292. Keep Breathing

 292. Keep Breathing

“Huff! Puff! Gasp! Pant, pant! Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze! Wheeeeeeew! Huff! Puff! Gasp! Pant, pant! Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze! Wheeeeeew! Huff! Puff! Gasp! Pant, pant! Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze!Pheeeeeeeeeew!  Wheeeeeeeeeew!”

In the middle of Minced Forest and through an avalanche of constant and deep breathing noises, Malcolfus was heard to shout, “What do you think you are doing publishing in an alien blog?”

“How dare you?” cried Leopold.

“It’s not even yours!” hissed Tiburtius.

“Hiss, hiss, wheeze!” went the noises. “Swiss, Swiss cheese!” it began to sound like the breathing noises were saying.

Little Dolphus was undaunted by the weird noises or the three indignant Leafy elders that had surrounded him to bawl him out.

“Arley won’t mind. Heather said he would even be pleased when I told her I wanted to continue with his blog. I told her about my plans for this blog before publishing.”

“Plans? This upstart actually has plans!” cried Leopold, sounding as astonished as he sounded indignant.

“Who is this chit to have plans of any kind?” asked Tiburtius even more outraged.

“I can do this. I can do what I have done. I’m an intellectual,” explained Dolphus.

“Now he has pretensions,” said Malcolfus. “Now, look here, Little Dolphus, we have put up with your wearing glasses, but-“

“That’s right! He wears glasses!” yelled Tiburtius, who has serious trouble with his eyesight though he needn’t  have it if he just would cede to visit the ophthalmologist Casimir. All he needed was glasses, just as Dolphus didn’t need glasses at all.

“Now, don’t interrupt me,” protested Malcolfus,”we´ve  put with your giving yourself airs, we have, Little Dolphus. But this is going too far! You’re not just  attracting attention to yourself. You’re-”

“I’m just giving the blog continuity,” said Little Dolphus, still undaunted.

“You don’t even know what you are doing! Your story is set…when? Some time in Autumn? The chapter before it was about something that happened right before Christmas. What kind of continuity is that?”

“Huff! Puff! Pant, pant! Gasp, gasp, gasp!”

“If you guys hadn’t confused Heather with the Predictit Pond and the Peek Creek see the future beforehand nonsense, and made her write ahead of time about things that haven’t happened even to this date, I wouldn’t have become confused either. All this I have written about will happen, sooner or later, if it hasn’t already. What do a few gaillardias about to freeze matter? They are as good as holly to illustrate a story.”

“Bees sleep in winter!” shouted Tiburtius. “They don’t lounge on flowers dying like La Traviata!”

“Camellias,” murmurred Dolphus. “They’re a lovely flower too. Ah, the Lady of the Camellias. I wish I had thought of that flower for the bed of the dying bee!”

“Pheeeew, wheeeew, sniff, sniff!”

“And on he goes!” snarled Tiburtius. "No remorse he shows!"

“There are all kinds of flowers in winter in fairyland. You just have to know where to find them! It so happens I do and I did!”

“Aren’t we getting all worked up about nothing? Too much ado for me, we are having here,” said Frankie, “and all about a silly story.”

“You shut up!” shouted Tiburtius. “This twerp can’t go about frightening everybody with ghost stories.”

“No,” said Frankie. “It’s the other way around. He can’t go about not  frightening anybody with his tiny ghost stories. He made me expect a fright and then he didn’t deliver. How could you think a dying bee could frighten anyone, Dolphie?”

“What are you saying? I found the story terrifying! I saw the cute illustrations and I read it to my grandkids” said Leopold, “because I thought it was harmless. And now the kids are traumatized! Hear them breathe!”

Yes, it was Leopold’s three grandkids who were sniffling and wheezing and panting and huffing and puffing and more.

“I read it to them, yes, and now they are scared to death of dying. They had no idea this could happen.They kept asking me why the bee died and how. And I said it died because it stopped breathing. I was at a loss for anything else to say. And now the kids are breathing and breathing obsessively so they won’t stop breathing and die. They are upsetting everyone that gets anywhere near them. Ah, the irritating noise they make! They are getting on everyone’s nerves!”

“Yes, that is true!” said Tiburtius. “They definitely are on my nerves.”

“But it can’t happen! Not to us. We aren’t mortals,” said Frankie, “and spirits never die.”

“Try explaining that to three terrified kids,” said Leopold. “They didn’t even know Death existed.”

“It is disagreeable, but we needn’t be afraid of it. Not us,” Said Frankie.

“Still, I can’t help feeling disturbed when I see a mortal creature dying,” said Malcolfus.

“They make faces! And they shiver and shake! And twist and writhe! And some sigh, and breathe strangely  and others even gasp and howl! It is horrible to behold!” cried Tiburtius.

“Call it sympathy or empathy, or what you will, but even those that just fall quietly asleep move me,” agreed Malcolfus.

“Nonsense!” said Dolphus. “It’s like a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon! That doesn’t bother anyone. The dead become ghosts immediately, so no real damage done there. To the mortals, I mean, not to the butterflies. Does it hurt butterflies tp break out of cocoons?”

“Mortal butterflies eventually die when out of the cocoon. And they become ghost butterflies and the barrier between the living and the dead prevents them from being able to act in the mortal world ever again,” said Malcolfus.

“Not entirely,” said Frankie.

“But yes effectively. They become someone else when they die, the someone they were before their mortal lives began. And that someone isn’t up to much.  Most dead mortals don’t even care about what happens in the mortal world once they are gone. They forget even themselves. Nothing seems to matter to them anymore. Most unmotivated most become when dead,” explained Malcolfus.

“They become forgetful. Only the truly crazy ones don’t forget,” said Leopold.

“Their time down there is up, and they have to respect that and exist quietly in the world of the spirit. Most do. They know the live ones will join them sooner or later. Why not just wait?” said Malcolfus.

