Davidia and the Prince of Triplock

by Ken Spargo

  ‘Is Batbit still with us?’ asked Grunt. His best, little, cave-dwelling friend had been awfully quiet. Davidia felt under her arm.

  ‘Who’s prodding me this time? I was having a batnap. I’m over this flashing travel in the dark. I feel like a good feed of insects.’

  None of them had eaten anything recently. Events had overtaken their hunger. It was relaxing travelling through the dark zone. There was nothing around them except endless darkness. Somewhere an opening would be found to squirt them through, back to “terra firma.” In the meantime, patience was their companion.

  The dark zone was the only safe path made available to them to travel between valleys. The ejector stones selected this route because usually there were no evil demons or sinister threats in the area. They were hoping that there weren’t any mishaps during transmission.

  Grunt had time to relax and reflect about the journey undertaken so far. He whistled through the atmosphere like a speeding comet. He wondered who and what was pushing his buttons. There seemed to be some sense of purpose for him to experience the difficulties he had faced to date. He had almost become a food source, had been enslaved and also pulled apart. Did his necklace hold the answers? Each time he had touched it, strange emotions and feelings filtered through him. Maybe his soul had been tapped.

  ‘I’m going to touch the necklace,’ said Grunt. ‘Hold on.’

  His hands fumbled in the dark, but grab it he did.

  Almost instantly, a wave of serenity passed over him, making him feel secure as if he was inside a womb. A tightness gripped his body. He saw two sets of eyes lovingly wash over him. He was being adored. Was it his parents? It was a calmness he had never experienced before. Whoosh! It was gone quicker than a sneeze. A wispy mist appeared around him. Two evil eyes protruded like two large, unwanted, gaudy, baubles, hanging on a bracelet. ‘Listen to your heart,’ a whisper passed by. A vision of a ferocious fight erupted, with extraordinary looking characters swiping at each other. The scene faded out. Who were they? His head was reeling with overload. A valley, none the like of which he had ever seen, momentarily hovered in his thoughts and then fell through one of his skin pores. It felt familiar, but why should it?

  ‘Mr Grunt, wake up. You’re scaring me. You have been sleep-talking in a very strange language.’

  Grunt unconsciously let go of the necklace. His head stopped spinning and they were still in the dark zone. Where were they headed?

  ‘I was head-dreaming. There are weird and wonderful things in our imagination. I saw things I didn’t understand.’

  ‘Well, if you were at home with your parents, you could ask them. Mine always explained to me the things I didn’t understand. Mum would say to dad, “You explain it,” and he would say the same thing. Eventually I was told.’

  Davidia felt tired and whilst they were zooming to nowhere, she shut her eyes for a moment. Hisssslo flashed through her mind. Her body twitched nervously. A set of rolling dice tumbled past. Each black dot was an eye. It opened in half and out popped a useless, plastic toy. Just before it shut like a clam, the sound of her brother’s voice escaped with a ‘hello.’ She was missing her big brother. Her mind filled with a brightness that words couldn’t do justice to. A massive book had opened before her and the light emanated from it. She peered closely

  ‘Tell the truth and use words wisely,’ it said.

  ‘What are you?’

  ‘I’m the Wisp of Wischink. Your journey is my journey. I am your guardian during your absence from home. Your mind is my refuge. I have been with you since you left home. I live in books and when you opened up those two books beginning with S and P, I was destined to be with you. You set me free to express myself through your mind in language. I assist with thoughts and good advice, I am a good reference source and I rest with your imagination. It’s busy in here with that. It is important to be safe and above all, be truthful.’

  ‘How will I know what the truth is?’

  ‘I will be there on the end of your tongue helping you push out the correct words.’

  The book closed and melded into the darkness. Davidia felt her tongue. There was no one there. At that moment, she woke up. It was still pitch black with nothing to do.

  ‘I’m bored.’

  ‘Perhaps, I can play with you,’ whispered a long-winded sound that felt uncomfortable and fearful. Davidia could see the outline of two eyes and a sneering mouth. What was it? It was too close.

  ‘I don’t want to play with you. I want to play with Miss Percival. Do you know where she is?’ asked Davidia.

