Davidia and the Prince of Triplock

by Ken Spargo

  ‘You can have first taste,’ said Gragga, realising that its other half was the stronger.

  ‘How sweet of you, Gragga. Maybe we can enjoy it together,’ it demurely replied.

  ‘I want to taste that awful looking human life form first. She intrigues me.’

  ‘What about that rounded unpleasant grunting life form? His size suggests deliciousness.’

  Apparently, for one dark only prior to a great feast, all Grags ceased their infernal bickering. However, like all truces, once it was over, the never-ending conflicts continued. It felt like a carnival atmosphere. The sky was alight with flaming embers that delicately fluttered to the ground for a rest. The reflection of evil bounced off each Grag’s eyes. Next light was eagerly awaited. That dark, the valley didn’t sleep.

  Davidia and Grunt sat silently, both wondering if their last meal had been consumed. The strange thoughts that they had both experienced had them both confused. Something was pushing their barrow, but what?

  All the other life forms in the prison cells became restless. Many knew that the two main menu items would not feed the crowds and they knew their turn was coming. They would play bit parts and secondary roles in menu mayhem. No sauce that they were served with could be better than living. The dark was filled with tension and they couldn’t eat fries with that. A weird feeling engulfed the impending edibles. It would be a lonely dark for all.

  Next light crept slowly over the valley like a blanket of promises. The Grags had kept their bad attitudes at bay during the dark, but next light let loose their fanatically bad behaviour genes.

  ‘You snivelling halfwit, that part of the leg is mine,’ snarled half a Grag.

  ‘If you weren’t my other half, you’d be stewed,’ replied the other half.

  The day was off to a flier; snarlers everywhere. A crowd had gathered outside the prison gates to see the suffering life forms take their last walk and nominate what their fancy would be. Grunt and Davidia sat quietly. Their energy needed to be conserved.

  ‘Guard, open the grates.’ Grunt clasped his necklace. He felt five prongs on the “G” grate. I’m not alone, he thought.

  Davidia took a deep sigh and closed her eyes. Her mind was greeted with a gentle smile. She opened her eyes and realised that it was a vision meant only for her.

  The grates were all opened and a myriad of life forms exited. Grunt glanced in at cell two and he felt a surge of emotion as he passed it. ‘Remember us,’ flashed into his head. He nodded, smiled and dripped moisture. They were to be paraded like skewered meat pieces out into the quadrangle first before being frog-marched, another food delicacy, to the valley centrepiece, the two huge pots. On the way, life forms were prodded, poked, hit, abused, insulted and leered at. Every nasty Grag was in attendance.

  Grunt touched Davidia’s hand. They melded as one in thought. Grunt transmitted to Davidia the moment of the escape plan and what he believed would save them. He couldn’t explain the feeling. ‘Cell two is the key.’ Davidia nodded in agreement. She was so confident, she teased the Grags who were forbidden to touch her or Grunt.

  ‘You look so skinny, nothing could live in there,’ she said to one Grag.

  ‘Bite me,’ it said, sneering at her. It came so close that it was exactly what Davidia did. A quick chomp on a wrist and a scream of agony erupted. The Grag looked down and its putty like body began to leak its life source.

  ‘Entree is over here,’ yelled a few other Grags, as they attacked the leaker. It was over in moments.

  ‘Go on, do it again, I dare you,’ teased another. Once a leak had sprung in their bodies, a Grag becomes a free meal for fellow Gragsters. Davidia smiled and waved her arm. The Grag ducked, fearing it was the next choice for devouring. The procession finally reached the village centre. Gragga and Gorgo stood out like unfashionable monuments on a pedestal. The agitated crowd swayed rhythmically.

  Gragga and Gorgo became instantly visible in one movement. It kept the crowd spellbound. This was the signal that the feast was officially opened.

  ‘And you call us ugly,’ commented Davidia, having seen a one-piece Grag. ‘I’ve seen better looking cowpats.’

  Gorgo sent a withering look of hate at her.

  ‘You first,’ she said, ‘then that round thing can follow. Stand up on that plank.’ Davidia was forcibly pushed to stand in front of the crowd on a wooden plank. Her soft, cotton dress gently moved in the breeze. Grunt stood next to her at a distance where they could touch by extending their arms. His skin pores ran wet with liquid.