“That’s enough speculating about mortals and their ways!” cried Tiburtius.

“Yes. We’ve bawled this pretentious fool out and he already knows how we feel about this. Let’s do something else.”

And the Leafy elders flew off to another part of Minced Forest, to go about other business of theirs, with Leopold’s three gandchildren ,who continued huffing and puffing and upseting others with their weird breathing.

“Is this weird breathing going to last forever?” Tibutius was heard to ask as he and the other elders and the kids flew away.

“Maybe,” answered Leopold, “though I hope they will get over it when they fall asleep, utterly bushed, tonight.”

“You haven’t said anything, Vinny,” said Frankie to his younger brother. “How do you feel about what Baby Dolphus has done?”

“I showed Pamela her story this morning. She wants to thank Dolphie for writing it. She means to send him honey this Christmas to show her gratitude.”

“Well, at least someone is happy,” said Frankie.

“I am too,” said undaunted Little Dolphus. 

“It’s Halloween. Let’s go frighten someone. Effectively this time,” said Frankie.

“I think I have frightened the elders effectively. Haven’t I?” asked Dolphus.

And he wrote all this down so you could read it here.By the way,  are you breathing right?

291. A Tiny Ghost Story

A Tiny Ghost Story 

Rosies and Goldie were not as bold as their fairy brothers and sisters. They seldom left their cribs, and rarely came down from the ceiling lured by the toys their father was always gifting them with. And when they did descend, all they would do was stare at the toys wide-eyed and smile timidly. Mamabranna, as all the Richearth children called their mother, had to bring the twins' meals up to the nursery in large trays. And the children would float down and sniff the food, and feed themselves on the essence of  it and take little more. But they were happy, it was clear they were.  Shy, but pleased. So Mamabranna did not force them to eat more or show more spirit. After all, that was what they were, spirits. And spirits have their ways of being and doing.

The ghostly twins’  fay brothers and sisters tried to get them to join in their games, but that was difficult too.The twins would watch them with interest when theye were playing but would never take part in the merriment. They would smile larger smiles though, and Rosendo, well, he could make them laugh. Especially when he turned himself into a flying squirrel and scampered about making funny noises.

The only day they had come out of the nursery was the day of their Name Day Party. In the garden of Richearth’s colonial home, they had spoken out their names in an unmistakeably clear manner: Goldenstar and Crown of Roses, they said they were. And they looked upon their gifts with pleasure and gave sweet thanks for them. So, shy as they were, there was no question of their not wanting to be part of the Goodfellow family. 

And then, one afternoon, things changed. For reasons best known to themselves, or  perhaps not even to themselves, Rosies and Goldie left their cribs and left their nursery. They floated down the  long staircase and out the front door of their home, and then passed like the ghosts they were beyond the locked garden gate. They moved freely around Apple Island, taking in everything they saw but stopping to examine nothing up close until they reached the sea and saw the Southern Port and Barrinthus’ barge. And this barge they boarded. Perhaps because it was what they had done in life, sail away, for many mortals go on being themselves when they become spirits and behave just as they have in life, the little twins hid neath a bench in the boat and thus left the island when Barrinthus began to row away from it, unconscious of the weightless, invisible little stowaways.

They descended from the barge when it reached shore, spotted a bee among the pink and yellow gaillardias that were waiting bravely for the first frost to hit the beach, and followed the bee all the way to Minced Forest.

When it got to the Eucryphia Grove, there where Little Mathilde had once been hidden from the world, the bee paused on a pinkish flower and made ready to go to sleep. Definitely.

“We know why you haven’t returned to your hive,” said Rosies to the bee.

“You are going to die,” said Goldie, “ for you are a mortal like we were, and tonight you will be on your way to the Fields of Asphodels.”

“We know you will do this, because we used to dwell there ourselves. There were bees among the asphodels, and they told us they had done what you are doing now. All they do there is repose on the petals of flowers. They don’t make honey,” said Rosies.

“We know what honey is now. Our Mamabranna feeds us hot toast with butter and honey,” explained Goldie.

Before the mortal bee could make an answer, a third party intervened. This was a little girl too, older than the twins, but still little.

“My name is Melissa,” said this child. “Who are you?”

The twins spoke their names and Melissa smiled.

“I thought that was who you would be. I’m your aunt. Melissa, the bee fairy born in a fallen mulberry tree rife with beehives. I was at your Name Day Party. I gave you and your brothers and sisters honey from my hives, hives which are now in my mother Titania’s garden, mulberry tree and all. It’s true that bees don’t return to their hives when they know they are going to die. They wait under the open night sky and there is where that happens.”

“Do you feel bad?” the twins asked the little bee.

The tiny, mortal bee nodded.

“And sad too,” she said, “I don’t think I can do more for my sisters. Only die outside the hive so as not to upset them.”

“If you die tonight, you needn’t go to Hades. We can take you home with us, and you can be our pet ghost,” said Rosies.

“We can take her home with us, can’t we?” Goldie asked Melissa.

Melissa nodded.

“You needn’t die tonight, little old bee,” said Melissa. “You can come with us. The minute we get to Apple Island, you will feel better. You will heal, and I will take you to my mother’s garden, and if you find a hive you want to live in you can stay there. I will take care of you, like I look after all the bees that dwell in the hives on the tree I was born in.”

The little old bee made an effort and got up.

“If you die on the way, you can be our pet, remember that. Don’t fly off to Hades, You’ll be very bored among the asphodels,” said Rosies.

“Nothing ever happens there,” agreed Goldie, "neither good nor bad."

The bee did become a ghost before it could make it to Melissa´s tree. So it went with Goldie and Rosies to their nursery, and it slept with them up in the ceiling, and the next morning, everyone there was charmed by it. It became a very popular bee among the Richearth children and their cousins. They named it Pamela by unanimous vote and today, most of the time, the bee Pamela decorates Rosies' crown of roses.

