by Ken Spargo
‘I cough first,’ said one of many open gappers.
‘It’s me, it’s me,’ chorused a team of them.
‘It’s party time,’ said the Seam of Mudmuddle’s members.
‘Mr Grunt, it’s awfully dark,’ said Davidia. ‘I don’t like the lights turned out this dark.’
‘They aren’t lights. I feel trouble in the air. The valley is under threat.’
‘From what, a dust storm?’
‘It’s something more fearful than that. There’s a darker side to what is happening. I can’t explain it. Someone is pushing that storm’s buttons. I don’t know why,’ explained Grunt.
‘Who would want to scare us?’
‘Not us,’ said a chorus of carpet pieces. Noosy and the Shenoots had stopped at Grunt’s feet. A wobbly jelly messenger ran up his leg and its message affirmed what the not-so-naughty Noot had told him. Grunt and Davidia had just enough time to crawl under the thick, slime carpet. Underneath, it was non-stick due to the special occasion squirter that first sprayed slime on the ground, before it was overlaid with the thick, sticky, goo from the normal squirters. The thick carpet of slime was dense enough to stop anything from passing through it.
‘This is like hide and seek. My brother Dan used to hide from me all the time. Mostly, he hid under the bed where he read his magazines that he wouldn’t let me read. They were probably on cars or something like that.’
Grunt was truly amazed with all the different things that Davidia spoke about from her world.
‘Lay flat. When we are told, we have to grab a corner of this carpet and stand up straight, real quickly.’
‘It’s not heavy is it?’
‘It doesn’t feel like it.’
They could see through the sticky goo to the Shenoots’ underside. Their leg rotators kept them under close surveillance. All was quiet except for the beating of their pounding hearts.
Dustbag was almost at the point of impact when Grunt and Davidia disappeared from sight. He was at full throttle headed toward them and couldn’t change his course, which was directly over Noosy and the Shenoots. Swirling winds made it almost impossible to see. The Shenoots’ rotators tracked Dustbag. When he was almost on top of them, Noosy gave the signal to fling their formation wide open into two halves. Grunt and Davidia gripped a corner each of the thick, slime carpet and blindly stood tall, holding it up as a wall. Thump, bang, glug, squish, a trap had been sprung. Dustbag had flown into the slime trap that had originally been set for Grunt and Davidia. Abusive dust particles struggled to open their open gappers and dump their dangerous, dust-riddled cargo. Grunt and Davidia fell backwards with the impact. Noosy and her Shenoots wrapped the other corners quickly around Dustbag. His trail of dust particles fell harmlessly to the ground as his eyes seethed with anger. He had been glugged by the Noots. Grunt and Davidia could see a dangerous demon stuck fast in a massive slime ball. Their fate had been spared.
Nootster knew his future was secure; however, he preferred the flirtatious Shenoots to his angry Nooters even though he had succeeded in his request. He had made up his mind up to join them. Happy carpet pieces made the best producers of new carpet squares.
The not-so-naughty Noot decided to follow Noosy and her group, because it believed that trouble was still in store for Grunt and Davidia. There was no given explanation as to why a not-so-naughty Noot looked out for their welfare.
‘Great work, girls. This is one dust storm that won’t bother us again. We’ll entomb him with all the other trophies at Noothill. Bring those two things with us and we’ll decide later on how to deal with them.’
Grunt felt the communication via the slime at his feet. His necklace also began to jangle. A hand touched it and an electrical charge zapped him. He received a tiny shock. He went to take it off his neck, when he felt an inner thought rampage through his body. ‘Danger, all is not as it seems.’ It swirled like a whirlpool with no stopping. The void into which it was spinning was endless. Had he been warned, but against what? The Shenoots had rolled Dustbag neatly into a massive slime ball and were rolling him along as a dung beetle does performing its duty, moving its food objects in the same manner. Grunt and Davidia followed a non-slimed trail the Shenoots had made from their special occasion squirters. It was now far easier to walk. They had no idea where they were headed, but followed in the hope that they may find a means of escaping from the valley. The ejector stones, if they existed, needed to be located.
