Array: Byte shorts and other stories

by Cat Connor

  Rumblebum loved peppermint cones.

  Barb snapped a big fat peppermint cone from the branch she sat on. All the best cones were high up in the trees nearest the trunk.

  “Hey Rumblebum, want a treat?” she called from her perch.

  He raised an elegant eyebrow.

  “What do you want me to do for it?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I’m feeling generous up here.”

  Rumblebum long ago mastered an incredulous stare. He used it to good effect, training it on the rambunctious fairy.

  “And yet I don’t believe you.”

  Barb cackled with glee.

  “If you don’t want it…” She threw the peppermint cone into the air and caught it. “Whoops, two-hands for beginners,” she mumbled as the cone unbalanced her. Barb steadied herself against the tree trunk. “Shame to waste such a perfect cone.”

  “I wouldn’t want to waste it,” Rumblebum replied with a smack of his thin lips.

  “Catch,” Barb called tossing the cone at him.

  He caught it in his long jaws and settled down on the pine needle carpet to chew the peppermint deliciousness.

  Barb swung down a few branches. She grew nearer to Rumblebum and took a deep breath and imagined herself running through the forest at seventy kilometers an hour. No one could catch her. Oh, how quickly she could find the old wooden Christmas box.

  A few more branches and she touched the needle covered ground.

  She stretched a long paw out and then another.

  Rumblebum never looked up. His jaws were jammed full of delicious peppermint. Rumblebum enjoyed every sticky bite.

  Barb sped through the forest at break-neck speed.

  She swerved around a group of young pines at the edge of the outermost clearing, wound in and out of the old man pines that marked the beginning of the cave lands and came to an abrupt stop at the mouth of one particular deep dark cave.

  Barb imagined herself back in her own body. She needed hands not paws.

  Her front leg became an arm; within seconds she was upright and back to being a fairy again.

  Barb called into the cave, “Hello!”

  Her voice echoed around the dark then sprang back out.

  “Hello!” she called again. “It’s time!”

  Words bounced off the walls, mixed with drips and bone-chilling cold then popped out and smacked her right in the face.

  “Stop it,” she growled. “You know the drill, it’s time to give me the Christmas box.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” said a cold voice.

  “Then no one gets Christmas,” Barb said. “Not even you.”

  Barb took a deep breath. She drew a circle in the air in front of her and stepped inside it. The circle closed. Encasing her body in a protective bubble.

  “Time to bounce,” she said as she jumped inside the bubble.

  She bounced inside the cave entrance. Misjudging the first few bounces, she hit the wall and bounced out again. Barb piled positive thoughts all around her in the bubble and gave it another go.

  Three bounces later she was half way down the dark cave.

  The cold voice penetrated her bubble sending shivers down her winged spine.

  “Christmas is cancelled.”

  “No it’s not,” Barb replied. “No, it’s really not.”

  Only one person can cancel Christmas and he’d only cancel if the forest wasn’t ready. Barb had to get the box. All the decorations and the magic of Christmas lived in the little old box. The box was Christmas.

  A light from the deep glowed brighter as she bounced onward. Yellow became red became orange and stalled on flashing purple. With one final bounce Barb sprang through the flashing purple.

  The troll sat on top of the wooden box with a knife and piece of wood in his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Whittling,” he replied. “What do you care?”

  “What are you whittling?”

  “A little something for myself for Christmas.”

  “But Santa brings us presents. We decorate the forest and he brings us presents.”

  “Not me he doesn’t,” the troll grumbled.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone gets presents. Unless I don’t get that box back in time,” Barb said.

  The troll went back to his whittling.

  “Not me,” he said without looking up. The sharp knife flashed purple light around the room as he carved into the wood.

  “Hand it over,” Barb said.

  “Don’t want to,” troll said with an enormous pout.

  Barb had never seen the old troll pout like that. He was usually grumpy, smelly, and unpleasant but not pouty. She had to collapse her bubble and pick up the box but memories of the troll’s stench meant she wasn’t in a hurry.

  “Why not?”

  “No one even knows my name. The only visitor I ever get is you.”

  Barb thought for a moment. She’d just assumed his name was Troll and that he had troll friends who lived in the other dark caves and that they led troll lives and visited each other. She imagined a troll gathering would be a very smelly affair.

  “I come here every year,” she replied with a big smile.

  He whittled some more.

  “You come, take the box, then go off and make Christmas for the whole forest, except me … and I stay here in my cave alone.”

  “All alone?”

  The troll dropped the knife and wood next to him. They landed on the floor. Dust rose and floated to the ceiling.

  “Yes. No one likes cave trolls.”

  He had a point. Most creatures in the forest were scared of cave trolls. Barb decided she wasn’t like most creatures. She was better than that.

  “So, what is your name?”

  “My name,” troll said, standing up straight on top of the box. “Is … Smellywellystinkyboots.”

  Barb smiled. She forced a laugh back where it came from and concentrated on smiling.

  “I am Barb, Barb Bubblefairy.”

  Smellywellystinkyboots took two steps forward and extended his hand. Barb shoved her hand through the bubble. It exploded, filling the room with sparkles. She shook the trolls hand without even grimacing.