As for Goldie and Rosies, they were no longer afraid to leave the nursery. They knew they wouldn’t have to return to Hades if they did, just as the bee hadn’t ended up in the Asphodel Fields. From then on, they went out every night, the twins did. Their mother let them do that, because they were ghosts, and she had been a vampire herself when young. So she understood what it was like to need to go out at night. And what the twins did at nightfall was wander all over Minced Forest searching for mortal bees who were dying, and take them home with them, and soon they had their own hive and their own brand of ghostly honey. Melissa taught them how to care for the bees. And not all the bees the twins found died. Some made it to Apple Island alive, and healed very nicely and  went to work for Melissa, at her  mulberry tree in Titania’s garden.  

This story has been told to you by Little Dolphus. 

290 - Parts One and Two

290. Parts the First and the Second of the Twelfth Moonly Letter, to be written by Heather to her brother Arley during the very first days of the Truelove Evergreen Moon.

Dear Arley,

I saw Cami the other day for a second and she said you would be home soon. She’s says you’ve done very well and no longer need any training, and needn’t live away from home any longer. I was very glad to hear this, because I miss you so. And so does Thistle. And Little Mauel, who is here by my side asking me what kind of cake I will bake for him this month says he misses you too.

As I told you, I spent most of last month observing Uncle Rich and Beau while they were trying to find a baby for Fiona. But that is not all that happened. There is something I kept back, because I had to tell you Beau and Uncle Richie’s story first. One morning, while I was sitting in a window seat there is in my kitchen,  watching in my mind how our uncle and my boyfriend had sailed to Epirus and were having breakfast among the waterlilies of the Acheron, the Leafies Vinny and Dolphus knocked on the glass of the window I was sitting by. I immediately opened it and they said, “We found her! Do you want to give her your approval before we send her to him?”

“Found who?” I asked in surprise.

“We got together, a whole bunch of Leafies from all over our forest and your garden, because we didn’t think anything good would come out of Hades. And we decided to beat the matrons to the draw.”

“The matrons?”

“How do you think the syndicate of child-givers get to have babies to give out?” Vinny asked me. And before I could answer, he said, “Those ladies one orders babies from? They spend most of their time searching everywhere for kids to give out. We see them at night in our forest, heavily cloaked and moving like phantoms, checking trees, clearings, mounds, even under piles of leaves, searching and  searching for newborn fay kids, so they can give them to fay folk that have ordered some.”

“I had no idea they did that,” I said.     

“Most of the kids they get hold of are born at night. Those that are born by day are more easily spotted by fairies who want children. You know, if a parentless fay kid under seven appears before you and you see it, you have a right to it and can carry it off. Of course, if it is a  day or a few days old, it can talk. And you should ask it if it wishes to be yours. And respect its wishes. But babies that have been born right in the middle of the night don’t usually talk yet. And they are not easy to spot unless you are really up close. So most of these go unclaimed.  And the matrons carry them away if they find them, and take them to folks who ordered a kid.”

“I didn’t know the matrons scoured the woods by night. I thought they grew the kids they give out in cabbage patches or among brussels sprouts or something of the sort.”

“No. They grab hold of any newborn fay kid they see, anywhere they see it. Before it can find itself parents it likes. That’s why ordered kids are sometimes a little strange, and don’t always seem to be part of a family, though there are many exceptions.”

“Not if it can talk,” said Dolphus. “Kids that can talk can’t be taken. That would be kidnapping. Not kids that are a day or two old or such. Those have escaped the matrons, and can choose their own parents.”

“And you have found one of those? For Uncle Richie?”

“Talk to her, and she’ll say she’s willing,” said Vinny. “She doesn’t look like the sort of child who wants to grow up feral at all.”

So, filled with curiousity, I allowed Vinny and Dolphus to escort me to Minced Forest. And there, in a bird’s nest, in a tree covered with yellowing moss, sat what looked like a little bird fairy, probably a week or so old.

“How can she have not been taken?” I asked the Leafies in whispers. Three or four of them had joined Vinny and Dolphus. They had been watching the bird baby for hours so no one would get to her before we did.

“She doesn’t show herself to just anyone. Days old babies know how to hide. And they are usually very cautious,” said Frankie.

 “And choosy. Be careful what you say,” whispered Vinny. “You don’t want to have to keep her for yourself.”

“Hello, little girl,” I said, letting myself be seen, “would you like to be my cousin? I’m from an almost always nice family.”

The little girl smiled and said, “You’re cute. I wouldn’t mind having you for a role model. But to be your cousin I would need a dad or a mum first.”

“My uncle would love to have you for a daughter,” I said. “He’s searching desperately for one and he’s a very nice man.”

“Tell her he’s a big spender who willl spoil her rotten,” whispered Vinny to me, but I didn’t do that.

“If he is like you,” said the child, “I might be interested. But shouldn’t I check your uncle out first?”

And the result was that she turned into a little hummingbird and flew westwards, to check Uncle Richie out.

And that’s not the all of it.

While I wa standing by the nest wondering what to do next, Grandma Divina suddenly appeared.

“Heather,” she said, “has your boyfriend returned? Are he and Richie back from where they went?”

“Let me see,” I said. “No, they are just done having high tea with Uncle Evenfall. And Uncle Evenfall has just become more than plain friends with the goddess Melinoe. And he is about to walk her dogs with her around the gardens of his ruins which are infested with his cats.”

“What?” said Grandma. “Evenfall is probably doing this to keep Richie from flirting with her.”

“Maybe. But I think he really likes this lady. They seem to have more than deaf cats and mute dogs in common.”

