John Kuhn

 

I. Gretchen, Her Grandparents, and Tiddlywink Townhouse

         Once, in a clearing in the middle of an enchanted forest, there lived a little girl named Gretchen. She lived in the magical forest with her Nana and Papa because her parents had gotten lost in the deep forest many years earlier, and no one had seen them since.

         Sometimes, Gretchen thought she heard her parents' voices on the night wind, but Nana said she was only hearing the enchanted Trees whispering to one another in the darkness. Papa refused to tell the little girl that she wasn't hearing her parents, however. He told her, instead, to be still and listen carefully to the voices.

         "When you hear them," he asked, "what do they say?"

         "I...I don't know," she replied.

         "Listen closely, Gretchen. Try to find out what they're saying," he told her. 

         Gretchen tried to listen closely on those nights when the wind blew and the voices came, but she could never quite understand the words that floated softly through her window. They were tiny voices, from very far away.

         Gretchen and her grandparents lived in a wonderful mansion Papa had built with playing cards and peppermint putty. The front door was a King of Diamonds, and the other fifty-one cards made up all the walls. Downstairs, the floor was a made of a huge chessboard; upstairs, it was backgammon. Great checkers in stacks of red and black formed pillars that went all the way around the house and held up a roof shingled with dominoes.

         Papa, a retired toymaker, had built the special house when Gretchen was just a baby, before her parents had gotten lost. He called the mansion "Tiddlywink Townhouse," and Gretchen very much loved living there with her kind old grandparents.

         On those gusty nights when Gretchen heard the voices, she wanted badly to run into the forest to look for her parents. She knew they were still alive. She was sure the voices she heard were theirs. Though it had been a very long time since she had seen them, she still remembered the sweet way they spoke to her. Those were their voices—she was sure of it. And, sadly, they sounded scared; they sounded like they needed her. But Gretchen was not allowed to go into the forest by herself.

         "It's far too dangerous for a little girl like you to go into the forest alone," her grandmother had told her. "There are wild animals, dear, and it gets cold at night. You could easily get lost, too, you know. And do you know what the worst thing is, sweetie?" Deep lines of worry crisscrossed Nana's brow.

         "What, Nana?"

         "The enchanted Trees. Some of them are bad, dear, and they like to say scary things to frighten little children who walk alone."

         What's more, Papa had told Gretchen on several occasions about a terrible whirlpool that lay in the center of the forest.

         "I've never seen it, but they say it's there," he had told her. "It's a very strong whirlpool, Gretchen. Very strong indeed. It's so strong, they say, that when people get pulled in, they can never get out." Papa's eyes lit up. "And it's a cruel thing too, that miserable whirlpool. It never pulls people under quickly. The whirlpool only lets them drown after they've suffered for years and years, treading water and trying to escape, which is impossible."

         Gretchen stared at her grandfather in disbelief. She would try to remember the story of the whirlpool anytime she was tempted to go into the forest alone.

         Once in a while, Gretchen walked in the forest with her grandparents, during the daytime of course. Together, they strolled along lovely paths, shady and cool, stopping for a picnic lunch by a stream whenever they got hungry. Every time they went into the woods, she noticed, her grandfather carried an ax.

         "The bad Trees don't bother you if you have one of these," he told her, hoisting the heavy old ax up onto his shoulder.

         But Gretchen was far too small to carry an ax, and so she wasn't permitted to go into the woods alone.

        

II. A Sudden Storm

        

         One day, as Gretchen played happily on the porch of the mansion with her favorite toys—toys that her grandfather had made for her—a tiny gray cloud formed in the blue sky over the forest. A cozy aroma wafted onto the porch and Gretchen felt her stomach growl. She looked through the open kitchen window and saw her grandmother ambling about contentedly in her plaid oven mitts. She was baking muffins.

         Papa had gone to the market in Langoliette to buy flour and sugar, her grandmother had told her. Now the burg of Langoliette lay on the other side of the magical woods, and Papa had left before the sun came up that morning—it was a long walk through the forest to the city. He had taken his ax and, hoping to sell them, some toys he'd made in his spare time.

         As Gretchen played quietly, a slight breeze came and brushed her hair back from her face. The gentle wind played with her curls for a moment, and Gretchen enjoyed its soft touch against her cheek. But then it grew stronger. The sky blackened, and the breeze grew angry, grew into a cold and biting gale. It stung Gretchen's face and threw her soft brown locks into a storm of their own. The wind fell hard against Tiddlywink Townhouse; the spearmint shutters banged hard against the walls, and it all made a horrible, terrible noise that hurt Gretchen's ears.

         Gretchen's grandmother came quickly out onto the porch to bring her granddaughter in from the storm, but when she looked for Gretchen, Gretchen was nowhere to be found. Nana looked all over the porch. She looked under the chairs. She looked everywhere. Gretchen wasn't on the porch at all.

         "Gretchen!" she called. "Gretchen, where are you?"

        

III. Where is Gretchen?

        

         The voices had come to Gretchen on the wings of the storm, the wind blowing so strongly that Gretchen could hear them more clearly than ever. They sounded like her parents' voices, all right, and someone else's too, but she wasn't sure whose. She listened closely.

         Pow, pow, pow!

         The noise of the shutters slapping against the house made it hard to hear. Gretchen took a few tiny steps away from the porch.

         What are they saying?

