Mally the Maker and the Queen in the Quilt

by Leah Day

  Patch’s paws were just feet away, stretched out to pluck her off the landscape when a shrill whistle sounded. Something smashed against Mally’s head and she pitched forward. Patch tried to catch her but missed. He swerved to the side and crashed into Sunshine. Their wings tangled together and suddenly the bird’s light was blotted out.

  Mally landed hard on her hands and knees and cried out in pain. Her head felt like it had been split in two. Another whistle sounded and a glowing red rope punched the air just inches from her face. She watched the braided cord pull back slowly into a snarl standing thirty feet below. For some reason the monsters weren’t using the woven ropes as legs. Instead they were lashing out with the cords, the frayed ends alive with hundreds of wiggling threads.

  She scrambled away blindly on her hands and knees. She didn’t register the feeling of soft yarn grass under her fingers until it was too late. Without warning, her hands sank into empty space. A trap!

  She grabbed for the edge of the quilt, but missed. Mally screamed as her body tumbled into the pitch-black pit. Air thundered in her ears as she fell down, down, down.

  “Mally! What’s going on?” Ms. Bunny shouted.

  “Trap.” Mally could barely speak. “We’re falling.” She looked up to see the wrong side of the quilt racing away. It looked like a night sky filled with glowing red stars. Then she realized all the red dots were the rips in the landscape, illuminated by the attacking snarls. The gap she’d fallen through was growing smaller and smaller in the distance. She closed her eyes against the rush of wind and darkness, wishing it would stop.

  Her wish was granted.

  A whistle sounded, and pain shot from her ankles to wrists as she was wrenched out of free fall. The bookbag slipped down her arms and she scrambled to catch the straps just in time.

  Hugging the bag to her chest, Mally curled up to find a luminescent rope twisting around her ankles, binding her feet together tightly. Up, up, up went the cord to a glowing hole in the distance. Like a fisherman reeling in a fish, the rope gave a violent yank and she was pulled up a few feet. Blood rushed to her head and she struggled not to be sick.

  “Mally! Mally! Mally! Are you okay?” Sunshine was calling down to her from the hole in the quilt. The rope gave another yank and Mally could see the silhouette of the little bird fluttering in the air.

  Mally couldn’t answer. She felt like she’d left her voice in the fall. Each painful yank of the rope brought her closer to Quilst, but every second gave the fiber more time to weave itself into her jeans.

  With a sharp tug, Mally’s legs disappeared upward through the gap in the fabric. She cried out as the angle wrenched her hips in an unnatural direction. Something soft and strong wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her straight up through the rip in the quilt. Mally blinked, her eyes dazzled by Sunshine’s light and found herself cradled in Patch’s massive paws. She rolled to her side, and for a blissful three seconds she pressed her face to the yarn grass and gasped in relief.

  Then the rope pulled again.

  Mally screamed as she slid down the hill on her back, headed straight for a snarl bigger than Grandma’s house. Hugging the bookbag to her chest, she twisted and kicked, trying to break free. But she was no match for the strength of thousands of threads pulling her inexorably into the twisting ball of fiber.

  A whistle sounded and two more ropes shot out, aiming for Patch and Sunshine at her back. No! No! No! She tried to turn around to see what was happening, but the rope gave another vicious yank and she slid another ten feet down the hill. The distance between her and the snarl was shrinking fast.

  The bookbag in Mally’s arms suddenly burst open. Ms. Bunny raced down her bound legs, the pencil sharpener blade clutched in her paw. Balancing precariously on Mally’s feet, she slashed at the snarl’s rope. Threads split and frayed, unable to attack once they’d been cut.

  “Cat! Get her out of here!” Ms. Bunny yelled.

  “Ms. Bunny! No!” Mally cried, but it was too late. The three snarls advanced, their movement reverberating through the hillside. Mally’s vision filled with broken red threads as the largest ball rolled up to meet them.

