When there were two small snowmen and four little snow-hedgehogs, sheltering from the wind on the ridge, Bella got up to leave. They’d spent enough time playing with snow. If they didn’t want to be found as easily as Sannmallja had located them, they needed to keep moving. A summons would still reach Bella anywhere they went, but demons would need to know where they was well enough to get there first, so the faster and further they moved, the better.
Bella flew and tried not to think of anything but the movement of their limbs in the air and the way they was carried on it and cut through it. Their thoughts, however, would not leave them alone. Not the question whether Sannmallja was setting them up for trouble, not the question of what they would do if Sannmallja was truly like them, not the question of what they was going to do and, added in the course of their rambling flight, not the question whether demons had choruses of their own to steer them wrong. Bella wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps their troubles came from a strong angel chorus influencing their every decision and they never even knew it. Would an angel chorus sound the same as a demon chorus? The thoughts never distracted Bella enough to get them into trouble, but they meant they had no idea where they was going. They flew in circles as large and as wide as their stamina could handle. They flew well into the night without getting any closer to a solution and much further from familiar territory than they had ever gone.
What finally did decide Bella was the next summons they got. They’d been assigned a suicide risk, and tasked to convince him to take that final step. They’d have to do it on their own, without a chorus to hide in. Bella couldn’t. When they got to the young teen, they couldn’t bear to encourage him. All demons were periodically allowed to glimpse a few years into the future to help them understand how to alter it, so they’d seen the advances in science that were to come in the teen’s lifetime and they whispered those thoughts to him instead. They promised that he would be himself when he grew up, if only he reached out now when he needed help the most.
Bella didn’t know whether the young teen listened to them or not. They’d been flying most of the day and night and they was exhausted from warring with the teen’s thoughts and their own conflicted feelings about themself. All they knew was that they couldn’t keep doing it and they called for Sannmallja. When the other demon had found them, sitting on a log outside the teen’s house, Bella said only, “I can’t,” and just like that Sannmallja was holding them and stroking them, smelling of vanilla as Bella cried on her shoulder, repeating those same words over and over.
In response, Sannmallja chanted “I know, I know,” even as, in between hiccoughs and sobs, Bella explained what had happened and why they’d snapped so. When they was all out of words, Sannmallja tugged at their hand. Bella didn’t have any strength left to argue and they didn’t have the will to pull away when Sannmallja burst into a run to catch the air. Numb, Bella followed. They flew further than Bella had ever flown before, further than Bella had ever gone or thought they could manage as tired as they felt. The two of them flew all the way to a small island that looked like it was a remnant of Paradise. It wasn’t, but it was close enough for Bella’s senses. When they got there, Sannmallja made sure they both landed on a beach. Without her help, Bella might easily have tumbled into the sea instead of sagging onto the sand.
“It’s not far now,” Sannmallja said. “Just a little bit further.”
Bella shook their head. “Let’s rest a while first?”
“All right.” Sannmallja didn’t sound too pleased, but Bella only cared that she’d relented. The tide was just coming in and Bella stumbled into the waves with as much speed as they could muster to let the sand and the water carry them. They’d never been on a beach before. They splashed some of the sea water on Sannmallja, who stood staring at the rising run and smiling. She looked happier than Bella had ever seen her. Bella didn’t wish to intrude on her thoughts and they wasn’t done exploring the white sands yet. They hunted for shells along the water line and built a small sandcastle, despite the tide soon demolishing their attempt. Sannmallja didn’t seem to mind Bella’s antics, but she did eventually come over to pull Bella along when she realised that they was going to continue playing on the beach until they was asleep on their feet.