         She was sure now that she heard her father's voice in there, and her mother's. But who was the third person calling to her? It was a familiar voice.

         Slap, slap, slap!

         Oh, the shutters won't let me hear!

         Gretchen stepped further away from the house, toward the voices. Toward her parents. Toward the enchanted forest.

         Just one more step, she thought.

         That was when Nana came out onto the porch, but it was so dark that she couldn't see her granddaughter there on the lawn. When she called Gretchen's name, the wind stole it and carried it to the end of the earth. The only calls Gretchen heard were the ones coming from the forest, the calls of her parents and of...someone else.

         Who?

         A little farther, Gretchen said to herself. Just one more step.

         And Gretchen took one more step, and that one more step took her into the magic wood.

        

IV. Into the Enchanted Forest

        

         Stepping slowly forward in the darkness, Gretchen bumped into the trunk of a Tree and realized how far she had wandered from her house. She grew afraid. Then, just as she was about to turn around and try to find her back through the darkness of the storm to Tiddlywink Townhouse, she heard the voices on the wind again. She remembered her grandfather's advice.

         "Be still and listen," he had told her. "Try to find out what the voices are saying."

         The little girl acted very big and very courageous. She kept herself still and listened closely as the cold wind swept through the Tree branches and blew leaves into a frenzy all along the darkened path.

         "Help us," said the voices, all three of them, from somewhere very far away. "Come and help us."

         Gretchen's father said, "Gretchen, if you can hear us, come and help us."

         "Gretchen, we are alive," said her mother. "Help us. Help us before it's too late. Come quickly."

         "Follow my toys, Gretchen," said the third voice. She recognized it. It was her grandfather, many miles away. "Follow the trail I left for you and you will find us."

         Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the storm died down. The wind abated and the sky above the forest lightened. Gretchen watched a handful of leaves fall gently to the ground in the storm's aftermath. One of them landed on something she recognized—a toy soldier she had watched Papa carve three days before while sitting at the fireplace after dinner and smoking his pipe.

         Gretchen knew that she had to go and find her parents and her Papa. She stooped and picked up the toy soldier, tucking it gently into her pocket.

         Suddenly, from behind her, Gretchen heard a whistle. She turned around and saw an enchanted Tree shake its heavy branches.

         "Good luck," it said to her in the deepest voice she had ever heard. "And be careful."

         It was a good Tree.

         "Thank you," answered the little girl, and the Tree nodded, slowly and wisely.

         "It's very cold, and you've got a long way to go," he said. "You will get hungry. Take some fruit from my branches for the trip."

         "Thank you, Mr. Tree."

         "Please, call me Augustus. My name is Augustus MacAlbaine Bradford."

         "Thank you, Mr. Augustus," replied Gretchen, taking two fat, juicy pears from his lower branches and stuffing them into her pockets.

         The Tree laughed heartily. "That tickles," he said.

         Before Gretchen could leave, he told her, "I should tell you one thing more. Don't be afraid of the Trees. The good ones will help you find your way."

         Gretchen was indeed very afraid of the Trees, however. "What about the bad ones, though, Mr. Augustus?"

          Augustus nodded thoughtfully. "It's true that there are those among my species who, shall we say, enjoy mischief. But, if you know the one thing a bad Tree likes more than mischief, then you'll have no problems out of them."

         "But what's that?" asked Gretchen. "What do they like more than mischief?"

         "I can't just tell you the answer, I'm afraid," he replied. "That wouldn't be the way of a Tree. But, listen very carefully to what I will tell you:        

An idle Tree is bad you'll find.
What have you to fill his mind?
Once a game, such charming fun,
Becomes a weapon. And this is one.      

         It is something, indeed, that we all find enchanting, you will learn."

         Gretchen looked at the Tree, repeating the riddle in her mind.

         "Now, be on your way, human child," Augustus MacAlbaine Bradford said. "It will be night before long, and the rains may come again."

         Gretchen smiled and turned to walk away. The first enchanted Tree she encountered had proved to be kind. This was a fine beginning to her adventure.

         "Oh, yes," Augustus called as she trudged away up the path. "If you happen upon my brother Unselshau, would you please tell him to send me my woolen scarf with the sparrow Sir Chaskie Gorrion. I would very much appreciate such a service, if you would be so kind."

         "Yes, sir," she replied, and she went on her way.

        

V. Riddles and Dangers

        

         Gretchen ran through the forest, under a dense tapestry of leaves and branches that cast dark shadows on everything in sight. She scanned the ground constantly for her grandfather's toys, hoping for a sign that she was going in the right direction, and she tried to work out the riddle Mr. Augustus MacAlbaine Tree had given her.

         "What could it mean?" she asked herself, slowing to a walk.

         Every few seconds, frightening noises emanated from the deep woods to her left and right. Gretchen froze each time she heard them. She wondered what types of animals lived in the dark undergrowth surrounding her. She wondered if there were wolves in there, or bears.

         "What will I do," she wondered, "if a mountain lion comes out of the forest to eat me?"

         She wondered what the answer to the riddle was.

         "Why couldn't he just tell me what I need to know? What if a bad Tree gets me before I solve the riddle?" she whispered, growing more unhappy with each step.

         There!

         Gretchen spotted a brightly-painted yo-yo lying in the center of the path. She smiled. At least she knew she was heading in the right direction now. As she stooped to pick up the yo-yo, she thought about her poor grandmother. She hadn't told Nana where she was going.