“Whatever! You never know with Evenfall. He is very secretive about his affairs. Richie and Beau are strolling too?”

“They’re walking home. There’s…this little hummingbird singing along with Uncle Richie. Grandma, that is a little bird fairy baby I sent to him. She might like him and want to be his. I don’t think he has found anything in Hades, and this kid looks nice. Friendly and so.”

“What? But I just sent Rosendo to him!”

“Who is… Rosendo?”

“My hairdresser spotted this parentless little boy fairy. He can turn into a pink flying squirrel. Not my hairdresser, the pink child I came to an agreement with.”

“I’m seeing him,” I said.”I can see all this because I can know everything Beau does if I want to, and I can know everything he knows.”

“Ah. It’s the same with your Grandpa and me. But to spite me, he rarely does anything interesting. That’s why he plays so much golf. And chess.  To bore me to death, so I won’t  be watching him. So two kids are now sizing up Richie? Darling, we have to interfere. We can’t let them get away.”

 And Grandma and I appeared before Richie and Beau.

“I got here first!” cried Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“You are here too?” Grandma Divina asked her sister.

“You thought I woule be at home twirling my thumbs?”

Yes, she was there. Right behind Uncle Richie.

Uncle Richie stopped humming and the flowers that had grown because of him, autumn flowers, mums and fall daisies and alyssum and petunias and nemesias and last roses and more,  vanished and  it was evergreens that demanded our attention, holly everywhere, bushes of it, and there was mistletoe hanging from the pinetrees.

“Don’t  either of you move!” Grandma Divina yelled at the hummingbird and the squirrel. “Stay put!”

And they did. 

“What have you brought with you from dusty hell,  my madcap nephew?” asked our paternal grandma of our mother’s little brother.

“Nothing, Auntie. No luck! A prophecy spoken to be rid of me. That’s all I got. Hades failed me. ”

“What is in that hamper, Richie?”

“Oh. Leftovers from…lunch? Breakfast? Brunch? What was it Beau?”

“There’s more than that in it,” said Beau. “And in your coat pocket too.”

Beau was beginning to understand what was happening. Likely he was reading my mind.

Uncle Richie glanced at one of his coat pockets and  saw a little blue lizard was peeking out of it. Very gently he drew it out and showed it to us.

“You stay put too!” said Grandma Divina to the lizard. “And whatever is in the basket stays put too!”

And Uncle Richie drew out of the basket the jar filled with water that held the little green seahorse that had settled on his shoe while he was picnicing among the waterlilies in the Acheron.

“Is this possible? Four?” snapped Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“Yes,” said Grandma Divina. “Sister, it’s exactly what it looks like. Which one is your candidate?”

“Esmeraldo,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial, pointing at the seahorse. “I immediately saw he was the best being to be had anywhere near Hades.”

“And who supports the lizard?”

“I have come on my own,” said the lizard softly, “but I can withdraw quietly if I’m not wanted.”

“Of course you are wanted!” cried both my grandmothers at the same time. “All four of you! Are there any more? Is this all there is?”

“I think so,” said Beau, who had been looking around.

“If there is anyone else, now is the time to step forward!” shouted the Lady Celestial. “We’re finding parents for all of you. And now, no more nonsense! Turn into yourselves! ”

And the four little creatures turned into cute tiny tots.

“Oh! Wow!” said Uncle Richie, understanding what was going on. 

“Now, ask these kids one by one if they want you for a father or have been disgusted by you,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“Don’t you call my boy disgusting. He’s feeding the whole island,” said Grandma Divina.

“I do have to ask you one by one,” said Uncle Richie to the kids. “But I want you all. I’m an excessive person. I like to have a lot of everything. I hope you won't break my heart shunning me.”

“I like the way you hum,” spole up the little fairy who could turn into a purple hummingbird. “Me, you don’t even have to ask.”

“This is a bold little girl,” said Madam the Lady Celestial. “Well, that might not be a bad thing.”

“But I do have to ask! To make it formal,” said Uncle Richie to the child. “Would you like to be my daughter? And if so, seeing as you can speak, what is your name?”

“I do want to be your daughter. And my name is Hum,” said the little fairy. “I will be the eldest, because I am a week old, and I don’t think any of the others is this old.”

“Thank you!” said Uncle Richie dropping to his knees and there were tears in his eyes. “I have an eldest daughter!" he cried, choking a little. "Who is next?”

“Me, I think. I’m almost five days old,” said the boy who could turn into a seahorse. “And I want to be your son, and my name is Esmeraldo Greengem, but you can call me just Gem.”

And he and Uncle Richie shook hands on it. And Uncle Richie was crying very visibly, and reached for a handkerchief.

“And do you want to be my child, sweetheart?” he asked the little fairy  girl who could turn into a blue lizard.

“Yes, and I would be so happy to be that. I thought you might not want me, or I would have asked you in Capri myself. I’m not very confident, though I am three days old and look old for my age.”

“This one is a blue fairy. Of the intellectual kind. Like my Gen’s Mabel. You have an aunt who will want to be your godmother, dear,” said Grandma Divina.

“Gen is not yours,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial. “But I don’t think you want to go into that now, do you?”

“Branna is a sort of intellectual too. She is an astronomer,” said Uncle Richie.  “Oh, will she be delighted when she sees all these kids! And she thought we would never have any!”

”Get on with it, Richie!” said Grandma the Lady Celestial. “Snap it up, and ask the littlest one!”

And Uncle Rich asked Rosendo, the flying squirrel baby boy if he would like to be his fourth child and second son, and Rosendo, a plump and smiling little creature, said he did. He was a very happy-go-lucky, barely two days old baby who smiled a lot. 

