How To Find Your Way in Minced Forest

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Friday, 14 April 2023

240. Nearly West

240.  Nearly West

When I told Uncle Rich I simply couldn’t stop to have some mint julep, Alpin did not excuse himself too. I suspected it was not his love of this drink that made him want to go to Uncle Rich’s plantation instead of following me to wherever I went to make my life impossible.  Most likely he wanted to know what his brother-in-law would do with the Dire Paste the man had so thoughtfully bought from the Pestles. So for once, instead of being delighted because I could be rid of Alpin’s difficult company for a while, I forced him to tag along with me with the threat of revealing his intentions to his sister Branna. Then I called my sister Heather with my crystal ball because she is the person who knows the most about each and every one of the members of our family and asked her where exactly did Uncle Evenfall live.  Just as I thought she would, she  was able to answer my question.

“Go nearly west,” Heather said, “but not all the way there. When you have almost reached the west, you´ll see a pile of ruins. They are what’s left of Uncle Evenfall’s home.  Uncle Brightfire’s first  workshop was in that house. When Uncle Brightfire left his parents home to live on his own, nobody knew what kind of an ideal home to build for  him. Finally, they thought of designing one that was more like a furnace than a house, but they didn’t know where to put it, because nobody wanted Fi for a neighbour. When in his teens, he was not very good at controlling his gift of fire, and he often singed people that came near him or burnt to cinders objects  that he barely grazed. Gen had disappeared by then and couldn’t be of help to Brightfire. Rich was terrified of his fiery brother and necessarily wanted him out of his way.  Wildgale only made Brightfire’s problem worst half of the time. When he didn’t blow Fi’s fugitive fire out, he would augment and spread it involuntarily. Evenfall took pity on Fi and allowed him to live in his house and encouraged him to learn how to work metals and turn them into all sorts of useful things. Brightfire practiced at Uncle Evenfall’s place and eventually  learned to control his fire and became both a black and a white smith, the best  in Apple Island and maybe in all fairyland. But there was an accident one day and Uncle Evenfall’s house was burnt to the ground, and its ruins are the ruins you will find when you seek his house. But  if you study these ruins, you will find an arch that still stands. Walk through that, and you will find yourself in the ghost of Uncle Evenfall’s house. All the rooms are there, and everything he had in his house too.”

“Uncle Evenfall lives in the ghost of his house?” I asked with surprise.

“That’s what I said,” replied Heather. “There are haunted houses, in which ghosts live. And there are ghost houses which spirits can live in as well as in any others. Inside and outside the ghost of Uncle Even’s house, you are sure to run into cats, most of them white. Don’t bother asking them where Uncle Evenfall is if you don’t find him home. They are all deaf. Remember how he would take us on hunts for deaf cats? Once he has cured them, he sets them free. There is however, one cat that you can speak to, for he’ll hear you out. This is Catgliostro. You know how Uncle Even has his armchair, the one he takes everywhere and often nods off in? Well this cat has a hassock he takes with him everywhere, or rather, the hassock takes him everywhere he goes when he goes anywhere. Catgliostro can almost always  be found in Uncle Even’s house, resting on his hassock. There is no mistaking him, and he will speak to you before you can say hi, because he will have seen you before you have seen him. He is an occultist cat, and very popular with old ladies who want the leaves in their teacups read, and also with teenagers who would have him read their palms and tell them their fortunes with a crystal ball or a deck of cards. Say hi from me to Uncle Even and Catgliostro, will you?”  

Following the sun, Alpin and Michael and I went nearly west, and when we got there, we did see some stones and some columns that seemed to have been part of the foundation of a house. There were also some strange trees, young and strangely twisted and or bent and blackish, with a few clusters of bright green needles.  These clusters made the trees  look like they were recovering from a disaster. We also saw a few white cats strolling about the ruins. And there was an arch, just like Heather had said.  And through the arch we saw the face of a white cat. Just its face, because the rest of the cat was inside the ghost house. And when we passed through the arch, so were we.

The house was exactly like we expected it to be, very late nineteenth century and crowded with objects of art, books, albums and records.

“I’m in my study,” called a drowsy voice, “second door to the left and straight ahead till sunset!”

And there was Uncle Evenfall, sitting in his armchair. Though it is an easy chair, it always seems to be a throne.

“Catgliostro says you are looking for a little girl. Brightfire’s youngest,” said Uncle Even. And he turned to a cat that was sitting on a hassock next to his chair and asked, “Isn’t that so, Catgliostro?”

This very large cat’s fur was lavender blue with  olive green stripes. The hassock he rested on had a lilac cushion and its legs were made of wood painted a bright indigo.

“Just call the Murkee,” said Catgliostro to Uncle Even. “Pleased to meet you in person, every one of you,” he nodded to us.

There was no need for us to be introduced, the cat was a very well informed oracle cat and he already knew who each of us was.