  Sunshine flashed past and Mally could just make out her high-pitched voice calling, “I’ll create a distraction! Snarlies! Over here, snarlies!” She fluttered around the monsters, and surprisingly they stopped. Dozens of ropes shot out, but she banked and dived, easily dodging the grasping threads.

  Something caught Mally under her arms and she twisted against the new attack, but it was only Patch. “I’ve got you, little Maker! Hang on!” The cat had expanded in size to be so large his paws could easily wrap around her body twice. His massive wings beat against the ground, lifting her easily into the air.

  The snarl yanked against the rope still binding her feet together and Mally cried out in pain. It was like being in the middle of a monster game of tug-of-war. The bookbag slipped out of her grasp as she clutched Patch’s paws.

  “Almost there!” Ms. Bunny shouted. She’d shifted position so she was balanced precariously on the attacking rope. Her skinny arms were a blur of movement as she sawed through the cord with the tiny blade. “Be ready, cat!”

  Mally gasped as she caught sight of the doll’s legs. Glowing red threads were weaving through Ms. Bunny’s brown fabric and the hem of her pink dress.

  “Ms. Bunny! It’s stitching you!” Mally strained against Patch’s hold, stretching out her hands to reach her friend. “Grab my hand! It’s going to trap you!”

  But it was too late.

  Ms. Bunny’s paw swung down one last time, slicing through the threads binding Mally’s feet together. Instantly the pressure pulling against her legs released. The rope fell away.

  Time slowed as Mally reached for her friend. Just one more inch and she’d have hold of her paw. Her fingertips brushed the soft brown fabric, but she couldn’t get a firm grip.

  Their eyes met, and Ms. Bunny smiled.

  For a second, she was just the pretty doll Mally had been given for Christmas when she was four years old. Then she whispered just loud enough for Mally to hear:

  “Go home, Mally. Be safe.”

  With a mighty yank, Patch lifted her high into the air. Ms. Bunny’s paw slipped out of her grasp. Mally screamed as the doll toppled to the ground, “No! BUNNY! NO!”

  The landscape sped away below Mally’s feet and she twisted around quickly to keep Ms. Bunny in sight. A flash of silver flew through the air.

  “She’s lost the blade! She can’t cut herself free!”

  Mally watched in horror as the little doll tried to rise to her feet only to be instantly jerked down by the snarl’s rope. Her pink dress tangled around her legs and Ms. Bunny fought to free herself as the cord pulled again. It was reeling her in.

  “Go back! Go back! We have to help her!” Mally beat her fists against Patch’s grip. Tears poured down her face as she fought to break free. “I can’t leave her!”

  “It’s too late, little Maker. I’m sorry,” The cat’s voice cracked and his wings faltered as the distance between Ms. Bunny and the snarl shrank rapidly. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “I’ll save her! I’ll save her! I’ve got this!” Sunshine called, speeding across the landscape like a bullet. The bright bird reached Ms. Bunny, but the ball of broken threads was right on top of them. Sunshine hovered, her light illuminating the most horrible scene Mally could ever imagine.

  CRACK! The monster split itself in half with a sound like a gun shot. Fibers ripped cleanly down the middle, revealing a dark void in the very center. Mally gagged as the overwhelming scent of cloves filled her nostrils.

  Sunshine had caught hold of Ms. Bunny’s arms, but with no way to cut the binding ropes, she was powerless to break the snarl’s hold.

  “They’re being pulled inside! We have to do something!”

  “There is NOTHING we can do!
” Patch roared. “IT’S OVER! Once they split, it’s DONE!” With a sweep of his wings, he turned away from the field.

  “No! Please, Patch!” Mally shoved against his paws, twisting half out of his grip so she could keep her eyes on her friends. Her last sight was Sunshine wrapping her wings around Ms. Bunny in a tight hug.

  BOOM! The two halves of the snarl slammed together.

  Sunshine’s light went out.

  Mally stared at the spot where her friends had been. All she could see was the red glow of the snarl in a sea of inky darkness. Dimly she was aware of a blast of air and noise rushing past, but it all seemed very far away. She kept her eyes fixed on the monster below. It was rolling away through the trees.

