.

“So you’re an otherworld traveler now, are you?” Jon smiled and punched me on the shoulder.

“Getting kidnapped by dragons wasn’t exactly the plan I had for visiting other worlds, Jon,” I replied.

“Yes, but it worked!” he chuckled. “But you know, I think I’ll just ask Thomas to take me along sometime. It sounds a little less dramatic, I know, and you do like to make an entrance and an exit…”

Rob was laughing so hard by now that he could hardly catch his breath. “Be careful Jon,” he wheezed. “She may have learned something from those dragons about causing pain!”

I just shook my head.  I settled contentedly into my new couch in front of the crackling fire and watched the lights on my Christmas tree while Jon and Rob tried to outdo each other teasing me, and let it all roll over me. It was really, really good to be home.

- She Wolf © 2007

Green Doors and Red Dragons Part 10

 The way Cosmo’s sister explained everything to me, it was simple. I just needed to wiggle into the cave, locate Giganto’s mouth and put the packet with the spell attached to it into his mouth. Then I could leave. Of course, this left out the details, like how I was going to do this without waking him, how I was actually going to reach his mouth and get the packet into it, again without waking him, and how I was going to escape before he turned me into ashes. All righty then.

The dragons did give me a small magical version of a flashlight so I could see what I was doing. They also gave me a small shoulder bag containing not one, but three packets with the shrinking spell attached. “Don’t worry about giving him too much.  We would much rather have him small than large – he is a very dangerous fellow as he is!” Cosmo’s sister told me as she handed it to me. “And also, these contain an ingredient that will make him unable to use his magic after a few moments, so all you have to worry about is his fire.”

I think I must have whimpered here, because she turned to another dragon for a brief discussion. Then she turned back to me and said, “We will put a small protective spell on you. I say small because there is little we can do if he decides to blast you with fire while he is still large. That amount of fire is not something we can really protect you from without bulky equipment. However, the spell we are using for you will protect you from his fire once he shrinks.”

“How long will it take him to shrink?” I asked.

“The spell will start to work as soon as it comes into contact with him. If he swallows it, he will shrink fully within ten minutes. If he does not, the process will be much slower, and if he does not absorb enough of the spell before he spits it out, it will stop working and he will stop shrinking. Your best bet is to get it far enough back in his mouth so that he will swallow it before he knows what is happening. Oh – and he will no doubt wake up very quickly once he begins to shrink. You might want to make a hasty exit.” She patted me on the back encouragingly. Cosmo wound in between my legs – a trick he had learned from my cat Isadore before Isadore had abandoned us for the safety of Jon’s house. Cosmo was a bit large to do this well, and he was about to knock me over when his sister picked him up and held him. “You are staying right here this time, little one. I am not about to let you run off to help. I think everyone will feel better if we know you are safe.”

I nodded enthusiastically, and then reached over to give him a hug. He whined slightly and I felt a tear leak down my cheek and dampen his scales. “Cosmo, I can’t do this if I’m worried about you. This time, you need to let me do the saving, okay?” He complained, but settled down in his sister’s arms. I gave him a kiss on his snout and managed to growl out a much practiced phrase in dragon, telling him to be good. He wiggled again, and his sister handed him off to someone on the other side of the Door before he could change his mind about cooperating and escape again.

“Are you prepared?” she asked me. “I am sorry that I need to ask this of you. You have done far more than even most dragons would be willing to do…I do not know how we can ever repay you.” She shook her head.

“Let’s just finish this for now. It needs to be done, and I’m the one.”

She nodded and put the flame resistance on me, followed by a camouflage spell. I made sure I had the little light and the spell packets and we set off for the blocked opening to Giganto’s sleeping cavern.

When we rounded the corner of the cavern we were in and I saw the huge opening blocked by an equally huge stone I almost turned around and ran. I remembered how large Giganto was. I remembered how incredibly intense his flames had been, even behind the magical barrier of the Door.

I drew in a shuddering breath, and then another, because the crack I was supposed to slide through was small enough that I was going to have to become very skinny to get through it. I hoped my head wouldn’t get stuck.

I could hear the rasping snores coming from the cavern. At least he was still asleep. I needed to get this done quickly, before he began to wake up.

I tapped Cosmo’s sister on the arm and whispered, “I’m going now.” She nodded, patted me on the back again, and I began wiggling through the crack.

