The boy that water hated.

 

Noah,  collected his name as he was born during a rainstorm.

The rain pounded down on his parents. If you had been able to wring their clothes, you would have collected enough to fill three barrels.  Everyone except Noah was wet that night.

As his mum held him close to her, she noticed that the rain did not land on him or her. So it continued as he grew, water did not linger on him. Bathing Noah was a puzzle until the accepted a simple truth – water did not like him!

His world was different to yours, soaps and creams were his way of bathing. Drinking was not a problem. He loved to drink water but whenever he held his hand out to catch some it skirted around his outstretched hand.

At four years of age he was walking with his mum. They watched other children splashing about in puddles on the ground. Noah tried to do the same and the water simply jumped away from him.

“I don’t like water.” He moaned.

“It might not always be like this, Noah, things happen for a reason.” She consoled him.

When Noah was six he went to swimming lessons. His instructor stood on the side of the swimming pool and asked everyone of the new swimmers to sit on the edge of the pool. They did. When Noah dipped his foot in, the water ran away from him. He scratched his head and tried again. Where is the water going? He wondered.

A loud shout from beside him answered that question, “Hoi, Stop splashing me!” The boy scowled at Noah.

“I didn’t do anything.” Noah told him as he got up and left the class.

Noah envied the other children. He never arrived at school with wet shoes or clothes, he was always dry.  His hair was shiny because it was washed in shampoo and conditioner with a thimble full of water added. Dogs loved to follow him and lick his skin because they loved the fruity taste of the creams he used.

He was ten years of age when it happened.

However one afternoon on his walk home from school he heard a cry for help. It was coming from the river that ran close to the road. Noah raced to the bank and stared in horror. A tiny girl had fallen in and was being pulled away by the current. Without thinking Noah ran along the bank until he reached the bridge, then he watched until he saw she was being carried close to the bridge. With one jump he fell from the bridge and landed on the soft muddy riverbed. The water had stopped flowing and a giggling sound alerted him that he was no longer alone. Noah opened his eyes and saw the very wet smiling toddler lying on the muddy river bed before him. He scooped her up and carried her to the bank.

Much later he walked home feeling very happy. He could not wait to tell his mum, but he did wonder what other adventures were lying in wait for him.

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Breeze receives a map with a worrying note.

Breeze never gets a letter. When a letter was dropped into his lap while he was asleep  it surprised him so much he fell out of the tree. He landed on a pile of soft leaves with a gentle thump. He lay there blinking wondering what had happened then a large flag landed on his head.

“Ouch. I didn’t order a hat or a flag” he mumbled lifting it from his head. He sat up and examined the flag. “You are not a flag. You are a map.” He grinned but there was no one around to grin at so he rolled the map up and ambled off to Tulip’s house.

“Look what I got Tulip it is a map.” He peered in the window at her.

Tulip was putting the finishing touches to a pixie’s birthday cake. The icing was tricky. It was purple with pink spots on it. The pink spots were misbehaving. They kept sliding off the cake.

“Let me help.” Breeze offered and caught a row of spots before they slid to the floor.

She scowled at him. “I’d best finish it later.”

“No please don’t stop because I am here.” He smiled.

“If I don’t stop trying there will be no icing left as you will keep eating it.” She walked out of her kitchen and sat on a swing on her decking.

“What is it a map of?” Tulip scrunched up her eyes against the morning sun.

Breeze stood in front of her and he blocked out the sun. “Here, look, what do you think?”

 

Tulip looked at it and smiled.  “It is a good map. Did you read the note?”

“What note?”

“The one that says this is Elegant’s rough map of Mudpile, her finished one will follow tomorrow but Lovisma thinks hers will be much better. It is going to be a competition.”

Breeze groaned. “That means a witch fight. Perhaps I should go on holiday.” He rolled the map up and headed home with a large chunk of icing in hand.