by David Parkin
The eye on Scuttler’s back opened and peered at him with cold robotic malevolence. The fingers tightened around his knee.
In an instant, pain flooded through Christopher’s leg. He pushed and slapped at the machine, but Scuttler was too powerful, its grasp tighter than any human hand.
One by one Scuttler’s fingers began to crush his knee. Christopher fell to the floor in agony.
He looked up at Doctor Skinner, who stood at the doorway with the remote control in his hands.
“Please … please stop!”
“You didn’t think you’d get away that easily.” The Doctor chuckled and walked over to Christopher.
“I asked nicely,” he said. “Now I’m just going to take what’s mine.”
“AAAAACCCCHHHHHOOOOO!”
With a huge sneeze, Little Big Nose leapt into action. He flew through the air and landed, with a wet splat, on Scuttler.
“What’s going on?” said Skinner.
The nose began to huff and puff and snivel and sneeze. Christopher looked down and saw Little Big Nose blow out of his nostrils the biggest, greenest ball of slimy goo he had ever seen. There was a high pitched fizzing sound as the snot squelched and slimed all over the hand’s computer implant.
Scuttler froze as the snot dripped into its circuitry. With a sudden spasm it released its grip and fell paralyzed to the floor.
“Why you little…” the doctor made a lunge for the nose.
Christopher gasped with relief, grabbed Little Big Nose just in time and hobbled to his feet.
“You’re not going anywhere,” said the Doctor, blocking his path.
“Yes I am,” said Christopher as he lowered his head. “Through your legs!”
And with that he ran between the doctor’s many knees, pulled his bike from the gravel and jumped on the seat.
“No! Wait!” Skinner spun on his heels, but Christopher was already off and down the driveway in a cloud of dust.
“The nose is mine!” he screamed. “I’ll find you! I’LL FIND YOU!”
Christopher slipped the bike up a gear and pedalled away as fast as he could.
Full Moon
Mrs Postlethwaite pulled the bandage tight over Christopher’s knee.
“Ow,” yelped Christopher grumpily.
“Come on,” she said as she wrapped the fabric in on itself. “It can’t hurt that much.” She plucked the safety pin from her teeth and secured the bandage.
“There … that ought to hold the swelling.” She glanced up at her son. “Exactly how tall was this tree you were climbing?”
“Just average size.”
“Really? Well, be more careful next time.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “It’s just you and me for tea tonight. Your sister’s going to eat with your dad.”
Christopher frowned and looked down at his bandaged leg.
“So I tell you what,” said Mrs Postlethwaite. “You decide what’s on the menu. Anything you want.” She made a big display of performing an elaborate curtsey. “Whatever the young master of the house wants for his evening supper. Your wish is my command!”
Christopher tried not to, but he couldn’t help smiling.
“Pizza?”
“As you wish.” His mum bowed and then grovelled her way to the fridge.
“I’m sure we’ve got one in here somewhere,” she called as she rummaged through the freezer drawers. “Yes here we go. Deep pan ok?”
“My favourite.”
“By the way,” said Mrs Postlethwaite as she slid the pizza into the oven. “Your father was asking after you today.”
Immediately the smile fell from Christopher’s face. Mrs Postlethwaite sat on the chair next to him.
“Don’t look like that. I’m not having a go,” she said gently. “It’s just that every Saturday you disappear, or make some excuse not to see him.”
“But I’d planned today. I couldn’t just…”
“Christopher,” his mum put her hand to his cheek. “I know this last year hasn’t been easy.”
“Mum…”
“But you know, just because your dad and I don’t really get on any more, it doesn’t mean you and him can’t be friends.”
Christopher stared into his lap.
“Christopher?”
“Can I camp in the garden tonight?”
“What?” This wasn’t the answer Mrs Postlethwaite was expecting. “Well, yes of course but do you think…”
“Thanks.” He got up from the table. “I think I’d better get the tent ready. Can I have the pizza later tonight when I’ve got everything set up?”
“Yes, if you want, but…”
“I’d better get busy before it gets too dark.” Christopher quietly left the table and then ran up to his bedroom, slamming the door a lot harder than he meant to.
Christopher was driving in the last tent peg when Lauren ambled into the garden. He quickly popped Little Big Nose into his pocket.
“Just stay in there and be quiet, okay? It’s only Lauren.” He squinted through the dusk. “What’s that she carrying?”
Christopher strolled over to his sister. As he got closer he could see that she was unfolding a tripod, planting its legs firmly onto the lawn and adjusting them until they were evenly spaced and sturdy.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“This!” said Lauren, producing an old telescope, which she then screwed into place on top of the tripod. “Thought I’d try it out tonight, on the full moon.”
She looked through the telescope’s eyepiece and began searching the sky.
Christopher felt a pang of jealousy, “Where’d you get that?”