“We’ve already asked the Murkee,” I began to say, but Uncle Even cut me short.

“But I haven’t,” he said.

Uncle Evenfall took his crystal ball from a small round table next to his chair and the old man from the mound we had danced with appeared in it. Or rather, a lot of soil appeared and something stirred within it.

“Hello, this is the Dying Light,” said Uncle Even to the earth that had murked up his crystal ball. “What can you tell us about the missing Brightfire child, Terry?”

“How could I not tell my friend, the tender Dying Light, what I know? But I want something in exchange for my information,” answered the Murkee’s voice. “Not from you, Evenfall. The past moonless night I had a lot of fun dancing jigs and ballet with those two kids you have with you there. The next moonless night, I want the carrot-haired kid to teach me to dance the hula. It’s not yet in my repertoire, but I’ve always longed to learn.”

“WHY ME?” shouted Alpin indignantly.

“The other kid is a no good dancer. He held my arm as if he wanted to twist it.”

I was very happy to hear that. It meant I hadn’t hurt the old man at all.

“I have nothing to do with the Brightfire baby and no reason to help find her!” protested Alpin.

“He’ll do it, Ters,” said Uncle Evenfall, “so spill your beans.”

“The Brightfire pipsqueak has friends. And she went off to be with them. Her mum is such a harried woman, what with all those kids and her difficult husband that she never even noticed her kid had packed a bag with Hawaii or Bust! painted on it and was carrying it when she disappeared.”

“And her friends are Hawaiian?” asked Uncle Even.

“No, they are friends of yours too. Sort of. They are the Prickly Kids you watch over.”

I think I have said before that some fairies, when they are born, do not find parents and remain in the forests, beaches, lakes or other sites where they first appeared, dealing only with the local flora and fauna and becoming isolated from other fairies and their clans. These are called Mother Nature’s own children.  But there are other fairies who don’t like the people that offer to be  their parents and refuse to follow them to what would be their family home. These kids are very unfriendly and in truth want no kind of parents at all and  usually end up meeting other choosy, picky kids and they band up and live together in fields or caves. They are sometimes joined by kids who run away from home. They are known as prickly kids, because all they say when someone speaks to them is “Shoo! Go away! I hate you!”  They are likely to throw stones or rotten fruit at you, and they may bite and scratch if you get too close and people decide it is best to leave them to themselves and on their own they remain.

When I asked my Uncle Even what he had to do with prickly kids, he said Uncle Gen believed no child under seven should be on its own, but a group of Pricklies he found kind parents for hated him for this and refused to be accomodated in these nice homes. Gen was told in no uncertain terms to mind his own busines and he took to watching over the kids from a distance. When he had to disappear, Uncle Even promised Gen to keep an eye on these kids and help them if they got into trouble, which rarely happened, but it did now and again.

“There is a camp in a field in this island where prickly kids have always lived. When I promised to watch them, well, that was hundreds of years ago. The original Pricklies grew up and went their ways. But younger ones have always taken their place. There are a few now out there. They know who I am and they tolerate me, because I have never tried to control them. I don’t tell them what to do and I  tolerate their hostility. Not that I think well of it. You can be sure I don’t. And I tell them so, and they allow me to do that because from time to time I have helped them with problems they couldn’t solve on their own. ”

So the next thing to do was contact the Pricklies. This could not be done by crystal ball, because these kids didn’t own any, so Uncle Even got up from his chair and off we went to the field.

“There they are!” said Uncle Even, pointing at a field full of thistles directly below us. “I need to speak with you!” shouted Uncle Even towards the field, and a few heads shot up from among the brambles. “This is important. I’m searching for a missing child.”

The Pricklies must really respect Uncle Evenfall, for they actually spoke to him and gave us the information we needed. I had thought they would consider doing this squealing and would clam up, but no. They said some mortals had abandoned their pet rabbit in a mortal road  and there a Prickly found it, but not before it got itself wounded. Since the rabbit had belonged to the mortal world, it needed to have its wound healed before it could be turned into a fairy rabbit. A couple of Pricklies went to see the Pestles to buy a salve that could cure the rabit’s wound. There they had met Candle, who was flying from the Gentlerains’ garden to that of the Pestles chasing after a bluebird. They made friends, and, from that day on, she, while her mother was at work in Uncle Gen’s kitchen, would steal away to visit her friends.Candle became closely attached to an even younger child than she was. His name was Spikey, and he was much impressed by the way she could set fire to things. She told him all about her father’s forge, and other stories that had to do with fire, about firebirds and salamanders and volcanoes. He was specially fascinated with what she told him about the most spectacular fires she knew about,  the eruptions of volcanoes.  Spikey expressed a wish to see a volcano, and Candle, like the friendly fairy she was, decided to grant it to him. She promised she would take him to Hawaii to show him one. And that was what she had done.    

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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).