DRAGONFLY part 5

Copyright (c) 2018 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

By R. Peterson

Fran was more than aware that she was growing. The yellow rose-petal gown she wore was rising above mid-thigh and to her embarrassment she received several wolf-whistles and cat calls when she walked past a group of boys unloading thistle-pods next to a corral filled with Koots (Gnat larva). She blushed and felt a certain degree of embarrassment but she found herself smiling a little … it was good to be noticed.

Siltlin was taking clothes from a woven-basket made of spider-silk and carefully placing them on several bushes inside a fenced area that looked like a leafless garden gone dormant. She waved and beckoned her friend to come to her. Fran thought at first her friend was hanging the clothes up to dry but none of the flower-blossom apparel appeared to be wet. “Oh! This is tedious work but it has to be done,” Siltlin sighed as she removed a full-length evening gown made from a single peach-colored orchid petal from the basket and smoothed out several wrinkles. Fran watched her carefully stretch the material over the bush and then attach the seam (stem) in the dress to what looked like a newly formed bud sprout in the top of the bush. Fran hadn’t noticed before but as she looked at her own dress she realized that each article of clothing worn by the Nich had a stem running through the center. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Laundry!” Siltlin laughed. “When our clothes get dirty we attach them to these surrogate bushes. In just a few hours, the clothes which are mostly made from flowers become alive again. The plant repairs any damage to the petals and cleans them. In return the bush is able to gather energy from the scant sunlight coming into our city built inside the mountain. It’s what keeps our clothes soft and pliable.”

“It sounds like these bushes do all the work!”

“Well … we have to remember to take them off when they’re clean and repaired,” Siltlin said. “If we forget and leave them attached too long they begin to grow and our clothes are suddenly too large for us to wear.”

Fran laughed. “Humans have the opposite problem. Most people find that when they leave some article of clothing in their closet too long it becomes too tight to wear … but it’s the people eating too much and getting larger … not the clothes getting smaller.” A sudden thought struck her. “But how do you manage to grow such fantastic plants inside a mountain?”

            “We have created our own sunlight.” Siltlin pointed to the ceiling high above them. Fran glanced up and dazzled, glanced quickly away. It was just like looking at the sun when she was outside so she had never noticed before.

            “Two Nich manning water reflectors are stationed just inside the city entrance and capture light from the sun or the moon and reflect it into a giant cut and polished diamond hanging from the ceiling. The prism-like qualities of the crystal disperse the reflected light from the sun or the moon to all areas of our city.”

Fran was stunned. “Wow!” was all she could say.

            “Our spectacularly large jewel makes this place a danger for human exploitation too,” Siltlin said. “At more than one hundred carats, our energy source is over twice as large as the world’s fabled Hope diamond.”

            “Where on Earth did you get such a fabulous gemstone?” Fran had a new appreciation for the artificial light in the city.

            “Sean O’Brian is our biggest human supporter and benefactor,” Siltlin said. “As well as establishing, maintaining and enforcing the Motha Forest Trust which keeps humans from exploiting the diverse magic in this part of the world, he also smuggled the largest diamond ever found out of South Africa and brought it to us so that we might have light in our city. Some say the man is a mobster, but he has always treated us with kindness.”

Siltlin looked at Fran and shook her head. “Let’s go have some breakfast and then we’ll do a raid on Bonetta’s Sinker Berry patch. If we don’t leave soon and get you shrunk back down, all you’ll be wearing … will be a smile!”

Fran and Siltlin sat at one of twelve long tables made from split twigs. The Nich were filling tall stem-cups with yellow nectar and laughing and chatting merrily as they passed around bowls made from seed shell halves filled with tiny pale blue orbs. Fran thought they must be a type of fruit. After eating several handfuls she smiled. “These are delicious,” she said. “What are they?”

            “Decludes … what you humans call Earwig eggs,” Siltlin said. “I’m glad you like them. Eat up! They are very nutritious!”

-------2-------

Samuel Dodge considered throwing a few things into a wagon and leaving Comanche County forever. Fran’s mother was the problem; she wanted her daughter back and suspected Samuel knew more than he was telling. “You’re sure you looked everywhere?”

            “I looked in every part of the woods this side of Motha,” Samuel told her, “and I’ve talked to all the neighbors five miles in all directions … ain’t nobody seen her!”

Samuel needed to get in the wood shed; he thought he might have an extra homemade fly swatter in there …  Bonetta demanded at least three. Samuel’s new wife blocked his way with her fisted hands dug deep into her robust hips. “Samuel Robert Dodge you look me in the eye and swear on the Good Book that you don’t know where Fran is!”

            “I swear I ain’t seen her,” Franklin almost shouted … his eyes blinked several times.

            Franklin gritted his teeth … he knew what was coming next. “Did you look inside the Bonetta Sharpstone house?”

