Izzy’s Problem

Note: A first draft of a chapter book, remarks, comments will be chewed on with delight.

Chapter 1

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A problem to solve.

Pots and pans were zipping through the air.  The kitchen was a large airport without an airport controller.  With a loud squeal Esmeralda,  Izzy’s cat,  was whisked upwards in the playful current of air. She landed in a  huge saucepan.  Crouching low with her tail tightly curled about her,  Esmeralda’s huge paws covered her eyes.

Izzy didn’t notice her poor cat.  She was sitting eating toast. It was oozing with warm runny butter and strawberry jam.

Those saucepans look grotty Izzy , she thought.  Her friends couldn’t understand why  Izzy preferred saucepans to cauldrons. “Easier to clean” she explained to them. That is they would be easier to clean if she remembered to get cleaner.

Izzy began to write on the back of an envelope.  The note said,  get some more cleaner,  it was scrawled in her untidy hand writing with cartoon spiders dancing about it.   She scowled at it, it reminded her of something she didn’t like doing – shopping.

“Surf and stuff it” Izzy  stamped her foot and every flying object including Esmerelda lost its invisible wings, landing with a huge wallop in an untidy heap on the kitchen floor.

Izzy knew why everything was turning upside down and roundabout on her.  She was fed up.  It was ages since she had any fun with her other witch friends.

“Perhaps they’ve grown out of having fun!”  Izzy whispered.  “What a terrible thought!  I mean, what sort of witch is a witch who doesn’t have any fun or silliness in her life. It’s what we’re supposed to do, create mayhem for humans.  They say people can die from boredom.” Izzy told a dizzy looking Esmerelda  who was stumbling out of the upturned pot.

Izzy had a terrible thought. What if it isn’t only people who could be seriously affected by the lack of fun and newness in their lives?  “Witches couldn’t die from boredom, could they?”  Izzy spoke very carefully and slowly hoping that it would help to get rid of such a stupid thought.

But no, it lingered, repeating itself over and over. It didn’t help her bad mood.  She gave a giant hiccup and flew straight out of the window into the huge beech tree.

It was her favorite place to sit and think.

In fact some of her most earth shattering decisions had been made while sitting quietly in this tree. High above with only the odd wayward bee for company she was free from all the usual noises of life.

Her great decisions may seem simple to you or me but to a neat methodical witch they were very important indeed.

For example:  She once spent a whole afternoon sitting wondering, if it would be better to file all of her recipes  (Jamie and Delia’s) by color code or by the order in which Izzy ate her meals.  That was her problem.

The order in which she ate depended on what she was having.  If it was tomato soup it always came first and last, Izzy loved tomato soup.

High in this tree the solution appeared suddenly. It was simple. A recipe book for witches by a champion cooking witch! The recipes would appear as she made them up.  If she liked the new recipe it would stay but if she didn’t then it would topple off the page.

Today she was so tired she curled up and fell asleep.

When she woke she was not only hungry but full of energy.

“I think a little walk before dinner would do this talented witch a world of good,” she decided as she licked her lips.  “A couple of meringues from the bakers shop could be just the medicine that I need.”

 

A rainbow called Ernest

 

Large grim clouds rolled past, Ernest but he didn’t listen to their grumbling. He was tired of the sameness of his days. He wanted an adventure. No, he decided I want to do something wonderful for someone.

Then to his dismay he heard laughter around him. Stars peeped out from their hiding places to mock him,  birds joined in as they flew high into the sky to see what was happening, “you can’t do anything more wonderful than existing. You are a mish mash of colours. A rainbow to brighten peoples days.” On and on went the comments all insisting he was crazy to dream of doing great deeds.

“Not deeds,” he mumbled. “Just one act of kindness, to help someone somewhere.”

As the moon rose and sank to be replaced by the sun over and over again, Ernest began to believe he was wrong and they were correct. He would never be more than a blur of colours flitting about the earth. So, he learned to stay quiet to keep h is dreams hidden, afterall they cannot mock me if they don’t know what I am thinking, can they?

Feeling a little sad and useless he hovered above the earth only appearing when the sun bellowed for him to come out from his hiding place. Then one day he grew tired of this manner of behaviour. He decided to go off on his own and see what he could do.