  Batbit and Boo had remained safely near the prison and kept an eye on cell two. Whilst everyone was at the fair, Batbit had managed to open cell two with the unattended keys. No guard stayed behind to protect an empty cell. They wouldn’t miss the opportunity to be at the Feast of Glum. Batbit hoped they could escape before Grunt and Davidia were eaten. Boo and he made an unlikely pair shuffling around the prison cells alone.

  Boom, boom. A loud thunderclap snapped into the atmosphere.

  Its deafening noise sent frozen barbs of fear along each Grag’s spine. The intensity of sound had the Grags cowering in a subservient position. The bright light was instantly blanked out by the dark cape of fear, which was Glum.

  ‘It’s not bedtime again, is it?’ asked Davidia.

  ‘I fear it’s trouble,’ replied Grunt, aware that an evil force was nearby.

  In the distance, a rolling black cloud tumbled over the landscape, growing larger as it neared the feast site. It had two large untrustworthy eyes filled with anger.

  ‘Is this it?’ it said, assessing the sacrifices to his wickedness.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ whimpered Gragga and Gorgo, fearful that Glum wanted their delicious prizes.

  ‘What are they?’ Glum asked.

  ‘Something called a human – that’s the girl life form – and the other one is just disgusting,’ they offered as an explanation.

  ‘Don’t enjoy yourselves too much.’

  Just then Davidia spoke.

  ‘Excuse me Mr Glum, do you have any relatives?’

  Glum’s head shook in shock. He turned to freeze out the sound when he heard it continue. ‘You look like Mr Mist. He was nasty too.’

  ‘Are you challenging me?’ countered Glum.

  ‘My dad said if you can’t say something nice about anyone, it’s best not to say anything at all. Do you know what a smile is?’

  Glum was becoming agitated at the “goody two-shoes” questions. He wanted to be evil, upset and hurt life forms. It was his mantra. Internally, his black clouds began to rumble.

  ‘Don’t spoil our feast,’ pleaded Gragga.

  ‘I’m not your feast,’ said a defiant Davidia.

  The Grags twittered amongst themselves. Of course she would be.

  Glum was so upset that his authority had been challenged, he began to rain. Large torrents of water hit the ground in massive raindrops. The feast fires were drowned out and every Grag scattered for higher ground. The Feast of Glum became just that. Mud stuck to the Grags’ feet as they tried to flee. It was obvious Glum was bursting a “foo foo” valve of utter desperation. His authority until now had been unchallengeable. A young girl life form had created instant devastation by her impertinence and truthfulness. Grunt and Davidia stood motionless. They were left alone on the planks. The Grags had lost interest in them. Self-preservation was more important than perhaps a tasteless meal. Glum was writhing in pain. He wasn’t finished yet. Massive winds began to howl and twist. Grunt sensed it was time to move. He grabbed Davidia by the hand and spun his invisibility talent. Poof! They were gone. No one noticed.

  The prison was empty. All life forms had escaped in the floods. Glum became gloomier. Water rushed toward the prison with undue haste, as if it was trying to rid the land of an unwanted pest. The Valley of Gragslew was in an unprecedented dangerous flood. The nastiness of the inhabitants was about to be cleansed.

  ‘Mr Grunt, there’s water rushing in everywhere. Where’s Boo?’

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nbsp; ‘Cell two. We have to get to cell two.’

  They sloshed through the rising water, which was up to their knees. It was a struggle of wills. Strange life forms against an angry cloud who wept when upset.

  ‘There it is,’ yelled Davidia. ‘Mum wouldn’t be happy about ruining my dress like this.’

  Batbit flew into the cell. Grunt had also made it. Davidia struggled with her dress. They couldn’t find Boo. Perhaps his feet had become separated and he’d been washed away. The three huddled together. Grunt held onto the necklace around his neck. He felt the small grate in one hand. There on the rear wall, the ejector stones revealed themselves only to him.

  ‘Hold on tightly together.’

  Batbit’s feet dug into Davidia’s arm. Grunt felt as if a weight had been lifted off his feet. It had. He was floating. Suddenly, they heard frantic splashing. There for all to see was Boo bobbing like a cork. Both feet were together.