            “No one in their right mind would go in that place,” Franklin insisted. “Bonetta Sharpstone is supposed to have been dead for years … but then why do honest people keep seeing her on moon lit nights?”

            “I don’t care if the woman is spook, spirit or spin stress I want my Fran back before the sun goes down … I’ll not spend another night waking up with red eyes and a wet pillow.” Edith Dodge approached her husband and shook a calloused finger in his face – something she had never done before. “You bring my Fran back tonight or so help me God I’ll send for Sheriff Walker in Cloverdale!”

Franklin was so furious at his wife he almost didn’t see the two homemade swatters hanging on a nail just inside the woodshed door. He heard the back door slam behind him and decided he might have to delay Fran’s beating another week or so and that made him even angrier. Bonetta said Fran would show up just before nightfall … he hoped she was right. After all, if you can’t trust a witch … who can you trust?

-------3-------

            Fran followed her Nich friend into the flower garden. “I think it’s time that you learn to fly,” Siltlin told her.

            “I was wondering where you kept the dragonflies.” Fran noticed several of the creatures hovering above the flower blossoms.

            Siltlin laughed. “These are just a few stragglers the main herd is in a meadow not far from here … but these will do.” Siltlin broke the stems off from two trumpet vine blossoms and carefully unrolled the coiled fibers inside. “These are called Moros,” she said. She handed one of the trumpets and a Moro rope to Fran. “Blow on the trumpet … don’t be discouraged if you don’t hear any sound. The audio waves are far above our hearing range. When a dragonfly lands near you, attach the Moro to the hook-shaped nodules on each side of the thorax between the wing pairs. The dragonfly picks up your thought transmissions through the Moro rope held in your hands and obeys your commands. But be careful …” Siltlin laughed.  “If you believe you’re going to crash … then you’re going to crash!”

            Fran blew on one of the trumpet blossoms and for a long time nothing happened. She was about to blow again when suddenly a large dragonfly landed near her. The two sets of transparent wings were moving so fast they appeared as a blue/violet blur. Fran was at first afraid to approach the insect but with Siltlin’s urging she finally attached the Moro and climbed aboard. She waited … wishing she hadn’t agreed to do this … and nothing happened. Siltlin was already soaring high above near the city’s ceiling. “You have to think about flying,” her friend called down as she made a pass overhead.

Fran closed her eyes and imagined the wind blowing through her hair as she swooped and dove through the air. It felt so real … nobody was more surprised when she opened her eyes and it was really happening.

Together they made several passes over the city. Fran’s fear was gradually replaced by confidence and a sense of stupendous exhilaration. They were on their last pass over the city when they were suddenly joined by Donone and Gebae also mounted on dragonflies. “You wasn’t going to leave without us were you?” Donone joked.

All four fliers were almost startled off their mounts when Lendoria appeared grinning impishly. “Does the queen know where you’re going?” Gebae demanded in mock sternness.

Lendoria pulled back on her dragonfly’s Moro rope and made the creature do a kind of silly dance.

“Of course not,” she said. “If my mother knew what I was doing … she’d croak!”

All five dragon riders flew out of the mountain city and a minute later were soaring over Motha Forest … their raucous laughter rustled the carpet of leaves below them like birds courting before a storm.

-------4-------

Bonetta wasn’t inside her house and when Samuel looked out back the old woman was dragging a bulging burlap bag to a spot under a large Poplar tree where he’d hung scores of wasp nests. He followed her noting with satisfaction that the Sinker Berry bushes were all covered with the witch’s special glue. The ground exhaled a rank-sweet odor like rotting fruit that made him gag. Bonetta opened the top of the bag and stepped back. A swarm of black somethings poured from the burlap … an unseen battalion of marching legs. Samuel could only see vague shadows but he felt them under his pant-cuffs crawling upward. “Waaagawwwggg!!! Get then off!” Samuel began to stomp his feet and beat his fists against his legs and midsection.

                “You ignorant lout!” Bonetta raised one finger and Samuel was flung across the yard his entire two hundred pound body frame smashing into a tree trunk. The furious witch dug boney fingers into an apron pocket and produced a rusty salad fork which she flung at Samuel with deadly accuracy. The tiny trident pinned Samuel’s ear deep into the tree bark with a loud twaaaang sound.

            “These are my allies the Boog,” Bonetta said, scooping armfuls of the marching black masses and placing them on tree limbs next to the wasp nests. “If you have harmed any of my wasp riders I’ll let them seek their own revenge when this night is over.

Samuel was trying to extract himself from the tree trunk when a sound came from the East so horrible and terrifying that he freed his ear with one bloody yank. “What the Hell is that?” Samuel hadn’t cursed for years but his righteous church days as a respected member of Reverend White’s congregation now seemed like a distant memory.