Rainbow-with-Clouds-Vector1

He used the large grumbling clouds as his cover. This allowed him to zip past huge mountains, vast cities which frightened him with their loudness and false lights. He wondered about people. He didn’t understand them but still he stuck with his idea. Somewhere, he thought someone is looking for help and maybe I am the one to do it.

What this it was he had no idea but it was a comforting thought that he might only know it when it happened.

A child sitting on top of a bale of hay caught his attention. The child was crying. Not a loud harsh cry but a soft whimper, as an animal would do if it were in pain. Ernest let the clouds go on without him he went lower and lower until he could see the child. It was a young boy. He was  talking to himself.

“I am not stupid. Someday I will get it right. Anyway they are only sums, not important stuff like bringing Annie home from school safely with me. I didn’t mean to get them wrong. No, I am not stupid or an idiot.”

Ernest felt sad for the young boy. He whispered to him. “No one is truly stupid, I mean some of us are silly sometimes we do the wrong thing without thinking, I think they are called accidents. Anyway I think you are clever if you manage to get Annie home safely.”

The boy stopped sniffling and looked about him. “Where are you?” When he didn’t see Ernest he said, “I am not only stupid I am crazy, talking to myself and answering myself.”

Ernest chuckled and as he did his colours began to grow stronger until the boy could see him.  He looked at Ernest and said, “I am Steve, how do you do?”

 

Ernest didn’t answer for a minute. He was thinking. Steve interrupted his thinking time by asking, “What are you doing here.”

“I came to help you feel better.”

How can you do that? I am stoopid and that is the end of the matter.”

“No you are amazing most people don’t see me unless the sun shines on me. They think the colours just appear they don’t know it is my job to make them appear.”

Steve asked, “can you feel colours.”

Ernest replied, “I do but I don’t know about you but we can test it.”

“How?”

“Like this.” Ernest gathered all of his colour bands close to him and swooped gently down beside Steve then very slowly Ernest wrapped his many colours around the tiny boy.  As he worked he asked, “Well can you feel anything?”

“I feel wonderful, happy and warm. I feel ….” Steve was struggling for a word.

Ernest whispered in his ear. “Remember you are clever to have spotted me, clever to have felt the warmth of the rainbow colours, hold that warmth within you and take these feelings and memories out on days when you feel sad.”

From then on Steve learned to smile from the inside out.

Giveaway ! The Runaway Schoolhouse

Technically a giveaway in return for reviews could be questioned as not being a giveaway, but that is the deal.  I will post, to three readers, a copy of my book in return for their review. I will leave the giveaway open for two weeks.

I considered many complicated ways of holding this competition but decided simple is best.

Posted below is the first chapter of my book. The names of everyone who answer the following question will be put in a hat, (beanie) and three pulled out.

runaway_schoolhouse_cover_Latest_151031

 

Chapter 1

 

John and Sara Buggy were twins who didn’t look alike. They didn’t think or act alike either. In fact, they were complete opposites. Sara was a quiet, studious type while John was a messer who hated school and spent his days there playing practical jokes.

One blustery, grey Monday morning, they trudged their way to school, all set for another run-of-the-mill day in the tiny two-classroom building.

“Why are we walking so fast?” Sara asked John.

“I have something to do,” he replied, with the beginning of a smile tugging at his mouth.

She knew that look but instead of pressing him further, concentrated on stretching her short legs to keep up with his longer stride. There was a six-inch height difference between them and while John had a head of smooth, dark brown hair, Sara was stuck with a headful of tangled red curls. This didn’t sit well with her.

“School is the oddest place because most of what we learn is pretty useless in the real world,” John was saying, as they walked through the main door.

Sara considered her answer for a moment.

“You may think you’re right but I like learning new things and it’s always so cosy in here.”

***

Once they were seated,  Sara started to worry about what trick John was about to play on their teacher. Mrs Brown, she noticed, kept sniffing and clutching a hanky to her nose. Sara wondered if she were ill. She glanced at John who winked at her.

“Not long now,” he whispered.

“What have you done?” she hissed back.