Part the Second

Dear brother, I send you this letter with a second part, rushing, so it will reach you before your return, so you, who work in information, can do so with a knowledge of things here. Mom’s messenger pigeon, Aldegundus,will carry it to you, for he is quicker than any of mine, and that is why you will find with it a sheet full of kisses from Mom. We are all very happy knowing you will be back, but she is positively exultant. I have never seen her happier.

Our Uncle Richearth’s child-seeking affairs have not ended as I told you. They have become more complicated, though for good, I think. Our uncle had our grandmothers and Beau and I accompany him to his house. He wanted us to be present when he showed Branna what he was bringing home with him. He feared she might faint and insisted he would need help, because he had no idea what to do when someone fainted, except go hysterical and shout for help. But it was Uncle Richie who fainted, not Branna, when he saw how happy she was, smothering her children with hugs and kisses and he suddenly hollered, “I’ve given my wife everything anyone needs!” and fell to the floor in a faint, like the man who had made the effort of running the first marathon. But unlike this man, he couldn't die, so he didn't. And Beau had to revive him and hoist him up while Grandma The Lady Celestial scolded, “Stop it, Richearth! Stop acting up! You are not to steal the stage every second!” And Beau thought it would be best to take him outside, to the garden, so he could breathe fresh air. And Beau did that.

Well, the case is that what Branna did was quite the opposite of fainting. She became hyperactive and began to make her home’s nursery larger, throwing down walls with a mallet and speaking frantically of adding closets and painting the walls with her kids’ favorite colours, pink, blue, violet and green. Our grandmas called Uncle Gen, and he arrived immediately with a team of workers and Branna relaxed a little and left things in their hands, and Grandma Divina also called Alys Possun, the great painter and occasional interior decorator, who filled the nursery with murals and trompe-l’oeils. I hope I got that last word right. Each wall celebrated one of the four elements, and our grandmas began to sing an old song I hadn’t heard since I was a baby myself.

Fire, water, air and earth

Are my elements since birth.

Fire in my heart throbs,

Fire in my hair glows,

Water through my veins flows,

And in my eyes it doth repose.

My voice is air and in air flies,

Speaks, laughs, sighs and replies.

Earth dwelleth in my bones,

Browns my skin to golden tones.

Now, watch me leap and twirl and prance,

All four caught up in life´s dance.

They got me to sing with them, and Hum joined us humming and thus singing, we turned the only crib there was in the nursery into four, each with its peculiarities, Hum’s being a lovely nest of purple morning glories that would open when she woke and shut when she fell asleep, Gem’s a shell-shaped bed with a sea-water mattress, Azuline’s a lovely light blue porcelain crib with a forest of delicate bluebells painted on it, and Rosendo´s a bronze bed with a splendid sun and its long rays, which would have been the envy of Louis the XIVth.

And when the nursery was ready and we were all congratulating ourselves on the great work we had done – my final touch was to add gold and silver guardian fairy medals to the cribs – well, they called our uncle Richearth shouting out the windows, so he would come in and see it all. And through the door of the children’s suite entered, as if a curtain had been raised, the three Eumenides, leaving us speechless, which made them happy, and behind them, Uncle Wildgale and Mathilde, and their two girls and three dragons. And there was more, because behind those who had come in came  Atty and Catsheba and the Atshebies and Pedubastis, their guardian fairy.

“What is the meaning of this?” Grandmother Madam The Lady Celestial demanded, while Grandma Divina waved and cried out “Helloooooooooo!”

And for an answer to his aunt's question, Uncle Richearth entered the room last, with a lovely though disturbingly transparent baby in each arm and said, with a frightened face but a resolute voice, “These are Crown of Roses and Goldenstar, and yes, I fear they are dead. But I am keeping them anyway. Any way!”

“Yes!” cried Branna, “Yes, we are!” And she rushed for the babies as if someone might snatch them from her.

“Don’t call them dead! They are little ghosts, but spirits like us, after all,” protested Grandma Divina, while Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial shook her head and muttered, “We do exaggerate, don’t we, Richie? Never enough.”

And Uncle Wildgale said, “Since Branna was always asking us to give her one of our daughters, and begging Atty to cede her a couple of his kids, and since neither he nor I would ever do that, well, we began to feel like we were being stalked by her. And so he and I went to see the matrons and Atty threatened, though a little late and untimely, to sue them for having let Jocosa order kids for him if they didn’t solve his brother’s problem once and for all. While he was doing that, the Eumenides appeared in Lucina’s office, and said they had already emitted judgement on this particular case and that they had ruled in Richie’s favor. They informed us and all those present that they themselves had taken the trouble to find suitable children for him. They had recalled another case they had been consulted about. There were in Hades two babies that had become estranged from their parents, mortal tourists who one night, just like many others, and being in their yacht, had exceded themselves in their devotion to Dionysus and failed to notice that their three year old twins’ baby carriage was floating off in the direction of Anthemoessa. The sea goddess Ran wanted to claim these children, on the grounds of their parents’ nationalities. But the kids had entered into the territorial waters of the Anthemoessian Sirens, and had been claimed by them when they reached shore. The Eumenides had advised the  Sirens to give Ran a bag of gold coins, for she was famously avaricious, and recommended the goddess to take this and forget to press further for the tots. The sisters decided this under the conviction that Hades was a better place than Ran’s underwater dungeons. Ran had mumbled something about this being a hometown decision, but took the bag and left.

“We know you are fairies and these twins the ghosts of mortal kids, but we found this merry young man so uncharacteristically depressed, and taking into account that his wife was once a vampire, we thought giving him these children would not be a mistake. After all, a boy who resembles a golden star is not an inadequate child for an astronomer, and a girl who loves roses, queens among flowers, could be right for a planter. You are not going to be afraid of these poor creatures, are you, fairy people?”

And Alys Possun, as temperamental as usual, frowned and began to rant, “They’ve ruined my masterpiece! I’ll have to start from zero!”