“It’s the wasps arriving just a bit early,” Bonetta said gazing at the moon just coming over the horizon looking like a wagon-light for the black mass following. “Many thousands I guess by the sound!” She grabbed a shovel leaning next to a tree and tossed it to Samuel. “We’re going to need more Boog … a lot more!” She carried a stack of burlap bags as she led Samuel, holding his torn and bloody ear, to a clearing in the woods. The ground was covered with freshly dug trenches each about two foot deep. “There,” Bonetta pointed her finger at tiny holes barely seen under a carpet of dead leaves. “Those are their breathing holes … dig carefully … we don’t want them angry and tearing off our skin for revenge!”

To be continued …

DRAGONFLY part 4

Copyright (c) 2018 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

By R. Peterson

            Fran followed Siltlin to the sleeping quarters. They passed by a magnificent waterfall emptying into a pond surrounded by bushes filled with fragrant flowers. A group of female Nich were frolicking naked in the water. There was so much splashing and laughing going on Fran had to smile. “What are they doing?”

            “They’re supposed to be bathing and getting ready for tonight’s festivities,” Siltlin said. “But every time they get near these waters they act like children!”

            “Is that such a bad thing?” Fran gave her friend a wiry glance.

            “Not at all!” Siltlin laughed as she shoved her friend off the path they were walking on and down into the water. “You could use a bath yourself!”

The pond in this spot was deeper than she’d thought and Fran was completely submerged. Tiny bubbles saturated every part of the water and seemed to stimulate her as she swam through them. “This feels wonderful,” she gasped when she broke the surface. “What is it?”

            “A kind of natural carbonation,” Siltlin said as she removed her own clothes and then dove in. “Most all the water sources in Motha Forest have some magical property. The stream above us tickles the young and invigorates the old … or is it the other way around?”

            “Are my clothes going to be ruined?” Fran noticed she was still wearing the yellow tunic made from rose petals and the red shoes made from poppy-seed halves.

            “All of our clothing is made from natural growing things and moisture is actually good for them, but take your clothes off and hang them on those bushes. You don’t want to show up for the party in wet things.”

            “A party?” Fran was beginning to like this place more and more. Her stepfather never allowed her or her mother to go to any parties.

            “To celebrate Lendoria’s homecoming,” Siltlin said. “No matter how angry the queen acts, she is delighted to have her daughter back.”

            “I haven’t seen the queen’s daughter since the rescue,” Fran said. “Where is she?”

            “Probably locked up in the dungeon,” Siltlin said. “Her majesty is so afraid harm will come to her daughter she keeps her almost on a leash. She was furious when Lendoria snuck away and went with us on the mission to collect thistles near the witch’s house. I’m afraid that since she didn’t know you, she thought you were somehow responsible.”

            “Does Lendoria do this kind of thing often?”

Siltlin laughed. “All the time. I used to think I was trouble … but the queen’s daughter makes me look like a church bug!”

A gasp went up from all the Nich swimming in the pond. Several were pointing to the rock cliff on one side of the water. Since the city was built inside a mountain everything was surrounded by sheer rock walls. Fran could just make out a tiny speck climbing far above them. “Who’s that?”

Siltlin shook her head. “Lendoria of course, speak her name and she makes an appearance.”

            “She’s so high up! Isn’t she afraid she might fall?”  

            “When she gets as high as possible she aims to dive.” Siltlin and the others were moving to the edge of the pond; Fran did the same.

            “Is the pond deep enough for so high a dive?” Most of the pond was just barely to Fran’s chin.

            “There is a place in the center that’s at most three times deeper than the rest,” Siltlin said. “Lendoria has to strike the water perfectly and in just the right spot to survive!”

            “Why does she do it?”

            “She knows her mother is helpless in the fight against Bonetta,” Siltlin said. “I think she must constantly prove herself because she knows one day she’ll have to face the witch and defeat her, if she wants to free her father.”

A hush fell over the crowd watching Lendoria. She was no longer clinging to the rock cliff but standing on a precipice with her arms out-stretched. “Not there!” Siltlin screamed. “You’ll never make it to the center of the pond!”

The crowd gasped as Lendoria suddenly leaped from the rock, moving her out stretched arms in graceful motion as if mimicking the flight of a butterfly. Fran wanted to close her eyes. Siltlin was right. The queen’s daughter was going to land well short of the center of the pond. It seemed as if Lendoria fell forever but it was actually only a few seconds. Just before she struck the water she stretched her arms and legs and appeared to glide. There was a giant splash. Fran couldn’t be sure where exactly in the water Lendoria had landed. The crowd held their breath. Three seconds … waves becoming ripples. Ten seconds … ripples almost gone. Twenty seconds … the pool was calm … no motion at all … another thirty seconds passed with agonizing slowness.

            “I told her … I told her not to dive there,” Siltlin moaned. Several of the Nich were lunging through the water toward the center of the pond. Two had begun to swim toward the center with frantic strokes … when suddenly with a loud laugh … Lendoria broke the surface of the water.

