*****
The Castle-O-Lantern
Tabby Caldon – who was never called Tabitha except by her teachers – made a final cut in her pumpkin and put down her knife just as her twin brother Tom came into the kitchen, whistling. He broke off to remark, “That’s a strange-looking Jack-o-Lantern.”
“That’s because it isn’t one,” said Tabby. “I wanted to do something different this year, so I made a castle-o-lantern instead.” She insert a fat white candle into the socket inside the pumpkin.
“Oh, I see – It’s got a gate, window slits, turrets...Yeah, I like it. Hey, how about giving the castle a ghost?” Tom dug into his pocket and pulled out a little plastic skeleton, which he plunked in beside the candle. “I’ve got a surprise, too. Uncle George gave me an animation spell to use on our decorations. Let’s try it on the castle-o-lantern.”
“All right; but watch out. Uncle George always throws in something extra as a joke.”
Tom took a bit of paper from another pocket and breathed hard on it. The paper dissolved into nothing, and suddenly the room seemed to tilt and swirl about them. A moment later they were standing staring up at a towering, slightly curved, orange wall that rose around and above a massive black door. A gentle breeze fluttered black and white banners at some of the windows, and brought the scents of mince pie and gingerbread to them.
“I guess this is the extra part,” said Tabby. “We didn’t just make the castle hold living beings; we’ve become part of the life here.”
Tom was sniffing the delicious odours. “Yum! Let’s pay a visit.” He walked up to the big door in the wall and rapped with the pumpkin-shaped knocker.
In a few moments a smaller door set in the large one was opened by a young woman who had ghost-white skin and orange hair, and who was wearing a bat-shaped headdress and a black gown with sparkling stars embroidered on it. She looked hurried and anxious, but smiled a little and said, “Hello. I’m Witch Willow. You’re from the halfway world, aren’t you? What are your names?”
Before the children could answer, another voice broke in. “Don’t trust them! They’re the ones who sent The Skeleton here! The bats saw them do it.”
A bevy of large cats, black, white, orange, tortoiseshell, and calico, surged defensively around Witch Willow, supporting their spokesman. “That’s right! They’re on the rats’ side!”
“Oh, dear!” said Willow. “Did you really send The Skeleton?”
“Uh,” said Tom. “I guess we did; but we didn’t mean any harm.”
“Can we do anything to help?” asked Tabby. “Maybe we can take the skeleton away again?”
“Do you think you could? You’d better come talk to Queen Alder.” Over the cats’ continued protests, Willow led the children through the halls and rooms of the castle.
“What did you mean about the halfway world?” Tabby asked as they hurried along.
“This world’s wholly magic. There’s another where there’s no magic at all. Yours is in between.”
Before they could ask more questions, they entered a room furnished as a study. In a chair by the fireplace sat a beautiful, matronly woman with white hair and black skin, wearing a silver crescent-moon headdress and an orange dress. She looked frail and careworn.
There were several other witches in the room, all in assorted combinations of orange and black and white. Small, silky-furred bats with cute, foxy-looking faces kept flying in, reporting in their high, thin voices, which only the cats and the witches could understand. The witches bent over a big table marking positions on a chart that showed the castle and its grounds. Cats sat on the table, advising the witches where to station the feline troops to meet the attack that was coming. The witches approved the choices, and the bats rushed out again, carrying the orders.
“There must be a whole army of rats,” Tom said.
Tammy shuddered. “And we’re stuck here.”
The witch queen looked at the newcomers. “Willow, the cats say you’ve let rat-helpers in. Why? Who are they?”
Willow gave a quick bow. “Halfwayers, Your Majesty.”
The children imitated Willow’s bow, and Tabby said, “We’re Tom and Tabby Caldon. We want to help.”
Queen Alder considered. “With cat names like those, you couldn’t be rat people.” She glanced at the cats who had come in with them; they grudgingly agreed, though some of them muttered, “But what about that skeleton they put in the Hall?”
“What’s wrong here?” Tom asked.
“It’s the time for our annual festival,” the queen told them. “In order to renew our magic, we must light the great candle in the Central Hall. But this year we can’t get near it. That strange Skeleton from your world has taken possession of the candle and won’t let us light it. We are growing weaker, and the rats are closing in on us. Our cats are holding them off, but the cats draw their magic from me, and as I grow weaker, the cats have to retreat. Soon the rats will reach the castle, unless we can get the candle lit.”