  The pair of eyes disappeared without a response.

  All the time, Batbit was using his batscan techniques to contact Mrs Batbit through the atmosphere. He thought that she was probably at home gorging on those deliciously large, juicy insects that he used to share and not missing him for one moment. Batbit promised himself that if he made it home again he wouldn’t squabble any more over the best roof-hanging spots. Mrs Batbit could choose first. He had almost had enough of his adventures.

  A light appeared in the distance. It grew larger. Finally, they were expelled out at the end of it from a teapot style, pouring spout.

  Where would they land?

  B ump, bump, bump. Grunt and Davidia landed backside first on a flat, soulless landscape littered with thousands of various sized rocks. Most of them were covered in a squelchy, gooey, sticky, colourless slime. No wonder they didn’t see the mess they landed in until it was too late.

  ‘This is disgusting,’ said Davidia, stuck fast in a slime trail.

  ‘I can’t move quickly or much at all. My legs have been attacked all at once,’ complained Grunt as his large frame wiggled in defiance of immobility.

  ‘It feels like the thick, treacle toffee that my nanna used to make. Every Sunday we attended church and Nan would make a special batch for Dan and me. One bite and my mouth was glued shut for an hour. It was ever so sticky. I think my parents enjoyed the toffee more than I did even though they didn’t eat any. I always wondered why?’

  ‘I hope you are hungry. You can eat your way out,’ joked Grunt, who saw the humourous side of their predicament. He was beginning to loosen up.

  ‘What is this stuff?’ asked Davidia, as she squeezed it through her fingers. It ran slowly and clung for as long as possible before gravity gave it a final tug to release its grip.

  Grunt closely sniffed the ground. The substance didn’t react. At least it was inert and not a life form. It clung tightly to each rock surface as if it was afraid to leave. As far as the eye could see, reflections abounded from the rocks in a dazzling light display. The landscape was flat as a pancake, except for the minor undulations the rocks made. There wasn’t one item taller than Davidia that they could see. There didn’t appear to be any living life forms in the valley. It was hard to describe a valley that was a straight, flat line.

  ‘Those ejector stones aren’t so smart after all, are they? We’ve landed in an uninhabited, stone kingdom glued to the ground. Now what do we do?’ Davidia was incensed. Sitting in a goo bath wasn’t her understanding of fun. ‘If we get this mess off us, how will it stay away?’

  Grunt suddenly stood tall. The slime just slipped off him like peeling an orange. It literally fell away. He shook himself and the last offending, sticky mites were flung off to join the ground-based mess. Plop!

  ‘That’s better. My pores are cleansed. Those sticky little suckers took all the dirt from my pores. I feel like a new Igloid.’ Grunt beamed with satisfaction.

  ‘How did you do that, Mr Grunt?’ asked a young girl, not believing her eyes.

  ‘It’s a secret?’

  ‘You can tell me. There’s no one else here. Sorry Batbit, except you.’

  ‘It’s all in the wrists, the wrists.’

  Grunt leant over Davidia and rubbed the underside of his wrists over her clothing. A sweet, scented oil flowed from secret glands. As the oil touched the slime, it shivered in fright and it wobbled off Davidia’s clothing,
as fast as it was capable.

  ‘That’s amazing Mr Grunt. Thanks.’

  ‘Just leave a tip for me.’

  Grunt, being an ancient Igloid, possessed many fantastic powers and capabilities that in his past world were the domain of the ruling class. He kept discovering his talents, especially when danger lurked. One day he would understand what it was he possessed.

  ‘Oh! That feels good. I don’t want to carry around all that extra weight. I can’t do our feet, because it is in constant touch with the ground; however, walk this way and you won’t notice the difficulties.’

  Grunt then demonstrated walking in a cross-footed manner and, surprisingly, the slime left them alone. It preferred a larger area than a skinny foot.

  ‘It reminds me of the trails that the slugs and snails at home leave as they slither across the ground. Where to now?’

  Grunt stroked his chin because it was itchy. He noticed that not all the rocks were slimy. Some were left perfectly clean. The explanation wasn’t obvious. Batbit was still shaken up by all the tumbling; however, he was wide awake and needed a stretch.

