Magic Ink

by Steve Cole

  Now, I don’t know if pink paint smells worse than any other kind, but I had to go outside to escape the stink. So I sat out in the back garden. It was a fair size and had brushes and shrubs and a few cool places to hide out which I’d always loved as a little kid.

  And suddenly I realised it also had a shed. A shed with a window. A window through which you might see moonlight!

  Hmm, I thought. With the attic out of bounds and superheroes to assemble, a shed with moonlit windows might just come in handy.

  And clearly Posho had had the same idea, because just then he poked his head out of the shed door and beckoned me over. The shed was musty and damp and full of rusting garden tools. Its windows were swathed in dirty cobweb, and black tangles of papery legs twitched in every nook and cranny. Posho perched himself on a battered table already piled high with old-fashioned tins and boxes and bric-a-brac.

  “This is a cool spot to bring Merlin’s mob to life!” I hissed excitedly. “Mum and Dad won’t hear all those heavy feet stomping overhead and if they look outside they’ll only see the shed anyway! Why didn’t you mention this place sooner?”

  “It’s my holiday accommodation,” Posho said. “Oink! Though I dare say your pernicious parents will knock it down shortly, just for the fun of it.”

  I joined him in a gloomy sigh. “They’ve hidden Granddad’s drawing board under old sheets and they’re painting around it as we speak – so I can’t bash out any more pictures of Merlin’s fab four.”

  Posho looked thoughtful. “It’s almost as if your mater and pater are doing everything they can to stop us. Oink! And if this collector takes the drawing board away tonight. . .”

  “We’re in trouble,” I agreed.

  “Don’t forget, we still have this, old chap. . .” Posho raised his top hat to reveal the roll of ‘living’ parchment with my test pictures of Merlin’s heroes. “Oink! We’ll just have to keep everything crossed for moonlight tonight.”

  I kept everything crossed for the rest of that afternoon. It wasn’t easy and it made me kind of sore.

  But of course, I had to uncross several things so I could eat tea.

  And maybe that’s why my luck quickly ran out.

  It was Lib’s fault really. Out of the blue, as we were finishing off beefburgers and chips in the kitchen, Lib announced that she had drawn a ‘Stew-eating monster’ and that it would star in the first issue of her own comic called Mega-Lib, starring her as the superhero and me as the dweeby guy who needs saving. (AS IF!) The Stew-Eating Monster would start off as a picture in ‘Comic Lady’s Scary Comic’ and then, apparently, come to life to get me.

  “That’s nice, dear,” said Mum.

  “Since when did you like anything to do with comics?” I muttered. “Anyway, drawings coming to life? That’s crazy!” I looked down at my plate, wondering if she’d been spying. “And even if it was true, I wouldn’t need Mega-Lib to save me from Comic Lady – which is a rubbish baddie name, by the way – I’d just steal whatever she used to draw the Stew-eating monster and draw a Stew-eating-monster-eating monster to get rid of the Stew-eating monster.”

  “That wouldn’t work,” Lib retorted. “Because Comic Lady would draw a Stew-eating-monster-eating-monster-eating monster to eat your monster. So you would need Mega-Lib to save you.”

  “Mega-Lib couldn’t save her own pants!” I said hotly, slapping down my knife and fork on the plate. “I’d just draw a Stew-eating-monster-eating-monster-eating-monster-eating monster to eat the Stew-eating-monster-eating-monster—”

  “That’s ENOUGH!” snapped Dad. “If you two have finished eating and can’t think of anything nice to say, you can go to your rooms.”

  I was taken aback. It wasn’t like Dad to get so grouchy so fast. “Uh. . . I was going to ask – can I use Granddad’s drawing board one more time? Please?”

  “Can I, too?” Lib chimed in.

  I frowned at her. “No way! Since when did you care about it?”

  Dad shook his head. “There’s wet paint galore up there. I’ll be getting the drawing board out soon – carefully – for the collector to see.”

  “Not fair!” I moaned.

  “ROOMS, BOTH OF YOU!” Mum bellowed. “NOW!”

  Banished again.