But Madam Grandmother the Lady Celestial said that the ceiling was a little bare and that maybe he could do something there.

“For the Estrellito, okay. But what about Miss Roses? Shall I make her share the earth with Azuline? No, I don’t think so,” said Mr. Possun, who firmly believed roses were no company for bluebells because they did not look good together.

“I don’t mind at all!” Azuline offered immediately.

“Hush, child! It’s foolish to cede territory,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“There’s no need for sacrifice, dear. Mr. Possun is very clever, he’ll come up with something. Can't you see that he is a genius, Azuline?” Grandma Divina told the little blue fairy.

And encouraged by Grandma Divina’s words of praise and inspired by the suggestions of Grandmother the Lady Celestial, Alys began to paint stars in the center of the ceiling that shone like lamps of gold, because that is what they were, and he created planets overgrown with red roses and others with rings of yellow roses. And Uncle Gen hanged two elaborately wrought silver and gold cribs up there and at first we feared they would look like those plants some people hang from ceilings but, though I know it sounds strange, the whole scheme worked and resulted very interesting.

“It looks like more is more,” said Uncle Gen.

“I hope you won’t take to howling here nights and keep everyone from shutting an eye,” Madam Grandmother the Lady Celestial warned the baby twins.

“What is howl?” innocently asked the poor little ghosts, fresh out of the sepulchrally silent fields of asphodels.

“Allow them to remain in their ignorance, Mother,” advised Uncle Gen.

But Uncle Richie said his kids could howl all they wanted to, and began to howl himself. But there was no need to make the nursery soundproof, because the twins were more interested in getting to know their brothers and sisters and cousins than in molesting anyone or paying any attention to their weird father.

And soon I will be able to wish you a Merry Christmas in person, Arley.

289 - Part Two

289: Part the Second of the Eleventh Moonly Letter to be written by Heather to her brother Arley during the rising of the black moon, properly visible against a white as a blank sheet of paper cloud. 

Dear Arley,

I had to interrupt my letter writing to bake Little Mauel’s moonly birthday cake. More about that later. Now I continue where I left of.

Katafalkos, for that was the name of the demon with the computer, was finally persuaded by Charon to authorize Uncle Richie and Beau’s entry into Hades. And they boarded the smallest motorboat I have ever seen and Charon drove them to the other bank of the Acheron.

“Am I really as annoying as lead is heavy?” Uncle Rich asked Charon.

“Yes,” said Charon.

“I know I’m intense, but heavy as lead…well…I don’t think I’m that annoying. Only persistent. I admit I know how to insist. But when you want something that is what you have to do. And constance is a virtue, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. And so you are here to see the queen? Or one or two or more of the other ladies?”

“Actually, I’m here to ask a question I need to ask but would rather not ask just anyone. Is it safe to speak here? We haven’t reached the other bank yet.”

“It will be less safe there. There’s nobody here to listen to anything,” said Charon. “This isn’t what it used to be.”

“That I can see,” said Uncle Richie. “It’s kind of empty here, isn’t it? Deserted. Not the usual bustle. How can this place have changed so much in not even a couple of hundred years?”

“Don’t even ask,” frowned Charon, waving with disgust at the controls of the motorboat and spitting angrily into the water though it had looked as if he would have spat at the wheel. The river god Acheron sent what Charon had spat back at him. He dodged, but the wheel got wet. Charon obviously did not want to comment on the changes in Hades and he stopped the motorboat in the middle of the river and  there he added, referring to the question Uncle Richie had said he had come to ask, “Well, ask!”

 Covering his mouth with his hand, though I don't know why, because it was obvious Acheron could be hearing, Uncle Rich murmurred, “Do you happen to know how Hades, who is supposed to be sterile as Death, got to be the father of the princess of darkness Melinoe?”

“No,” said Charon. “I’ve always been too busy to indulge in idle gossip. But Ascalaphos might know. He gets around more than I do. We can land right by his orchard.”

And hearing himself named, Ascalaphus showed his round face, his great owl-like eyes with their bushy eyebrows peeking through some heavily loaded pomegranate trees, their fruit still green, and an orange flower or two still attached to the trees and adorning them. He waved a hand at his visitors in welcome, and the motorboat hopped onto land and went straight towards him and landed right before  the pomegranate trees.

“Want some cherries? These are wonderfully ripe,” said the orchardist. And he pushed a bowl through the boughs of the pomegranate trees, full of lucious two-headed cherries it was.

“No, thank you,” said Beau quickly. “They do look quite tempting, though. But I have someone waiting for me at home. I can’t stay here forever.”

“You know, I’ve seen those cherries with the two little heads somewhere. ¡Ah, yes! At the garden of the Demon Bride. Aislene, yes,” said Uncle Richie.

“Ah, demonic Aislene! We gave her husband some trees years ago. To thank him for bringing over Greek souls who had lost their way and ended up in Fiddler’s Green.”

“I’ve never tasted those cherries of hers, though. They are talking cherries, and I don’t eat anything that talks to me.”

“They are silent here. And faceless. See for yourself.”

“Will they come to life if I take some home with me? I am  asking out of curiosity. Not that I want any. I’m sure my wife would have asked her mum for some cuttings from the trees back at Aislene’s orchard if she had wanted something of this kind in ours.”

“I don’t know why they came to life at Aislene’s. I guess that woman can raise the dead. Here, they are just plain fruit. Magical they are though. Pick as many as I pick, there’s the same amount again hanging from the trees the next day. And I would swear they are the same cherries that got eaten the day before. So it is with ghost cherries. With all the fruit here. Ah, they won’t hold it against you if you eat them, since they can return.”

“How can anything grow here at all?” Beau asked. “Isn’t everything supposed to be utterly dead?”

Ascalaphos nodded.