  ‘Batbit, could you fly around and tell us if there is anything over the horizon?’ asked Grunt, who wanted to move and not be slime-stuck. If they stood too long in the one spot their feet would become slime encased.

  Batbit soared over the landscape. There were no juicy insects that he could see. In fact, nothing seemed to grow or live anywhere. It was rocks only, spread in all directions. Those clean, unslimed rocks required closer investigation. His curiosity overtook any safety precautions. He landed on one to rest his weary batwings. Whilst he was preening and stretching them, the rock moved slightly. It unsettled him. He waited. It moved again.

  ‘Is anything there?’ he cautiously asked. He had his batwings tuned for a quick take-off.

  Before he could elevate, the rock surface changed into a carpet of needle spikes, similar to miniature, thin, slender cannons. They jabbed into his feet. In fright, he flew off just in time as hundreds of pointed nails were ejected at him. A few hit his body to inflict a pinprick of pain, but no serious damage. He watched as the spikes receded back into the flat, rock surface. Dotted amongst the goo trails, he noted that there were many other clear rock surfaces. He thought that at least something lived in the valley.

  Davidia and Grunt were walking carefully towards somewhere, when Batbit did a flying, multi-loop landing onto Davidia’s hair. It was long and a very easy place to land. Grunt was too round and slippery. Land incorrectly at one’s own peril and one could probably end up in goo land.

  ‘I saw something move,’ Batbit excitedly explained. ‘A clear, flat rock spat some spiky things at me. Whatever it is lives under those clear rocks. Tread carefully. You don’t want spikes in your feet.’

  ‘You didn’t imagine it, did you?’ asked Grunt. ‘You haven’t had any bat juice lately, have you?’

  ‘Check one out for yourself.’

  ‘What did they look like?’ asked Davidia.

  ‘From the air, like a flat rock.’

  ‘I wonder what this place is,’ said Grunt, realising that whatever it was, it didn’t have a happy feeling about it.

  The three friends stared in all directions, wondering which way to go.

  Slurp, slurp. A mini vacuum cleaner was hoovering the landscape under the protection of their rock-like backs. Lichen grew in abundance and was the only food source in the valley. The inhabitants that fed on this plant form were known as Noots. They were rectangular in shape and carpet thin. Each had four upters (legs) with one on each corner. They had one rotator on a front and back upter. They also had two extra pop-up rotators (eyes) on their backs. Their defence mechanism was the hundreds of nail cannons on their backs, which were fired to ward off any danger. The strength of the nail fired and the damage inflicted depended on the strength of the danger faced. Their utterer (mouth) was on the underside, which continually extracted the lichen. They settled in one spot and fed until it was time to move. From their rear, a slime ejector squirted out a substance after they had finished eating. It had a two-fold purpose, one as a waste dispenser, and the other as fertiliser for the encouragement of growth of more lichen. The valley was a huge slime farm with the lichen well protected under a clear, flimsy covering. The slime wasn’t a deliberate hindrance, but a clever farming technique. The Noots easily slid over the surface on their gliding little upters. When on the move en masse, the landscape resembled an enormous, mobile carpet. Other life forms weren’t a food source, but because of their height, did blot the landscape’s uniformity. The Noots intended keeping their valley as flat as possible for ease of movement. They weren’t uphill climbers; however, a life form lying on its side or back was sufficient height for them to traverse. They protected their land flatness fiercely. Any intruder in the valley became the base ingredient for building that small undulation. The Noots could then test their minimalistic, climbing skills.

  The head of the Noots was too busy feeding to notice any ground tremors caused by moving life forms. The land was a communication highway, which signalled intruders by vibrations registered through the slime mass.

  The head Noot, Noosy, thought that it would be nice to experience some excitement in her humdrum existence. All there was to do was eat and squirt. Noot life was as simple as it could get. She returned to improving her hoovering technique to extract the stubborn lichen. Even it didn’t want to join in being a food source this time.

