by John Wallis
Back At The Guest House
The Owl's hotel was almost exactly as it had been before. I say almost as there was now one major difference. It was overcrowded with all kinds of talking animal. Walking to the reception I saw talking owls, laughing hyenas, and twitchy little mice in hurried conversation.
The atmosphere inside was enough to lift our spirits. We took a seat in the dining area next to reception.
"Hello children," Jane called flapping her wings and waddling from the reception desk.
"I knew having you stay would be good. I told Stuart but did he listen? Does he ever?"
"I noticed you were busy," Madeline replied.
Her voice sounded weak and Jane the Owl moved her head as only owls can to examine us all.
"A good night's rest and some food," she decided, "That’s what you need. All of you."
I must admit the idea of food did interest me. Perhaps that wouldn't have been so had I known what was on the menu.
Simon was smiling and as he didn’t do that too often I guess he liked the idea of food as well. At this point I should point out that all of us, except perhaps Simon, had dropped any pretence that this was an organised school trip. We had all come to terms with things being the way they were. We talked with owls and man-bears now and that was the end of it.
“Look,” Rob shouted, “that's the Elephant Man from the tunnels””
I looked for myself and sure enough Elephant Man was sat for the first time above ground in who knows how long. He was no longer dirty, he looked smart, he was even wearing a suit. One thing remained the same though he was still eating crisps. He caught my eye and as far as I could tell he nodded ever so slightly.
Stuart came to the table next his little claws somehow carrying a tray load of mugs.
“Now that the word has gotten out about you children some of the others have come out of hiding. Until yesterday most these guys would have been afraid of the Duchess.”
“We are not afraid of the Duchess,” Rob reminded everyone although it was clear that it was both untruthful and needless.
I began sipping the contents of the mug but quickly spat it back out.
“What is this?” I asked Stuart trying not to sound too revolted.
“That is a hot beverage we call hot fox dung.”
“Yeah of course it is. I should have known,” Simon replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
I wondered about the hot drink I had taken from the Owl last night.
“It's pure,” the owl replied, but unsurprisingly that wasn't the reply any of us was looking for.
“Could I perhaps just take a water,” Madeline asked.
Stuart took one more little Owl look around, gave a nod and deciding that people and hot fox dung don't mix began moving the mugs back on the tray.
“Oh all right. But you helped us so feel free to take whatever you want from the buffet. Anyone want any centipede on toast?” The owl looked round again before concluding, “Suit yourselves.”
We all made the best of it. We scraped the centipede off of the toast and ate it dry, then we searched for other food that looked vaguely edible. Jane then showed us to our room. It was exactly the same as it had been a night earlier when we were hiding from the masses of the Seagull Army.
Little was I to know that before the night was over things would get worse. Much worse.
It is the way of the timeless dream. We would never get time off. Our time to rest. The hope and comfort we all felt had come at a price.
Outside the cosy, warm, hotel room snow had begun to fall. Slowly at first and then faster under the bleakest of clouds.
I told Geoff that I was battling to find sleep against the cold.
