312 The Abysmals

 

312. The Abysmals

“That boat is mine!” shouted a voice that seemed to be advancing through the bushes. And the ghost of a boy that looked to be about eleven years old materialized before Esmeraldo.

“And you think that matters to me?” said Esmeraldo with a defiant grin aimed at the boy that tripled his size. “I want this boat and I want it now!”

“Oh, drat, Matheo! You haven’t come anywhere near this boat in many a year! You suffer from hydrophobia!” intervened Calamus. “This kid is convinced that he is a ferocious pirate. He is going to challenge you, because he is out of his mind. And he is very tiny and delicate and if something goes wrong and he receives a mean blow, we’re going to have problems surely.”

“I’m strong, don’t think I am not!” insisted Esmeraldo, baring his teeth and raising his fists. “Bring it on!” he defied Matheo.

“Yeah, right!” said Carpos, getting himself in between the younger boys. “But a demonstration of strength is just what we want to avoid. Look, kid, it is becoming obvious that it isn’t a good idea to get hold of this boat. Calamus wants to help you obtain it, but you ought to know that Matheo has two friends, one of which is quite a brute. And that without counting on the higly possible intervention of Theophilus, who is the sort to be fed apart and who might decide to involve himself in this quarrel and kick you out of here, which he has every right to do because we are on his property. What about you? Haven’t you got friends or a family? What are you doing here at all? Play in your own garden, kid. Haven’t you got a fish pond with bright goldfish in it? Or a little swimming pool?”

“I have two enormous swimming pools, one covered and one not. And I also have several water holes in my dad’s home back in Apple Island. But I am a pirate, and will soon be the monarch of the seas.”

“What do you know? This kid is an Apple Islander!” exclaimed Calamus. “I’m thinking I heard you say your father was called Demetrius. He wouldn’t have anything to do with my good goddess of cereals, would he?”

“My daddy is Demeter’s godson.”

“Well, well, well! Well, you needn’t turn pirate to eat then, do you? That’s for sure.”

“Of course not! I’m turning pirate because I want to be free and feared! I already told you that! Should I give you a receipt?”

“What we want is for you to go back home before you cause a problem. So scat, kid!” said Carpos.

“You’re  not that much older than me. I’m sure you both aren’t at home either. You are Greek, aren’t you? Well, back to your homeland, boys!”

“Look here, baby boy,” intervened Carpos once more, “we are here because of a tragedy. If it weren’t for that, we surely would be back home. Calamus’ dad, Meander,  promised the gods he would sacrifice to them the first thing that approached him. He never thought that would be his own son. But it was, and Meander threw Calamus into a river there was right there behind him. And Calamus drowned, And Meander felt awful about this, so he leapt into the river himself. And also drowned. And the gods decided things had gone too far, so they turned Meander into the spirit of the river there and Calamus into the spirit of reedbeds. So there were there are reeds you can find Calamus, no matter where they grow. And where you can find Calamus you can find me, because I am his friend since early childhood and we have always been inseparable, and will always be so.”

“Most moving, your little story. But will you draw out the boat or shall I begin to tug at it myself?” asked Esmeraldo.

“I’m not done speaking! Matheo, who is this kid here who didn’t want his boat but now wants it back, drowned right here in this lake. And the demons of the deep don’t have him sequestered down below because two good fairies snatched him off before he could hit bottom. He is now a ghost that wanders about the forest. Do listen to me and understand that this lake is not a safe place for a playground.”

“Either you free the boat like you said you would or I’ll rip it out of the reedbed!”

“But I’ve said it is mine!” shouted Matheo.

“You hush your mouth and don’t provoke the peepsqueak! Can’t you see he isn’t normal?” said Calamus. “If that boat belongs to anybody, it belongs to me! I’ve spent years retaining it within my hair! If I hadn’t, it would long have become the property of the Abysmals that live at the bottom of the lake! As soon as I manage to let go of it, that tiny tot will haul it off to his island and back here we shall have peace and live in it like we almost always do!”

Carpos saw his friend was determined to let Esmeraldo have the boat, so he set himself to freeing it from his friend’s hair. It was not easy to undo the mess of roots and stems and leaves that twined all over it, and though Carpos' fingers moved as delicately as they could through the reeds, Calamus gave a shout of protest  or two.

“I only wanted to avoid anyone else’s being drowned!” mumbled Matheo. “That’s why I let that boat rot there!”

“Well, now it will rot in this little dwarf’s home,” said Calamus.

“I have something else to do here before I take the boat away,” said Esmeraldo. “I’m thinking that a pirate needs more than his fists to fight properly. I need pistols! And a mighty sword.”

“Yeah, right! Now he wants weapons. Didn’t I say this kid would cause problems, Matheo?” asked Calamus. And he turned to Esmeraldo and added, “I’m sure you can make for yourself a fine wooden sword back home in your garden.”

“A wooden sword can break more easily than a simple stake  if I try to plunge it into the heart of an enemy. I want a sword of solid steel or so.”

“Well, there’s none of that here,” said Carpos. “Calamus and I are people of peace. All we do is swim and frolick enjoying nature at its best. And the Theos are feisty, but they don’t pick fights.”

“You are so wrong. I have heard that all lakes hide fine weapons, some of which are even magical. I’m sure the bottom of this pond holds something interesting.”

“So go drown trying to find that!” shouted Matheo.

“I’m not mortal! I’m a seahorse fairy!”

“A little seahorse fairy. Don’t be mad at me for reminding you of that, I do know that you are tiny but ferocious,” said Carpos.

Esmeraldo made no answer with words. He entered the lake without saying a single one.