  Me and Lib went out quickly and in silence. I thought Lib would start crying or something; she always did when she thought Mum hated her. But maybe, like me, she was just a bit too stunned. Mum was usually more hardwearing than this; she’d gone into Atomic-Mother mode with very little pushing.

  “That was your fault,” said Lib.

  I shot her a dark look. “Tell me, runt – where’d you get the idea of bringing comic characters to life, anyway?”

  “I dreamed about it last night. Comic Lady was telling me about it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I told you, that name is lame.”

  “Well, her secret identity’s a really good name.” Lib stuck out her chin. “It’s Vivian with an E. Viviane.”

  “Viv. . . Viv. . . Viviane?” My throat contracted. My mouth went dry. My eyes went a little bit crossed.

  “Yes, Viviane.” Lib frowned. “I don’t know how I know there’s an E on the end, but there is. Cool, isn’t it?”

  “Icy,” I muttered.

  Could it really be coincidence that Lib had dreamed about the evil enchantress who had locked Merlin away in his prison-tomb? A dream where drawings came to life?

  A chill went down my spine. Then it went back up my spine, wiggled in and out of my shoulder-blades, took a detour around my collar-bone and went back down my spine again before zipping through my bottom and turning my guts to ice-water. It was quite a chill. It would probably have won multiple awards at the World’s Chilliest Chill Contest.

  I gripped Lib by the shoulders. “Are you sure Comic Lady’s name was Viviane? This is important. Tell me more about the dream. What did Comic Lady say? Was the Stew-eating monster her idea? Did she say anything about a wizard—?”

  “Stop acting so weird, Stew.” Lib scowled and pulled away. “You’ll only get us into more trouble.”

  “I think I might have done that already!” I began. “See. . .”

  But Lib had slammed the door and I was left alone on the landing.

  Alone and suddenly afraid, my brain crowding with questions.

  Had Viviane got a whiff of Merlin’s escape plan?

  Was she onto me?

  Was she planning something to stop us?

  Had she been responsible for Mum and Dad’s suspiciously all-of-a-sudden desire to board up and redecorate the attic, trying to separate me from the drawing board and the power of moonlight on the magic ink?

  Had she somehow messed with their minds to make them extra-cranky so they grounded me in my room – separating me from the board even further?

  Was this collector guy coming round to get the board so quickly because Viviane had told him to?

  Was he actually NOT the real collector but a freaky supernatural demon in human disguise?

  Was he going to try to kill me in some horrible fashion?

  Was I ever going to stop asking myself scary questions to which I didn’t really want to know the answers in any case?

  You’re acting crazy, I told myself.

  Yeah, right, myself told I back. ‘Cos everything else lately has been completely un-crazy and normal – right, Stew? You’re doomed! You mess with magic, this is what you get! You wanted to become king of the comics the easy way like a big cheat, and now you’re going to suffer!

  If this were a movie, at that precise point you’d have seen the camera closing on my face, tilting to one side as I clutch my head in my hands and shout:

  “NOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

  But this wasn’t a movie.

  It was real. And I was in real trouble.

  So I clutched my head in my hands an
yway and shouted,

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOO­OOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOO­OOOOOOO­O!!!”

  HEROES ASSEMBLE!

  (No jokey misspellings now - things are getting serious)

  I ran into my room, closed the door and pressed my back against it, trying not to shake. I had to warn Posho we could both be in danger. But since I couldn’t risk sneaking downstairs past Mum and Dad to get outside, I’d just have to climb out through the window, Posho style. No problem – so long as I didn’t lose my grip on the drainpipe and the ivy and plunge to my death ten metres below.

  It was nippy outside. Night was slowly falling as I sprinted for the shed.

  Posho could tell immediately that something was wrong, big-time – mainly because, as I burst in, I cried, “Posho – something’s wrong, big-time!”

  I spilled the beans about what had happened in the house and Lib’s freaky dream.

  “So,” said Posho softly. “Viviane is reaching out to us through time just as Merlin has. Oink! But we can’t let her stop us.”

  “Right. Perhaps you should spring the old bucket-of-water-above-the-door trick on her,” I said with just a little sarcasm. “That’ll put an end to her evil schemes.”