As a matter of habit Grunt toyed with his necklace. A pointy object stuck fast into a finger.
‘Ouch,’ he exclaimed. A small drop of blood seeped out of the unfortunate, wounded finger. The seepage formed a few large globules, which refused to fall off. Gravity was tugging and teasing them to drop. It wasn’t the right moment. Grunt had walked close by to Noosy who was busy lichen-sucking a trail as they went. Inexplicably, his hand shook vigorously. The wound had unleashed an excruciating pain, which ran up his arm. ‘Stay away, I don’t want to know you,’ Grunt’s mind was yelling. His hand flicked the blood high into the air. The droplets gently fell, plip, plop, onto Noosy’s shown side. They slowly spread over it, layering it with a thin, transparent, blood field. Much to Grunt’s amazement a vision appeared. It showed a small clump of five, large, slime-free stones, stacked one above the other. They were perfectly clean. As quickly as a good thought deserts it originator, the vision vanished. His hand recoiled from holding the N in his necklace. Pain was the message it had sent, plus an indication of possible escape. Were those clear stones the ejector stones he sought? His mood became upbeat. ‘I might enjoy this walk.’
As the light faded they arrived at Noothill. Dustbag was rolled through the main gate, which had a sign above it, “Climbing Practice Only,” and pushed in. He was rolled into position and that is where he would stay forever. Noothill was filled with slime-balled, valley intruders. They all looked fresh, having been perfectly preserved in a slime ball. The small, round hills that they made were used by all Noots for climbing practice and a vantage point to see further than the upters of a Noot in front of them. It was their main form of entertainment.
‘I don’t like this place,’ said Davidia. ‘My mum has glass ornaments that look exactly like they do. They just sit on a mantelpiece and do nothing except collect dust and stare all day long without moving. It must be pretty boring.’
‘There isn’t much activity. Perhaps their diet is low on protein,’ replied Grunt wondering how he knew that comment. ‘Where’s Batbit?’
Davidia felt under her armpit and pulled out one crumpled bat.
‘Am I in nirvana?’ he asked. He was disorientated, having been tossed about like the contents of a salt and pepper shaker.
‘It’s okay Batbit. We’re with friends now. Noosy and the Shenoots. They saved us from an evil wind. It has all happened around you, hasn’t it?’
Little Batbit gradually regained all his senses. His first view of Noothill reminded him of ants trapped in tree sap. The stones in the landscape reminded him of parts of the Valley of Preciousness where he was once happy. He sighed for its comforts. He thought that Mrs Batbit was probably pining for him.
‘This is a terrible place. Flatness everywhere. I still don’t feel comfortable. Something is itching at me and it’s not an annoying insect.’
Grunt also wondered what their fate would be. He approached Noosy. Her nettles instantly arched up. Grunt twanged the slime with a message. Noosy flashed her rotators and upters in anger. ‘Who dares to interrupt my lichen sucking?’
Grunt’s message got through.
‘You must stay one dark with us and at early light a decision will be made.’ Noosy kept on sucking.
Darkness arrived, hiding a myriad of evil thoughts. Later that dark, Noosy slipped away from the group. Only Batbit could follow and see in the dark with his echo sounder. Noosy travelled up and down a few undulations. Before long she stopped. A rounded shape appeared. Batbit noticed that Noosy climbed upwards, stopped and then draped her recta
ngle over something. Her four upters hung loosely, one from each corner of her rectangle in complete peace. He imprinted on his tiny brain the path she had taken. At light he would relay the path to Grunt and Davidia. He thought that it meant something important. The trio slept on the ground. Surprisingly, the slime made a good bed. There would be no danger this dark. The not-so-naughty Noot kept one rotator half open in case any problems arose.
At next light, Batbit explained what he had seen the previous dark. Noosy and the Snoozers. That was a reference to the stones she lay upon. She still hadn’t returned to the Shenoots, who by now were waking and looking for their leader.
‘Not again,’ said a worried Shenoot. ‘She stays away at dark on those smooth things. No one knows why? It could be dangerous out there. Those angry Nooters have been known to unthread us when we haven’t paid attention to our safety.’