  ‘I bet you didn’t know that I could water ski, did you?’ he said. ‘Are we to drown together? A nice touch, that.’

  Grunt scooped up both feet in his other hands.

  ‘Don’t mess with the toenails.’

  ‘Mr Grunt, what are you doing?’ asked Davidia. They all felt doomed. Grunt outstretched an arm and pushed against the ejector stones.

  ‘Mr Grunt, even you aren’t strong enough to push that wall over.’

  A whirring noise was the last audible sound they heard. Their minds went blank. They were in limbo land. The Valley of Gragslew was nothing more than a distant memory.

  'W ow! Did you see that?’ exclaimed an excited valley member.

  ‘It was faster than a flying rake,’ said another.

  ‘That flash was a warning from The Sinister. I told you it would be trouble when it visited. The council leaders ignored me. Now we’ll all pay for it,’ said a third member.

  The Council of Jimps was in session, planning their next foray into valley management. The valley in which they lived was very fertile. Slaves were required to plough and harvest the fields, serve their owners and be treated as possessions for owners to treat as they wished. The smart Jimps treated their slaves well, but many others used them up, spat them out and a huge communal pit was the last resting place of dissatisfied and misused slaves. The only happy inhabitants of the valley were the Jimps.

  ‘There seems to be a shortage of slaves. Have any new ones arrived in the valley recently?’ asked a senior Jimp.

  A sea of sideways nodding heads answered the question without a word. At the current loss rate of slaves, it was almost thought that the Jimps themselves would actually have to work. It was a situation of bad dreams no Jimp could face.

  The Valley of Rintslip was the home of the Jimps, a race of strange-looking creatures whose most obvious attribute was to jump and kick their legs all day. They were constantly on the hop. It would be impossible for them to work in any coordinated fashion. Each Jimp had one long tooth facing outwards, honed like a curved blade, another set straight as a spike, both located on the upper jaw and a third serrated tooth attached to their bottom jaw for tearing at any edible item. Each foot had an extendable claw facing upwards, which only triggered when fighting. They were constantly in motion, sniffing the air, eating at a furious pace and dropping rounded reminders of the good meals consumed. At least their faces gave the appearance of smiling, even though underneath unpleasantness pervaded their very souls. An unhappy force lived within each of them.

  ‘If any new slaves are found and captured, the council must be informed. Otherwise the Claw of Clusters will be enforced.’

  The council members shrank in their seats so low that only their eyes were visible above the bench top.

  ‘Not the Claw of Clusters! You cannot invoke that edict. It has been forbidden for eons,’ replied a nervous member, once having been told of a family member who had experienced the shame it had brought.

  ‘These are tough times. The prospect of work frightens me just as much as it does you, but strong decisions need to be taken and enforced.’

  ‘What’s the Claw of Clusters?’ asked an innocent, youthful member. Another Jimp whispered what it meant. Suddenly, a loud burp burst forth and a plop, plop, plop on the floor was heard as three rounded balls of waste materialised. The innocent member was in shock.

  ‘You mean I couldn’t do that anymore?’ The council nodded.

  ‘Then, let’s rake up some new slaves.’

  A whooshing sound fizzed through the air at lightening speed as Grunt, Davidia, Batbit and Boo hurtled towards an unknown destination. A tall, solitary, tree used as a lookout over the valley stood in their way as they crash-landed into it. It was deserted at the time due to council business.

  ‘This isn’t the way to treat new arrivals, leaving us stranded in such a tall tree,’ said Boo. He had no hands to assist in climbing down.

  ‘My dad wouldn’t let me climb trees at home. He always let Dan do it. Talk about favouritism. Where are we?’ asked Davidia.

  Grunt and Batbit sat quietly. They both had no idea where they were or why they were there. They were fortunate to have escaped the Grags and wondered what was in store for them here. The valley extended as far as the eye could see. Perhaps that was the end of the earth as they knew it. Odd shaped houses and odd shaped fields spread out before them. Something was puzzling them. The view seemed confusing.

  ‘Boo, do you know what this place is?’ asked Grunt.