“But…Go after him, Carpos!” exclaimed Calamus. “The spirits of this place are easily offended by any kind of nonsense. They will grind him to powder!”

In fact, the waters of Lake Jittery, also known as Peevish Pond, were already stirring ominously. And that though there wasn’t the least trace of a breeze on that extra warm summer’s day.

Carpos went off after Esmeraldo, just as his friend had asked him to do.

“So small and yet so difficult to protect! I’m finding it hard not to lose sight of you!”

And the waters were getting darker and darker…

When Carpos finally reached the little sea horse Esmeraldo had turned into, it was because he had stopped before two creatures from the very deep. They were quite phosphorescent and their appearance was most discouraging. Their extremities resembled those of an octopus but ended in long, strong fingers that looked as if they could grasp and choke anything easily. Their round heads had two black holes for eyes and their round mouths had teeth that surely were the envy of the fiercest of sharks.

“Don’t touch him!” shouted Carpos, and his voice spread weirdly about the heavy waters in which he floated. “He is very dangerous!”

“This twit is dangerous?” asked one of the creatures. He would have laughed, but laughing was not one of his abilities.

Esmeraldo had turned himself back into a fairy child and was about to open his mouth and deliver his speech about how he was a bloody pirate and demanded instant  and full respect but Carpos didn’t let him speak.

“This kid is a wound up time bomb. You had better believe me. Don’t get near him!” And he whispered to Esmeraldo, “Let de do the talking. I know these guys.”

“What the devil are you doing here, Greek boy? You and your friend never descend. You are surface creatures!”

“I come chasing after this child. And to warn you that if you contradict him, something awful is sure to happen. All he wants is to know if you keep any weapon below that is worthy of becoming legendary.”

“What?” said the Abysmals.

And then a third creature joined the other two. This was a female with a mist around her head that looked like greenish hair and with teeth like pearls sharpened atrociously. This lady wore a crown on her head.

“This is of interest to me,” she said. “I will have a word with them. I know the father of the teenager. He is one of the Greek winds. Not precisely my favorite wind, but an okay fellow.”

And the queen said to Carpos, never removing an eye from Esmeraldo, “I have what you are looking for. But what will you offer me in exchange?”

“I can only offer fruit,” said Carpos. “But it is most delicious. Of the best quality.”

“You have no idea what we eat, do you, pretty boy? The fruits of the earth are of no use to us. All they can do here is rot, Perhaps a ravenous fish will take a bite or two. No more.”

 “But I can bring you fruit from the garden of the Hesperides.”

“You mean oranges. Us eat oranges? You think we can suffer from scurvy? Do you know what our favorite food is? It is the air we tear from the lungs of those we drown. Bring me the ghost of the lad Matheo, who was stolen from us, and then we can start to talk.”

And then Esmeraldo, without saying a word, drew from his pocket a tiny model of an aircraft carrier. And he made it grow back to its authentic size, knocking the abysmals to a side with the movement the waters made to accomodate this ship.

Carpos lost his speech. He had been humoring Esmeraldo, pretending to believe the tot was a fiend. And he thougt he himself had been bluffing when he advised the Abysmals to beware of the fairy babe. And now this!

“Show me what you have for me, lady, for I have just showm you what I have for you!” Esmeraldo very cockily spat at the queen of the abyss.

311. Occult Neath a Reedbed

311. Occult Neath a Reedbed

No one steals in Apple Island. It is not just that there is no need to. It is that no one there thinks of doing this. And should someone do so, this someone will leave the island before doing that, disgusted by the excessive goodness that abounds there. And outside, it is much easier to steal. So the pirate in project Esmeraldo Greengem knew he would have to leave the island to steal a ship, an action he was determined to carry out to start off his criminal  career. A fay child less than seven years old is not allowed to leave the island on his own, but pirates break rules and it is best to do that away from the blessed isle.

Esmeraldo transfomed himself into a little sea horse and crossed the puddle  swimming till he reached  Minced Forest, specifically the part of it that was known as Owlwood. There he turned himself back into the fay child he was and stopped to read a sign that read:

  PEREGRINE,

CUM REVERENTIA PROCEDE

NAM MOX INGRESSURUS

ES

DOMUM

SILVA BUBORUM!

“Might there be something in this wood that could serve my purposes?” Esmeraldo asked himslef. And something told him there might be. Perhaps this was because he had spotted a body of water. And that body was Lake Jittery, also known as Peevish Pond.

He walked to its banks and once there he noticed a wooden object that was almost totally concealed in a bed of reeds. He approached it, parting the reeds as he moved, and as he did, he heard the penetrating, reedy sound of an oboe.

“Sweet and pleasant music to delight the lonely passerby,” he thought. “I didn’t expect to hear such music away from the island. It doesn’t seem to be the thing one would find here.”

Somewhat abstracted, Esmeraldo breathed deeply and began to speak to the reeds.

“You smell like cake dough,” he said to them as he stirred them. And it was true that they did smell like cinnamon and ginger and something sugary.

“I’m sorry,” answered a boy’s voice. “I can’t help that. I advise you not to eat me. I could prove toxic, though some use me to make candies with. Perfectly safely edible ones. Is that why you mean to uproot me?”

“Oh, sorry,” answered Esmeraldo, “I meant no harm. No, I don’t want candy. I want to see what you are hiding. It looks like a boat that is upside down.”

The spirit of the reed bed showed himself. He looked about fifteen years old. His skin was a light green and his hair a darker green. Little drops of water slid from his skin and dropped from his hair.

“That is what it is,” said the spirit of the reedbed.

