by carl ashmore
‘A Bibble?’ Bernard wheezed.
‘Yeah, a Bibble. Fungal’s the name. Fungal Durgeblatter.’
‘Fungal Durgeblatter?’ Without meaning to, Bernard pulled a funny face.
Fungal noticed. ‘Yer gotta problem with me name?’
‘Err, no,’ Bernard said.
‘Good,’ the Bibble growled. ‘And yer Bernard, I’m guessing. Yer Grandpappy used ter jabber ‘bout yer all the time, but yer not as bright as him, are yer?’
Bernard felt confused. ‘My G -grandad?’
‘Yeah, now he were a clever human, he were.’
‘You knew my Grandad?’
‘Everyone knew him. A great human, he was. A good friend ter Bibblefolk.’
Bernard flopped onto the bank. ‘So all the stories he told me, they were true?’
‘How do I know what he told yer?’ Fungal snarled. ‘He might’ve said yer had a working brain but me’s got me doubts.’
Bernard ignored him. ‘He told me there were Bibbles and Pixies and animals with funny names and they all lived underground.’
‘Funny names?’ Fungal scoffed. ‘Let’s see yer laugh when a Manglewabble bites your ankle or a Grumpletug sucks yer brains out with its toe. But yeah, he was telling the truth. Still, don’t talk ter me ‘bout Pixies, the nasty, greedy, -’ Fungal’s fist curled into a ball ‘- spineless murdelbullocks. Anyway, it’s because of yer Grandpappy that I’ve come topside, to the upperworld.’
‘But my Grandad passed away two years ago.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ the Bibble replied, genuine sadness in his gruff voice. ‘I’m sorry about that. I thought a lot o’ him. Anyway, when he was alive, he made summat. Summat I need.’
‘What?’ Bernard asked.
Fungal’s eyes met Bernard’s ‘A map. A map of the Lower Levels. A map of my world.’
Bernard thought as hard as he could. He’d never seen his Grandad make any maps, nevermind one of an underground kingdom. ‘I don’t think he had one.’
Fungal looked very serious. ‘Oh, he did. He spent many years making it. Only one o’ its kind. Bibbles don’t make maps, yer see, and a Pixie brain is ‘bout the size of a kidney bean and they can’t write. I need that map.’
Bernard grew intrigued. ‘Why?’
Fungal sighed. ‘Ain’t yer got the big conk? Anyway, let’s just say I ‘ave ter find summat. And that summat is in Pixievale, with a lying, thieving, treacherous Bibble called Vergal Musterbucket.’ Fungal spat. ‘Problem is, I don’t know where Pixievale is. No Bibble does. Bibbles never leave Bibbletown, yer see. We ain’t wandering folk. But yer Grandpappy did. He explored every part of the Lower Levels, every cave, every path. The map’ll take me to Pixievale and wha’ I’m looking fer.’
‘What’s that?’ Bernard asked eagerly.
Fungal fell sad. ‘Vergal Musterbucket stole the Bibble Gold. A Bibble isn’t a Bibble without his gold – he can’t fly, he can’t heal, he can’t use magic, he can’t do anything. We need that gold back or my people’s days are numbered.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I’m going to get it back, or my name isn’t Fungal Oggle Durgeblatter. Whatever, it takes…’
Carl Ashmore
Carl is a forty-two year old writer from Cheshire, England. He has written three books for children ‘The Time Hunters,’ ‘The Night They Nicked Saint Nick,’ and ‘Bernard and the Bibble.’
He is currently working on the second book in the Time Hunters series - ‘The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity.’
He likes old stuff, naan breads, and cold custard. He also wishes he could wiggle his ears.
He can be contacted at [email protected]