  “Smellywellystinkyboots I would like to invite you to my part of the forest for Christmas.”

  The troll eyed her with suspicion.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t want you to be alone in your cave when everyone else is celebrating.”

  He started to warm to the idea.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh yes,” Barb said.

  “Me?” He watched her. “An invitation for me?”

  “Yes. It’s not a trick.”

  The troll jumped up and down with joy. He sang, ‘I’ve got an invitation!’

  As he jumped his grotty old smelly clothes fell away to reveal a golden suit. His stringy tufty hair flew from his head. Barb blinked. Smellywellystinkyboots no longer looked or smelled so stinky.

  His suit was clean and sparkly. His hair shone in the white light. As he moved rainbows twirled from his head and lit the cave walls. His boots weren’t black and scummy. They were black and shiny. He leaned down the picked up the wooden box.

  “Here,” he said. “Here is the Christmas box.”

  Barb took it from him with a grin. ‘Thank you Smellywellystinkyboots.’

  He smiled.

  “When shall I come?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I don’t want you to miss out on any of the fun. Tomorrow we decorate the Christmas trees. Every tree in the forest must have lights, tinsel, and bows. And we must harvest the candy canes for Santa to deliver.”

  “I’ve never decorated a tree before or harvested candy canes,” he replied.

  “You can eat as many candies as you like while you’re harvesting.”

  Smellywellystinkyboots grinned at Barb.

  “I think I’m going to like Christmas this year.”

  Barb hefte
d the box and carried it from the cave. She called over her shoulder, ‘Meet me at the far away peppermint pine where Rumblebum lives, bright and early in the morning.’

  Christmas would come to the forest as it always had.

  Cassie closed the book and stood up.

  “Leave me the book,” her mother said in a small unrecognizable voice. “I won’t draw another fairy now.”

  “I thought you were asleep,” Cassie replied handing her the book. “Do you need anything?”

  Her mother looked at the bedside table.

  “No, I have gingerale.”

  “Rest, Mum. I’ll be close by.”

  She left the room out into the main living area. The sea called her. Cassie opened the french doors and stepped out onto the deck.

  From the wooden deck that overlooked the driveway to the beach and the Sound below Cassie could see the water shining and sparkling in the sun. It was hot. Thirty-one degrees and climbing.

  A boat plowed past, cutting the calm sea and leaving foamy wake to thrash about in the sunshine.

  She breathed in the pure sea air and leaned over the railing to watch the quail take a dust bath in the gravel driveway below.

  A soft breeze rippled through the bright blue hydrangeas dotted amongst the native plants and over the Dingly dell. She closed her eyes and listened.

  A whisper floated back on the warm wind.

  “Where have you been?”

  Her eyes flicked open. She spun around. There was no one there.

  Momentary confusion cast shadows on her mind.

  Cassie leaned over the railing again and peered below.

  No one.

  Two quail strutted past the garage without so much as a glance in her direction. She noted a change in the sea. The tide was turning.

  The breeze blew again.

  Puffs of scented air wafted over her.

  Cassie closed her eyes.

  “Where have you been?” a small voice whispered.

  Cassie knew the voice. It was the secret voice from her childhood and teenage years. The voice only she could hear.

  “At home,” Cassie replied. It felt odd saying she’d been at home when she felt home under her feet. Two homes. It’s the way of the grown-up world. Her new home with the family she made and this home, the home where she grew up. A foot in both worlds. Sometimes it made it hard to walk.

  “We missed you,” the voice said.

  “I’m here now,” Cassie said.

  She opened her eyes. Quail took a dust bath. Korimako sang from the straggly Kanuka trees while a Tui gobbled nectar from flowers nearby. A boat skimmed over the small waves of the incoming tide.

  Cassie walked slowly along the deck to the end.

  She peeked in the window.

  Her mother’s frail body rested under a quilt with a hot water bottle and a wheat-pack. Her hands clasped the fairy book as she looked through the beautifully illustrated pages. Beautifully illustrated by her own hand.

  Cassie walked back around the house to the back door.

  Washing flapped in the hot wind outside her father’s workshop. The workshop door was open. Cassie ventured up the wooden steps to the washing line.

  “Hello Cas.”

  “I wondered where you were, Dad.”

  “I’m making a bracket for that pipe,” he said gesturing to the house.

  The pipe in question was down under the deck near the front door.

  “Mum’s resting,” Cassie said as she touched the sheets and towels and checked the progress of the drying. “I’m going down to the dell.”

  Her father’s blue eyes rose to meet hers, his head shook gently.

  “It’s not the same down there,” he warned. “Not since your mum got sick.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s colder in the dell,” he said and shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s not the same. Not now. You understand.”

  Cassie nodded.

  “I’ll be back before she wakes up.”

  She walked carefully down the steep driveway that ran down the side of the top garage, curved around the house and then made a sharp left turn and went down the hill to the sea. Cassie didn’t go to the sea. She veered off the driveway below the house and entered a garden. Soft green grass felt spongy under her jandaled feet. Hydrangeas of bright blue, deep pink, white with blue edges, and bright pink surrounded her as she moved out of sight from the house, deeper into the Dingly dell. Only in a magical place would hydrangeas grow in such beautiful bright colours side by side in the exact same soil. Ramona was that magical place.