“If we are going to have to deal with each other, we had better introduce ourselves. My name is Esmeraldo Greengem and I am the son of Demetrius Richearth. And since yesterday afternoon I am a fearsome pirate. Well, not generally feared yet, but if intentions count for anything, I shall be very much feared soon. I warn you that I mean to make your boat mine. If you resist and try not to let me have it…I’ll uproot you at one tug!”

“Oh, gosh!” said the boy, trying not to laugh. “That will be if you can. That ship has been lying there for years and is probably partially rotten. It won’t be easy for you to extract it and refloat it. Don’t try to uproot me to do that, because that ship isn’t even mine. I will do what I can to release it peacefully. But it is…no, was. It belonged to some kids who drowned here. Or something like that. Be careful if you don’t want to drown too.”

“I’m a seahorse fairy. Don’t you see that I am as green as you are? Nothing like what you are suggesting will happen to me.”

“Ah. I am aware that you are green like I am, but I thought you might be the spirit of some plant. Of course, one plant does not pull out another…”

“But plants can push each other. Push each other aside, out of their ways. Don’t deny that! You plants aren’t as saintly as they say you are.”

And then another spirit appeared, also very young in appearance. This youth came swimming up to the reedbed.

“You! Are you Dionysus?” Esmeraldo asked the newcomer. He asked because the boy had clusters of dark grapes twined in his hair.

“Dionysos always wears grapes, and sometimes serpents in his hair. I wear the fruit of the day. Today, grapes. Tomorrow, figs. And it will be pears the day after tomorrow. My name is Carpos, and it means fruit. Now you can tell us apart. Why is my best friend speaking with a tiny fay child like you? You are practically a babe in diapers.”

“Don’t fool yourself. I’m a ferocious pirate. I’m telling your friend my plans for this boat.”

“A baby with plans. Look, if you promise to get yourself out of here, I will help you draw that boat away from the reeds. Because if you try to do it on your own, you will only give poor Calamus a headache.”

310. FUL U

310. FUL U

“So you want to be a naval architect?” little lizard fairy Azuline asked her brother Esmeraldo, the tiny seahorse sprite.

“A what?” 

“That’s what people who build boats are called. Naval architects. You have ever so many boats Daddy bought for you, but you say you want to build one yourself.”

“Right. A naval architect then. That’s what I want to be.”

Azuline consulted her crystal ball and said, “The person who can teach you the trade is a certain Professor Whackwave. He is head of the faculty of Naval Architecture and Marine Engineering at the University of Fulyu, known too as FUL U whatever that is, and he can grant you a master’s degree. Shall we go for it? Fulyu University is off our island. Maybe we shouldn’t go there.”

“I’m a go-getter. I’m going for it.”

“Well, I’m a go-protect-your-brother, so I’ll go with you.”

Now as anyone with a two fingers’ width of forehead can tell you, fairies don’t go to universities unless they are losing it and about to end up being darksiders. But Esmeraldo and Azuline, enterprising as they were, were not even  two years old, so they didn’t know much about the dark side and all it entailed. They only knew some bogey might eat you, that was all they had been told about it. And they only dreamt of the pride and joy of building one’s own ship their very selves. So they broke the rules for minors and left Apple Island on their own and went for the knowledge and the degree to Ful U, a place on the brink of an entrance to the underworld that was right between the devil and the deep blue sea.

“Now, where have you wise kids come from?”  yawned Tansy Mandrakecott. Our old acquaintance, the shady artist, was falsifying Turners before that deep blue sea. There was an excellent view of the ocean right before Ful U’s  shipyard, which was where the kids were now at.

“We are two of Demetrius Extraricus’s children.”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” exclaimed  Tansy softly, but impressed. “Then you are the grandcildren of AEternus Virbonus! And therefore there is no denying you entry.  Let them in your class  if you know what’s good for you, Whackwave.”

Professor Whackwave was a very tall man, tall as a professional surfer´s longed for wave. A veritable giant among fay darksider men he thought himself. Or so he liked folks to think he did. And he didn’t give a tinker’s cuss what was good for him. He was a combative fellow who thrived on quarrels, always wanting to see who would be left standing.

“You know those teachers everyone says are really good?” he asked Mandrakecott. “They’re nothing but sentimental crumbling cupcakes. A real teacher never teaches. He waits for you to learn by yourself.”

“I…see…,” drawled Tansy. “That could take forever, but, well...okay.”

“Tomorrow before dawn, at exactly a quarter past three a. m., when the night is darkest,  I will examine aspirants. Right there in that cave next to this shipyard,” said Whackwave grinning  cruelly at  the children.

“An entrance exam?” asked Tansy.

“Certainly not. A kick-you-out-of-here exam. If you know the trade, you get booted out of here with a piece of paper that says yes, you do. It certifies that. And if you don’t, you leave empty-handed.”

“Ah, I see,” said Tansy.

But Azuline saw too. Nothing to do with bullies, she thought. So she didn’t go register herself or Esmeraldo for the exam and didn’t spend a faypence on its fees. She did see enough to know that she didn’t like Whackwave and didn’t need the approval of a tormentor. So she took Esmeraldo by the hand and led him to her Aunt Mabel’s library at Gentle Manor.

“Aunt Mabel says there is nothing one can’t learn in the right  library,” she said to her brother. “We’re not playing Whackwave’s game and we are not entering his cave.He might eat us or something just as bad. I don’t like the way he looked at me. Or you. It wasn’t just supercilious, his look. It was sinister. If we have to do this on our own, we´ll do it on our truly own. We´ll start by seeing what information we have right here.”