I fit through, but only just. On the other side it was pitch black. There was a little light leaking in through the crack I had just squeezed through but it didn’t go far in the enormous cave. I could see an area that was even darker in the middle of the cavern- this must be Giganto. His snores were echoing off the walls and the whole place resounded with them. I crept along the wall as quietly as I could, feeling for potential hiding places. I needed somewhere to duck when he started to shrink and woke up, preferably somewhere that would block the flames.

I was careful with my little light – I definitely didn’t want to wake up Giganto with it. I moved slowly and soon found an outcropping that would work as a shield. There was even a small niche behind it to squeeze into.

I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to do what I had come to do. I began to move towards the sleeping dragon.  I could see now that he had his back to the opening and to me. His massive tail was curled around him and his wings hung limply at his sides. He seemed to be deeply asleep. I edged around him, keeping to the walls as much as possible.

Finally I was at his front. Up close like this he seemed to be larger than ever and once again I almost turned and ran. Only the idea that things would probably be worse for everyone if I did run kept me going. Leaving this fellow free to escape and wreak more havoc was not an option. I looked at him carefully.

Giganto slept with his mouth open. This was possibly the best news I had had all day. Not only that, but there was a rock near his head which, if I could climb up on it, would let me all but drop the packet into his open mouth, right onto his tongue. He’d eat the thing before he ever knew what hit him.

As quietly as possible I edged around his huge head (I’ve been in smaller cars) to the base of the rock. Up close, he smelled of burnt things. It wasn’t a nice clean campfire smell like Cosmo had, but a nasty charred flesh smell. I gagged slightly as I crept in front of his mouth. His teeth glinted in the tiny light I held.

The rock was right beside his mouth, and I needed to be very, very careful here. There were a few foot and hand holds on the rock and I started up it. My foot slipped when I was half-way up – about five feet or so – and I froze as pieces of rock crumbled and skittered off onto the floor.

Giganto never even twitched. I went slower so I wouldn’t slip again; next time I might not be so lucky and he might wake up or I might fall and land in his mouth. Now that was a nasty thought.

Finally I stood atop the rock, right over his huge face. His head was slightly to the side, with his mouth open a little bit facing me. One soft toss with the spell packet and it would all be over. I pulled the first of the packets out of my shoulder bag.

Balancing carefully, I made a slow underhand lob toward his mouth. The packet hit one of his teeth and bounced. I almost cried as I saw it falling towards the floor where it landed with a small plop. Well, I had two more.

I leaned out a little more over his head before I tossed the second packet. This time it landed in his mouth. I followed it quickly with the third packet, which also hit its mark.

When the third packet hit, he shifted irritably in his sleep. His head was now facing the other way. I hoped that the spell packets hadn’t fallen out of his mouth when he moved. I stood there on top of that rock watching and waiting to see if he was going to begin to shrink or if I was going to have to retrieve the fallen packet from beside his head and try again.

 I waited what felt like forever, and he didn’t start to shrink. I was going to have to get that first, fallen, packet and try again.

Quietly, carefully, I climbed down from the rock and quietly, carefully I slipped towards his head. His claws were larger than I thought possible and his scales were enormous. I skirted his nose and reached the fallen spell packet. Picking it up, I went back around his head.

 If I reached up, I could put it right in his mouth. First, though, I made a small rip in the covering. This time, some of the contents would be sure to get into his system. Before I could lose my nerve, I reached up and dumped the thing in his mouth hoping he would stay asleep and not notice.

He noticed. The stuff in the packet must have tasted bad – really bad. He jerked awake almost immediately, his head pulling up and his eyes flying open as he peered around frantically. He let out an ear-shattering bellow and shook his head, trying to get rid of what ever it was that tasted so awful.

When he reared up, I could see the two other packets where his head had been. Thinking fast, I grabbed them, ducked, and rolled over to the wall. Hopefully he was being loud enough that he wouldn’t hear me. The camouflage spell was still holding, so he couldn’t see me.

Giganto thrashed around, flaming the cavern randomly. I could see that he was starting to shrink, although it was painfully slow. I began to creep around the wall towards the entrance, or at least towards the safety niche I had found.

He quickly got his wits about him, and I heard the release word for the camouflage spell being roared out. This was not good – it didn’t take any magic to release the spell. I pushed myself against the wall and wished I were already on the other side of the cavern where that little hidey-hole was.

He didn’t see me right away, and I continued to creep in the direction of safety. He flamed all around the cavern and then he saw me, an evil snarl coming from his throat.