            “I could drown you myself,” Siltlin thundered. “You had everyone scared to death! What took you so long to come to the surface?”

            “I thought the water was probably deep enough,” Lendoria said as she began to swim to shore. Fran thought her strokes looked awkward and wondered if she might be hurt. “I forgot about all the mud at the bottom …. I’m afraid I got stuck!”

When the queen’s daughter climbed from the water she was covered from the chest down with sticky brown goo. She saw Fran and smiled. “I saw what you did on the back of Siltlin’s dragonfly … you risked your own life when you gave up your seat for me.” Lendoria stuck out her hand and then blushed when Fran looked at her in surprise. “Guess I’d better wash up first.”

            “It’s just a little mud!” Fran took the slimy hand in her own and shook hard it sending splatters of mud over the crowd. “I don’t know about you but I could use another bath!”

Everyone laughed as they all piled back into the water.

-------2-------

            The party was even more magical than Fran could have ever imagined. The event was held in the lake in sight of the queen’s lily-pad island. Dozens of giant fish with tables and chairs mounted on their backs were herded to a place in the lake where an enormous ring of plant material had been spread in a circle. They grazed like cattle as the festivities went on.  Something far beneath the floating armada was producing hundreds of multicolored bubbles which broke the surface and then floated into the air. A half-dozen Nich with spears made from thistle thorns popped the bubbles as they floated above the crowd. Each color of bubble made a different musical tone and the Nich musicians were so talented that delightful music sounding like a symphony filled the air. Most of the food was various seeds prepared in hundreds of different ways …. Fried, dried, chopped, pulled, mashed, mixed, baked, sliced and diced. Each course was unique and to die for delicious. Drinks were served in clear goblets that resembled raindrops with one end cut level. “I’ve never seen cups like these,” Fran marveled.

            “A magical tree grows in the forest,” Siltlin said. “It’s called a Juhar and we dare not use any of the wood because the numerous enchantments are so powerful. Each fall an abundance of sap runs through the tree as clear and clean as rain. Each time a bubble of this sap falls from the tree under moonlight it becomes as solid as glass before it lands on the soft forest floor. We gather each hollow drop in the fall, cut the ends with saw-grass and make them into our celebration cups. They are one of our most prized possessions.”

            “I love them,” Fran said, holding her goblet up to lamp light. “Each time the musicians play a note it makes my cup vibrate … and it tickles a different part of my body.”

            Siltlin laughed. “I think that’s probably more of what’s in the glass than the glass itself! Or perhaps a little of both.”

Fran held her empty goblet up just as a waiter came by with a platter filled with pitchers of a pale blue liquid. He filled her up with a smirk.

            “It’s a special type of nectar,” Siltlin told her. “A little bit is fun, but too much can make you and me do foolish things.”

            “You don’t have to worry about me,” Fran shouted as she stood up and began to dance to the music. “My stepfather raised me to be proper and good … a good girl.”

After the meal the music became louder and everyone began to dance. A good looking boy with an impish face and flowing green hair asked Fran to dance. Fran was shocked when they began to dance on the surface of the water. Millions of tiny bubbles were rising so quickly they kept her from sinking …. and they tickled her feet. Fran was laughing so hard she was almost glad when the musicians finally took a break. One of the oldest Nich Fran had ever seen came out and began to tell jokes about Bonetta as everyone either laughed or groaned.

            “Do you know how to make the bad woman of the woods helpless,” the old man asked.

            “How?” the crowd answered.

            “Hide her wart cream,” the old man answered to groans and a few chuckles.

            “Do you know why Bonetta’s house is always dirty?”

            “Why?” the crowd asked.

            “She can never remember where she parked her broom.”

Later that night, hundreds of different species of fire flies, each a different brilliant color, were released into the sky from hollow milkweed stems. They burst upon the night like fireworks.

The moon had sunk into the western horizon by the time Fran finally made it back to her dwelling. She fell asleep almost instantly. It was late the next day when Fran finally opened her eyes. “Oh dear,” she moaned. “I know I was supposed to do something important today, but I don’t remember what!”

            She stood up and started to leave the tiny cottage when she bumped her head. “I don’t remember the door being this small,” she moaned. Fran looked down and noticed her rose-petal dress that had come almost to her knees before was now mid-thigh. “Oh my goodness … I’m growing!”

            Siltlin was outside her door when she went outside. Siltlin put her hands on her hips and stood looking up at Fran.

            “I was supposed to do something important today but I just don’t remember.” Fran shook her head.

            “Whatever it was will have to wait,” Siltlin told her. “We’ve got to find you some more Sinker berries or you’ll soon be too big to stay here.”

            “But that means we’ll have to go back to Bonetta’s house,” Fran moaned.

            “Don’t worry,” Siltlin said. “All we have to do is find her wart cream and hide it.”

Both girls laughed but Fran felt awkward … foolish and a lot bigger.