Suddenly, Mrs Brown sneezed. John giggled. Sara turned her attention back to their teacher who sat in her chair with her nose twitching like a rabbit. She sneezed six times in succession, sending her glasses bouncing onto her desk. Eventually, she managed to stop long enough to hold her nose and shove her glasses back in place. Getting up from her desk she walked to the door and said very quickly, “Carry on with your maths.” This short statement was followed by more sneezing as she left the room.

John was given many high fives and claps on the back as his mates asked how he did it.

“A master never reveals his secrets,” he grinned.

Sara was not impressed.

“Someday Mrs Brown will get really mad at you and…”

“And what?” John demanded. “Writing a hundred lines is nothing I haven’t done before. Now, come on, it’s break time.”

Suddenly a shadow fell across his desk and Mrs Brown said, in a sharp tone, “Let’s try five hundred lines on the whiteboard today John, not on your tablet where you are a master at copy and paste. The line, I should not play pranks on the teacher, is to be written at lunchtime.”

Mrs Brown then turned to Sara adding, “And John is to do it on his own.”

“Yes, Mrs Brown,” Sara said.

***

At lunchtime Sara slipped back into the classroom to help her brother but found him staring at the whiteboard.

“You haven’t written many lines,” she said. Sara noticed a message written across the board – and it wasn’t in John’s handwriting.

School is a useful tool for life, John and Sara.

Sara read the words aloud and looked at John.

“I didn’t do it.The board was clean when I began and then it just appeared. It’s wrong anyway, school is stupid.”

He wiped the message away.

“Perhaps it is magic?” Sara said in a wistful tone.

“Huh, there is no such thing,” John sneered. “If there was I would click my fingers and the board would be full of lines, just like this.”

Turning to face Sara he clicked his fingers but noticed her smile fade as she pointed back to the board.

There before them, more lines of the same sentence appeared. They watched as they scrawled, with no sign of a marker, in neat, tidy rows.

Sara counted the lines.

“There are twenty rows of twenty-five lines.” She looked at John. “Did you do this? Do something else!”

“Two packets of crisps,” John shouted, then clicked his fingers and waited. Nothing happened.

Sara was busy staring at the board again. She read the message aloud.

You have enough lunch to eat in your schoolbag.

“I don’t like this. Is it a ghost? ” Sara whispered and jumped further away from the board.

John was curious and moved closer. “Rubbish! Ghosts don’t exist.”

“I wonder why it happened today?” And no sooner had she said it but the words changed and she read aloud, Today is my birthday, I am one hundred years old.

Gathering all of her courage Sara said,  “Happy Birthday to you but who are you?”

I am the schoolhouse you are standing in and my name is Clearie.

“Clearie, what an awesome name!” John said.

The words on the bottom changed once more and they both read the message.

Clearie means minstrel and scholar in Irish.

Suddenly, the ringing of the bell announced the end of break and the arrival of the other children back into the room, prevented Sara and John from finding out more.

Sara did notice the last message was wiped clean before Mrs Brown arrived back to her desk but she instinctively knew it wouldn’t be the last of them.

In the meantime, there was John’s lack of lines to worry about…

 

******

The question is: What was the first message to appear on the board not written by John or Sara?

 

 

 

 

Muddy Puddles and Ally McDuff

 

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Ally

bob thinking about ogres

Scruff

 

Ally McDuff has a best friend named Scruff.  He has a thick warm coat, four paws, a curly tail and a big smiley face.

Ally and Sruff love doing things together.

 

Trouble is they always get dirty.

“Stay clean, Ally.” Mum said.

Minutes later they were digging. Ally used a shovel. Scruf used his paws. “We will find the Pirates treasure soon, Scruff, ” she said.

By tea time they found:

An old smelly sock,

a bone,

an funny shaped blue glass bottle.

Ally peeped through the blue bottle and said, “Even you are blue, Scruff.”

“Woof” he said.

Ally looked at Scruff.  He was no longer white and black. He was dirty from nose to tail.

“This means a bath, Scruff,” Ally whispered.  She looked at her arms, she was dirty too.

“Maybe Mum won’t see it. Let’s hide.” They ran indoors.

Scruff hid under Ally’s bed. She squeezed in beside him.  “Mum won’t find us here” She said.

Mum did.  They washed Scruff first. He hated being washed.  He looked sad and wet when he was clean.

Ally was next. “Wash behind your ears,” Mum said.