  Mally leaned out as far as she could over Patch’s paws. If she could just keep watch, if she never lost sight of them, then everything would be okay. I can still save her, Mally thought.

  Then the glowing red ball disappeared.

  Mally pressed her face against Patch’s paws and sobbed.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry, little Maker. There was nothing we could do,” Patch said, softly. He’d shifted to hold her with all four paws so it almost felt like she was sleeping in her soft bed at home. Except at home, she’d always had Ms. Bunny to comfort her. Her arms were empty and no matter how tightly she hugged herself, it couldn’t erase the empty space the little doll usually filled.

  Mally had cried herself out and now felt drained and empty. Dully she watched the Open Door growing bigger in the distance without really registering what it meant. Nothing mattered now. Nothing would ever be the same.

  I’ve lost her. It was all my fault, she thought. I couldn’t find Grandma and now I’ve lost my best friend too.

  Mally glanced down at the vast expanse of emptiness stretching out below. Quilst had been so beautiful the first day she’d seen it. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the lush green landscape, but she couldn’t see it. Her mind was filled with images of Ms. Bunny falling and Sunshine’s light blinking out. It was all lost.

  She rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to block out the memory. She scanned the landscape again, searching for the red light of the snarl carrying her friends.

  But they might as well have been flying underground. The only light in the quilt came from the Open Door ahead. There it was in the distance, a green door frame perched on top of a tall checkerboard pillar.

  But… wait. There was something new. Mally’s eyes caught on a strange reddish glow in the distance. One of the triangular mountain peaks was suddenly visible, silhouetted clearly against the dark sky.

  “What is that?” she croaked. Her throat was raw from crying.

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Patch beat his wings faster and they picked up speed.

  Something about the shape was strange. Mally leaned out of Patch’s paws, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The mountain was no longer a perfect triangle. The top was missing, and as she watched, more of the shape disappeared before her eyes.

  Where is it going? she wondered. A faint movement caught her eye and she squinted. Great chunks of fabric and thread were spinning in the sky. A sudden wind whipped her hair across her face. She raked it back with her fingers in time to see an ominous funnel shape forming over the mountain.

  Tornado.

  She’d seen pictures and movies about the cyclones, but nothing could prepare her for the sight. A swirling cloud of broken cloth and fiber churned below. Red and orange threads, obviously more remains of the sun gleamed from the center of the vortex, clearly outlining it against the dark sky.

  The air changed, pulling hard against her skin as the whirling sound of a train engine filled her ears. Mally coughed. She pressed her hands over her mouth. Stray bits of fiber and thread buffeted through the air. Everything in the landscape was being sucked into the unnatural disaster.

  Terror clawed up her throat. “She’s coming for us!” Mally screamed. She clung to Patch as the tornado expanded until it was all she could see. She ducked her head down, burying herself in his paws.

  Patch faltered, his wings struggling against the gale. They suddenly plunged out of the sky at a sickening speed. Patch’s paws squeezed her body tight as his wings strained to counter the tornado’s pull.

  “Almost. There,” Patch panted. “Get ready!”

  They landed much sooner than she expected. Patch’s paws hit the ground hard and Mally tumbled out of his grip. She rolled, scrambling for purchase on the soft fabric. She could just make out a black and white checkerboard pattern rushing past her hands, then without warning her legs slipped off a sharp corner and dangled in empty air.

  “Patch! Help me!” Mally shrieked.

  She just managed to catch a ripped seam between the fabrics and clung on with both hands. The Open Door stood just a few feet away, the green frame rising from the middle of the patchwork platform.

  Mally glanced down and immediately regretted it. The flat surface she was clinging to formed a square box on the landscape and at least one hundred feet separated her from the ground below. The smooth sides offered no hand holds, nothing to hang onto if she fell. She kicked against the sides of the platform, the muscles in her arms screaming as she struggled to pull herself up.

  RRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP! The seam she was clutching began to split apart one stitch at a time. Her stomach lurched as she dropped several inches, most of her body now dangling over the edge.