         "She must be worried sick," she whispered to herself, wishing she had at least left a note. Then she remembered the smell of her grandmother's muffins and her stomach rumbled. Putting a hand in her pocket, she found one of Augustus's pears. She picked a smooth spot where buttercups grew in the slight shade of a sapling and sat down.

         After she'd finished her pear and stood to continue on her journey, she stepped a bit too close to the young Tree, and it grabbed her by the hair before she could get away. Pulling her closer, the Tree wrapped its tender branches around her, scratching her with its pokey limbs.

         "Who said you could sit there, little girl?" it said, as she fought to get away.

         "I'm sorry, sir. Please...let...me...go," she replied, grunting and pushing on the sapling's limbs.

         "Why should I?" he said, laughing merrily at her distress.

         "Because I'm a nice girl," she said, starting to cry.

         "I like nice girls," the Tree replied. "They're the yummiest kind." And again he laughed.

         "Terrence!" came a voice from another Tree, a tall and slender one just to the south. "Terrence, you stop tormenting that human child this instant."

         "But Mom..." Terrence whined.

         "Terrence, you heard your mother," boomed another Tree, one that towered over the others.

         "Terrence, don't threaten to eat her," his mother said.

         Gretchen heard dozens of trees all around whispering and giggling.

         "Do I have to let her go, Mom?" Terrence asked.

         "No, son," she replied. "You can play with her, just be nice about it."

         Terrence's father, the tall one, spoke up again. "If anyone is going to eat her, it'll be me."

         An explosion of laughter came from the Trees surrounding them.

         Gretchen cried fat tears and screamed at them all. "Stop it!" she cried. "Stop it, all of you. You're scaring me!" She tried very hard to solve the riddle so she would know what the Trees liked more than mischief, but she couldn't figure it out.

         "Howard, you cut that out," Terrence's mother said to his father. "I won't have you undercutting my authority."

         Howard took offense at her comments. "Now, listen here, Hazel," he began, and soon a Tree family dispute filled the forest with shouting.

         Gretchen couldn't hear herself think, so she whispered the words of the riddle out loud.        

"An idle Tree is bad you'll find.
What have you to fill his mind?
Once a game, such charming fun,
Becomes a weapon. And this is one."      

         The trees stopped their arguing with amazing suddenness and Terrence addressed the little girl wrapped uncomfortably in his branches.

         "What did you say, little girl?" he asked.

         "Oh, it's just a riddle I heard."

         "A riddle? I love riddles!" Terrence said.

         "I love riddles, too!" shouted another tree, in the distance.

         "Me too," called another one.

         "Let's hear it, then," said Howard, sounding as excited as his son about the riddle.

         Gretchen hesitated.

         "Squeeze her a bit, son," Howard said.

         "Howard!" said Hazel.

         "What? I'm only kidding."

         Hazel harrumphed.

         "Squeeze her a little," Howard whispered softly, "just to get her talking."

         Gretchen told the riddle to the Trees before anyone did any squeezing.

         "An idle Tree is bad, you'll find..." she started.

         "Ooh," said Terrence contentedly, "I haven't heard this one."

         "No, me either," said his father. "A good one. Quite good."

         When Gretchen finished the riddle, an emaciated elm next to them muttered, "Once a game...hmmm. What could it be?"

         While the Trees thought about the riddle in rapt silence, Gretchen felt Terrence's scratchy branches loosen their hold on her. He was far too busy thinking about the riddle to remember to hold on to her. She wriggled free from the painful embrace and crawled to the path as fast as she could go. As soon as she reached the path, she ran, leaving the Trees to solve the riddle without her.

         When she finally stopped to catch her breath, she realized what the riddle meant.

         "So that's what it is," she said, panting. "The answer to the riddle is...a riddle. That's what they love more than mischief." As she stood to continue her quest, she immediately set about thinking of any riddles she could use in future encounters with bad Trees.

         As she walked up the trail, Gretchen picked up five more of Papa's toys: a top, a bag of wooden marbles, jacks, a puzzle piece, and a toy boat. Noticing that the forest had grown darker—the sun was sinking, night was coming—Gretchen grew afraid. She noticed that the strange animal sounds were echoing through the forest more frequently now.

         "What am I going to do?" she asked herself, yawning. She didn't think she would be able to walk in the dark without falling down, but it was too dangerous to sleep on the path. She wished she were back at Tiddlywink Townhouse with Nana, eating muffins in the kitchen or playing Wahoo on the board Papa had made. Gretchen sat down in the middle of the path and cried a single tear.

         Just then, before the tear could fall to the ground, a gentle breeze caressed her face and dried the tear on her cheek.

         "Don't give up, daughter," the wind said, in her father's tender voice. "Don't give up; we need you."

         "I won't give up," she whispered. "I promise." She started looking for a safe place to stay for the night, thinking she saw a good spot by a wisteria bush, and then she heard a voice.

         "Psst," whispered the voice. "Psst. Little girl. Over here."

         Gretchen looked around. A sycamore Tree leaned over a bit and ruffled its leaves at her.

         "It's me. My name is Sid. What's your name?"

         "My name is Gretchen. Why are you whispering?"

         "My friends here are asleep, and I don't want to wake them. Well, really, you don't want me to wake them."

         "I don't?"

         "No, of course not."

         "Why not?"

         "Oh, well, my friends are not so nice to little children like yourself. They like to scare them and make them cry."