There was rumbling in the patch, or was it a quilt?
‘Can we leave now, Mr Grunt? There’s nothing to do here, except listen to the dreadful sound those carpets make when slurping up that green stuff,’ said Davidia. She had already tired of the place. There weren’t any playmates here for her.
‘There’s nowhere for us to go. Look around. A nothing view everywhere. Flat, flat, and flat. Inside the Rock of Yocklaw, at least there were insects to be amused by. Where’s Noosy? Batbit said she slept over there somewhere.’
The Shenoots all had their undersides in vacuuming mode. Their rotators and nettles were inactive. It was the ideal time to escape. Batbit flew into the air and motioned with a wing in the direction that they should take. They weren’t noticed, or so they thought, which surprised them.
Unbeknown to them, the Shenoot’s upter rotators had kept them in view. It was a fool’s errand to think of escape. Quietly, they headed for Noosy. Behind, at a discreet distance, a sea of Shenoots also quietly followed. They were so agitated their squirters released anger goo, a substance so powerful one step in it and they became immobilised. Two steps and it was over. The Shenoots were annoyed because their hospitality had been compromised by Davidia and Grunt who walked away and headed uninvited towards Noosy’s special place.
‘That didn’t take long,’ said Noosy, messaging them. ‘Welcome to my special place.’
‘There’s nothing here except rocks. What’s so special about them? At home, I keep a few pet rocks in a fishpond. They’re not special at all,’ said Davidia.
Noosy showed her aggressive side. She squirted a ball of goo at Davidia that almost pushed her over.
‘That hurt.’
The Shenoots had surrounded Noosy’s special place squirting angrily as they encircled it. There was no escape. The goo was far too thick and sticky for even Grunt and his invisible, spinning windmill speciality. Davidia was a young girl who always told the truth. Now it couldn’t help her. Batbit flew overhead wondering where this would all lead to. It was a stalemate. Suddenly, the Shenoots joined sides by wrapping their upters together and forming a canopy over them, squirting as they went. They were building a giant, slime ball tomb. The Shenoots were performing as if part of a circus act, balancing precariously on each other as the tomb grew.
‘Mr Grunt, we’re in trouble. I don’t want a slime house to play in.’
‘It’s not a playpen, Davidia. They intend to keep us trapped in here forever,’ replied a calculating Grunt. He then remembered the vision that he had seen on Noosy’s shown side and he somehow felt it was close at hand. Batbit flew down and landed on Grunt’s surface.
‘Batbit, try and remove Noosy off those large stones for a few moments. I wonder what’s under her.’
Batbit had often flown dark sorties to feed both Mrs Batbit and himself. This felt like it was to be an urgent flight. There was tension in the air. Noosy was standing on all four upters giving instructions. There wasn’t much room underneath her, but that is where Batbit intended flying. He honed in on Noosy like a dart from the heavens. With a pounding heart, he aimed for Noosy’s underside. Down he went. Halfway through underneath her, he let out his trademark screech. The released vibrations startled Noosy and she slipped off the rocks in shock. Her stumble revealed five, large, clear stones, upon which she had been standing. It was her favourite sleeping space. The slime cave was almost complete. Batbit headed for Davidia who placed him under her armpit. Nothing came easily.
‘That was the vision,’ Grunt told Davidia. ‘Walk quickly over to them and climb up,’ ordered Grunt.
‘I’m not in the mood to play.’
‘Do as you are told. Don’t be so stubborn. It might be our only way out.’
‘Alright then, but I’m not happy.’
Noosy recovered quickly from her fall and when she saw Grunt and Davidia climbing toward her special sleeping space, she turned her rear toward them and fired anger goo directly at them. Before it could cause them any harm, the not-so-naughty Noot fired a goo goo missile, which knocked it off course. This allowed enough time for Grunt and Davidia to stand safely on top.
‘Now what, Mr Grunt? Everyone can see us.’
The slime cave was almost complete. The Noots could easily pass through it, but it was deadly for anything else. Time was running out, just like for the not-so-naughty Noot who had made good her escape.