Bella had expected the jungle path to be dangerous and rough, untrodden for hundreds or thousands of years, but if they looked carefully they could see that it was pretty well-trodden and trying hard to hide that fact. They stumbled from time to time as Sannmallja didn’t let them stand still to take everything in again, claiming she had no intention of carrying Bella if they fell asleep where they stood. When the two demons startled a bird that Bella had wanted to study for a little while, they couldn’t appreciate its flight without Sannmallja tugging on their hand. The trees, so unlike any Bella had ever seen, weren’t to be admired either. The sounds and calls they heard not to be investigated, the few fruits not to be tasted.
So Bella merely followed Sannmallja along the path, heeding the warnings that here would be a vine, there a log needed to be climbed precisely so, and do be careful of the ant colony to their left. They were dangerous even to demons. Bella paid close attention to it all, heart pounding harder and faster in their chest with every step. What if it was an elaborate trap? It didn’t bear thinking about, but the thought would not leave and so Bella actively looked for escape routes to use, should it come to that.
When Sannmallja drew to a halt at the edge of a clearing, Bella almost stumbled into her and gasped. There had to be at least a chorus of demons gathered in the clearing. And there were tents and bonfires and chatter that carried far enough to be indistinct whispers where they stood. Bella thought they could make out tree-houses at the opposite side of the clearing as well. And, even from that distance, music that made them want to sing drifted to their ears. They put their hands to their mouth to keep the sound inside. Bella had never been a strong singer and they didn’t want Sannmallja to hear how off-key and untalented they really was.
“What do you think?” Sannmallja asked. Bella glanced over. The pale green demon looked awkward and a little scared. Two larger demons came sauntering over lazily. They had to be the guards of the settlement.
Bella tried not to fidget beside Sannmallja. “What, what is it?” they asked, trying to take everything before them in.
Before Sannmallja could answer, one of the demons who’d been coming over, his skin the colour of applesauce and a smile that even angels would fall for, said, “This is our home.”
Sannmallja beamed and Bella gaped.
“But – What is it?”
“It’s a village,” Sannmallja said, “of demons that feel the same way you do.”
“Oh.” It was all Bella could say as they tried to take in everything. They hardly listened to Sannmallja talk to the guards, standing on their toes, wings spread, to see as much as they could from a distance. There truly had to be at least a whole chorus wandering around the settlement.
Bella let Sannmallja pull them along to the settlement proper, the guards waving them both away with a laugh. They let all the greetings and laughs and songs wash over them, hardly noticing. They watched groups of demons dance together, play together, sing together, talk together. They tried to listen to Sannmallja as she told them the history of the settlement, but there was simply too much to take in. There were even dogs roaming between the tents and demons. Fluffy puppies getting petted or given treats. By demons!
Sannmallja led Bella into the largest tent, located at the centre of the settlement. It was sparsely decorated, with only a few grass mats and a fire pit for comfort. The noise and pressure from outside was gone entirely. Sannmallja settled Bella on one of the mats and sat down opposite them. “I know you’re a little overwhelmed right now,” she started carefully, “but I really need you to pay attention to this.”
Automatically, Bella nodded. They tried hard to draw their thoughts back to Sannmallja and what she wanted to say. “I’m listening.” They pushed all thei
r emotions and curiosity aside as well as they could.
“We’re trying to gather together our own large chorus,” Sannmallja said. “One that offers anyone who needs it people to listen to them, without judgement, without advice unless they ask. Just to listen.”
“Okay,” Bella said into the breath-silence. They could handle this. They could pay attention to this.
“I – We’d like you to be a part of it, Bellamonne. You’d be perfect.”
Bella didn’t protest and, in truth, the idea excited them once they had realised what it meant.
A horned demon wandered into the tent and started to build up a fire. He acknowledged neither Sannmallja nor Bella. Sannmallja moved to a mat beside Bella and, in a low voice, explained that he was one of the first demons to start the settlement and that starting the chorus had been his idea. He was ancient, Sannmallja said. The oldest of them all. When the fire was burning merrily, they were joined by another demon, cherry-red except for the blue freckles on their face. They introduced themself as ‘Andalan’ and Sannmallja explained that Andalan was the wisest of the demons in the settlement. The path from the beach was all Andalan’s handiwork. Bella tried to absorb it all and the four demons sat in silence. Andalan soon took a piece of wood and a small knife from the pouch tied around their waist and started carving it. Sannmallja pulled up her legs and rested her head on her knees, looking at Bella.