         "They're bad Trees?"

         "Oh, no. I don't think they're really bad. They're very nice to me. It's just...well, do you know why some Trees like to bother little children?" Sid was careful to talk quietly.

         "No, sir."

         "Well, have you ever seen anyone out here with a watering can?"

         Gretchen thought for a moment. "No."

         "No one ever waters us. That's why my friends here like to make children cry. They get very thirsty, so they think that if they make you cry enough, their roots will get to suck your tears right out of the ground."

         "Oh." Gretchen didn't think that any human child could cry enough tears to water the tall Trees that dozed all around her.

         "Are you a good Tree or a bad Tree, Mr. Sid?" she asked.

         "Well, that's a very good question. I'm a good Tree right now, because all my friends are asleep. But when they wake up, well...I'm easily influenced, you know. Sometimes I act like they do. Peer pressure, they call it."

         "I see," said Gretchen, and she backed slowly away.

         "Oh, no, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. In fact, I noticed that you have a problem."

         "You did?"

         "Yes, of course. It's getting dark, and you're sleepy. I saw you yawn back there. Trees have very good eyes, you know. The reason I called to you is because you need to find a safe place to sleep, and I would like you to use one of my branches for your bed. I promise I will take care of you."

         "But...what if I fall?"

         "Oh, I won't let you fall. Sleeping up high is the safest thing to do here in the forest. There are lots of forest animals that crawl around on the ground after dark looking for something to eat, but they can't climb Trees. My branches are the safest place for you."

         "What if your friends wake up and tell you to be mean to me?"

         "I'll tell them no."

         "But you said you're easily influenced."

         "I am."

         "Then how are you going to keep them from influencing you?"

         "Simple. I'm going to let you influence me. Are you a good human or a bad human?"

         "Oh, I'm a good human, Mr. Sid. I always mind my grandparents."

         Sid paused. "Grandparents?" he asked. "Isn't that what you humans call the slow ones with white leaves?"

         "Leaves? Humans don't have leaves. We have hair."

         "Oh, yes. Hair. White hair. Isn't that what you call the ones with white hair?"

         "Yes, grandparents. We call them grandparents."

         "I think I saw a grandparent just this morning, very early. He had white hair. I didn't speak to him because he had an ax. He looked very serious."

         "That must have been my grandfather," said Gretchen, easing closer to the sycamore Tree. "He went to the city to sell his toys and to buy flour and sugar."

         "Oh, no, then. It must have been another grandfather. The grandfather I saw didn't go toward the city at all. Look there." The tree shook his branches toward a spot just up ahead where the trail split into two forks. "See where the trail divides up there? If you go to the right, you will go to Langoliette, where the market is. But if you go left, it will take you into the heart of the forest. The grandfather I saw early this morning went to the left."

         "Do you think that was my grandfather?"

         "Well, I haven't seen any other grandfathers come by here recently. Are you sure he was going to the market?"

         "That's what my grandmother said."

         "Hmm."

         Gretchen put her hand on the wide trunk of the Tree and carefully climbed up into his lowest branch.

         "Shh. Don't wake the others," Sid told her.

         "I won't," she said, and she scaled further up his boughs and snuggled into a smooth place where a thick branch grew out from the trunk. In seconds, she was asleep.

        

VI. The Heart of the Forest

          

          Gretchen awoke early the next morning and, though cold, she felt remarkably well-rested. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and then she heard a rustling of leaves all around her as several Trees woke from their slumber and stretched their branches. One Tree yawned loudly.

         "What a night," said a sleepy voice.

         "I'll say. I slept like a log," said another.

         "What's in store for today, Charlie?" asked one.

         "I think I'll just stay here and watch the grass grow. I might take a swat at a bird or two. What about you?"

         "Oh, the usual. Just stick around here and work on some of my new branches."

         "Hey, yeah, I noticed that you're filling in nicely there on top where the lightning got you last year."

         "Yeah, it's coming along. Thanks for noticing."

         Suddenly, the peaceful morning banter was interrupted by screams from a wild plum.

         "Sid! Sidney! Wake up! Wake up!"

         "What? What is it, Clyde?" Sid sounded very tired.

         "It's...you've got a...a thing in your branches."

         Sid sighed.

         "Calm down, kid," said Charlie. "It's probably a hawk or something."

         "No. No, it's a...a human!" Clyde shouted the word "human," and when he did, at least ten Trees in the neighborhood gasped.

         "It must've climbed in your branches while you were sleeping, Sid," said a pecan right next to him.

         "Grab it! Grab it!" shouted Charlie. "It's trying to get away!"

         Sid sighed again. He had promised not to mistreat the human.

         "I heard some whispers that there was a human child up the trail yesterday," said Clyde. "One of the buzzards told me. We should've stayed up and kept watch last night. "

         "Hey, human, have you ever lit a fire in a fireplace?" asked Charlie. Gretchen didn't answer. She was trying to get out of Sid's branches and get away as fast as she could. "Have you? Well, that was my cousin you burned up in there!"

         "Have you ever used a stick to roast marshmallows?" he asked. "That stick was my other cousin!"

         "I have never done either of those things!" Gretchen shouted at the mean old Tree, scooting down Sid's trunk as fast as she could.

         "Grab her, Sid!" shouted Charlie again. "She's getting away!"

         Sid sighed.

         "Sid, what's the matter with you. Grab her!"