When they were nice and shiny again, mum said, “Ally you are always getting dirty, someday…you might stay clean.”

“Tomorrow Scruff we will be clean all day.” Ally whispered.

Ally decided if they were to be clean, then Gran was the person to be with. Gran was the cleanest person for miles around. Her house shone in the sunlight. Her garden was squeaky clean. Though Ally wondered if the squeaky noise was made by the mice playing in the hedge.

“No chasing mice Scruff, today we will stay clean.” She said as they walked into Gran’s kitchen.

Gran was baking gingerbread men. Ally helped. Scruff sat on a stool and watched. When they put the gingerbread men in the oven to cook. shoes. Scruff has it on his fur.”tulips gingerbread man

 

Gran looked at them and smiled. “Ahh Ally you and Scruff are wearing a lot of the mixture on your face, your clothes and your face.”

Ally scowled all the way home.  She looked grumpy during and after her bath.

Next day they decided to stay indoors. Ally loved painting. Scruff joined in, splodges of paint flew around the room.

When they were finished they showed the painting to mum. “It’s great, I love it even Scruffs paw prints.”

She looked at them and sighed. “Ally you are both covered in paint.”

Ally groaned. One bath later they were sitting having tea.

“How can we stay clean?” Ally wondered.

“I have an idea,” dad said.

Next morning he said to Ally, “you are coming to help me today. I am going to wash my car and Gran’s. You and scruff can help.”

Ally looked at the bucket of water and the sponge. They couldn’t get dirty could they?

They began to wash the cars. When the y were finished the cars were shining and clean. But when they looked at each other, they were all dirty, even Dad.

“Ahh no Dad, another bath?”

“Sorry Ally, it was my fault. Don’t worry though I will make up for it tomorrow.”

Ally spent the night wondering how they were going to manage to stay clean.

Next morning Dad said “I have a reward for my two helpers, we are going out.”

He brought them to the park where they had fun on the slides, swings and roundabouts, even Scruff had a go.

They came home squeaky clean.

Well done. Ally. Mum said. “You are shining like a new Ally.”

The Munchin Family – 3

Chapter  4

 

The shivering man was saying to himself, ‘The house looks like a bank vault, they must have loads of money. I know they have loads and loads of money or valuables.’  This very thought is what led him to their front door.

The Munchin family were staring at him as though he were an alien.

Baby came back with a huge steel mug of tea and a plate with a skyscraper sandwich wobbling about on it. ‘I didn’t know what you would like so I put everything on it,’ he explained. There was indeed a great deal piled in between two slices of bread. Lettuce leaves, tomatoes, ham, chicken, cucumber, potato salad and banana peeped out from between the slices of bread. The skyscraper sandwich was behaving like a quivering mountain of jelly.

The visitor stared at the wobbling sandwich.

Baby said, ‘I’m Baby who are you?’

‘I’m Duncan!’ The burly man said.

Baby giggled. ‘Funny name, Dun can, or Dun can’t,’ he sang. His voice hit the steel walls and bounced back at Duncan. Then silently the wobbling skyscraper sandwich fell first onto Duncan’s lap and then slid piece by piece onto the floor.

‘Two second rule, ‘ Roared Granddad and everyone, except Mother Munchin and Duncan, dived on the food. Within two seconds it was gone.

Mother Munchin apologized adding, ‘I’ll get you a fresh one.  Junior take Duncan’s jacket into the kitchen and I’ll clean it for him.’ She ran off to the kitchen to make another sandwich.

They are all batty, fruity and loopy, Duncan decided. He was wondering how he could get to take a look through the rest of the house. If I had mums sleeping tablets in my pocket I could put it in their food. Because the way they eat they wouldn’t notice the funny taste. With them all asleep my job would be easier.

Mother Munchin appeared before him and handed him a neat sandwich saying, ‘You poor dear you look really pale, will I call the doctor?’

Duncan who was staring at Granddad Munchin who was doing his favorite trick, making his eyes spin. Duncan’s stomach was spinning as fast as Granddads eyes.  ‘No, if I sit quietly for a while I will be much better, thank you. It is very kind of you to offer.’

Mother Munchin beamed at Duncan. ‘Oh you do have lovely manners. Most men today have forgotten where they put their manners.’ As she was speaking she was glaring at her family. It was her favorite topic –  her family’s lack of manners.