  “Do you really think so?” said Posho.

  “Nope.” I sighed. “Oh Posho, I’m scared. I never imagined we’d have to face a supervillain ourselves. Do you think she’s coming to kill us so we can’t save Merlin? Do you think she’s killed him already for trying to escape?”

  Posho gulped. “There’s only one way to find out if the Big Man’s still alive. . .” He peered out of the shed window to where a faint moon shone through dark tissue-paper clouds. “If we wave our parchment under a spot of moonlight, his magic ink will bring four superheroes leaping to life – and we’ll send them back through time to see. Oink!”

  He took off his topper and I snatched the parchment from inside. “Do you have the Spell of Time Transportation too, or whatever it is?”

  Posho pulled a piece of crumpled parchment from inside his jacket and placed it on the corner of the table. “Here it is.”

  “Then I guess we’re good to go.” I unrolled the picture and placed it on the desk in the measly moonlight, holding down the corners with old tools and bits of junk.

  Within moments, the magic started to happen.

  My stomach tied itself in knots as I watched the ink-strokes on the parchment begin to darken and smoulder. Tiny coils of smoke were rising up from the bold lines to make four three-dimensional forms. Sparks fired and crackled in the haze, as if tiny invisible beings had started a gunfight inside these smoky creatures.

  “Bless my piggy little soul! Oink! Oink!” Posho clasped his trotters to his chest, standing beside me. “Here they come!”

  And there I went, backing away into a pile of garden tools that fell with a clang and a clatter. At the sound, the smoky shapes stiffened and grew more defined. I could see the shine of armour through the mist around the tallest figure. . .

  Welcome, War Commander!

  The humped shoulder of the scrawny thing beside him was looking more like a sack; yeah, a magic sack. . .

  That one had to be Harvest Boy. . .

  And surely that was Sonny Siege beside him, misty muscles hardening, a ghostly cow held high above his head. . . While the glow that now lit the shed like a bare lightbulb could only be coming from the flame-like fingers of Lantern Girl, who was. . .

  Actually she looked kind of short compared to the others. Ooops.

  In another blink, the four figures became flesh – and the cow that Sonny Siege was holding became a stuffed toy, just as I’d intended.

  My mouth dropped open. My eyes were on stalks.

  I forgot my fear, watching these impossible, magical creations stare back at me and Posho. They looked like actors in amazing costumes, cast for their uncanny resemblance to the original heroes. Well, except for Lantern Girl, who was really short and did have one heck of a nose. But three out of four wasn’t bad.

  And I helped to make you, I thought, wonderingly. I helped to make magic. It was a moving moment, actually. It felt—

  “What place of poop-stinking devilment is this?” boomed War Commander in a deep, gruff voice. Lifting the visor on his helmet to reveal his swarthy face, he noticed his fellow super-types. “And who are you weirdos?”

  “Oi!” Harvest Boy swept his sack off his shoulder and frowned up at the knight, baring Bugs Bunny teeth. “Who are you calling a weirdo?”

  “I’m calling the lady dwarf with the mighty nose and the round-headed guy cuddling a stuffed cow weirdos.” War Commander gave a lofty smile. “You I’m calling a turnip-smelling weirdo. Got a problem with that?”

  Harvest Boy narrowed his eyes. “You’ll be the one with the problem, when I poke a parsnip up your bum!”

  “Oink!” Posho murmured. “They’re not getting on, Stew, just as you predicted.”

  But they’ve got to, I thought. Because suddenly I’d had a brainwave.

  “Posho,” I breathed. “If War Commander and the others could somehow get the drawing board out of the attic and out of danger, I’d be able to make more superheroes. . . some can act as our bodyguards while the others set Merlin free!”

  “Capital idea, old chap!” Posho snuffled enthusiastically. “And rescuing a board shouldn’t unduly challenge four superheroes.”

  “In theory,” I agreed.

  But from the look of things, Sonny Siege’s very existence was challenging him. He kept looking down at himself and then up at the stuffed cow with the bad stitching as if trying to remember where he’d found it. Lantern Girl, meanwhile, had pushed between Harvest Boy and War Commander and pointed her glowing finger up at War Commander’s chest.