I made a break for it, running as fast as I could towards the other side of the cavern. I just needed to buy a little time while the spell worked and I literally darted right behind him, hoping to confuse him.

He whipped around to follow me, blasting fire as he went, his wings flipping out to help him turn quickly,. I must have moved faster than he thought – I certainly moved faster than I thought possible – and he mistimed his blast. Instead of hitting me, he hit his own wing with his flame.

While the dragons were proof against their own flames to a point, it still had to hurt quite a bit and he stopped pursuing me to roar with pain. I reached the far wall and paused for a second, hefting one of the leftover packets in my hand. What did I have to loose? I took aim and threw it as hard as I could. The packet hit home, landing in his open mouth and exploding on contact. I followed it immediately with the third one. This one went straight down his throat.

The previous packet was causing him problems, though. Even I could see that Giganto was getting ready to sneeze. I ran as fast as I could to the little place I had found to hide in and ducked in it just as he let loose the largest sneeze I have ever heard. Flames blew everywhere and even with the protective spell on me and rocks in front of me, I was singed. Two more sneezes followed the first and then there was silence. I looked out, and saw a wonderful sight. Giganto was shrinking very, very rapidly. Apparently all three spells had worked, and at the rate he was going he would soon be about the same size as Cosmo.

When he saw me, he roared furiously, but it was a tiny echo of his former roar and I actually laughed. Enraged, he charged at me, blowing flames at me, but my protective spell as good enough to keep me safe from his fire as small as he was now. Indeed, he was shrinking as he ran and looked more comical than anything else.

I could hear a grating behind me as the dragons in the other cavern opened the block on the door enough to get through. When he saw that happening, Giganto stopped and turned to run the other way. He was quickly overtaken by the dragons who rushed through the opening. I walked out to join Cosmo’s sister, exhausted.

“You have done it,” she said to me, and gathered me in her arms, hugging me like she had Cosmo.

“Yeah, I guess so. And I’m alive to tell about it.” I was on the verge of tears.

With no further comments, she led me through the Door to safety, where Cosmo leapt into my arms, doing more damage to me than Giganto had managed to do. Then I held him and cried.

     ****************

Three days later, I stood on the lawn and peered down into the ruins of my house. All that remained was a heap of rubble in the bottom of a pit. I could still smell the burning although Jon told me it had actually stopped smoking several days ago. The biggest surprise was the Door. The physical part of it in this world was still here at the top of the heap of debris, but all the magic was gone from it – it was just a burnt, faded, peeling green door with cracks running through the carvings.

The pit the house had collapsed into was caused by the hole the dragons dug to pull the magic of the Door loose from the bedrock it was set in. The house had collapsed into the pit and then burned from the flames that Giganto had poured into it. The powers that be on this world were calling it a sinkhole and massive gas explosion. It didn’t really matter what they called it. My home was gone.

Jon and Rob both told me I could come and stay with them while we sorted out what I was going to do next. Thomas, who had showed up after I shrunk Giganto, had promised me a new place to live by Christmas, with everything he could replace being replaced. I didn’t even have to get grumpy with him – although I did anyway. He took it well – he knew he deserved it.

I had had another offer of shelter, though. The dragons, Cosmo’s family to be precise, had told me I could stay with them in the interim. I had really enjoyed getting to know Felix despite the circumstances so I decided to take Cosmo’s family up on their offer. I would be traveling with Thomas back to the other portal tomorrow for my visit. Today I was taking care of business: explaining to the authorities that I had been away on camping trip when my house burned down (well, sort of, but I didn’t think I could explain what had really happened), buying some new clothes and knitting supplies, and trying to see if anything was left to save at my old house.

Thomas was down in the pit right now with protective spells on him, trying to find things worth salvaging. He had fireproofed some things because of Cosmo, and we hoped that they might have survived. Eventually, he came up with the hard drive from my computer, several photo albums, and a few other things. Rightfully, they should have been ashes now, but his spells had worked well. He was lucky – very lucky. I told him so. He looked relieved; he knew. He went back down into the pit to look at the remains of the Door and I could have sworn I heard him muttering about fixing it.

Tomorrow I would be setting out on another adventure; hopefully a much tamer one. And in a few weeks, I would have a new home – one that included Cosmo. He and I were bonded, both of us, quite thoroughly. I loved the little stinker. But for now, I was going in to a big dinner with my friends and there wouldn’t be any cave lizard at all served tonight.

-She Wolf © 2007