“Why don’t you gang up on the skeleton and pull him away?”
“He’s stronger than all of us. He’s not made of bone, or anything natural. Nothing we have can affect him.”
“How long can you hold out?” Tom asked. “We can take the skeleton away as soon as we get back to our own world, and that can’t be long. If the spell that brought us here lasts more than few hours, our parents will fetch us back.”
Queen Alder sighed. “That will be too late, I’m afraid. Time goes faster here. Your few hours will be days to us; and we must light the candle today. There doesn’t seem to be anything you can do. You had best hide somewhere, in case you’re still here when the rats break through.”
“We can’t just hide,” cried Tom. “Let’s at least go look at the problem.”
Witch Willow led them to the great Central Hall, where the tall, thick pillar of white candle stretched up toward the round smoke hole in the roof. A spiral stair was carved into the outer edge of the candle. At its foot, blocking the stair, sat the skeleton, boney arms on boney knees, glaring around him. Red lights glowed within his eye sockets, and his teeth gleamed like white tombstones.
Cats and witches stood in a circle, just beyond arm’s reach, around him, fidgeting with anxiety. Bats fluttered above them like visible worries, dodging among an assortment of ghosts in sheets, who were drifting around looking sour and grumpy.
“The Skeleton sure looks mean,” whispered Tabby.
“I’ll push him away,” said Tom, swallowing nervously.
“He’s bigger than you are.” Taby hesitated. “Maybe...maybe we should both go.”
“You stay back. I’m the one who put him in here.”
“But I agreed. Let’s go together.” Tabby took Tom’s hand and started forward.
They reached the circle of onlookers, which parted to let them through. But at that moment, the skeleton stood up, his hot red glare centred on them. He flexed his long, thin fingers. “That’s near enough,” he grated. “No one goes up this stair.”
“Wh – why not?” asked Tom.
“Because I say so!”
“But the witches need to light the candle!” cried Tabby.
“Too bad!”
“But don’t you understand that the rats will get them?”
“Let the rats kill them! I hate them!”
Tom said, “The rats’ll get you, too, if they get in.”
“They can’t hurt me. Nothing in this world can hurt me.”
“Don’t be too sure of that!” Tom began going through his pockets. “I’ve probably got something plastic.” All he could find was a comb. He saw a ballpoint pen sticking out of Tabby’s pocket and grabbed that. The objects could scarcely be considered a sword and shield, but there was nothing else. Gripping them, he stepped forward.
Before he could do anything with his futile weapons, the skeleton suddenly kicked out, and knocked him stumbling back behind the circle. Tom picked himself up, bruised and shaken, looking at the strong knobby
fingers now waiting to grab him.
Tom did not want to try again; but a sudden whisper went through the crowd as more messenger bats sped in: “The rats are at the walls!” Most of the cats rushed desperately away to join their fellows at the walls. Tom gathered his courage and stepped forward into the circle again, but Tabby grabbed his arm.
“Wait, Tom; I’ve just thought of something. Whenever we get mad at each other, Mom and Dad always make us explain exactly why we’re mad; and it often sounds so silly when we talk it out – ”
”That we stop fighting! Yeah...”
They turned back to the skeleton. “Why are you mad? Why do you hate the witches?” demanded Tom.
The skeleton glared at him, but hesitated. Tabby guessed that he wanted to state his complaints, but was angry at Tom, too, now. “Please tell us,” she said. “Have they done something unfair?”
Still the skeleton hesitated, nursing his anger. Then he burst out, “It’s them! He pointed to the ghosts floating beyond the circle of witches. “They won’t let me join them. Said I’m weird! Said I didn’t belong here!”
“He is! He doesn’t!” came wails and whispers from the ghosts. “He’s not like us! He’s disgusting!”
Tabby whirled to them. “No, he isn’t like you – but I’ll tell you what he is – He’s strong enough to help you fight off the rats, if you’ll let him!” She turned back to the skeleton. “Will you?”
“Why should I?” he said sulkily.
“Why not?” asked Tom. “Why not show how strong you are, how valuable your help can be?”