“Yes, but my orchard is an exception. I water what grows in it with rain water only. This is the only spot where it rains in Hades, aside from the Islands of the Blessed, where now and again there are spring showers. The Nephelai send their cloudy pitchers down my father’s river by boat, and these I pour or trickle over what I grow, accordring to demand.”

Uncle Richie did not say so, but he was tempted in his thoughts to sing in the orchard  and see what would come of it, but he was prudent and refrained from interfering in the affairs of the orchardist.

“You, who may be the only being here who knows of life, would you know how the Lady Melinoe came to be the daughter of the Lord of Lead? Was it something they ate, the royal couple? Something like the lettuce Hera ate at Apollo’s table and that made her pregnant with charming Hebe?”

Ascalaphos was silent for a moment, as if thinking. “I wish I could say it was,” he then said, shaking his head. “I know Macaria was adopted when she was already a young woman. She was a mortal, one of Hercules’ children. She offered her life to Hades and Persephone so they would help her siblings prevail over the vengeful Eurystheus. They accepted her and consider her their daughter. They married her to Thanatos, the tall god of Death. And Zagreus…rumors are he is really Zeus’ child by his own daughter. Understandably, his wife, Hera was outraged. Semele tried to pretend he was her child to avoid a larger scandal. That lady got all burnt up for it, you know, cinders in a second and then her soul came down here. Thyone the Ardent they now call her. She used to be white as snow and now she is black as pitch, but her son made her the goddess of white wine. Zagreus is Dionysus, you know.”

Beau and Uncle Richie nodded.

“But Melinoe…I have no idea how she came to be Hades’ daughter. If she is.”

“Is it true she wanders out of Hades every night and haunts the mortal world?

“Ah, yes. A quiet lady who keeps pretty much to herself during the day. But she walks her dogs every night. Hounds of hell they are, and when they bark out in the mortal world all the mortal dogs answer barking in terror and startling  the hearts of their owners, sometimes fatally, in the black nights. She leads a company of ghosts, you know. They walk out of here with her, and disperse out there and go each about his or her own unfinished business above, and when the princess is ready to return home, they must return too. They meet at the gate and enter together, a gloomy band. Usually, more ghosts enter than went out, for these shades have frightened some unlucky mortal or another to death and they bring him –or them- here with them.”

“Would your mother know more about the Mistress of Ghosts?”

“Could be. Women are more prone to know stuff like this. She’s at Styx’s cave,” said Ascalaphos. And all four marched off to the silver pillared cave of Shuddering Styx of the cold black water.

Uncle Rich questioned Orphne, who was Ascalaphos’ mother and the wife of the river god Acheron, and who said she was surprised that she didn’t know about Melinoe’s birth, because she knew about everything that happened in Hades and how could she not even have noticed that she didn’t know about this. “How could it have escaped me?” she asked the river goddess Styx. 

Now Styx has as foul a mouth as she has a temper and was about to curse Uncle Richie for asking absurd questions he had no business asking, and make him swear by her water that he would cease asking, but was mercifully stopped from doing so by the Eumenides, who also happened to be at Styx’s cave.

The Eumenides used to be three really mean ladies called the Furies, who never rested until they had given people who had committed crimes their comeuppance. But the goddess Athena had reasoned with them, and though they were still quite relentless, they since tried to be just.

Well, there they were sitting on very high silver chairs, dressed in the short tunics huntresses wear,  with their pet snakes writhing and twitching in their hair and clinging to their bare arms and legs. They fixed their eyes on Uncle Richie and studied him from head to toe, very intentionally.  “Why are you asking?” they demanded of him, for they wanted to hear him out before judging him.  And when he explained that he couldn’t have children and why, leaving out no detail, they said, “Serves you right. But still, we´re a little sorry for you, because you are a warm, friendly fellow and it’s not your fault you are a frivolous person. You were made that way. And there are so many unworthy people who have kids they don’t deserve and that they are mean to, that we don’t see why you shouldn’t have one to spoil yourself.”

And then they shook the serpents on their arms and legs and in their hair and the serpents hissed, “Why doesn’t he consult the seers? They know everything, don’t they?” And so the Eumenides summoned Tiresias,  the ambiguous seer who was sometimes a man and other times a woman and he didn’t answer Uncle Richearth’s question, but he did make a prophecy. “Go back home,” he said. “You are closer to having children than you think. You’ve done enough asking. You’ll get your answer at evenfall.”

And Uncle Richie, who, like Charon said, can be as persistent as lead is heavy, wanted to know more, but Tiresias would just yell, “Demetrius, go home!”

And then more seers appeared, because seers are very competitive and when one has something to say another doesn’t want to be less,  and, one of these seers was Tiresias’ infallible grandson,  Mopsus, of as sure as Mopsus fame,  and the other was Calchas, who had been in Troy, counselling the Greek army, and they agreed Uncle Richearth should leave Hades, and Manto, who is Tiresias’ daughter, though I am not sure if Tiresias is her mom or her dad, but I don't think it matters because what does is that she inherited his foresight, patted Uncle Rich on the back and led him to Charon’s motorboat, assuring him that everything was already working out for him.

“Evenfall! Evenfall!” all four oracles chanted over and over like a dismal Greek chorus as the querents sailed off. 

 “Evenfall,” said Uncle Richie to Beau, once they were out of Hades. “Let’s stop by my brother Even’s before we go home. Maybe Catgliostro will be able to tell us more than the other prophets have. I feel impatient.” 

And they were west, because Hades is west, but they headed for the nearly west, which is where Uncle Even lives. On the road, Uncle Rich suddenly felt the urge to hum a little, for he hadn’t sung a note in Hades, and he never goes long without being musical. 

As they walked, Richearth began humming a sweet little melody, and as he hummed, all sorts of flowers grew where he stepped and round him, and then a little purple hummingbird that appeared fluttering among the blossoms began to hum too, in the way they do.