The kids were in luck. Since Mabel’s father, the Memorion, was a sea fairy and lived in a boat, there was good material on naval architecture in the library. In half an hour of browsing, Azuline had piled up two dozen useful  books and discarded the three unintelligible ones there were there that were written  by Whackwave himself. But  Esmeraldo had nodded off while she was at it. When he awoke, he said he wasn’t reading all those books. If he couldn’t learn how to  be a naval architect in a practical way, he would be a pirate. That is what dealing with Whackwave had done to him. Turned him into a delinquent.

“First thing I’m going to do is I’m going off to steal a ship,” he said.

“Why? You own dozens of ships. Why would you need to steal one?”

“No self-respecting pirate marauds on a ship his daddy has given him for Christmas,” said Esmeraldo, and he left to look for trouble.

Azuline would have gone after him, but she figured she would be able to help him better if she read all the books she had gathered on naval architecture  first. So she stayed to read them, thinking Esmeraldo wouldn’t have time to get into a mess before she was done. She was not only a voracious reader. She was also a very fast one.   

309. Ghosts of the Old Manse

309. Ghosts of the Old Manse

I, Little Dolphus, the intellectual Leafy, have been asked about the ghosts that haunt Owlwood Manse. So I  went to visit the little cemetery there is on the grounds of that house. I went up to the wall that surrounds the manse and asked for permission to slip in through a crack and the wall wrote “Do so! Pass!” on itself and I did. The grass there was so tall I had to climb up a purple clematis vine wrapped round a rusty iron structure to see where I was. As if high on the crow’s nest of the mast of a ship, I looked around me and saw a swimming pool with light green water close to me, a log cabin to my right, hidden among large, leafy trees still at their youngest green, and then the old manse in the distance, and to its left, the cemetery plot I sought for. 

There was a breeze, and I took advantage of it, fluttering my wings and allowing it to carry me to where I wished to go, landing lightly on the mossy headstone of  a grave that belonged to a certain Juno. The cemetery was rife with little offerings that had been left there on the graves for ages and others that were new. They were gifts from grateful animals, such as a few acorns from squirrels and two or three cherries from birds who been attended by Lonefellow. Two little statues of angels there were, but mostly it was simple headstones, rounded or squared, that marked the graves. A cat and a dog rested before two of these, loyal, perhaps, to their once owners. There were fresh cut flowers, especially lilies and pansies, probably brought there by Tyrone and Felina,  and there were  flowers that were growing there beneath the late spring sun. Plenty of pink dog roses, white peace lilies, blue bacopa blooms, lavender zinnias and lavender itself grew there, once carefully planted, now wild.

I drew out the notebook where I jot down information and was about to write down the names on the headstones when Theophilus Shyboy, the boy who would have been heir to the manse, appeared leaning on one of the angels. His green-eyes  were squinting at the setting sun and his longish brown hair shook a little with the wind. There he stood, looking not a day over thirteen, and I wondered how long it had been since he had moved away from mortal life. He had reduced his size to match mine. My natural size, that is. So the stone angel looked like a giant behind him, instead of a dwarf at his knee.

“Which one is yours?” I asked, pointing at the graves.

“I haven’t got one,” he asnwered. “I’m supposed to have disappeared. I never got to die. I was saved at the last second. Turned into one of you. That’s what I am now. One of us.”

“Ah, yes, of course!” I said.

“People do tend to think I am a ghost. I’m not surprised you thought so. Why are you here? Not that I mind. I’m only curious, if I may be.”

“Of course I’ll give you an explanation. I’m on your property.”

I told him I had been asked who haunted Owlwood Manse and that I had thought browsing through the cemetery might give me an idea.

“They aren’t all here. At least not till December. Some show up at different times. Some do spend the summer here. My Uncle Longfellow and his wife Juno are here all year lately. They live in their part of the manse, just as they did when they were living. At first my uncle was very upset with my little brother Tyrone for having sold the manse, but that is over now, because Oberon has returned it to us. He’s a nice fellow, and a fair one most times. So he told Ty two limos can’t really pay for a bit of earth. Earth is far more valuable. Priceless, he said it was. He let Ty keep the limos when he returned the manse to him. He said Ty had been generous and he would be too. And he was. I was present when this happened.”

“Only Dr. Lonefellw and Miss Juno dwell here as ghosts?”

“I’ll start at the beginning. The Reverend Doubting Thomas Shyboy built this manse, as you may know. He retired here when he began to have doubts about the Bible after having read Darwin’s On the Origin of Species. Now he knows what it´s all about, he returned to the authentic old manse he once lived in and had abandoned to come to this one. His wife, Isabel Ruth, dwells back there with him. 

They do come here for Christmas. Their sons…they had two, Marius and Hermeticus. These two don’t look alike at all, but their character is similar. Both secretive and reserved. But they say hi when they see me, though not much else.  

Marius and his wife Melissa were much into gardening, and they still drop by about once a week and look after the orchard and the greenhouse here, but they don’t cut the grass because it would make their presence too obvious. But they talk to possible pests and dissuade them from visiting themselves on the grounds, and they water the place at night, surreptitiously, when needed.

Some nights you can hear music over at the Manse. It´s not fay music. It’s Hermeticus and his wife Lorna Pineaway. They drop by and play their old instruments. Now and again one hears his violin or her harp. This place is especially noisy at Christmas. Carols and all, you know.Ty and Felina are unaware of this because they visit her parents during the holiday season. 