“Well...” The skeleton thought about it.
A little crowd of bats came rushing in. “What are they saying?” Tabby demanded. The nearest cat answered, “The Queen says the ghosts have to apologize. The Skeleton’s invited to be a citizen.”
Another rush of bats brought a warning, which the cats repeated in horror as they flung themselves from the room, dashing to defend the walls. “The rats are breaking through!”
“Quick!” cried Witch Willow to the ghosts. “Obey the queen!”
The ghosts moved forward, seeming to shuffle even though they floated in the air. They looked at one another, each waiting for someone else to go first.
“Now!” said Witch Willow.
The ghosts mumbled, “We’re sorry,” but didn’t sound as if they were.
“Skeleton, will you help us?” asked Witch Willow.
“No,” grumbled the skeleton. “None of you likes me or wants me here.”
“Oh, please,” cried Tabby. Forgetting how he had frightened her, she darted forward and seized the skeleton’s hands, “Please help!”
The skeleton looked down at her. “You don’t think I’m disgusting?” He clasped her hands, then turned away. “Okay, have your candle. Where’s the breakthrough? I’ll stop ‘em!” He ran off in the direction of the greatest noise of fighting.
Witch Willow ran up the candle stair and struck a flint. The sparks flashed and died. The uproar grew louder. Willow tried again, hitting the flint too hard, knocking it from her hand. She tried to grab it, and slipped from her place, sliding down the stairs.
The skeleton’s voice could be heard, yelling, “Take that! No, you don’t! Ha! Try to bite me, would you? I’m too hard for you. Got you!” The growls of the cats and the squeals of the rats could also be heard, along with the scratching that was tearing at the walls.
“Maybe I’ve got a match.” Tom felt in his pockets.
“No. The new light has to be made by flint and steel,” Willow told him. She tried to stand, but she had twisted her ankle, and fell back.
The battle noises were growing louder. The rats must be getting in! But the children could still hear the skeleton’s cries of triumph as he drove the rats back. There was still time!
Tabby scooped up the fire-making kit and ran to the stair, clambering up the first steep steps. Halfway up, she suddenly found two steps were missing. How could they – ? Oh – Willow must have hit them as she fell, and broken off the wax.
Jamming the flint set in her pocket, Tabby stretched as far as she could, just reaching the next whole step. But she could not grip it. The she felt a boost from below, and Tom gave her the lift she needed. She scrambled across the gap and got onto steps again.
“Go on,” Tom called up to her. “He’s still holding them.”
Tabby made it to the last step, and pulled herself onto the top of the candle, careful not to slip on the spot where Willow had broken the edge as she went over it. with equal care, she pulled out the flint set, trying to remember how Willow has used it. Not like a hammer. A sort of glancing blow. She tried it. Nothing. She struck again, a little harder, and this time got some little sparks. Again, holding it over the wick. A few sparks fell on it. Again. Yes, she was learning how to do it.
But there was a great outcry from the defenders. The rats must be getting in!
More sparks. Tabby positioned her sore hands for another strike...but wait! Those last sparks...? Yes, the wick had caught them, was glowing, was burning! A soft light spread through the Great Hall. It grew brighter, expanded beyond the doorways, filled the whole of the building.
Tingling energy shot throughout the castle. Another shout arose; but this one was a cheer – the enemy had been driven back!
By the time Tabby had got down the stairway again, sliding dangerously over the missing step section, swarms of cats were dancing back, reporting that the energy had healed the walls, and that the rats had fled.
Queen Alder entered, looking refreshed and lively, escorted by the whole swarm of fluttering bats. The skeleton returned with a retinue of his own: the resident ghosts. They were telling each other how nice it was to have a sort of ghost who could actually touch things; maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to count him as one of them.
The Queen made a speech of thanks to the skeleton and to all the others who had defended the castle. To the skeleton she added, “You must be our guest until Tom and Tabby can take you back to your own world.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Your Majesty, I’d kinda like to stay, now.” the skeleton replied.
At that moment the children felt a swirl, and suddenly found themselves back in their own kitchen.
They peered into the castle-o-lantern. The little plastic skeleton had disappeared.
“I guess he did stay,” said Tom.
Death and Taxes Page 5