         "No, Charlie," Sid said, summoning every bit of courage he could find from the ends of his roots to the tips of his topmost branches. "I'm not going to be grab her."

         "What?"

         "I'm not going to grab her."

         "Why not?"

         "Because it isn't nice."

         "Nice? Since when did you care about being nice?"

         "I just...it just isn't nice to scare little kids. I'm letting her go."

         Several Trees booed and hissed. They liked being mean to little kids.

         "Here's nice for you, Sid," growled Charlie, and he flicked an acorn that landed against Sid's trunk with a thump. Gretchen scrambled to the ground and ran out onto the path.

         "Ow, Charlie, that hurt," Sid said.

         "Yeah? Well, here's another one for you."

         Soon, all the Trees were flinging nuts and fruits and dead branches at poor old Sid, and all because he had kept his promise to be nice to Gretchen.

         "Stop it!" Gretchen screamed. "Stop being mean to him!"

         The Trees ignored her. They cheered raucously as they pelted Sid over and over again. Sid groaned as the projectiles tore his leaves and left him bruised and covered in fruit splatter. Then Gretchen remembered the only weapon she had against the bad Trees. A riddle. She stood in the path and thought and thought.

         "Okay, I've got one," she finally said to herself.

         "Trees!" she shouted. "Listen to this riddle."

         "Riddle?" said Charlie. "I love riddles."

         "Me too," said Clyde.

         "Quiet, everybody!" the pecan hollered. "She's got a riddle."

         The Trees grew quiet. They left Sid alone.

         Gretchen spoke as loudly as she could.

"A green blanket keeps me warm.
I'm yellow underneath.
Peel back the silky covers,
And all you'll see is teeth."        

         "Hmmm," said Charlie.

         "Hmmm," said Clyde.

         "Hmmm," said the pecan.

         "Hmmm," said Sid.

         Gretchen snuck up the path and took a left at the fork.

         "Hmmm," she heard all the Trees say as she walked quickly up the trail, into the heart of the forest.

         "Is it a mouth, Charlie?"

         "No, it's not a mouth, Clyde. Mouths don't have green covers."

         "How do you know? You don't even have a mouth."

         "I'm talking, ain't I?"

         "Quiet, you two," said the pecan. "I'm trying to solve a riddle here."

         "Is it a bed, Charlie? It's got a blanket."

         "No, it isn't a bed, Clyde."

         The morning was cool and bright as the sun fought its way through the thick branches that arched over the path. Birds of all shapes and colors flew low over the trail, trying to stay out of the Trees' reach, singing delightful morning songs. One flitting sparrow that Gretchen saw had reading glasses perched on his beak.

         "That's curious!" she laughed, turning to watch as the near-sighted bird flew past.

         The sparrow must have heard her, for he immediately turned and flew back to her, landing on the ground a few feet away.

         "What's curious, then?" he asked, seeming quite perturbed.

         "Why, you are, sir," Gretchen said. "I've never seen a bird with glasses before."

         "You haven't?" he asked. "How odd! Many of us wear glasses, of course. Why should humans be the only ones correcting their vision? Do you know what I think is odd?"

         "What's that, sir?"

         "I find it odd that you would call me a bird."

         "But...you are a bird."

         "Yes, well, I realize that. And you are a little girl, but does everyone call you ‘little girl'?"

         "Well, sometimes, when they don't know my name."

         "And what is your name?"

         "Gretchen."

         "Pleased to meet you, Gretchen. Quite an awful name, by the way. I think your parents should've named you Dovie. And that's what I shall call you. Dovie. Yes, that's it. As for me, Sir Chaskie Gorrion is the name. I am a courier par excellence, should you need to send anything to anyone, excepting pianos. I don't do pianos, for obvious reasons. Harmonicas, yes. Pianos, no. Incidentally, Dovie, for future reference, we prefer to be called ‘feathered friends.' The word ‘bird' has so many negative connotations, you know."

         "Negative conn-?"

         "Connotations. Ever heard of a ‘jailbird,' dear? How about ‘bird legs?' Or perhaps you've been called a ‘chicken' before, or a ‘turkey?' Truly, we of the avian populace do not get the respect we deserve. We have many admirable qualities. We can fly. Can you fly?"

         "No, sir."

         "No, of course you can't, Dovie. We birds are intelligent, too. Do you know what book I am currently reading, Dovie?"

         "No, sir, I don't. I..."

         "I'm currently reading Tocqueville's Old Regime. Just light reading, you know."

         "Oh."

         "Anyway, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance. I must be on my way. I've a note here for Ichabod Abelard Maple down in Blackberry Crook. Remember, should you ever need to send anything—anything besides a piano, that is—just call for Sir Chaskie Gorrion."

         "But how will you hear me?"

         "Oh, I'll hear you," the sparrow called back, starting his flight. "The trees will pass the word. I'm always on call." And Sir Chaskie Gorrion was gone.

         Gretchen continued her trek into the heart of the enchanted forest. Soon after she had spoken with the courier sparrow, she happened upon a tiny crib her grandfather had carved for the nursery of a little girl's dollhouse. She picked it up and dusted it off. She was glad she had something—several somethings, in fact, that she could hold and touch and remember her sweet Papa by.