Lauren looked up from the telescope and straight into her brother’s eyes.
“Dad gave it to me … to us. He said we could share it. He found it when he was clearing out the attic of his new house.” Lauren bent her head back to the eyepiece. “You haven’t even seen Dad’s new house have you?”
“I’ve been busy…”
“Of course you have,” she said. “We went to the aquarium today, you’d have loved it.”
“Really?”
“Yep, they’ve got a tiger shark now.” Lauren frowned. “I can’t see anything through this thing.
“It’s because you haven’t got your glasses on … here … let me.” Christopher stepped over and took the telescope.
It took a while, changing the old implement’s various focuses, but when the full moon came into view it was a staggering sight.
Christopher had looked at the moon often enough, but to see it close up was amazing.
Dark craters and vast mountain ranges covered its surface. He’d often thought it was beautiful, but now he understood that it was more than that. It was a distant land with undiscovered caves and valleys. A whole other world, shining in the sky for all to see, but still unreachable and mysterious.
“WOW.”
Lauren nudged him in the ribs, “Come on, let me have a go.”
She took the telescope and looked into the night.
“It’s incredible isn’t it?” she said. “No wonder people used to worship it.”
“Like who?”
“All sorts … Pagans, Aztecs, American Indians.”
“Right … of course.” Christopher rolled his eyes. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I read…” said Lauren drolly. “You know, witches and druids still worship the moon today.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve been reading too many kids’ books.”
“Not those sort of wizards.” Lauren looked up from the telescope. “Real ones … modern witches and druids. You know … old people with long hair and sandals.”
“You think Aunty Sally is a witch
?”
Lauren laughed. “Maybe…” She peered back through the eyepiece. “They believe the moon has magic powers. Some of them only plant their herbs and roots when it’s a full moon. It’s called moon gardening.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Perhaps you should give it a go.”
Christopher was surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have believed in that stuff.”
“I wouldn’t say I believed in it,” said Lauren. “But the moon controls all the tides on the planet, helps moths to navigate and, well … loads of other stuff. Who’s to say it doesn’t affect other parts of nature that we don’t know about?”
“Yeah, I suppose so…”
She straightened up and put her glasses back on. “And we all know how a full moon affects you.”
Christopher folded his arms, “Oh yes … and how’s that then?”
Lauren hunched her shoulders, stuck out her tongue and panted like a dog. Then she tilted her head back and howled.
Christopher waited until she had finished. “You’re very funny,” he said flatly.
“I know,” said Lauren with a bright smile. “Why don’t you have the telescope tonight? I’m going in.”
Lauren skipped back to the house. “Besides, it’s safer indoors. It won’t be long before you start growling.”
“If I were a werewolf,” called Christopher. “You’d be first on the menu!”
Lauren barked at him and then disappeared inside.
Follow Your Trail
Later that night, Christopher and Little Big Nose lay on the grass by the tent, gazing up at a sky alive with stars.
Although it was a beautiful evening, Little Big Nose was quiet and seemed lost in a world of his own. Christopher wondered whether their scary experience with Doctor Skinner had upset him.
“It was pretty terrifying today huh?”
Little Big nose just huffed half-heartedly.
“You were great though,” persisted Christopher. “A real hero!”
“As were you…” snuffled the nose quietly.
Christopher raised his head on his elbow and looked at his friend. “Little Big Nose … what’s wrong?”
A moment passed as the nose thoughtfully sniffed the air. “Can I ask you something?” he said eventually.
“Of course…”
“But first, I’d like you to close your eyes…”
“Okay…”
“Now,” said Little Big Nose. “What can you smell?”
Christopher was a little taken aback by the question, but he raised his nostrils to the cool night air and took in all the delicious smells of summer, the cut grass, the fresh green smell of the trees and leaves, the sweet scent of the flowers and the rich dark smell of a dying bonfire that gently puffed out its last breaths a few gardens away.
For a while they sat in silence, Christopher with his eyes shut and the nose resting by his side.
Finally Little Big Nose spoke: “You can open your eyes now.”
Christopher opened his eyes, yawned and stretched.
“So … what could you smell?”
“Lots of things,” said Christopher, a lazy smile on his lips. “The grass, the trees, my pond, which I think needs cleaning … and a bonfire.”
“Not bad,” said Little Big Nose. “But did you know that slugs have such a good sense of smell that they would be able to sniff out a hundred more things in the night air. They would, for example, be able to tell you what had been burnt on that bonfire, whether it had been old furniture or new green shoots, trimmed from a rose bush.”
“That’s incredible,” said Christopher.
“It is indeed,” agreed the nose. “Nights, like tonight are very special for slugs. On a summer’s full moon, slug herds gather together. Each slug closes their eyes and they sit for a long time in silence, enjoying the quiet and stillness of the night, breathing in the cool air with its rich kaleidoscope of smells.”