Bella tried not to hunch. Perhaps, if Andalan was very wise, they’d know answers to some of Bella’s questions. Bella cleared their throat. “Excuse me, Andalan. I…” Bella hesitated. The demon put the wood carving down and looked at them, so Bella had little choice but to continue. “I have a question. If I may.” They’d never before spoken so politely to anyone, but it felt right and they had nothing else to rely on at present.
“Yes?”
“Do demons have a chorus of their own?” Andalan started to answer, but Bella interrupted, their hands fluttering around their body. “Not the way we have a chorus for people, but. Well, actually it is like the way we have a chorus for people, but for ourselves. Is there a chorus that tells me I shouldn’t encourage people do something bad?”
Andalan blinked. “Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?”
“W-well…” Bella hesitated again. It was one thing to confide in Sannmallja when they was hurting and raw. But this… Sannmallja patted their hand and Bella gathered their courage. “I was just thinking, earlier, that maybe I had one. To be the way I am. It’s not natural. I’m a demon.” A spark from the fire landed on Bella’s toe. They ignored it. “I was just wondering…”
“There is no need to be ashamed, Bellamonne.” The demon smiled. “Bella. I do not know, but perhaps… Perhaps we could try that.”
“What do you mean?” Sannmallja asked.
The horned demon still didn’t react or respond to any of them. He merely sat near the fire, occasionally poking at the wood. He was starting to unnerve Bella slightly, but they did their best to ignore it. Perhaps even demon bodies started to falter after so many millennia. Bella didn’t know.
Andalan’s voice startled Bella a little; the elder demon had taken some time to answer. “What I mean is that perhaps this is a safer way for us to find like-minded demons. No one knows if we have choruses of our own, but if we could pretend to be one…”
Just as the horned demon got up, Sannmallja said, “Aaaah.” Bella wasn’t sure who their attention was supposed to be on, so they looked at the fire. It danced and they nodded off for a moment. The next, Sannmallja had moved mats again to sit beside Andalan, Bella seemingly forgotten. They were whispering excitedly to one another and Bella was struggling to tune out their voices so they could rest.
Finally, Bella left. Neither demon called after them and they merely wandered on the paths between the tents and the bonfires, feeling a little more rested. Not everyone noticed them, but they had to decline several invitations to bonfires or tents all the same. The walk did them good this time and when they caught the scent of freshly baked bread, they followed it to the cliff-edge. The scent wafted up enticingly from a hole in the ground. When they was close enough they realised the hole was actually the entrance to a passageway. Bella followed their nose and soon found themself in a large, underground kitchen. Windows looked out onto the sea and several other demons were busying themselves at stoves and worktops. It was hot, but not unpleasantly so.
“What are you gawking at?” a stubby-tailed demon asked as he strode past them, a big bag hoisted over his shoulder. “Help out or leave.”
Bella startled. “What? I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“We’re baking biscuits and cakes,” the demon called out as he threw the bag onto a worktop. Flour flew everywhere. Bella perked up. They could help with that! “Sannmallja found us a new member, so we’re preparing a —” He pushed past Bella to leave the kitchen “— feast to celebrate.”
“Oh.” It took Bella all they had not to burst into tears. They were preparing a feast for them? To celebrate them? Hundreds of demons who didn’t want to be demons, Bella could handle. Wandering a hidden settlement where demons looked happy, danced, made music, laughed was something Bella could deal with. Learning they were preparing a feast for them, when no one even knew them, was too much.