  The wind picked up but only at ankle height. It swirled leaves and flattened grass blades as she moved. In the small clearing ahead Cassie saw a ring of flowers. She smiled and walked cautiously toward it.

  Mindful of where she stood Cassie stepped over the ring and into the middle.

  “I’m here,” she said and sat cross-legged on the grass in the center of the ring.

  “We know,” said the same voice from earlier.

  Cassie smiled.

  Standing by her right knee was a fairy. Arabella was almost a foot tall, with long flowing golden hair and a face like the most precious porcelain doll from the finest of stores. She wore a dress made of rose petals. Her pink tinged wings glistened in the sun.

  “Arabella,” Cassie said. “Looking stunning as always. New dress?”

  Arabella smoothed the petals and beamed.

  “I gathered the petals this morning as the dew lifted.”

  “Dad says it’s not the same in here now.” Cassie glanced back to the house. She could just see the corner of her mother’s bedroom.

  Arabella sat cross-legged in front of Cassie.

  “It’s not. We’ve had problems with one of the fairies.”

  “Problems?”

  “The Ginko fairy,” Arabella said with a sigh. “She’s disruptive. Making beeping noises in the house and causing mischief.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s always been the naughtiest fairy.” Arabella shrugged. “You should hear her howling with laughter as she watches the big ones hunting for the beep.”

  Cassie smiled. She’d been one of the big ones hunting for the beep. Just that morning she’d pulled everything out of the kitchen cupboards in search of a disused smoke alarm, sure that that was what was behind the random beeping. After finding nothing she’d called into the room and told the invisible trouble-maker to cease the nonsense immediately.

  The beep had stopped.

  “What else has she done?”

  “She spent a whole morning turning the dial on the radio, every time the news came on she moved the dial so all they heard was static.”

  “I see. Anything else?”

  “She uncovered the roots of some new little plants and blamed the Weka.”

  Cassie nodded. Her mother told her a Weka had uncovered roots of some new plants and that she’d covered them back in only to find them exposed again an hour later. She hadn’t seen the Weka but she’d seen scratch marks in the soil.

  “That’s mean,” Cassie said. “She could kill the plants in this heat and why should Weka get the blame. Weka might be nosy but they don’t deserve to be blamed for an act of meanness.”

  Arabella sighed. Her wings changed from pink to mauve.

  “She stuffed bits of Kanuka in a pipe until water wouldn’t run.”

  Cassie thought about the pipe her father was fixing.

  “The one dad is fixing now?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s getting worse?”

  Arabella nodded. ‘Ginko won’t listen. Perhaps she’ll listen to you?’

  “Perhaps.”

  “Will you try?”

  Cassie nodded. She took a breath and whispered on the breath into the hydrangea at the far end of the dell, “Ginko …”

  The bushes rustle.

  A fairy dressed all in bright green frilly leaves emerged. She danced across the grass beating her yellowish wings in time wit
h her feet.

  “Cassie!” she squeaked. “Cassie. You came.”

  Ginko twirled then sat on the grass by Arabella.

  “I told her,” Arabella said. “I told her how naughty you are.”

  Ginko smiled. “A girl just wants to have fun.”

  “It’s not fun Ginko. Mum is very sick and dad is caring for her. You’re making more work for him,” Cassie said. She adopted the tone she used when her children misbehaved. “It’s disappointing that you would behave like this.”

  “She’s leaving us,” Ginko replied. “She is leaving us. You left us. Now she will.”

  “I come back to visit.”

  “You left us.”

  “It’s how it is with us. Children grow up and live new lives. But they come back to visit.”

  Ginko jumped to her feet and stamped.

  “There was nothing wrong with your old life.”

  “No there wasn’t but it came to an end. Everything comes to an end.”

  Ginko stamped her moss slippered foot. A scowl settled on her face.

  “Not everything. We don’t. We don’t come to an end. We’ve been here forever.”

  “People are different to fairies, Ginko. Our lives are short.”

  Cassie turned her head and listened for noises from the house. Nothing.

  “What will happen when she goes and where do the big ones go?”

  Cassie began to see what the problem was.

  “If I tell you Ginko. You have to promise to leave the big ones alone and let the end come without any more nonsense.”

  Ginko whispered to Arabella. Cassie couldn’t hear the words she said. A few minutes later Ginko nodded. “I promise,” she said to Cassie.

  “It’s not easy to explain. Her body is dying, it’s time she left it. So she’ll go when it stops. She’ll go to a place we call heaven.”

  “Can we see her?”

  Cassie thought for a moment.

  “I don’t know. Can you see three other old ones that are in the garden?”

  Ginko smiled widely.

  “There is a big one from the garden. He helped me with the beep.”

  Cassie nodded. “Typical,” she said. “Guess he thought it was funny too.”

  “He did. He did!” Ginko squeaked with delight.

  “That tells me you can see the other plane. The place we go to live forever. So, you will be able to see mum. She won’t be leaving you at all.”

  Ginko smiled. “You can see her too?”