How To Find Your Way in Minced Forest

Write Preface in the search space below right to get to the Preface.To go to the table of contents, write table of contents in the search space below right. To read a chapter, write the number of the chapter in the search space. To read the tales in Fay Spanish, go to cuentosdelbosquetriturado.blogspot.com. Thank you.

Monday, 30 March 2020

133. The Source of the Scary Noise

To win for myself a magic pencil, I wandered all over Owl Wood Manse seeking for the mysterious source of the tiny but irritating noise that was scaring Ty Shyboy’s wife. 

I searched inside drawers and closets of bedrooms full of heavy velvet curtains and bed covers thick with dust. I checked row after row of books in the library and looked and touched behind them in case I should find a secret door. In a dining rooom for twenty I found not a crumb, but in the kitchen I saw the remains of pancakes sitting in solidified maple syrup  and next to them rock hard pieces of toast that had been part of Mr. Lonefellow’s last breakfast were still present. 

Nothing in the attic and nothing in the cellar. The only thing I had accomplished was to worsen my allergy thanks to all the dust.

               
But then, while I was searching the old stable turned garage and crowded storeroom and after one of my loudest sneezes,  a mellifluous male voice spoke out with a strong foreign accent.
  
Afiat bashe. Purity be bestowed upon you. May it be for your health.”

“Thanks,” I said out loud, “but who has wished me good health?”

“One whom you should now wish good health to in return. You must say salaamat bashi. It means good health to you too.”

“Well, salaamat bashi. Good health to you too. But who are you? I can’t see you.”

“I am the genie of the lamp you are leaning on,” said the voice. “If you rub it a little more strongly you will see me.”

“That’s as good as done,” I said.

                         

I rubbed the lamp with my sleeve and soon a cloud and then a genie came out of it. He was green-eyed and had curly black hair and was very young. He was dressed in bright, colurful clothes and the turban on his head had many patterns that were lovely to behold. 

 
                                         
“Hi, my new master,” he said. "Your wish is my command. What can I do for you?"


“I? Oh, no! I could never be anyone’s master. It wouldn’t be like me at all. I value independence. Besides, the lamp isn’t mine. It belongs to a married couple that is trying to get some sleep in the basement of the manse. They are plagued by a strange noise. A persistent little tapping. I’m not hearing it now, but perhaps you know the noise I mean. Who or what made it?”

“I, with my little hammer of gold,” he said, showing me a small hammer that did seem to be made of solid gold. “The lamp was deformed in an accident and I am restoring it. Don’t say the lamp isn’t yours, master. Just steal it! That’s what everyone does. I will shrink it back to its original size so you can stow it in your satchel. I like you and will be happy to serve you.”

“I don’t think the Shyboys will give you much trouble,” I said. “They aren’t ambitious. They had a golden chance to get rich when they sold this house and exchanged it for practically nothing.I think the most they will trouble you for is pizza or carry out Chinese food once in a while.”

“But I want to show my skills off! I want to build breathtaking palaces. Find incredible treasures. Carry off harems full of stunning women. Win bloody battles against invincible armies singlehanded! Make formidable enemies bite the dust!”

“I see,” I said. “I’m not much into fighting. And I’m too romantic not to want to be monogamous. But there is one thing you could do for me. I’ll steal the lamp for a few minutes to ask you where I can find some magic pencils I would treasure.”

Batish Afsoon smiled. He said he had already put three of those pencils in my satchel. One was my sister’s pencil. The other two were Ty’s. I said Ty had only promised me one and we would have to return the other. He was a graffiti artist and might not want to be left without at least one of these pencils. When I had all the other four, I would speak to him and maybe he would allow me to acquire the one he had left. 

“Forgive me for interrupting you, master,” said Batish Afsoon. “But I must ask you if you really want to mess up your life. These pencils are not worth the trouble. I feel I should warn you.”

“What is the trouble?” I said.

“The last two pencils I would have brought to you too, but you would have problems with those in whose power they are now. The fourth pencil, for instance, is in the hands of  an individual who is being instructed in the dark arts in a school in a cave by the Devil in person.”

“Oh!” I said. “The Devil, is it? Well, I don’t want to steal anything from him or anyone else. And I can understand your not wanting to have problems with him. But if it is someone else who owns the pencil, maybe I can bargain for it with that someone without involving the Devil. Where is the cave?” 

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About Me

My blogs are Michael Toora's Blog (dedicated to my pupils and anyone who wants to learn English and some Spanish), The Rosy Tree Blog (dedicated to RosE), Tales of a Minced Forest (dedicated to fairies and parafairies), Cuentos del Bosque Triturado (same as the former but in Fay Spanish), The Birthdaymython/El Cumplemitón (for the enjoyment of my great nieces and great nephews and of anyone who has a birthday) and Booknosey/Fisgalibros (for and with my once pupils).