The Mares

‘What’s in there?’

‘Well...’ Ponkle hesitated, wondering if he could trust a girl wearing checked pyjamas. ‘Oh, alright. I don’t suppose I could be in any more trouble than I am already.’

Ponkle was extremely weary. He was perched on the end of the bed and rapidly losing heart. George gave him a comforting smile.

‘They’re mares,’ he said at last, staring at the floor.

‘What?’ said George, soundin worried.

She didn’t like this any more. She desperately pinched herself. Yet to her utmost dismay, she didn’t wake up. She was beginning to get scared.

Ponkle shrugged his shoulders. He had been contemplating his actions for a short while now and had decided that this was his only option. Well, the only option which meant he might still be alive at this time tomorrow anyway. He stood up, walked over to George and firmly grasped her arm.

‘Look, I’m very sorry to inconvenience you but I promise it wont take long,’ he said, leading her back to the bed. ‘All you need to do is go back to sleep.’

Ponkle liked to think that he had a dominant streak. George, however, thought differently and squirmed out of his grip.

‘Keep away from me!’ she said calculatingly, ‘or I do one of two things. Either I run downstairs and tell my mother there’s a burglar in the house...or I stand right here and scream as loud as I can. Your choice.’

Ponkle sunk down onto the soft bed, his spirit well and truly deflated. He did not enjoy his job but he could just about perform it when the creatures were asleep. He had never encountered a real human in a waking state before. He felt exceedingly bad about the whole thing.

‘Well?’ threatened George.

‘Um.. to be honest, I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t do either of those things,’ said Ponkle on the verge of tears.

‘Then explain to me what all this is about,’ said George warily.

Ponkle saw no point in hiding the truth now. He didn’t think there was a fate worse than death. He didn’t think even the Judgess could manage that! Unless you counted being wrapped up and delivered to the Mountain Gubwats as a new plaything......he imagined that would be slightly worse.

‘Well,’ started Ponkle...and then there was no stopping him. ‘Judge Biffleworth went and fell in love…even married her…died a couple of weeks after the ceremony…broken heart, some say…witnesses say she turned into a snake….sucked the very life from him…now she rules over the Kingdom of Valdox……Stop that!’ he yelled at the sack which was slowly squirming towards a captivated George.

George gasped as Ponkle pulled her away from the advancing brown sack and sat her down next to him.

‘They’ve got a mind of their own,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s the trouble with magic. Tolita thinks that eventually she will be able to control everyone’s minds. You’re next. Wants to rule all the Worlds. These things are just the beginning. A small taster of things to come.’

George was finding this somewhat hard to take in.

‘Us? What does she want with us? …..And what do you mean, Worlds?’ said George.

‘Oh, never mind that. Yes, I’m sure she’ll find some good use for you, there’s always vacancies for Invention testers,’ chuckled Ponkle.

‘Invention testers?’

‘Oh, there are plenty of jobs going if you’ve got the right qualifications.’

Things were getting too much for George. She rapidly pulled herself up off the bed and walked swiftly over to a wooden chest of drawers at the side of the square room. She opened the top drawer and reached in. Her hand returned with a pair of blue and white striped socks.

‘Well, it’s been an experience meeting you,’ said George nearly losing her balance whilst trying to put a sock on her left foot, ‘but I’m afraid you must leave now as I’m going to be late for school.

‘No..No..No!’ Ponkle protested, his brain telling him that letting the girl go at this stage would be his biggest mistake yet. Especially since he hadn’t delivered the goods. She’d want an explanation. Wait, he had an idea. He wondered where in goodness name it had come from. The girl could simply tell the Judgess that she wouldn’t co-operate.

Before George realised what was happening, Ponkle had grabbed the sack in one hand and was now speedily coming towards her. She had only got the second sock halfway up her foot when, to her utter disbelief, she was thrown over Ponkle’s free shoulder. The next minute they were gone.

Umpwiffle

Umpwiffle snored.

The previous nights events had proved a little too much for this tired Trungler. He was presently enjoying a moment of peace and quiet, his mind filled with a re-assuring blackness, no thoughts came or went. Umpwiffle was temporarily happy.

Yet something began knocking on the door of Umpwiffle’s mind. The mysterious something guessed that no-one was home and a hazy shadow slipped through the keyhole. Once inside, it started to grow, forming vivid pictures, filled with all the colours of the spectrum. Then, as if someone had released the pause button, they all began to move. The shapes grew voices that were painfully loud and shrill. Umpwiffle’s mind was invaded by a multitude of noise and figures which were now dancing in a circle. Each dancing shape held a bunch of blossoming Fogflops and at regular intervals they began blowing their seeds all over the inside of his head.

‘Aaa-aaa-Chew!’ blasted the unsuspecting Umpwiffle and awoke to find himself face to foot with Tolita.

‘Perhaps that will make you think twice about napping when there’s work to be done,’ she laughed triumphantly, tightly holding the lid on the cone shaped container which she held carefully in one hand. ‘There’s a whole field of Fogflops in here,’ she continued, ‘just so you don’t get any more clever ideas’. There was more than a hint of smugness in her voice.