  Suddenly, her undercarriage shook. Her utterer ceased sucking. She unfolded herself at full stretch. Her rectangle was the largest of all, containing the most sensitive feeling powers. Her pop-up rotators scanned the horizon. Nothing. She thought that it could have been a false alarm. Once again she shook. Something was definitely shaking the slime carpet, which sent any movements it experienced to its leader. This could be the most exciting occurrence in the valley since the last life form was entombed in a slime ball. It had been many darks and lights since the last encounter with foreign life form matter. Perhaps it was time for another challenge and entombment.

  ‘Agh! This stuff is a nuisance to walk through,’ said Davidia, struggling to walk cross-legged. ‘My shoes will be ruined. Look at the soles. They are encased with slippery goo. My mum didn’t buy these for instant obsolescence. I need a new pair.’

  ‘Are your feet off the ground?’ asked Grunt.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s all that is important. Under the slimy veneer, there are sharp stones that will cut your feet to shreds. Your ruined shoes are protecting you. Besides, there’s not a shop or boot-maker in sight.’

  ‘I want to sit down. I’m tired.’

  Davidia saw a clear rock at seating height and headed for it.

  ‘Don’t sit there, it’s dangerous,’ shrieked Batbit, after his previous encounter and recognising the rock might be a wary item.

  ‘Fuddletwit,’ replied Davidia.

  The clear rock dipped slightly with Davidia’s weight. Underneath, a Noot was sucking the life out of a lichen haven.

  ‘Now what? I can’t even finish a good feed without being used as a rest spot,’ it said.

  It popped up its rotators to see Davidia sitting there twiddling her fingers. I wonder what that was. The Noot couldn’t be bothered to send up its defensive nettles. The life form wasn’t interfering with its eating function. To be on the safe side, the Noot decided to signal its leader by tugging at the slime mass in a precise manner. Tug one, two, three, and then a twanging flick by its front upters sent a shaking message shimmering off into the distance. Noosy was a clever and calculating rectangle, whose responsibility was to ensure that her colony ate well and enjoyed numerous climbing activities. The message was received loud and clear.

  ‘Foreign heavyweight life form becoming a nuisance. Need assistance to dispense with it.’

  She thought that the audacity of something annoying a fellow Noot was unacceptable. The one thing that Noots detested most was being annoyed. Their calm and simpl
e lifestyle didn’t require unnecessary interference, even though Davidia wasn’t an interference. Perception was more important than fact.

  ‘I’ll give her a scare,’ the Noot said to itself. It tried to raise all of its nettles, fully charged; however, Davidia had sat on most of them. That didn’t work. ‘I’ll move.’ That was another wasted motion as she was too heavy. As a last resort, it decided to flatten itself. That worked. Davidia thumped to the ground in a crumpled heap, landing squarely in a slime pat. The goo tried to stick to her clothing and ran down her legs. Grunt’s oil held the offending mess at bay. It couldn’t obtain a good, clinging hold.

  ‘That was unfair. Who let the air out of the rock?’ complained Davidia, nursing a new bruise.

  No one looked positive. Two shaking heads meant that it wasn’t them. She stood up and bent over to pick up the Noot.

  ‘Keep your pick-me-up things off me,’ said a squeaky voice. It sounded as if someone was strangling its vocal chords. The Noots communicated through ground vibrations with other life forms, by sending small tremors which ran up the leg of any recipient and converted into an understandable thought. Once contact had been established with a new communicating life form, all future thoughts ran down legs, upters and any other ground contact points. The Noots had the choice to receive or deflect any unwanted thoughts.

  ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Down here on the ground.’

  ‘Where? I can’t see anything.’

  The Noot raised all its nettles for a firing and let them loose. Bam, wham, bash! Many landed on Davidia. Small pinpricks were felt on her arms and legs, leaving behind tiny, red welts.

  ‘Ouch! They must have mosquitos here too.’

  ‘Do you want more or have you had enough?’

  ‘If I knew where you were, I could answer you.’

  ‘I’m on the ground. You sat on me.’

  Davidia’s clear rock seat had stretched into an odd looking rectangle. It stood as flat as was possible. Its little upters seemed out of place situated at each corner.