Bella shook themself mentally. They couldn’t break down into tears here where demons were working in their honour. They didn’t want to cry again at all. Bella moved closer to the wall, taking deep breaths to stay calm. They had to keep themself too busy to cry. There were only a handful of demons working in the kitchen. If they were preparing a feast for as many people as Bella had seen, the stubby-tailed demon was absolutely right to tell them to help or to leave. Without more hands to bake things, there would never be enough food for everyone.
Making a decision, Bella walked over to the worktop the flour bag had been tossed onto and they started to hum to themself. They doubted anyone would object to them helping out without asking and if they was welcomed into their midst, it would be a good start if they helped to bake the food their arrival was celebrated with. Besides, they would be too busy to think about anything else. They needed the work. Whatever was to come would come. For now, it was time to bake cake and biscuits for a new kind of demon chorus.
I like writing pieces that are soft and gentle. This story isn’t necessarily pastoral, though. I’d sooner call it ‘cosy fantasy’, somewhat like the genre of the cosy mystery.
Getting the story to fit the title idea Rhian gave me made for an interesting and enjoyable challenge as well.
Once upon a time there was a princess. She grew up, much like other princesses (and princes and miller’s sons and basically everyone) in fairy tale lands did, with stories of cake. The earliest stories that she could remember hearing, in fact, were all about princesses looking for cake. Chocolate cake, if you want to be precise, and while it certainly isn’t necessary to being alive, the stories certainly made chocolate cake into something that a person could not possibly do without. So always, the princesses and the princes (and the pig boys and the miller’s daughters) in the stories that she heard looked for chocolate cake. (Now the princess knew that chocolate wasn’t the only flavour since sometimes she saw her tutors or the castle servants sneak in a bite of another: strawberry or vanilla.)
As the princess grew older, the time came for her parents to send her to Princess School. This too was not out of the ordinary for a fairy tale princess. She made many friends there and all the princesses had a good time. They learned (although somewhere they already knew) that cake was a treat only for adults, much like wine was something they were not allowed to have. They learned that all people have their own preferences in what cake they like, even though all of them had only ever heard stories about chocolate cake. The girls learned that some people like both chocolate and strawberry cake and that others liked all flavours of cake. Even if most people did seem to like only chocolate. “It takes all kinds to make the world beautiful,” o
ne of their teachers once said. What they never did learn was how cake was made because that knowledge was something reserved for adults.
Most of the princess’ friends became interested in eating cake as they grew into young women, but the princess never did. She didn’t see the appeal at all. Some of her friends would sneak cake from the kitchens because it was just too tasty to resist. Some only wanted chocolate, others wanted to try out all the flavours first. Sometimes her friends would learn they liked only one flavour. Sometimes they knew. And sometimes they liked all flavours.
A very few of the princess’s friends did not like cake at all either and so they formed a small group who failed to see the attraction of cake. Everyone around them kept telling them that, one day, they would find the right cake for them. They’d find the tastiest and most perfect cake in the world. Story upon story was told, though the princesses had already heard them all. They’d already heard that they would find that perfect cake one day because people always did. They didn’t believe it, but it was all that they ever heard. If one of the princesses mentioned that she’d never had cake, people would look at her oddly. It was worse when they said that they didn’t want cake. Everything around them told them that they should love it. Any kind of cake would do, as long was it was cake. Any cake at all!
Their friends and family despaired. The princesses slowly grew into adults and they still developed no interest in cake, whether chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, anything in between or something entirely different, it only got worse. They were pestered and pestered and pestered, and if they weren’t pestered then they were teased. Everybody, after all, loves cake and so their words meant nothing. The princesses were all stuck coming up with ideas and excuses to explain away their lack of interest in cake.
One of the princesses was pressured into trying a slice once. She hated it. Could think of a million things she loved more. But she ate another piece because it was what everyone expected of her. Because everyone told her she’d come to like cake. She pretended to like it. What else could she do? It was the only way to make people stop pestering her.
Feather by Feather and Other Stories Page 24