Tolita knew most creatures weaknesses. It was a shame for Umpwiffle that he was allergic to Fogflops and that every time he caught a sniff he sneezed so hard that his head nearly turned inside out.

The Judgess frowned as she watched the snivelling fool shuffle back to his bench. Feeling the eyes burning into the back of his head, Umpwiffle dutifully commenced noting down and then storing away the bizarre collection of materials which were situated on his work-top. Tolita shifted her attention to take in the entire surroundings of her productivity workshop. There were ninety-two Trunglers in all, each with their own job, designed to make the operation successful. Next to some Trunglers benches were wooden boxes - exactly like those stolen from the Moloks earlier that morning, except now they were empty.

Tolita understood power.

Back to the bag....

George breathed deeply as she studied the absurd creature. The first thing that struck her was that whatever it was, it was extremely hairy. Yet there was something about it which put her more at ease. It may have had something to do with the fact that it had a rather funny face which made anyone looking at it want to break into an enormous smirk.

‘Who...I mean.....What.....?’ she stuttered but then, when the thing eagerly started to shuffle out from under the mattress, George thought better of trying to communicate with it and leapt back on top of her bed and retreated behind a thick feather pillow.

Ponkle thought it might be an idea to introduce himself, after all, it would be rude not to.

‘I’m...’ he began in his poshest voice, ‘a Boffwungler.....Ponkle’s the name, of the village of Gitwit, deep in the valleys of......Oh...’ he stopped, realising that this poor creature was stiff with shock and was now gripping her pillow as if preparing to use it against him.

‘Please,’ he said softly, ‘don’t be afraid. Look at me, I’m harmless.’

George eventually dared another peek at what she could only describe as an ugly little creature. This couldn’t be happening. Her powers of reasoning then walked in through her mind’s door and apologised for being late.

‘My imagination’s better than I thought,’ she whispered to herself, her eyes suddenly lighting up. After all, she certainly had no need to be afraid of something which her own mind had created.

She put down the pillow and nervously smiled back at the Boffwungler. Good, at least they had established contact. George’s curiosity was growing by the minute. Ponkle, on the other hand, was trying to disguise a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, often known as panic. He was here...now...it was morning.....he was history!

‘What are you doing…?’ began George, edging her way further towards the creature to get a closer view.

All of a sudden, Ponkle Boffwungler sprang into action. He ran to the open window and checked each direction. He appeared so filled with terror that George thought that the devil himself was propping up a ladder against her window and was about to join the party.

‘What’s the matter?’ said George, feeling sorry for the poor thing.

‘She’s going to have my guts on a plate...and my head for that matter. Always likes a good dinner. Hide...must hide!’

With that, Ponkle clambered onto George’s bed and dramatically threw himself under the covers. Alternatively, George leapt out of the bed and over to the door. This was obviously a figment of her imagination, however, she did not wish to share a bed with it.

‘Don’t you see!’ it said desperately. ‘She knows. I’ll not be back in time. She’ll think it’s a plot against her and that I’m a traitor....or maybe she’ll just think that I’m a lazy good-for-nothing who’s more trouble than he’s worth. Don’t you see?’ Ponkle said, lifting the covers just enough to get a good view of the girl. ‘Whatever she thinks means I’ll never see the light of day again’.

George was completely puzzled. The strange creature who had made a temporary habitat in her bed was panic-stricken but never mind that, she thought, as she noticed something lying on the floor which did not belong to her. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

George, unnoticed by Ponkle, made her way towards the inviting sack which was lying in the middle of the room. Her mind was busy wondering what was inside. More importantly, she wondered why it appeared to be moving.

As she drew closer, she heard a low moaning sound, like a litter of whimpering animals. She slowly leaned forward and her nimble fingers began to untie the tight string. She could feel the excitement of whatever was inside and felt something moving up towards the opening of the bundle. She bit her lip. Just one more knot to untie and...

‘DON’T TOUCH THAT!’

George dropped the bundle and as she did so it let out a furious growl. She turned to see Ponkle stood on her bed, his face white and his eyes wide. One moment more and there would have been trouble.

Argghhhh!

The bustling sounds of morning flew in through the open window. The sun was shining and the breeze was dancing with the leaves on the trees.

George sleepily rubbed her eyes as she became re-accustomed with the shapes in her room. She sat up and stretched, letting out an enormous yawn, which appeared to disturb something at the end of her bed.

‘Arghh!’ cried George.

‘Arghh!’ shrieked Ponkle.

‘Arghh!’ yelled the pair of them together.

George flung herself under the bedclothes in the hope that whatever it was she had just seen would disappear as fast as it had appeared. Ponkle, on the other hand, dived under the bed, his whole body quivering with fright.

After a short while, George found an ounce of courage and emerged from under the crumpled covers. She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears and warily scanned her room. So far so good, she thought. She then, ever so slowly, crawled to the end of the bed and lent over.

‘Arghh!’ they both yelled again but this time nobody moved. Their eyes locked and neither could tell who was the most frightened.

Hmm

Sigworth looked at his wrist-watch. A look of concern spread across his face. Odd.