-------3-------

            Samuel Dodge had been working all day and all night. He was exhausted but still too afraid of the old woman to run away. Hundreds of wasp nests hung behind Bonetta’s house from her porch and trees. His tormentor insisted that they must not be seen from the front. This whole bad business was Fran’s fault.  Samuel finished hanging yet another nest from a tree and trudged back to the shed staring at the witch as she stirred a large pot over an open fire. There were at least fifty more nests piled inside the tiny building …. The witch woman wanted them all put up before dusk. “Hurry you Lunkbutt!” the old woman called out. “When you’re finished I have another task for you!”

It was mid-afternoon when Samuel finally finished. He thought about running but didn’t. The old witch poured the liquid from the large kettle into several smaller jugs. “When this cools,” she cackled. “I want you to pour it over the bushes yonder … the ones offering the red berries with green spots.”

            “What is it?” Samuel sniffed the liquid but could smell nothing.

            “A hoof of this … a hoof of that … a sticky tongue … a tail of rat.” Bonetta held a wooden spoon toward the sky as if conducting an orchestra. “Glue without sniff … luster or soot,” the old woman went on. “To catch fast an arm … finger or foot.” She began to laugh. “When you’re finished you can go home … for a short time.”

            Samuel brightened. Maybe the witch was going to release him … then he remembered.

            “For a short time?” Samuel was deflated.

            “You swat flies at your house don’t you?”

            “Sometimes,” Samuel stammered.

            “What do you use? Not those big filthy things you call hands!”

            “I have a square of thin leather tied to the end of a forked stick,” Samuel gulped. He remembered the times he had used it on Fran when she was just learning to walk.

            “Bring it with you and a few extra,” Bonetta commanded.

            “I don’t see any flies,” Samuel looked around stupidly.

            “The dragonflies will be here along with your stepdaughter,” the witch told him.

            “Fran is coming here?” Anger rose in Samuel. But the thought that he might catch the girl who had caused him such problems and punish her brightened his day. He would beat every inch of skin off from her bones.

            “Yes,” Bonetta laughed, “and I think you’ll find she is not such a large a problem as you once thought.”     

To be continued ….

DRAGONFLY part 3

Copyright (c) 2018 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

By R. Peterson

       Fran jumped to one side just as a long green tongue darted from the giant frog’s mouth and missed her by inches. Siltlin, Donone and Gebae were all shaken at the unexpected change in Queen Ednich’s demeanor. “We thought Your Majesty would be happy that Lendoria was rescued!” they gasped.

            “My daughter needs to learn to stand on her own two feet,” Queen Ednich frowned as she stared down at her own webbed legs resting on the Lilly pad.

Fran bowed. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you … I’m new here.”

“We all are,” the queen said. “Some of us are newer than others.”

“It’s just that,” Fran stammered. “I had no idea … you would be a …”

“A frog?” The queen laughed. “No more surprised than I was when I woke one morning with webbed feet, long green hopping legs … and a hunger for flies!”

“How could this have happened?” Fran looked to the others and they shrugged.

“A human demo haunts an old house near where you rescued my daughter,” the queen said, “mostly after midnight … but she has been known to do her creeping in the early morning hours … if there is sufficient fog upon the land to hide her iniquitous intent.”

“I know the place,” Fran gasped. “That’s the house of Bonetta Sharpstone … but she’s been dead for years! When you say demo do you mean she’s a ghost?””

“A demo is someone who works black magic and she is dead to your world … but not to mine,” the queen said. “We were rivals in school and both sought the affections of a certain handsome lad. His name was William Martin.”

Fran gasped. “That’s Billy’s father. He left town before Billy was born and was never seen again. Billy’s mother abandoned him to an orphanage and disappeared.”

“I never wanted to abandon either of my twin children,” the queen said. “Billy or Lendoria!”

“You are the mother of both?”

The queen entwined her webbed fingers in her lap and nodded. Her eyes grew melancholy as if remembering a sad time.  “Bonetta was furious when William chose me over her. She shut herself away in her house in the woods and delved deeply into black magic. Night after night she mixed vile ingredients into a large black kettle simmering over a fire. She learned fast and was able to cook up the potion that transformed me into a frog when my children were born. But all magic has its consequences. Bonetta is most dangerous during a full moon and her powers rise and diminish with the lunar cycles.”

The ground shook and leaves floated to the ground as the queen’s deep rumbling voice continued.

“Before she became invisible like the Boog, Bonetta disguised herself as a nurse and gave me what I thought was a cup of tea to drink. I barely escaped by hopping through an open window before a midwife beat me senseless with a broom. All William knew was that his wife had abandoned him with two newborns. One day he went walking in the woods … searching for me some say. Bonetta who can be seen only under moonlight followed and captured him and to this day, she has my husband imprisoned in her cellar. I found my way here and because of my vast knowledge of the human world I was eventually made queen of the dragonfly riders.”

            “But how is it that Billy is human and Lendoria is a Nich?”