Marius had a son, Tristan Edward. He married a mysterious lady who said her name wa Elaine Elfa right after the Second World War. She is very beautiful and a great cook. Both of them are great cooks. They opened a place called the Elfa Café in some city I forget, maybe in Paris. They come here and prepare the Christmas dinner and lunch, cluttering up the kitchen. But the result is wonderful. Of course, the ghosts only feed on memories of what they have eaten in life, unless one burns their food for them and they take in the essence with the smoke. But Elfa’s food helps them remember. I and any fay folk present eat to our fill and delight. They had no children that I know of, Eddy and Elfie. Hermeticus and Lorna had two sons. It took them a while, for they married late. He went to the West Indies to fetch her. One of their sons you are acquainted with.

Yes, the veterinarian Lonefellow Shyboy. His wife Juno was a very friendly, very funny and happy woman who died rather young. He never got over the loss. I think I said they are the only non-mortals ones who live here permanently, aside from me. They are happy again now. Together again. 

Lonefellow’s brother, Fred, was my father, and, of course, also Tyrone’s. Our mother was Alice. She kept bees and he was an insectologist, an expert in butterflies and ladybugs. They often spend the summer here. And we still have good honey because she sees to that yet. If there is anyone else haunting the place, well, I wouldn’t know." 

Theo seemed to have finished, but suddenly he added, "Ah, yes! Just the ghost Matheo, a kid who drowned in Lake Jittery and lives in that cabin there with his friends Dorotheo and Timotheo, two voluntary abductees, and fay now, almost as much as myself. We need a name for that. Changelings won’t do, because though of course they have suffered a change, that name is sort of reserved for exchangedlings, those mortals who were exchanged for bad fairies when they were babes. I let them live there, the other three Theos. They like life in the woods even more than I did. Do. I offered them rooms in the manse, but they prefer the cabin. I sleep in mine still. Up in what is almost an attic. I have that all to myself. I don’t make noise so as not to scare Felina. She looks like a ghost herself when she comes out here to play ball with the forest cats at midnight, but she doesn’t feel too comfortable among spectres. She makes Tyrone come out with her at night and she avoids this part of the manse at any time!" Theo pointed at the grave when he said that.  

 "The Theos do come over on Christmas Eve and Day too. By now you are probably aware that Christmas is the most ghost-active time of the year here at the manse.”

And then I got an invitation. Theophilus gave me a big smile and he added, “You can come have Christmas dinner with us, or lunch on Christmas Day, if you want to. And you can come wander all over this place whenever you wish. Leafies always have freedom of way here.”

And then he turned towards the graves and probably noticed the wee headstones on those of the pets, for he added, “Mustn’t forget the pets. Some live here all year. Others drop by with their former owners. That dog and that cat lounging on the graves are fay. I made them so. The dog is Barney, and he belonged to Uncle Lonefellow and I fayed him when Unk died, becaus he was distraught and beginning to look like a goner himself. And the cat is one of Felina’s, her eldest cat, and her name is Rebecca. She began to show wear at the age of twenty and I acted before she passed away.  The animals buried here, well they were Pinky Meow, a strawberry blonde cat that belonged to my mom, Alicia. Lulu was my mom’s black cat and Luna  was a grey cat that belonged to my Aunt Juno. Fluffy was her dog, Bitsy her fish and Itsy a mouse she adopted. Ralph was half-wolf, half-dog, Darling was a red fox. Tootsie was a snail and Pearl Uncle Eddy’s dog. I think that’s it.”                 

The sun had set and I looked up at the sky.

“There are a lot of angels hovering over the cemetery, aren’t there?” I said, looking up at the sky. “I can see them among the stars.”

“They’ve been picking flowers. About to wilt. Flowers can also be saved. The angels take them to the celestial gardens, where they bloom agan. There always are angels here. Because people said this was a sort of manse, I suppose. But you should see the sky on Christmas Eve. Do come over. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”  

"Don't leave me out. I´m a house cat ghost. Specially when it rains."

308. The Fifth Comb

308. The Fifth Comb

Rosendo opened the package that Teddy Theodore had delivered. He undid the cobalt blue ribbon round it and removed the golden paper. And what he had before him was a leather case with embossed reddish-pink roses and green leaves. Very pretty the case was.

“Shall we open it?” the great grandmother asked her great grandson. “Open it yourself, darling. You know it is for you.”

Rosendo zipped the case open. Within it were nine moonstone combs.

“Combs! And how lovely they are!”

“No, dear. Only one. Don’t be surprised. All the combs are for you. But the gift I am truly giving you is just one of these. The rest are there to camouflage the special comb. You are going to have to learn how to go unnoticed when you use it. Yes, one of these combs is special.But no one must be aware of this. Or they will want to steal it from you.”

 “Ah!” said Rosendo, studying the combs to see if one stood out.

“It is the fifth comb. It could have been the third. Three is a very magical number. Ot the seventh. Seven is the lucky number by excellence. But to go unnoticed, it is the fifth, A less notorious number.

“Ah!”

“Draw it out. The fifth comb. You must know how to distinguish it from the rest. You, yes.”

“By its size,” said Rosendo.

“When it is among the others, yes. Because all have different sizes. But when by itself, it won’t be that easy.”

“Here, in this corner, there seems to be a little blue face. “

“Well, that too. Listen, this comb is a genuine replica of the one I just used to put AEternus to sleep. He’ll wake up any minute now. Very relaxed at first, and if we are lucky, and he is too, he’ll take the little girls to pick flowers for their may baskets. But it is likely he will soon start to growl if someone reminds him of Brushland and the thieving bird and the inhabitted big wig.”

“Ah, the girls will tell him that! How the wig is infested with nests…”

 “Then we have no time to lose. I have to charge the comb. Where is there water? All that is needed to make the comb work its magic is a bit of local water. Whenever you have used it, you must wash it with local water and that’s that. Ready to work again.”