        

         "Sir Chaskie Gorrion!" she called, as loud as her lungs would project it. She had a message that she needed sent. She wanted to make sure her parents and her Papa knew she was on her way. Immediately, echoes of her call rolled away from her like ripples after a splash, spreading in every direction through the forest as the Trees repeated her plea to distant neighbors. She waited for a moment, then decided to keep walking. The sparrow would have to find her.

         She rubbed the tiny cradle between her thumb and forefinger, both dirty by now. She felt hungry again. She'd only eaten a pear since she left Tiddlywink Townhouse. She felt thirsty too.

         Just then, a slender Tree spoke up.

         "Hey, there, little girl," the Tree said. "How are you? I've heard about you."

         "Hi," Gretchen meekly replied.

         "Do you have a riddle for me?" the Tree asked. "I know the answer to your last one."

         "You do?"

         "Yes, it's corn. Corn has a green blanket, and it's yellow inside, and it's got a whole passel of teeth on it, now doesn't it?"

         "Yes."

         "Delightful, that one. I love it. Tell us another."

         "I don't have another one right now. I'm sorry."

         "That's okay, sweet. Hey. Are you thirsty? You look a mite thirsty."

         "Oh, I'm terribly thirsty, Miss Tree. Do you know where I might find some water?"

         "Indeed I do. My roots tickle the banks of a delicious spring nearby. I'd love to tell you how to get to it, but I'm afraid some of my neighbors here will hear me, and if they hear, they'll send their roots over there and hog all the water."

         "Oh, please tell me, Miss. Please, please, please. I'm so thirsty."

         "I guess I could tell you, but I would have to whisper it."

         Gretchen looked at the slender Tree and edged toward her. As soon as she got close enough, the Tree grabbed her tightly.

         "Let me go!"

         "No, no, no. Never let you go. But I will tell you where the spring is, so you can think about the clear, cool water. Mmm. I'm drinking some now." The Tree lowered her voice to a whisper. "The spring is by the huckleberry bush, just past the wild grapevine there. You see it?"

         "I have a riddle," Gretchen said quickly, and the tree let her go.

         "What is it, then, sweet? Let's have it."

         Gretchen cleared her throat.        

"Too much of me is death for you,
Too little, and you will die.
With cold I swell, with heat I fly.
I'm in you. What am I?"

         "Oooh, a good one," said the Tree. She didn't even notice the little girl slip away to the spring and drink to her heart's content. When Gretchen passed by the Tree again, her thirst fully satisfied, the Tree was still lost in thought over the riddle and didn't even see her pass. Before long, Gretchen was back on the path again.

         "Hallo," called a voice just overhead. Gretchen stopped. It was Sir Chaskie Gorrion.

         "You called?" he said, puttering to a stop at her feet.

         "Yes. I had forgotten, actually. I thought you weren't coming."

         "So sorry about that. Too many deliveries, you know. Business is good. Have you something for delivery?"

         "Yes," she said, producing the tiny crib her grandfather had carved. "I'm afraid I don't have an address, though."

         "It is a right sorry courier who needs an address for every delivery he makes. Why, I only have one question. Is the person you wish to send this, um, package to...is this person here, in the forest?"

         "Yes. It's just that I don't know where in the forest he is."

         "Never mind that. I know this forest like the back of my hand. I only hope he's not in the...um...never mind. If he's in the forest, I'll find him. You can bet on it. What's his name?"

         "Well, I call him Papa. His real name is..."

         "Ah, ah, ah. Papa will do just fine. I'll not have you think me an ordinary courier. I like a challenge, I do. And you will soon see that you've hired yourself the best courier money will buy."

         "Oh," said the little girl, in a terribly sad, tired little voice. "I don't have any money, exactly."

         "Birdseed?"

         "Excuse me?"

         "Have you any birdseed?"

         "No. I have one pear."

         "Well, I'll just have a peck, if you don't mind," Sir Chaskie Gorrion said, and Gretchen lay her pear on the ground for him. After sampling the fruit from Augustus MacAlbaine Bradford's lower branches, the tiny bird dropped the model crib in his tiny pouch and flew away. "I'll bring you a receipt showing I've delivered it," he called, soaring to the treetops.

        

VIII. Good News and Bad News

        

         By the time the sparrow brought back Gretchen's receipt, she had covered much ground and had eaten the rest of the pear. Gretchen was elated to see the bird's receipt. It was a lock of white hair from her grandfather's head.

         "Little girl, I bring you good news and bad. Your grandfather and parents sent word with me that they are still alive. They are alive!  But they need you to come soon. They won't last much longer, they say."

         "Oh, dear," she gasped, and she started to cry.

         "Yes. That is the bad news. But I have more good news, wee one. Your journey is almost at an end. Your destination is two hours' walk from here. See there, where the road crests the hill? It is just over that rise. You've shown great courage thus far, young lady. Do not falter now. They need you. Go to them. Do not fear."

         "I do fear," she cried. "Where are they?"

         "I think you already know, child. They are in a place much too easy for your race to find, and, once they find it, much too hard to leave."

         "How is a little girl supposed to help three grown-ups?"

         "I don't know. You'll find a way. I have utmost confidence in you, Gretchen."

         "How do you know my name?"

         "Ah! Don't you know? The whole forest knows your name. Now go."

        

IX. Salvation

        

         Gretchen held the lock of her grandfather's hair to her heart and ran with all her might. Her little legs took her as fast as they could for as long as they could, and, before she thought it possible, she beheld her parents and her grandfather.

         She beheld the truth. The horrible, unspeakable truth.