            “I wanted both my children with me,” the queen said. “So I could protect them. I used to have my riders follow Lendoria when she went picking flowers in the woods. They’d whisper in her ear and were finally able to entice her to eat some Sinker berries and she grew small. It was hard to do … a red berry with a green dot in the center certainly looks odd and most people assume it must be poison. I guess it is in a way because of what it does to you.”

The queen looked even sadder and shook her head. “Billy was impossible to work with. He never liked flowers or the woods and he slapped at every dragonfly that came near him. He spends most days hunting with his friends. We finally gave up and decided we’d have to find another way.”

The queen began to sob and large frog tears rolled from her eyes and collected in the corners of her wide mouth Siltlin continued with the rest of the queen’s story.

 “Bonetta the Demo found out about us making Lendoria small by eating the Sinker berries and burned every bush she could find. Now a bush with that kind of magic berries on it is very hard to find. The berries that Gebae and Danone gave you were the last we had. The only Sinker bush we know of grows right next to Bonetta’s porch. It is probably the last of its kind, and we can only think she allows it to grow there in hopes of enticing us to her door.”

“If Bonetta is so powerful how do you ever hope to defeat her?” Fran shook her head as she gazed at the Nich.

“Two moon cycles ago on a very hot night we flew through an open window in Bonetta’s house and found her book of magic lying on a table,” Siltlin said. We cut the page dealing with transformation out of the book and a dozen of us flew it back here.”

Fran looked down and eight Nich were lugging the stolen page of magic, now rolled into a scroll, up the stairs.

Siltlin pointed to the page the Nich were starting to unroll. “On this paper is the recipe for making our queen human again,” she said. “Only we don’t know where to find some of the ingredients.”

Fran read the page; it was like a recipe for soup except for a few very special items. “Motha Bear claws!” Fran gasped. “Those would be extremely difficult for any human to acquire … almost impossible for a Nich!”

            “That’s not the only difficult part,” Siltlin said. “The potion must also contain fresh blood dripped in as a last ingredient from both the queen’s offspring … and be brewed in Bonetta’s own kettle under the light of a full moon!”

            “But that’s when Bonetta is most dangerous!”

            “It’s when the vile Witch of the Woods is the most skilled at murder,” Siltlin confessed. “Our only hope is to surprise her.”

-------2-------

            Samuel Dodge searched everywhere in the woods for his stepdaughter; it was as if Fran had just disappeared. It was getting dark. He was just about to head back to the farm when he heard a rustling sound in the heavy brush. Samuel did not like being in the woods after dark; he was too close to the Sharpstone farm; folks said it was haunted. If Fran ventured into that place of devils it was her own fault … he would not risk his life to help her. Samuel took a deep breath and called out one last time. “Fran is that you? Get over here now and take your beating like a good girl!” A shadow suddenly loomed between him and the moon which had just risen in the eastern sky. “I know of whom you seek,” a voice sounding as if it came from the bottom of a rusty bucket said.

Samuel wanted to scream but he didn’t have the breath. Finally he managed to squeak: “Who are you?”

            “I am a nightmare … and the bride of the devil,” the voice said. The thing was now so close to him Samuel could smell a dank breath like rotting worms tickling the hairs on his neck. Samuel closed his eyes and stuttered as he tried to speak. Urine ran from his crotch and soaked both his pant-legs. “Let me be … I s s s swear I I did n n n n ‘t do nothing!”

            “Let you go?” the voice contained a malicious laugh. “I use or I kill … no one gets let go!”

            “I’ll do whatever you ask …. Just don’t touch me!” Samuel promised. As if in defiance, cold fingers slid up his neck and he shrieked. A flock of blackbirds who had settled into a large elm tree for the night suddenly took flight their beating wings sounding strangely like the crackling of a fire.

            “Silence!” the voice warned. “You’ll wake the dead and it’s much too early … the moon is not yet full!”

Samuel began to blubber as jagged fingernails dug into his neck like claws. “Follow me to my house … I have a job for you,” the voice commanded … then he was released.

With legs moving as if in a nightmare, Samuel followed the woman to the old house. She moved with a lurching gait and her hunched back snapped and scraped as if it were broken. He finally found his voice as they climbed rickety stairs onto a sagging porch. “You’re her … you’re that Sharpstone woman ain’t you?”

            “Bonetta Sharpstone is dead,” the voice cackled, “and yes … I am her!”

Samuel raised both eyes toward the moon and bawled. “Mmmmmwwwwaaaaaggggghhhhh!”

Bonetta slapped him hard enough to loosen two of his teeth. Samuel stared at her stunned. What had only been shadow before, suddenly struck him speechless under the moonlight. Bonetta Sharpstone’s skin dripped from her skull like rotted moss. Two burning embers stared at him from deep within darkened eye sockets. The witch woman pointed a boney finger toward a hut about to collapse next to a muddy stream. “Inside you will find nests … lots and lots of paper nests,” she said. “Bring them here and I’ll show you where to hang them.”