“There is a fountain right here,”said Rosendo, “but will this water do?”

“Yes, if ´tis blessed island water. Now we´ll know.”

The greatmother and her great grandson walked up to one of the many fountains there are all over the island, placed there so anyone who is thirsty or wishes to refresh himself can do so. The water that springs from these fountains is of the purest, musical and crystalline, with light blue reflections. Divina washed the fifth comb in such water.

“Enjoy me and my powers,” said the water, as it dropped tinkling like a silver bell. The water of the fountains of Apple Island can speak, or rather sing, with a heavenly voice, inviting you to use it well.

“Done,” said Divina, after havingthanked the water for its service. “No need to leave the comb under the light of the moon or any of that. With a little bath, we´ve enough. Now you can tranquilize anyone who allows himself to be combed. In your case, first to be calmed shall be Brushland.”

“Oh!” said Rosendo.

“Look, I am going to hand you a brochure with instructions on how to use the comb. Read it as quickly and thoroughly as you can, and try to interiorize all they say, because the brochure will destroy itself quite quickly. You understand that this gift I am giving you is very important and one must be very careful with it? It can knock anyone out.”

“Yes, Great Gran.”

The brochure Divina made appear said: Firstly, never raise suspicion. Wash after use. Wash all the combs at the same time whenever possible, if it doesn’t look odd. Thirdly, Massage the patient’s head before using the comb so that everyone will think the massage is what conks the patient out. Tell the patient he must keep his eyes shut while you massage his head so he can relax better. This should make observers fail to notice exactly when the patient conks out. Fourthly, pass the comb as soon as you are done massaging. It must look as if you are doing this so as not to leave the patient’s hair looking messy. As soon as the comb grazes the patient’s head, he or she will fall fast asleep. Pass the comb thrice through his locks and that will be enough to leave him slumbering for an hour. The more you use the comb on a patient, the longer he will remain asleep. The peace the patient shall feel when he wakes will last for seventy-two hours if he has slept for a whole hour. Unless someone makes him hysterical. But even thus, whatever he does, he will do with serenity and better judgement than usual. Lastly, do not use the comb  on just anyone. And don’t be stupid enough to try it on yourself. It is a  highly dangerous weapon you are being trusted with.

As for Brushland: Speak first with Henny Parry, the apothecary. He can be trusted. Between you both you should be able to convince the lunatic that he has to submit to a daily treatment if he wants to get rid of his mad ideas.Once convinced, and I hope he will be easily, tell him he must drop by Malvinio's beauty salon every day as soon as it opens. That is all the madman has to do, show up and put himself in your hands.Then you must massage his head to conceal what you are really doing. For five minutes or so. Then immediately pass the comb through his hair. The minute it grazes his head, he will conk out. This will look like the result of the massage. You comb Brushland a bit as if you don’t want him to have messy hair and then you wash the comb and keep it while he sleeps. Do this without raising suspicion. Be very natural.When Brushland wakes, even though the effect will last seventy two hours, remind him that this is a daily treatment and he must return the next morning. He’ll do this. He is desperate.

The brochure destroyed itself as soon as Rosendo had read it and said he had understood everything and knew what to do and would remember all the instructions. I, Little Dolphus, had read it too, so I could be of aid to Rosendo should he forget something. My memory is both photographic and infallible.

“One last bit of advice,” Great Gran Divina said to Rosendo. “It is possible that Brushland will want to move to the beauty parlour and live there to make sure he gets there at the appointed time every day. You must discuss this with Malvinio. No, I myself will. Yes, I myself and right now. Don’t worry about this detail. I will make it my business to convince Malvinio.”

 

307. The Theos

307. The Theos

“Listen to me carefully, Rosendo, dear. I am about to give you a gift, but you must promise to defend it. On no account must it fall into the wrong hands.”

“I’ll do what I can, Great Gran,” said the little hairdresser to the Lady Divina.

“Now, I’ve called the Theos. And they should be here any minute with it.”

Divina had barely spoken when a smiling  young man, probably in his late teens, popped up in front of this lady and her great grandson.

“Madam!” he sang, and handed her a small, rectangular package wrapped in gold paper tied up with a cobalt blue ribbon.

“That will be all, Theodore,” said Divina, smiling too. And the man disappeared.

“Now, you well know that in this island we try to be truly blessed. Good climate, good food, good homes and best of all good manners and even better intentions. And you are probably also aware that out there things are very different. Not everyone can live here. You have to be good to live here, but even that has its degrees. Last December at the St. Lucy’s Christmas bazaar you met your great aunt Dadivosa and her husband Generoso, the couple who organize this sale. They are good people, very good. But they can’t live here. They are so good they feel an irresistible need  to live outside.  They had a house here. In fact, they were given three here. One after the other. Because they were good, they received houses, and because they were too good they gave them to people who couldn’t live in them. Well, the Theos could and are still living in one. Dadivosa and Generoso brought a number of people to the island who eventually had to be invited to leave or who left it in disgust because they thought they could do better outside. But we put up with the Theos because they were harmless. Are you asking yourself who the Theos are?”

“Yes,” said Rosendo.

“Once they received their third house, Divina and Generoso understood that they themselves couldn’t live here. The people they had ceded their first two houses to not only destroyed the houses but also thought they weren’t good enough for them. You see, Generoso and Divina’s  ideal home is far from being the kind of home bad people want. Not everyone appreciates poverty and misery like the generous couple do. Do you know what a Protestant is?”

Rosendo shook his head.