Granddad said, ‘Is that the time?  I should be somewhere else.’ And off he went.

Father Munchin looking up at the ceiling said ‘Well we can’t let Granddad wander about by himself. I’d best go to keep an eye on him.’  All the time he was thinking, ‘I don’t like this guy, he sounds too good to be true, I’ll check him out.’ And he went into the kitchen to see what he could learn about Duncan from his wallet.

Junior opened his mouth closed it and followed his dad. Because that’s what he usually did.

Baby thought Ducan looked interesting. He wondered what would go wrong next.

Baby’s life ran on disasters. His teacher at school was always telling him this. She said it yesterday as she helped him fish his books out of the school garden pond and last week when they had to wrestle his scarf from the very fat pig called ‘Smoky’ in the school animal farm. Baby’s worst disaster had happened when he was two years of age. Baby was trapped by accident in the fridge. Luckily he had loads to eat.

So as you can tell Baby was experienced in disasters but being flattened was an interesting and new one for him. He decided stayed to watch and learn.

‘Duncan might like to lie down on my bed, Mum.’ He whispered to her.

She stared at Duncan. He was a most peculiar colour green. ‘ Yes. You are right. Good idea. Really Baby what would I do without you. I really don’t know.’

Duncan was gently steered in the direction of the stairs. He was very white faced but happy. This was his big chance to take a look at the goodies in the house.

 

Chapter 5

 

The house was very bright and very clean. Duncan said so to Mother Munchin.

She beamed at him. ‘Oh thank you, how kind of you to notice.’ She said flicking another piece of imaginary dust from the banisters as they walked slowly upstairs.

Duncan was taking a very good look at this strange house. The walls were not painted, but there was an awful lot of photographs of the Munchin family. All of the photographs had no glass in the frames. ‘Nice photo’s of your family,’ Duncan lied. Then he couldn’t help himself as he said, ‘There is no glass in the frames!’

‘No, people sometimes bang doors and glass breaks.’ Baby told him. What he didn’t say was the people who caused them to break were usually Fred and Baby playing hide and seek or football.

‘Must be a lot of history attached to a place like this,’ Duncan said.

Baby giggled. Mother Munchin said, ‘Well some of it we don’t like talking about.’

‘Especially the donut house!’ Baby said.

‘Baby, it wasn’t Granddad’s fault he loved donuts.’ Turning to Duncan she whispered, ‘The original house was wooden and shaped like a donut. Granddad started sleep eating one night and we woke up in our beds with no roof over our heads and no walls or floors either.’

Duncan’s mouth fell open. He really didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched on for a while.

Mother Munchin’s next words made him jump. ‘I love bright shiny things,’ she was twisting a gold and ruby bracelet around her wrist and didn’t notice Duncan’s strange reaction to her words.

Duncan was smiling. A very strange scary smile, Baby thought.

Duncan was dreaming of all those things he could never afford. ‘This year I’m going to have all of those nice gadgets I see in the shops. He began to list them:  a new car, the newest phone, a new camera, computer and laptop, a house and perhaps a nice big very fierce dog, to keep burglars away.

Pulling open the nearest bedroom door she said, ‘Here you are, have a nap and when you feel better we will have tea before you go.’ Mother Munchin was leaving the room and still speaking. She was excited. It was an awful long time since they had a visitor to their house.

She was planning on doing some baking for Duncan. Her mind was full of cream cakes, ginger bread men and scones as she hopped on the banisters and slid down landing with a soft, klump on the floor on her feet.

‘When he wakes up let me know.’ She said as she dashed off to the kitchen.

Baby grinned in admiration. Each time he slid down the banisters he landed on his bottom or his head!  ‘Ok.I’ll sit on the top stair and read my comic that way when he wakes I’ll know it.’ He didn’t like the way the man’s eyes grew large and hungry as they looked at his mum’s bracelet. Baby also thought Duncan smelt like a man who was trying too hard to be nice.

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Duncan

 

 

The Munchin Family Part 2

Note:

The two children are Junior and Baby.

Junior (named Alfie) looks and sounds just like his dad. Baby, is small and roly-poly like his mum. His real name is Greg but everyone is used to calling him Baby despite the fact he is eight and goes to school!