            “If I help you with your bird nests will you let me go?” Samuel was already staggering toward the small building.

            “The nests are not birds’ nests, but wasps’ nests,” Bonetta said, “for thousands and thousands of wasps and their riders.” She stared up at the moon and then smiled.  “And why would you want to leave … when your dear stepdaughter and her new friends will be coming to this house in just three days?”

To be continued ….

           

           

DRAGONFLY part 2

Copyright (c) 2018 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

By R. Peterson

Siltlin, Donone and Gebae, all mounted securely on the backs of dragonflies, were soon joined by a much larger groups of dragonfly riders. Fran lay across the segmented body of one of the flying creatures held in place by Siltlin.When she’d shrunk, Fran’s glasses had remained full-sized, but astonishingly, her vision was crystal clear. Cautiously, she sat up slightly to look around. She could see so much detail: Many of the riders appeared to be carrying cargo: woven nets filled with seeds, bundles of vegetant fibers and the round heads of thistles that had been lobbed from the stalks and were supported by tiny ropes coming from more than a dozen riders. “What are you doing with all this … stuff?”

            “The seeds and some of the leaves are part of our food supply,” Siltlin told her. “The spines from the thistles are made mostly into arrows and some of the larger ones are made into spears.”

            “Why not remove the spines instead of carrying the whole top back?” Fran asked. “It seems like lots of work!”

            “The hollow thistle heads are made into barns for our Koots - a kind of fast growing Gnat larva.” Siltlin explained.

            “Good heavens! You don’t eat gnats do you?” Fran looked at Siltlin.  The female creature with long green hair flowing in the breeze smiled but did not appear to have sharpened teeth.

            “Of course not!” Siltin laughed. “They are for our dragonflies to eat … these magnificent creatures bear us faithfully to where we need to go in return for our food and shelter.”

            “Why were those wasps chasing you when you left the church?” Fran asked her.

“Wasps are a natural source of food to dragonflies and the Boog who ride them are our enemies.” Siltlin made a gesture with her hand and the hundreds of flying insects began to group together. They were flying so close now Fran could see the different colors of the eyes of the riders. Their hair appeared to be mostly variants of green as it flowed in the wind but some shades had a brownish tint.

“I saw the wasps but I didn’t notice anyone riding them.” They were flying toward Motha Forest now. Fran could see the paper-like nest she had noticed walking through the woods hanging from a tree below them.

“The Boog wear cloaks woven from special plant fibers that only reflect moonlight Siltlin explained. “They are almost invisible during daylight.”

“Then why attack at night?” Fran tried to sit up but Siltlin held her down.

“The Boog have no vocal cords to create sound so they communicate with hand gestures,” Siltlin told her. “That’s why we forage during daylight hours … there are less of our enemies flying about!”

The group of dragonflies had just flown past the paper-like ball hanging from the tree when a black cloud of wings appeared to spray from the tiny hole in the bottom of the nest. “They’ve seen us!” Fran squealed as a droning sound hurt her ears.

            “Of course they have,” Siltlin told her. “But this is just a tiny outpost. We’ll slay them all before we reach our castle and we’ll send workers back here tomorrow to recover what we can use.”

The roar coming from the dark cloud  grew much louder. Most of the riders were fitting arrows made from thistle spikes into bows and letting the dragonflies guide themselves. More than three hundred dragonflies swooped and turned in a perfect tight formation. They had obviously practiced these maneuvers many times. “Stay down!” Siltlin warned.

The drone was now a roar like a locomotive crossing a bridge and it suddenly began to get dark. Hundreds of wasps surrounded the dragonflies and Fran was just able to make out the dark creatures mounted on their backs. Most appeared to have round heads with no hair and they slashed at the dragonfly wings with swords that looked like they were made from blades of grass. The dragon riders fought furiously with their bows. Siltlin and the others hands were a blur as they shot storms of arrows each second. A large wasp flying next to them looked like a pin cushion as it suddenly dropped from the sky. The Boog on its back leaped free and was picked up as it fell by another enemy rider.

Lendoria, the rider they had freed from the church was flying nearby and Fran noticed she was falling behind. A dozen Boog surrounded her and were slashing at her dragonfly’s double sets of wings. “She’s in trouble!” Fran screamed.

“I can’t help her,” Siltlin said. Fran detected a note of anguish in her voice. “You’re all the extra weight I can carry!”

Fran watched as the flying insect seemed to break in half and tumble toward the ground. Lendoria fell with it. There wasn’t time to think. Fran slipped off the dragonfly’s back and dropped toward the ground. Siltlin gave her an astonished look and then swooped down to pick up Lendoria.

It seemed to Fran that she fell forever. She was just about to strike the tree tops when Donone swooped below and caught her. “That was a brave thing you did,” she told Fran. “That’s the second time today that you’ve saved our beloved Lendoria!”