“Protestants are mortals some of which have an idea called the work ethic. They think mortals who don’t work and try to get ahead in life can’t get to one of those heavens mortal people can get to. Other people think the poorer and the more miserable you are, the more likely you are to go to mortal heaven. I don’t know why I am saying all this. The bad people who wanted more weren’t Protestants, only stupid beings who wanted more for free. That must have something to do with it. Generoso and Dadivosa aren’t selective. They help anyone they run into, good or bad. I wonder if they can tell the difference? In any case, there are also groups of people who think mortals can only get to a mortal heaven if they are poor and miserable, but let’s not get into that. All you need to know just now to understand me is that to live in this blessed isle you needn’t be awesomely poor or awsomely rich. All you need to be is a good neighbour. That’s why we are called the good neighbours. That’s your family name you know. Or did you think it was Richearth? That is also a name of yours, because of your daddy. But your great granddaddy is Mr. Goodfellow, because he is a good neighbour. And you are a Goodfellow, and goodfellows are good neighbours. So be good.”

Rosendo nodded.

“So the generous couple said to us, `Look, we  know we are upsetting things here and we are failing you and we know we have to go.´ So what we did is we gave Generoso and Dadivosa an ideal home in Minced Forest, next to that of Death’s Coachman. There is a kid there who has an exiled ideal home there too. A colossal one. Only he took it to some island. Not ours. Do you know who Death’s Coachman  is?”

“No,” said Rosendo.

“He is someone who prefers to live closer to where he does his job. And you don’t know about him because we have no use for him here. His place is among mortals.”

“Oh!” said Rosendo.

“Are you still asking yourself who the Theos are? Or have you forgotten all about them by now?”

“Yes,” said Rosendo.

“I hope that yes means you do remember we are talking about the Theos.Well, Generoso and Dadivosa live next to Minced Forest where they can help mortals and bad fairies. I don’t mean they help bad fairies do their bad stuff, though sometimes the good they try to do backfires. Most truly bad fairies don’t want to be anywhere near Generoso and Dadivosa. They are so good they give bad fairies the creeps. But fairies who are confused or mentally unstable sometimes allow themselves to be helped. So do good mortals. Aren’t you going to ask me who the Theos are?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do so, dear. So I can get on with our business.”

“Who are the Theos, Great Gran?”

“When Generoso and Dadivosa left the island, they gave their third house, a local ideal home, to five mortals who were about to drown in Peevish Pond. Actually, two of them did. Maybe three. Are you going to ask me if that is the same place as Lake Jittery?”

“Is it, Great Gran?”

Rosendo had never heard of either Peevish Pond or Lake Jittery.

“It is. It’s not a big lake, but sunlight never reaches the bottom of it. So it’s not a small pond either. There should be a name for that, shouldn’t there? For something between a lake and a pond?”

“I see,” said Rosendo.

“No, dear. You don’t see. Because sunlight never reaches the bottom of it, like I said. And even those of us blessed with great vision in the dark have never seen the bottom of this place, though mostly because we would rather not. How about you? Would you like to know what there is down there?”

“Not personally,” said Rosendo, with some difficulty. He hoped to express himself right and did. “But if you can tell me what there is there, yes, I would like to know.”

“Well, I don’t know personally either. Never been near the place. But I do know there are a number of ghosts there. Deep, but not wide, that’s Peevish Pond or Lake Jittery. So the ghosts are a little crowded there. Some are not the kind to seek company, quite the opposite. Loners of the woods type of ghosts. So it would have been a bad place for the Theos to live in. Many and boisterous Theos. Which is why your Great Uncle Generoso and your Great Aunt Dadivosa pulled the Theos out of there before they were all properly drowned.”

“The Theos are ghosts?”

“Not all of them. Two of them were  undisputably drowned. One didn’t want to live if the others were drowned. Another didn’t want to live if the third didn’t live. And the remaining one decided he might as well not live either.”

“There are five Theos?”

“Your questions are getting smarter and smarter,” beamed Divina on her great grandson. “But there are six Theos, though the sixth, who is really the first, isn’t related to the other  five. Though in truth, none of them are related. You’re going to say you don’t understand what I am talking about, aren’t you?”

“Is it like a riddle?”

“No. It´s my way of saying things. It annoys a lot of people. My way of saying things. But that’s how it is. I know! I will draw the information for you. Illustrations. That should help.”

And Divina made an artist’s block of paper appear out of nowhere, and some felt pens in seven colours appeared too. And all this stuff stood stiff in the air as she drew her version of the Tale of the Six Theos.

“This is a rowboat. Now we put people in it. More than should be there. This fellow is Theodore. We’ll call him Ted if we remember to. He’s rowing. So is Theona. They are in love, but this isn’t a tunnel of love, though the boat is a two-seater, but they don’t know that. That it is for two only. Oh my! How do I draw that they don’t know that? I have to make them look ignorant? Do they look ignorant to you?”

“Ignorant,” nodded Rosendo, after peering at the picture and studying it attentively.