“How curious! I didn’t know there were purple hummingbirds,” said Beau.

“Did you know there are pink flying squirrels?” asked Uncle Rich, "Because one has landed on that oak tree."

“No!” said Beau. “Curiouser and curiouser!”

And strolling among flowers and their perfumes they got to the ruins of Uncle Evenfall’s home, ruins that were immediately overgrown with wild flowers, and with the ghosts of roses that had flowered there before the house was burnt, all in splendid bloom again because of Uncle Richearth’s voice.  And the cats that lived there, that infested the place, well, though most were deaf, could hear Uncle Rich hum and began to meow to tune as they sniffed the flowers and rolled on the grass as if enchanted by catnip. And Beau and our flowery uncle entered our crepuscular uncle’s ghost of  a house as the sun went down. And Uncle Evenfall and purple and green striped Catgliostro were about to have high tea, and asked their guests to share it with them.

But before Beau and Uncle Rich could breathe a word about his concern, a dreadful, frightful meowing began, first outside among the ruins and then inside the ghost of the house. And all the cats in sight pinned their ears back and arched their backs and crouched or hid with their hair on end. All save Catgliostro, who didn’t look too happy but stood his ground. And Uncle Evenfall got up to see what was happening and through the door of his house, before he could get to it, in slipped Melinoe, the black and white goddess, with a pack of small, sepulchrally silent ghost doggies of different breeds at her heels. And some disturbing shades behind her that no one could be sure were really there, or just the effect of suggestion. 

“Hi!” said the goddess of ghosts timidly, but her little dogs only wagged their tails in greeting. “My little dogs are tame and won’t harm anyone. And they never make a sound. Your cats are insane.”

“Catgliostro, tell the cats it’s okay,” said Uncle Evenfall to the great cat. And Catgliostro, the only cat not to have been frightened, though very alert all the while, somehow must have, for the kitties were all silent, though they remained where they were.

“My gran said I should come to see you,” said Melinoe to Uncle Richearth. “And tell you how I came to be born, and why nobody knows much about it.”

 This lady seemed to be there, and not to be there, at the same time, just like the shades. And she seemed to be now a shade and now a reality, and now black and now white. But what struck one the most was how shy she was. Her right hand nervously curled the jet black hair on the right side of her head while her left hand was as still as death and the white hair on the left of her head as straight as the lid of a white coffin.

“Please sit down, dear,” said Uncle Evenfall, “and have high tea with us.”   

Melinoe was pleased to. Once everyone was seated and enjoying high tea, Melinoe told the story she had come to tell us.

“My mom was painting the colours on the flowers when she was abducted. That was the job my gran had assigned to her. She was painting some that were high up over her head. She was so shocked when she saw my father coming for her like a fiend that she opened her mouth to scream but couldn’t. And when he grabbed her, the palette dropped from her hand and the white and black clumps of paint on it fell into her mouth. The rest ofthe colours were spilt on the ground. And that is why I look like a checkerboard, I suppose. Months later, Mom was back at my gran’s, where she gave birth to me. I was a child conceived in fear, and I had all my mom’s fear in me. It all came out of her with me, and she was free of it, but I couldn’t get rid of it. My grandma would have kept me to bring me up, but I cried too much to be anywhere cheerful. Mom had to take me to Hades,  where she felt I would fit in better, and not stand out too much. All bundled up she took me, because I was scared stiff and didn’t want anyone to see me. Dear Aunt Hecate, who is prime minister of Hades, and who does all she can to help and protect Mom, whom she loves as a daughter, decided to help her deal with me too. I wouldn’t leave Mom´s rooms for the world, and I wouldn’t eat a thing. I just hid in a closet in Mom´s dressing-room for hours on end. What Aunt Hecate did to draw me out was bring some of her puppies to me. You know she loves dogs.  The first she brought to me was Queen Hecuba, who as you know, is now a hound, for that is the shape she takes since she saw Troy destroyed and lost her mind. And she was so gentle and so sweet to me, that I got used to her nudging me. And then they brought me my first puppy. At first I was scared of this first ghost puppy, and jumped every time he yelped. But I accepted him, and then a second one more easily. And then a third. Finally, Aunt Hecate persuaded me to take them for a walk in the gardens. And I was able to. I progressed, and so did my love for dogs. These little ones I have here with me I walk at evenfall through the gardens of my father’s palace. At midnight, I am brave enough to walk the hounds of hell in the mortal world. Not Cerberus. He never leaves his post. But I’m sure you’ve heard of my wild pack. And now I frighten everyone instead of being frightened by everyone myself.” 

"I don't think you are frightening at all," said Uncle Richearth. "I think you are probably the most distinguished woman I've ever set eyes on. And I've seen a few."

And Uncle Evenfall jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow and said to Melinoe, "This man is taken, but I am available. And I'm a twilight creature myself."   

And Melinoe smiled a little smile.

Do you know what a black and white is? ´Tis coffee with white cream ice cream. And I thought it would be adequate for this month, if you like coffee. 

All you need is ground coffee, sugar, white cream ice cream, and some lemon rinds. 

Make some coffee. It mustn't be too watery. And now make some syrup, mixing a little water, some sugar and a little lemon in a pan and bringing this to a boil.

Now you must remove the lemon rinds from the syrup and add the syrup to the coffee.  

Now stick the coffee you have mixed with the syrup in the fridge's freezer, and leave it there a while but don't forget it because you have to stir the mixture every half hour or so till it becomes a sort of slushy.

When it looks ready, bring it out of the freezer and pour it into a cup. Leave space for a scoop of white cream ice cream that you must next add to the cup. 

That's it. 

Love, love, love, Heather.

P.D. Little Mauel's birthday cake was a white velvet cake, made with buttermilk and a touch of vinegar. He loved this one too.