  “You rude knight!” she snapped. “Your words are as filthy as the water closet whose name you bear!”

  “Eh?” War Commander stared down at his breastplate. “Hey, who drew ‘WC’ on my armour?”

  “How do they know about toilet stuff?” I hissed.

  “You must’ve drawn them with that knowledge,” Posho hissed back. “Oink! Quickly now, address them, old sport! Get them on our side!”

  “Hey!” Sonny Siege spoke at last, puzzlement on his face as he studied the cow in his hands. “This beast isn’t plague-ridden at all. It’s a stuffed toy! I’ll never lower the morale of a trapped, half-starving community by throwing a stuffed toy over a wall. . .”

  War Commander smirked. “Why not throw the dumpy damsel here over a wall instead? She’d lower anyone’s morale.”

  “How dare you!” squealed Lantern Girl.

  “Aha!” Sonny Siege’s eyes lit up as he spotted Posho. “Yonder pig looks like he carries a disease or two.”

  “You wrong me, sir!” Posho blustered. “I’m a pig in my prime.”

  “Um, excuse me, everyone,” I broke in nervously.

  War Commander glared at me, raising his sword. “Who are you, boy? How came we to be here?”

  “I’m S-S-S-Stew Penders, sir!” I stammered. “I drew you all in Merlin’s magic ink and the moonlight brought you to life. The Big Man needs you to rescue him! And the woman who’s got him locked up is up to something here too!”

  Four blank stares were turned on me.

  “Ah.” Posho looked awkward. “I seem to recall a time of some confusion at first. It took me a while to remember I was actually a comics character with no real prior existence. Oink! And it took longer still to feel bothered about the Big Man’s plight. . .”

  “Now you tell me!” I groaned, before facing my creations and trying again. “Look, you guys are superheroes, right? I’ve drawn you, but you were made up originally by a wizard called Merlin; it’s his magic ink that’s brought you to life. Look at the picture on the table behind you. . .”

  But Harvest Boy had started sniffing the air. “I don’t know what madness is going on
in this place, but I smell crops nearby. Crops to be gathered!” He turned and smashed open the shed door. “That means I am needed, and so I must away!”

  “No, wait!” I hissed, starting after him. “You can’t go, I need you here!”

  “I can detect horses in this neighbourhood.” Sonny Siege was smiling happily. “Oooh, I could just do with throwing a horse.” He sped away after Harvest Boy.

  “Come back!” I watched helplessly as two of my heroes escaped into the gathering night. “You can’t just go! Merlin said that the ink’s magic will wear out. In an hour you won’t even exist!”

  “Enough of your prattling, boy,” War Commander declared, lowering his visor. “It is time I went a-questing – for a smith or an armourer who can remove these shameful letters from my breastplate!”

  “Huh?” I shook my head. “No, you’re in the future, War Commander, a different century – there’s no one like that round here.” I grabbed the parchment from the table. “This is where you’re from – ink and imagination! Please, try and remember. . .”

  But War Commander was already striding out of the shed – and Lantern Girl was right behind him, bashing him on his armoured bottom as she went. “Don’t think I’m finished with you, Toilet Knight. . .!”

  I turned to Posho. “She may not be finished, but we are. This is a super-sized superheroic catastrophe. What are we going to do?!”

  FROM BAD TO WORSE

  “Come on,” I said decisively. “We’ve got to get those super-loopers back and force them to understand the situation.” I dragged Posho with me towards one of the tangled paths, where we could hopefully leave the garden for the front of the house unseen. “If Mum and Dad see them, they’ll flip out and call the police!”

  Posho was looking pale. “Harvest Boy has super-speed, remember – we’ll never catch him up. As for Sonny Siege—”

  “He must’ve smelled the stables up the road.” I shook my head helplessly.

  But as I reached the garden gate and scrambled over, it seemed that things were only going to get worse. There was no sign of War Commander, but at the end of the front drive I saw Lantern Girl kicking a lamppost, a look of fury on her face.