“Good. As I was saying, this is no tunnel of love. It’s Lake Jittery. Look, here’s a lot of  green slime and frowning water. And one of the kids on the boat starts to get jittery. Oh, I haven’t drawn the kids yet, have I? Theona is their babysitter and she thought it would be fun to go camping. Neither she nor Ted had ever been camping before. Like I said, ignorant. Does it show here they have no idea what they are doing? Of course, there is always a first time for everything, but you always have to have a bit more than no idea about what you are doing if you are going to do something. Does it show they haven’t? Any idea? Look, I will draw Theona clutching one kid with an arm and another with her leg. Because she’s trying to row with her other hand. That should prove she doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into. You see, there’s a third kid. I’ll draw him and he’s the one that gets most jittery. Okay, now I will draw this kid in the water. His name is Matheo. Did I tell you that before? No? Well I have now. So now Pond Peevish is peeved because there’s this kid sinking to the bottom invading its waters. No one knows where the bottom of this place is, I remember having said that before, but the way to get there is going down. So down goes Matheo. I will draw him five or six times sinking so you can see he is sinking lower and lower. You get the general idea, don’t you? Now Theodore, that is Ted, can’t stand hearing Theona scream hysterically, so he jumps into the water to try to draw Matheo out, but there are creatures in the water that don’t like his being there either and they drag him down too. They should have kicked him up if they wanted him out, but I think they don't know how to do that. Only grab you and hassle you to show discontent. And he can’t even see where Matheo is. I´ll cover all this up so you can see how dark it is on the  way down there. Block it all out. Or is it black it? Now Theona jumps into the water too, because her boyfriend isn’t coming out. She tells the kids to stay put before she jumps. I’ll draw her screaming `Stay put!’ as she jumps. But Timotheo has jumped into the pond before she has finished yelling. He is very much an empath, but I don’t see how I can draw here that he always is. Just that he got excited and jumped. Now two good fairies, also empaths, see what is happening and they come round flying – see their wings – and they pull out the babysitter and the Timotheo kid. But the girl says she doesn’t want to live without her lover and Timotheo doesn’t say anything because he is coughing out water like a faucet full of air when it hasn’t been opened in a while. I will draw the noises here. So the good fairies plunge again into the water and draw out Theodore and Matheo who are unfortunately now confused ghosts, though they are hardly aware of it yet. So they don’t know whether to cough or not. It might no longer be necessary. Between us, it isn’t, we know they are dead. It´s not easy to grasp and draw a ghost out of water. It´s not easy to get hold of them at all, but I suppose you know because you have a brother and a sister who drowned too, though you weren’t there to rescue them, but it’s not your fault because you couldn't possibly have been, so don’t fuss over that. Promise me you won´t!”

“I promise,” said Rosendo.

“Good, because then I needn't console you and can get back to the Theos. Generoso and Dadivosa – did I say they were the good fairies? No, I don’t remember saying that, but they were and I say it now, are arguing with the girl who doesn’t want to live now that her boyfriend is a ghost and she has to explain what happened to Matheo to his parents. Now there is a fairy law that you ought to know. Have you been taught it? If you haven’t been born knowing it, you should have been taught it. Mortals see you, you disappear as fast as you can. You speak with mortals, you have to abduct them. So Generoso and Dadivosa say to Theona that she needn’t drown, they will abduct her and Theodore and Matheo too can tag along and be all together forever because ghosts and fairies are spirits and can mingle. The generous couple will also have to abduct the other two kids, because they are witnesses, but they can return them in a while though it’s not a good idea because time will have passed and they might be so old they might collapse turning into a heap of ashes when back in the mortal world. The dry kid says he would rather stay with his chums anyway. So Generosa takes hold of the hand of the  dry kid. See, this kid she is holding is dry. I haven’t drawn him all wet, because he wasn’t. He never went into the water like the other two kids did. But when Generosa tries to get hold of  the kid that nearly drowned and was awfully wet, the one that coughed like crazy, well, he isn’t anywhere to be found. Do you want to know why? Of course you do! I don’t know why I waste time asking. Because he fell back into the water, and Generosa is about to go for him when who should show up hauling the kid that coughed up water, coughing again for all he is worth, but…Can you guess it?”

“Water sprites?” asked Rosendo.

“NO! Count on your fingers, dear. How many Theos are there?”

“Two ghosts and three abductees.”

That was all Rosendo could count so far. 

“The sixth Theo! Remember how I said there was a Theo that had nothing to do with the others? Let me draw him here. That’s what he looks like. Yes, this is exactly what Theophilus Shyboy looks like.”

“Theo!” I, Little Dolphus, the intellectual Leafy cried. I was listening to all that was being said because Leafies are allowed to do that. That’s how discreet we are. We never report anything we overhear unless we want to. And we very rarely do.

“Tell Rosendo who Theophilus is,” smiled Divina. “I’m rather tired of talking.”

“Theo was and is from a family of Parafairies. He lived with his folks in Minced Forest, in a house there called Owlwood Manse. His family still lives there, all ghosts now, save his younger brother, a fellow called Tyrone and his wife, Felina of the Forest Cats. Theophilus lives in a cabin on the grounds with other kids.”

“With Matheo, Timotheo and Dorotheo. Dorotheo is the dry kid, I forgot to say that was his name. Generoso and Dadivosa took the five Theos to their third home in Apple Island, but the kids made friends with Theophilus and preferred to live with him in his cabin.”

“Theophilus is a ghost or an abductee?”

“It isn’t clear,” I said.

“Ah, whatever he is, he’s a lovely boy,” said Divina. “The water sprites he was close to turned him into one of us when he was almost dead. They were able to save him because they got to him when he was breathing his last. The three kids who were involved in the Lake Jittery tragedy live in the cabin. Theophilus gave them a roof. They do nothing but enjoy nature there. The babysitter and her boyfriend live here, on the island. In the third ideal home we gave the generous couple and they gave the Theos. In mortal life, he worked in a factory and manufactured all sorts of products. He still does that, though not to live. Just to entertain himself.”

“Theodore?” Rosendo had understood by then he was expected to ask questions.

“Teddy, yes. And Theone. They live here. Do you want to know what is in the box he brought to us?”

Rosendo nodded.

“If I may ask.”

“A replica.”