 

Our story begins on a pretty normal day; the family were enjoying a relaxing few moments after lunch when the doorbell rang.

‘Whatever is that?’ Granddad asked scratching his beard and sending crumbs flying about the room.

Baby Munchin, grinned. ‘Doorbell’ he told them. Then he went back to licking his bowl clean.

Mother Munchin smiled. ‘Well fancy that! We have a genius in the family. Baby, however did you know that?’

Baby was thinking, I can’t tell the truth, I promised Fred I wouldn’t tell.

He and his best friend, Fred play a game after school most days. Fred does most of the work because he is the fastest boy in the whole school. He races up to a door, rings the doorbell and runs to where Baby is hiding. Together they watch the people of the house come out and look for the caller. People always walk outside. Next they look up and down the street, under bushes, in cars, behind pillar-boxes for the person who rang their doorbell.

Fred and Baby are so successful at this they have made the headlines in the local paper.  The big print on the front page this morning asked, ‘Are the invisible door bell ringers really aliens?’

Baby remembers what Fred said to him, ‘be careful do not tell anyone it was us or we will get punished.’

Baby had no idea what punished meant. He asked Fred who waved a long finger at Baby saying. ‘Well my dad said he used to get beaten with a stick, my mum used to get smacks of a wooden spoon and my aunt used to get grounded.’

Baby thought this last bit was funny but after some reflection he decided that spending your day with your head stuck in the ground would not be so funny.

So he simply said, ‘Don’t know, must have learnt it at school.’

‘Clever boy,’ his mum said patting the top of his head fondly.

 

Chapter 3

The doorbell rang once again. ‘Well come on in’ Father Munchin yelled.

A deep voice shouted back, ‘I would if I could find a door handle.’

‘Just pull or push.’ the whole Munchin family shouted. Their shout whipped up enough wind to knock the birds out of the tree and to blow the door open. They could see blue sky and green grass but not a visitor or any birds.

Junior Munchin stood up and walking over looked outside. ‘There is no one there!’ He said in a puzzled voice and turned to go inside.

They heard a painful whisper, ‘I’m crushed to a pulp behind the door, help, please.’

There was a thunderous noise of trampling scampering feet as the rest of the Munchin Family arrived to rescue him.

Granddad was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of seeing a squished body.

‘Oh my, Oh my.’ Father Munchin said over and over again as he twisted a hanky in his hands. He wasn’t good at looking at blood and gore.

Baby wanted to see what a squashed person looked like and he peeped behind the door. He was disappointed there was no blood or mess. Sighing loudly he said, ‘He’s ok. He looks a funny color and is a bit squished. But he will live!’

‘Come on in and have some tea, ‘Mother Munchin said staring at the visitor.

He was a very peculiar looking fellow. His face was long and thin with a short bulbous nose set right in the middle. His eyes were huge, one was brown and the other blue. His mouth was thin and small. His hair was so tightly curled it looked like a helmet sitting on his head.

Baby Munchin stood on his head and asked, ‘Were you punished, is that what happened?’

Their visitor’s whole body was shaking from the incredible experience of being flattened and meeting the entire family.

‘Baby, get the nice man some hot tea and a sandwich.’ Mother Munchin said as she patted the man’s hand and led him to a chair.

Baby ran to do as she asked and wished Fred were here, because Baby didn’t know how to make a sandwich. All he knew about sandwiches is that he loved them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The kite with a sting in its tail

 

It was hot. There was not the sound of a single bee buzzing. The wood appeared to be empty of animals, and magical beings.

Breeze was on his way to the river. He wanted to paddle his feet. A loud rustle among the leaves above startled him. He spotted a long tail and wondered if it was a giant mouse. It darted away from him. Breeze followed. He ran from tree to tree, staring upwards. Suddenly he tripped. He hit the ground with a loud thump.

Breeze discovered he had fallen over Hamish.

“Have you no manners?” yelled Hamish. “What are you doing squishing Elves?”

Pulling himself to his feet, Breeze replied, “Sorry there is a giant mouse in the trees.”

“Don’t be silly. They live on the ground, not in trees.” Hamish lay back on his bed of moss. “Go away, it’s nap time.”