  ‘It’s my home. I used to live here, well most of me did. It’s called the Valley of Rintslip. I used to be a whole life form here. Just wait until you meet the rest of my family.’ Grunt noticed that Boo’s feet began to kick in a most peculiar manner.

  ‘What’s happening, Boo?’

  ‘It’s coming back to me. I’m re-orientating. I’d forgotten many things without my head. Now I feel it through the ground. I was once a real live Jimp and we jumped a lot.’

  Fortunately for the others, Boo couldn’t fully remember how badly some of the slaves were treated.

  ‘Is it a friendly place?’ asked Grunt, fearing that another unpleasant experience lay ahead.

  ‘Yes, I think so. It’s hard to remember being two feet without a body.’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ whined Davidia. ‘What do they eat here?’

  ‘Everything,’ Boo paused, ‘that they grow.’

  Relief was felt all around.

  ‘I’ll fly down for a look, shall I?’ commented Batbit, who wanted to stretch his wings. Like a falling stone, he dropped from the sky to skim over the land surface.

  He noticed that in the fields, many different life forms were tossing rakes full of produce everywhere. Jimps were hopping around the edges yelling orders of, ‘Faster, faster,’ exhorting their slaves to maximum performance.

  ‘I’ll stretch your wings on racks if you don’t move faster.’

  ‘You can sleep in the poo shed if you can’t improve.’

  ‘No food for you this dark, you lazy, four-legged creature.’

  A sea of threats and intimidations permeated every thought that Batbit understood. There was nothing positive said at all. The slaves were denigrated, stood over and bullied. Harmony was expunged from the slaves. Not one Jimp was seen to raise a rake. Batbit returned to the tree.

  ‘We’ve done it again. Landed ourselves in trouble. That lot down there wouldn’t win a friendship vote on a desert island. Call me untrusting, but there’s going to be problems with that lot. When I was a small bat growing up in the caves, older bats took my hanging roof space and I was forced to cling to the roughest rocks. It’s a repeat of the bullying.’

  ‘Build a bridge and get over it. My dad told me to stand up for myself at school. A girl called Sally-Anne teased me for years with her in-group at school, until one day in the schoolyard she pushed me over. She and her friends laughed at me. I was very upset. Without thinking, I went and pulled her hair real hard. It hurt. After that, she didn’t tease me anymore. I had made a difference. Dad was real proud of me.’<
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  The others exchanged looks of support for Davidia’s determination.

  ‘It’s a long way down. Where is everyone?’

  It’s true they were stranded like “shags on a rock;” however, the tree had numerous branches upon which to step safely whilst descending. Grunt broke many branches due to his ungainly shape and bulk. Davidia pretended she was her brother, Dan, discovering a new world. Boo skipped in hippity, hoppity fashion, excelling in tree-branch jumping. As a young Jimp, trees like this were a favourite challenge for him. At last, solid ground. Batbit flew many scouting forays, alerting them to any dangers that might exist. A sign by the roadside read, The Pool of Pududdles. An arrow pointed the way. Boo became quite excited.

  ‘My family live near there,’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Davidia, thinking somehow the word was misspelt. She thought it was referring to a puddle.

  ‘A mystery,’ replied Boo, his toes wiggling excessively. The arches in his feet had regained full formation and he was leaping everywhere in confusion.

  ‘Where to, where to, oh toots of mine?’ Boo began running like a pair of possessed feet wanting to make it first to the finishing line as if he was in a triathlon. The two jumping feet disappeared over the hill.

  Grunt hadn’t said much. He was thinking. It was often a painless exercise, but he was concerned over the lack of life forms in the countryside. Maybe they had siestas here. He absentmindedly toyed with his necklace.

  ‘Ouch!’ he exclaimed. He had pricked a hand on the small rake. ‘Nothing is as it seems,’ whispered something from somewhere into an ear. It was a warning, but Grunt ignored it. He didn’t dream in the lights, especially since he was wide awake.

  ‘Let’s follow Boo’s footprints to the Pool of Pududdles. At least we can meet his family,’ said Davidia. She was hungry and wanted to eat something. Boo’s family might have a hot cake, or a bun, or a pie for her.

  Batbit had been scanning the landscape and returned excited.