            “What’s so special about this girl that you all risk your lives for her?” Fran asked.

            “Siltlin didn’t tell you?” Donone looked astonished. “Lendoria is our queen’s daughter!”

-------2-------

            As Donone flew upward Fran noticed the sky was filled with dark streaks falling like rain.  “These Boog are no match for our archers,” Donone said. “I just hope none escaped to give away our location!”

            “It looks like you did a fantastic job,” Fran said. “What are you afraid of?”

            “If the Boog discovers the location of our castle they’ll return with not thousands but millions of wasp riders. They’ll bring along flying platforms and their own nests and lay siege until we’re exhausted.”

They were now flying over Motha Forest. The face of Bear Mountain loomed in the distance. “How come humans have never discovered you here?” Fran asked.

            “They have,” Donone told her. “A ruthless deer poacher from Spain who liked to kill fawns once found his way into the forest years ago and it took thousands of our arrows before the cursing lout finally stumbled, hit his head on a rock and drowned in the river … but incidents like that are rare. Sean O’Brian protects our realm as part of the Motha Forest Preserve and the white witch Melania once climbed up the face of the mountain alone in the horribly harsh winter of 1907 bringing sugar and vegetable oil to keep us from starving. She covered the entire entrance to the castle with one of her own bedspreads to keep out the relentless snow. The Nich, that were children at that time, recall the winter fondly as Melan’s great sleepover!”

            “Nich?”

            “That’s what we call ourselves.” Donone laughed. “The sons and daughters of Edinich … or Nich for short.”

            “Am I becoming a Nich?” Fran looked at her hair to see if it had a green tint.

            “Not yet,” Donone said. ‘It takes more than a handful of Sinker berries to transform you completely!”

It appeared as if they were going to fly right into the rock face of the mountain. Suddenly the lead dragon rider veered off and headed toward what looked like a large indentation. The rest followed.

            Fran gasped in amazement. Walls and ramparts appeared carved into the granite face of the mountain. Brown obsidian flaked so thin it was transparent was formed into hundreds of peaked windows adorning towers that rose above magnificent buildings. This was no mere castle but a city as if the entire inside of the mountain had been hollowed out and carved into a metropolis. Countless carriages and wagons pulled by a variety of bugs and insects filled the bustling streets.  

            As they flew farther into the city many of the riders broke away heading this way and that obviously going to their homes. They were almost alone, except for Siltlin and Gebae, when they passed over what looked like a park with giant flowers and a pond.

            “Queen Ednich sent word that you were to be brought directly to her,” Donone said. “I hope she will be most grateful!”

            “And if she isn’t?”

Donone looked shocked but did not reply.

The three dragonflies landed on a large flat rock. Siltlin, Donone, Gebae and Fran all climbed into a small white onion that had been hollowed out and carved into a carriage with braded spine wheels and pulled by a dozen white beetles. “Remember to address the queen only if you are spoken to,” Siltin said.

“Approach her majesty only if she directs you to do so,” Gebae added.

Fran was beginning to feel nervous. They rumbled down several paved streets and came to the edge of a pond. Two dozen Nich, dressed all in white and yellow stepped out of a boat made from an empty pecan shell-half and blew a cavalcade on tiny yellow flower blossoms that looked like trumpets. Fran was more than aware that she was naked and at least half of the Nich surrounding her appeared to be males. The four crowded into the boat and were soon being propelled toward the center of the pond by Gerridae (water skippers).

            A welcoming party of females  met them in the back of the water craft and Fran was given a yellow gown that looked like it had been made from rose petals sewn with spider silk and a pair of glistening red shoes made from hollowed out poppy seeds. She was able to relax but only for a moment.

            Lilly pads appeared everywhere,  each one filled with numerous richly dressed Nich who waved and shouted greetings. Obviously they were doing important work related to realm affairs. Fran knew they were getting close. Waves rocked the boat and several large fish swam past with at least a dozen Nich seated at tables on their backs … a cluster of streaming restaurants.

What looked like a hundred or more lily pads had been sewn together to form an island covered with white and yellow orchids. A golden stairway led to the top of a small mossy mound. “Remember to keep your eyes down.” Siltlin warned. “Unless the queen desires you to look at her!”

Delightful music was playing everywhere … Fran noticed crickets with harps and other string instruments scattered throughout the lush gardens on both sides of the stairs

Fran kept her eyes on the path, littered with smooth pebbles of what looked like pure gold. Suddenly they stopped. There was a silence that seemed to last forever. “So! You’re the one who meddled with my daughter’s first adventure!” The voice was so odd, so richly gruff and low in tone that Fran looked up without thinking.

The ruler of the Nich sat on a raised lily pad surrounded by dozens of attendants. Fran gasped. Queen Ednich was an enormous green and very plump … frog!

To be continued ….