  Orange fabric flashed and suddenly she was lifted into the air and slammed onto the checkerboard. Patch gripped her back with a massive paw, shielding her from the tornado.

  “You’re not going to win this time, witch!” He roared, picking her up again and tossing her at the Open Door. Mally caught the door frame and felt the familiar tug in her stomach with relief. It would take her home.

  A furious shriek filled the air. On and on it went, rising in volume and pitch. Menda. Menda was coming.

  Mally gripped the door frame and turned back for Patch. He was crouched low on the platform, all his claws sunk deep into the fabric. “Shrink, Patch! You have to shrink or you won’t fit!”

  “Just go! Get out of here, little Maker!”

  “NO! Not without YOU!” Mally glared, refusing to budge.

  The wind picked up speed and her ears popped painfully. The door frame rippled and the light shining from inside flickered out for a second, then back on. Mally felt the tug at her back lessen.

  “You have to come with me! Please, Patch She’s going to destroy it all!”

  “FINE!” the cat roared. He sprang for the door, shrinking to the size of a tabby cat in seconds.

  The last thing Mally saw was the black and white pieces of the checkerboard block lifting into the air. Then Patch slammed into her chest and together they fell out of Quilst in a swirl of light and sound.

  Chapter 8 - Hardest thing You’ve Ever Done

  Mally could tell they had left Quilst by the silence that suddenly rang in her ears.

  She opened her eyes and found she was back in Grandma’s sewing room, both her arms wrapped tightly around Patch. Sunlight filtered through the windows, and she breathed in the familiar smell of cloves and lemon in the room. It was a light scent, nothing like the overwhelming stench Menda’s monsters carried.

  But it still reminded her of them nonetheless. Tears pricked in her eyes as she remembered the look on Ms. Bunny’s sweet face as she fell. Guilt and anger twisted in her stomach as she relived the scene again. If only I’d gripped her paw better, she thought. If only I’d listened and never stepped into that field in the first place. She hugged the cat hard, trying to pull herself out of the memory.

  “We made it home, Patch. We’re okay.”

  But then she registered the strange firmness of his body and looked down. Patch was no longer a slinky, shape-changing, snarky cat. He was a stuffed patchwork do
ll.

  She gasped and dropped him. He made a soft thump as he landed flat on his face on the floor. She immediately scooped him up and apologized.

  “I’m sorry, Patch. I had no idea this would happen,” Mally whispered. She didn’t think her friend would enjoy this experience. In fact, she could imagine exactly what he was saying right now.

  “Thank you, little Maker, I always wanted to have my free will, movement, and speech taken away in one fell swoop.”

  “Well, you’d be an orange streak in the side of that tornado if I hadn’t brought you with me,” Mally replied, just as if she’d really heard Patch speak. She checked herself, staring at his motionless face. Had he just spoken or not?

  “Can you hear me?” she asked.

  “Of course. I didn’t lose my ears in the process of becoming completely immobile, did I?”

  It was so strange. Patch wasn’t moving his mouth and was in every way the stuffed doll he looked, but Mally could hear his words in her head just exactly as if he’d spoken out loud.

  Something about the expression stitched on Patch’s face made Mally glance at the quilt on the cutting table. The entire right edge was a swirling mass of frayed threads. It looked like a rat had started building a nest on top of the Open Door block. She shuddered in revulsion.

  As she watched, the area seemed to thicken, with more broken threads churning on the surface. Mally moved without thinking and grabbed the rotary cutter from the cup on Grandma’s table. She didn’t wait to consider or even set Patch down. She clicked the blade open and pressed it against the quilt.

  She sliced along the edge of the tangled mass of threads, severing the destructive tornado from the rest of Quilst. She clicked the cutter closed and set it back in its cup and spread the two pieces of the quilt apart. Then for good measure, she slid the torn and tangled piece off the edge of the cutting table. Better safe than sorry. She hugged Patch to her chest and stared down at what remained of the landscape quilt.