At times of pressure, Grunt grasped his necklace. It always seemed to hold the answers. The N’s sharp point pricked another finger. This time no blood flowed. His body swayed uncertainly on the stones, threatening to topple off. Memories flooded into his mind like an overflowing sluice gate, holding back the waters of the world. These were the memories of his past ready to be spilt. ‘Son, son,’ a fading voice called. ‘Who’s there?’ Grunt awoke, realising that he was jumping up and down on the stones like an excited child.
‘Davidia, do you want to jump? Copy me, it’s fun.’
Grunt was acting like a twelve year old and Davidia couldn’t resist the temptation to act like the child she was. They both jumped together. Their combined weight, more on Grunt’s side than Davidia’s, set off an underground alarm bell. Hot ashes sprung to the surface, forcing the ejector stones to explode and send the happy jumpers forcibly upwards. Whoosh, the sky went dark. The hidden ejector stones springboarded them to elsewhere, safely from permanent entombment and becoming a climbing toy.
The last vision of Noosy and the Shenoots that they saw was the collapse of the goo cave on top of them.
It was goo bye.
Cold, dark and dangerous days lay ahead. Irridia, the head Irrid, shivered with hate at the failure once again of one of her most dangerous and feared demons. She might have to deal with the perceived threat herself. Signals of fear were growing stronger. A blip from the past would soon haunt her. Retribution was near. Whatever the outcome, she was confident that pain and the evil side of existence would win. Her army of evil was a force to be reckoned with. That dark she consoled herself in the Cave of Murm. Brrr!
'W hat a dump this place is,’ said Davidia, as her surrounds suggested unpleasantness.
‘Don’t criticise everything new,’ replied Grunt, as he had inner feelings of good, but didn’t know why he should feel this way.
‘Why not? At home I could say anything I liked. Mum and dad often said if I didn’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all. I’m not home now. This place frightens me.’
The land was covered in a grey, dense mist. Visibility was limited to one hundred metres in all directions. The ground felt constantly moist. Gnarled trees fought for a taller existence, only to be denied warm, sunny rays. The cloud cover was stifling for a good time or a quick flora growth rate. Any life form movements in the distance could be seen as darting shadows that quietly disappeared when approached. The fun in the Valley of Irridon had been suffocated out of all life forms. The only enjoyment was practising evil and misery, which flourished everywhere. Niceness didn’t exist. Harshness, bad manners and deathly stares abounded. The inhabitants freely shared their nasty side, the worse the better. The strength of evi
l grew as their worsening, nasty skills were honed. The valley was home to a mentally unhealthy growing group of Irrids whose mantra in life was conquer, destroy and be miserable. Even in their moment of increasing gains of land and power, satisfaction escaped them.
The trees seemed to live in fear of growth. The ground was under constant wet stress. Rocks were thickly covered with a green mat of weeds. River waters weren’t clear, suggesting unhealthy flows. Life forms darted like stooped old men running away with a stolen loaf of stale bread tucked under one arm, trying to avoid capture.
Grunt and Davidia had landed in the badlands of Irridon by mistake. The necklace had them headed for the Valley of Triplock, which would now have to be entered via a detour through Irridon, its neighbouring valley.
‘Come on out, Batbit,’ said Davidia.
Batbit opened his eyes wide enough to stretch his small face. He took one look and shook his tiny head.
‘It looks bleak, bleak, bleak. Who chose to land here? Are we on course with that necklace of yours?’ he asked Grunt.
Grunt really hadn’t considered whether his necklace was a navigation system for them to follow. Perhaps it was.
‘I’m not sure. Each time we have a problem it helps to solve it. Maybe it’s a jingling message band.’
‘So far, in each valley we’ve been through, it has aided us with good advice. I doubt if it meant us to be here. Did you upset it at all?’ Batbit was acting as the devil’s advocate. The necklace could be leading them into a trap. It appeared obvious to him that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing felt good here.
‘My batwings are nervous.’
‘Fly about and see if anything is recognisable,’ advised Grunt. He and Davidia were ground based and couldn’t perform that task.