Breeze decided to leave because a grumpy elf is better left alone. He walked on looking for the mouse and Tulip stopped him to ask why he was looking upwards. He told her about the mouse.

“Lets look for it together.” She said and then they heard it.

When they looked high amongst the trees they spotted a tail with ribbons on it, in a tree.   “If it is not a mouse, what is it?”

Tulip said, “It’s a kite.” she said and flew high above him to release it.

The kite landed at his feet. “What does it do?”

kite

“I’ll show you.” Tulip took the kite and flew a short distance away. The wind caught hold  and the kite flew after her, swooping and diving. With it’s long tail dancing in the wind, it attracted a lot of attention.

Mrs. Groundsel and her grandchildren came to watch the fun.

As the kite tumbled about in the air something strange happened.

Each time it danced in a certain direction so did everyone on the ground.

If the kite dived to earth, everyone watching fell to the ground.

When the kite flew high into the sky, then everyone jumped off the ground and they rose high into the air.

Lily, a tiny ogre, was screaming, “make it stop, I don’t like it.”

The kite began to dance as it moved.

“This is not funny.” Mrs Groundsel puffed as she jigged about.

“I think I know who did this.” Breeze said and marched into the wood.

Tulip couldn’t pull the kite down. It continued to dance in the sky. Everyone watching danced on the grass.

“I’m too old for this.” Mrs. Groundsel said.

Breeze arrived back with a squealing young witch called Lovisma, tucked under his right arm.

“Let me down you oaf.”

He plonked her on the ground, saying, “Lovisma, I’m not an oaf. I’m an ogre.”

Lovisma saw the dancing crowd before her. She cackled with delight. “Oh you do look funny. My friends would love to see this.”

Breeze said,  “make it stop or I will lock you in with Hamish’s pet skunk, Smelly.”

“No, No, No.  You can’t. He stinks.”

“Why shouldn’t we? You have been nasty.” Breeze said.

“You are nice.” She looked at her feet. “You don’t do stuff like that.”

Breeze said, “Lovisma, make it stop.”

She clicked her fingers and the kite raced landed on the ground. Everyone sat for a rest.

“You are one mean witch,” Tulip said.

“But it was funny, wasn’t it?” Lovisma whispered.  “It wasn’t that nasty. Maybe I should try it in another part of the wood and tell my friends to come watch.”

Breeze said, “No you won’t.”

Lovisma trudged away saying, “Breeze is an oaf, a big spoilsport oaf.”

Everyone shouted after her, “No he is an Ogre!”

 

 

Snippet of a story in progress

I will tell you a little about The Munchin Family (this is me, below telling the story)

 

lady 2a

The Munchin family are like their home,  unusual.

Their house is not made of bricks or timber. It is made from steel. Knowing this the sun loves to dance about it. It stays for a while playing and bouncing off the Munchin house sending dazzling rays of light flying about the street.

Once you step through the doorway you will notice that everything (you sit on, eat out of. or sleep on) is made from steel or metal. Because of this, it is a noisy house.

The Munchin family love visitors and hurry to introduce themselves.

Granddad Munchin is tall. His hair is thick and white as snow. His beard is so long he wears it like a scarf on cold winter  days. His smile is toothless.  ‘I had all my teeth removed when I was eleven to help me look normal.’ He explains this to you as his eyes roll continuously about like a hamster on a revolving wheel. His false teeth spend most of their time in his shirt pocket.

Father Munchin is big and jolly with the most enormous looking teeth. ‘Hi’ he smiles puffing his large stomach out before him. ‘I’m proud of these gnashers.’ And to prove it he snaps them together rather like a shark. Unlike Granddad, Father Munchin has not one tiny hair on his shining round head.

Mother Munchin is a roly-poly woman who smiles a lot. Her eyes are so blue you find yourself staring into them as you would into the bright ocean.  When she meets you she always waves her wooden spoon asking, ‘Will you stay for lunch?’

If I were a visitor I would decline.

Why?

The answer is simple – because it is the most terrifying event to watch. As soon as she yells, ‘Ready, come and get it!’Her two children race into the room to join the adults. Within a minute the entire table is stripped bare, not a lettuce leaf remains or as much as a pinch of salt. So if you value your fingers, do not stay for lunch!