A light breeze tickled its way across the tent and set the trees whispering.
“Eventually the moon fades into sunlight of course, and then it’s time for each herd to head its separate way.” Little Big Nose’s voice became sad and distant. “But before they leave, each slug will sniff the night’s fading fragrance one last time and then utter the most famous of all slug sayings.”
“What’s that?” asked Christopher.
“The world is beautiful … even with your eyes closed.” A watery tear dribbled from Little Big Nose’s nostril. “I miss the herd,” he said. “I miss my mother.”
Now in the tent Christopher sat with Little Big Nose resting on his knee.
“It was a night like tonight when it happened…”
Christopher knew he was about to hear Little Big Nose’s sad story and listened in respectful silence.
“It was a wonderful dusk. The birds sat in the trees singing their lullabies and pink clouds rolled their way across the darkening sky. Many slug herds were gathered, humming quietly in anticipation of the night’s full moon.”
Little Big Nose was silent for a moment, lost in the memory of that beautiful evening. “The last thing we expected to hear at such a peaceful time was the slug distress call.”
“What’s a slug distress call?” asked Christopher.
“The slug distress call is only to be used in times of the utmost peril,” said Little Big Nose. “It can be a plea for help, or a warning.”
A shiver ran through the nose. “As it turned out that day … it was both.” He sniffled a small sob. “We all listened in horror as a distant thud silenced the cry.”
“It’s okay,” said Christopher. “Take your time.”
“We tried to crawl to hiding places, but of course we were far too slow. The thuds got louder and louder until the whole earth shook with them. An immense shadow fell all around. And then, standing over us, blocking out the setting sun, was a human.”
“Oh no…” whispered Christopher.
“Hot white rocks fell from the sky, landing on each and every slug.”
“Salt,” said Christopher. “It dries slugs up … Little Big Nose … I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” said the nose. “There are good and bad within all creatures. Just as there are humans who scatter salt on defenceless slugs, there are humans who are as gentle and as kind as you are.”
“Thank you,” said Christopher feeling a little proud.
“I, being a nose, was not hurt of course. But at that point I still did not know what I was … so I looked around in confused horror as all the other slugs began to bubble and fizz. The rocks sank into their banks, burning into their flesh.”
“How horrible.”
“I trundled to my mother as fast as I could. She did not have long to live, but before she died she told me that I was a human nose. She said she had been meaning to tell me that very night.”
Little Big Nose sniffed back another sob. “Then she told me some other things I shall never forget. She told me not to be ashamed of what I was. That I had been a good slug, but it was time to be a nose.”
“But how?” said Christopher.
“She said that I must follow my trail. She said if I followed my trail I would find out where I am from. Who I am. Why I am… And then, just before she died, she said something I had heard a thousand times before.”
Little Big Nose wept quietly for a moment and then continued. “She said to remember that she had found me on a full moon, and that a full moon’s child is touched by magic.”
“She was right, you know,” said Christopher and gently patted Little Big Nose.
“And so I left and wandered for days, alone with my sorrow. I became terribly sad and ill. That’s when you found me, pathetically clinging to Arnold’s f
ace … trying to be a nose.”
“But you could be one yet … we can still find you a face.”
“But that’s just it,” said the nose. “I will never find a home. I have followed my trail and know where I’m from. And rather than being a unique creature full of magic … I’m just an experiment that went wrong. A mistake … made by a strange lonely, old man.”
“You mustn’t say that,” said Christopher.
“My mother was wrong…” said Little Big Nose. “I am not special. There is no mystery … there is no magic.”
As Christopher tried to comfort his friend, the full moon shone down on the first tear that Little Big Nose had shed, which still lay in the grass, just outside the tent.
The moon’s pale rays made the teardrop shine and sparkle, like a tiny immaculate emerald.
I Must Have That Nose!
Doctor Skinner sat in his laboratory, alone and angry. A single candle burned and the distant stars shone down. He stared furiously at the noses arranged on his desk. Rows and rows of them: a week’s work. Fifty big noses and a hundred dribbling nostrils. All of them identical to Little Big Nose in every way … except one. None of them were breathing.
“I don’t understand it.” Once again he snatched at his diary and inspected the page in question.
“This is it! I’m sure!” He read from the book. “‘The mucus gland in The Triple D Hooter has proved unstable. Hurled nose from window in rage. Must learn to control temper.’”
Doctor Skinner grabbed one of the noses and threw it across the room.
“I used the same ingredients! I followed the same procedures!” He rose to his feet and stared at the army of hooters. “You are all exactly the same as the specimen the boy had!”
One of the noses flipped into the air, its nostrils exploding with slime.
“Right down to the malfunctioning mucus gland,” added the doctor. “And yet, none of you … are alive!”
Doctor Skinner clutched at his thinning hair. “Anyone alive here?” He spun around, addressing the whole laboratory.