         Over the rise lay the most immense lake she had ever seen, and its green water swirled angrily around and around and around, stirring up whitecaps and roaring madly. Worst of all, thousands and thousands of people struggled desperately in the water, their heads bobbing in the turbulent waves, every one of them wearing an expression of pure terror. Gretchen grew dizzy watching the heads go round and round. She looked at all the faces she could, trying to spot her loved ones.

         "Hey, little girl," shouted a teenager who floated by. "Jump in! The water's great!"

         Someone raised an arm and waved at her.

         "Gretchen!"

         It was Papa.

         "I heard the voices, too," Papa said. "That's why I came. I didn't really go to the market like I told your Nana. I was afraid she wouldn't understand."

         "I understand, Papa," Gretchen replied.

         "Your mother and father are behind me, Gretchen. Watch for them! They'll come around soon!"

         "Papa! What do I do?"

         But the whirlpool carried Papa too far away to be heard before he could answer.

         A beautiful blonde woman passed by her then, and she looked very tired.

         "Mom?"

         "Gretchen?"

         Gretchen had to talk fast, for the water would carry her mom away quickly.

         "Mom, what do I do?"

         "Help us."

         "How?"

         But her mom was gone.

         Gretchen's father came by next. Like her mom, he looked like he would drown if she didn't help him soon.

         "Gretchen, take my hand!" he called to her, fighting his way through the crowd of people, but he got to her too late. The water had already pushed him past her, and she couldn't quite reach his hand. Gretchen's heart broke when she saw the desperation in his eyes as he spun away from her, on his way around the whirlpool's cruel circuit once more.

         Gretchen looked around for something to hold out to them the next time they came around.

         "I wouldn't do that," came a voice. Gretchen looked up. The most handsome man she had ever seen stood beside her, a burlap sack slung over his shoulder, a pained expression etched into his face. He looked sadder even than Gretchen, though she couldn't imagine anyone feeling sadder than her.

         "Do what?" she asked.

         "I wouldn't hold out your hand to your grandfather and your parents."

         "Why not? Are you cruel? Are you the keeper of this wicked whirlpool?"

         "No. Of course not. I hate this whirlpool more than anyone. More than even you. Men made it long ago, and my job is to warn people to stay away from it."

         "Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you?"

         "Doesn't look that way, does it?"

         "Why do you tell me not to help them?"

         "If you reach out your hand to them, they will pull you in. I have seen it happen a million times. I saw it happen to your grandfather."

         Gretchen held her hand to her mouth. "Then what am I to do? Would you have me watch them drown?"

         "No, Gretchen."

         Gretchen looked around at other people around the pool. She hadn't noticed them before. There were hundreds of them, most of them reaching out a hand to their loved ones, some sitting uselessly on the bank and crying. She watched one young man tear off his shirt and dive right in, shouting, "Don't worry, brother. I'm coming to save you!"

         "Did you see that?" the handsome man asked her. "Now he's trapped just like the person he wants to save. One drowning man cannot save another. And yet some still try. Look!"

         Gretchen shifted her attention to a man wearing a shirt and tie, bobbing in the pool along with all the others. His oratory was impeccable for a drowning man, and he lectured the people who bobbed next to him, holding up a wet sheet of paper in a hand he wasn't paddling with.

         "Ladies and gentlemen," he shouted over the deafening roar of the whirlpool, "I know the way out of the whirlpool. I have it here in my hand. This is the list that will change your life. Follow these eight simple rules, and you will be free! Rule number one: Do not spit in the pool. Rule number two: Give to the poor. Rule number three: Use only the backstroke on Wednesdays."

         The rules continued, but the pool carried the man away before Gretchen heard all eight of them. Looking around the rest of the pool, Gretchen noticed many of the drowning people held papers in their hands.

         "Is he telling the truth?"

         "No. There are no rules that will get people out of there."

         "What about all the people in the pool who are following the rules?"

         "Well, they'll be good neighbors until they drown, I suppose."

         "Then it's hopeless?"

         "It's never hopeless. They need an anchor."

         "An anchor? That will sink them!" Gretchen shrieked, horrified.

         "Not if it's an anchor on land. If you hold a stick out to them, it will break. If you hold your hand out to them, they'll drag you in, and then who will save you? What they need is a strong anchor, a rescuer who has never ventured into the whirlpool and who never will. Someone who can't ever go there; someone tied unbreakably to higher ground."

         As Gretchen watched, the handsome man pulled three sections of rope from his sack and handed them to her.

         "Here is where I'll need your help," he said, and he climbed into a robust Tree that stood nearer to the whirlpool than any other Tree.

         The handsome man extended his arm against one of the branches. "Tie my arm to the branch," he commanded. Gretchen tied a gentle bow around his wrist, and he frowned at her.

         "Tighter," he said.

         She tied it tighter.

         "Tighter," he said, clenching his teeth.

         She pulled it tighter than she thought she should.

         "Much tighter still," he said.

         Gretchen sobbed as she pulled on the rope as hard as she could, pulled it so tight that the handsome man's blood ran red down his forearm and onto the tree branch, and then she wrapped it around the branch several times and tied the best knot she knew.

         "Good," he whispered, clearly in pain. "Now the other one, and then my ankles."

         Gretchen tied the man's other arm and his ankles as tightly and painfully as she could, tied them so tight, again, that his blood ran warm and crimson.

         "Are you sure those knots will hold?" he asked her, beads of sweat upon his brow. "If they fail, all is lost."

         "I...I don't know," she answered, her voice trembling along with her body. "I'm only a little girl."

         The handsome sufferer glanced at Gretchen's feet and she followed his gaze to a hammer and three giant nails on the ground.

         "Those should hold me, don't you think?" he asked her. She cried openly at the thought of it.

         "But...you're a kind man. You shouldn't suffer."

         "Then how will they be saved?" The handsome man let a tear fall from his eye, and Gretchen suddenly felt better about her own crying. "I won't make you watch," he offered, and the little girl closed her eyes.

         The ringing of the hammer echoed in her ears, and she clenched her eyes tightly closed. Someone screamed; she wasn't sure if it was the man or the Tree or both of them.

         When Gretchen opened her eyes, she saw a broken man pinned in the branches of a very sad Tree.

         "It's time," the man groaned, and the Tree heard him. It leaned over as far as it could, so that the handsome man's hand, pinned to a branch, was only inches above the raging water.

         Gretchen watched the people passing by in the clutches of the whirlpool. Many of them looked longingly at the man in the Tree but sailed right by without taking his hand. One man with a paper in his fist shouted, "Pay no mind to him. Just follow these eight rules and you will be free."

         Another man shouted, "It's no fair! He hasn't even been in the pool before. It's too easy for him to save us from out there. I'll wait for a rescuer who's willing to get wet."

         Gretchen saw her grandfather coming then, and she shouted at him. "Papa!"

         "Gretchen!"

         "Papa! Take this man's hand!"

         "Are you sure, Gretchen?"

         "Yes, Papa. I'm sure! Take his hand."

         Papa fought his way toward the edge of the whirlpool and reached a tired old arm out of the water just when he passed under the man in the Tree. With a strong hand pinned securely to a strong branch, the man in the Tree pulled Papa out of the pool and onto dry land. "Help me tell them, Papa!" Gretchen shouted, and Papa took his place beside her on the shore.

         Gretchen's mom and dad were saved next, and then they stayed on that shore with her for hours telling everyone who floated by about the man in the Tree who could save them. Hundreds of people who heard just laughed at them, and hundreds more told them to go away and leave them to drown in peace. But more people than they could count listened to them and reached a hand toward the unlikely rescuer, and they found more strength in that gentle hand than they ever expected.

        

X. Last Things

        

         When the handsome man finished his work and Gretchen and her family helped him come down from the Tree, Gretchen hugged him as tight as she could.

         "Tighter," he whispered, and she smiled. That's when she noticed the wool scarf around the Tree's trunk.

         "Are you Augustus's brother?" she asked the Tree.

         "Yes. Do you know Augustus? I'm Unselshau."

         "I know him. He asked me to have you return his scarf with Sir Chaskie Gorrion."

         "Thank you, Miss. I will be certain to do that." And the call went out for the courier.

         "What now?" Gretchen's dad asked the handsome man.

         "My next job is to destroy this whirlpool once and for all," he replied. "I'd better get to work."

         The family bid the handsome man and Unselshau farewell and made their way back to the path. Sir Chaskie Gorrion greeted them as he flew over on his way to pick up the scarf.

         "Gretchen," said Papa. "Where are the toys I left on the path?"

         "Here, Papa," she said, showing him the collection of toys in her pockets.

         "But how are we to find our way home?"

         Gretchen thought for a moment. "I know a certain bird who should be heading in the same direction as us. Maybe he'll let us follow him." And she called for Sir Chaskie Gorrion, who flew to them with an immense plaid scarf fluttering in his tiny claws.

         "Of course you can follow me," he said, and they were on their way.

         The bad Trees had only just begun to harass them (for Papa had lost his ax in the whirlpool) when water came rushing through the forest, a flood of water several inches deep, water that the thirsty Trees badly needed. The travelers all looked around and wondered where the water had come from, but Papa only smiled.

         "He's done it," he marveled. "He's destroyed the whirlpool."

         There was so much water, indeed, that the bad Trees were no longer thirsty enough to make little girls cry so they could suck their tears from the ground. Such being the case, the Trees didn't pester them on the trip home, except, from time to time, to ask Gretchen to tell them a new riddle.

         A faint breeze blew through the forest as they passed the halfway point on their way home, the sparrow leading the way, and Gretchen paused.

         "Do you smell that?" she asked the others, rubbing mysterious blisters that had appeared on her hand.

         They all stopped. They smelled it too.

         "Muffins!" she said. "Nana is baking muffins for us." And they all ran the rest of the way to Tiddlywink Townhouse.

 

 

Copyright 2006, John Kuhn

John Kuhn is a writer of speculative fiction from Texas. Look for his upcoming works online at Son and Foe Magazine, KidVisions, and DKA Magazine, and in the pages of Turnpike Gates, The Sword Review, Kaleidotrope, Bleeding Quill, Blood Moon Rising, and The Mythic Circle. You can check out his blog at < http://j2thek.livejournal.com >. 

 

 

Cover: "Fiery Crash" 

On a rugged outpost planet, the incoming shuttle experiences problems. Will anyone survive?

L. S. King shares her Bryce original creation with us, hinting at stories that might be found in The Sword Review or sister publication, Ray Gun Revival < www.raygunrevival.com >, where King is on the editorial team. 

Copyright 2006, L. S. King