'A Wollypog Called Petoskey': Chapter Two

{Click here to read part one}

Chapter the second: A Terrible Shock

written by Big Sister

Petoskey sat down next to Hexagon. Night had fallen, and it was very dark. Shadows slipped between the trees, and strange sounds came floating towards them on the chill night air. Hexagon shivered, and it was not because of the cold.

“What should we do?” he asked.

“It’s no use us even trying to get back in the dark,” answered Petoskey, trying to keep his voice sounding cheerful. “We’ll only get even more lost. I’m sure well find home again in the morning. They’ll have a search party out by then, most likely.”

Hexagon groaned. “Mother will be cross. Whatever will she say to me? She’ll never let me out of her sight again!”

“Don’t worry. I got her necklace back. And I got my mother’s ring, too. They’ll forgive us when they see them” said Petoskey comfortingly. “And anyway, I’m sure they will be so glad to see us that they won’t bother to be angry."

“You’re probably right,” agreed Hexagon, yawning. “We may as well try to get some rest.” And with that he turned over and went to sleep.

Petoskey stayed awake. He lay listening to the trees creaking, and the wind howling. He hoped that he was right in saying that they would get home in the morning. Then, as the moon started to rise, his eyes finally closed in sleep.

*            *          *

The sun shone brightly through the trees, spilling golden light onto the forest floor. As it  moved slowly higher in the blue sky, its rays crept closer to the faces of two small figures, sound asleep at the foot of the largest tree in the forest. As the rays touched them, one simply turned over, but the other stirred.  It was Petoskey. He opened one eye, and then sat up, looking wildly about him. For a few seconds he had no idea where he was.  Then suddenly he remembered all the happenings of the day before.

Petoskey yawned, and rubbed his aching bones. Hexagon was still sound asleep, and snoring softly.  Petoskey woke him.

“Where are we?” demanded Hexagon, sitting up and looking around in the same manner as Petoskey had.

“In the forest” replied Petoskey. “Don’t you remember?”

“I do now. Say, I’m starving!”

“I’m hungry too, and parched.  We have to find home. It can’t be so far away.”

 “If only we could follow our tracks,” said Hexagon. “But they won’t show up – not with all the pine leaves.”

Petoskey thought hard for a moment. He then started to walk around, staring hard at the ground.

“What are you doing?” inquired Hexagon, who was wondering if thirst and hunger was sending Petoskey mad.

“I think we probably…ah, look Hexagon!”

“What is it? Said Hexagon, peering into the trees. “I don’t see anything”

Petoskey showed him a broken stick. “See?” he said. “We may not leave footprints, but we have left a track. It will be hard to follow, but I think we’ll manage.”

“My, you sure are smart, Petoskey!” said Hexagon. “I would never have noticed.  Thank goodness I got lost with you.”

Petoskey, being a very modest fellow, pretended not to hear him. He started to follow the track.  Hexagon soon got the idea, and they soon became completely absorbed in what they were doing, so absorbed that no one said anything for a very long time.

Ever since awakening, Hexagon had felt that something wasn't quite right, but he simply could not think what it was.  Then suddenly it came to him.  Instead of the usual noises of birds and other wildlife, there was silence.  Nothing stirred. Even the trees seemed quieter than usual. 

Hexagon felt a little alarmed. “The woods are quiet today, aren’t they, Petoskey?” he said.

Petoskey nodded.  “I've been thinking that too,” he said.  “It’s rather strange.”

 “You - you don’t suppose something could be wrong, do you?”

“I certainly hope not.”

And they both lapsed into silence once again.

Not long later, Petoskey gave a sudden shout of delight.

“Look Hexagon!” he cried. “There’s the tree we carved our initials on!”

“And I see smoke!” replied Hexagon jubilantly, and both Wollypogs broke into a run towards the village. Then they came to it – and stopped dead in horror.

The village was gone.

All that was left of it was the charred and burnt remains of what had once been houses and shops. All was silent, and nothing moved except a lone sheet, flapping in the wind.

'Stella's Destiny Part 3' By Lauren

This is the third edition of Stella's Destiny

Click on the following links to read Part 1 and Part 2

On May 23, 1836 President Jackson had signed a treaty declaring that the Cherokee Indians were to be removed from their homeland and into North Carolina. They were to have a grace period until May 1838 for the tribe to voluntarily remove themselves to Indian Territory. 


Once Stella heard about this new law, she immediately went back to her tribe, to comfort and to tell them of Walter's plan. 


Stella was greeted by Onacona (her husband) and told him her news. Onacona was at first doubtful of this plan, but seeing it was their only hope, he had no choice. He went to consult with the leaders of the tribe. 


There was many mixed feelings among the Cherokees. Some felt that they should take advantage of the two years they had to leave their home, and proceeded to do so at once. Stella tearfully said good bye to many of her beloved friends, knowing that she'd never see them again. Some Indian's felt that they should stay and fight for their homeland even if it meant death. But many embraced Walter's plan and Stella's solution.  


Stella went back to Aunt Rosa's farm once again, to help prepare. Walter figured out that they could fit one-hundred Indians at a time in the house and barn. And once a week his friend from Nashville agreed to take ten Cherokees at a time in his covered wagon to the outskirts of the city, where there was unsettled land that they could live off until the removal was over. The weakness of the plan was, there weren't many places to hide if the soldiers checked their house. But Walter saw that it was worth the risk. 


On the 21st of August The Cole family opened up their home for Cherokees. Walter would arrange the journeys to and from Nashville, and the order of who would go in what wagon. And Louise was in charge of cooking and cleaning. Stella helped wherever she could. 


On the 3rd of October the first wagon appeared. Walter arranged that families should travel together, and pregnant mothers or mothers with young babies should go first. However Stella claimed that she would be that last Indian to leave, even with a three-year-old daughter, Adsila. 


Stella had other concerns of her own, she was three month's pregnant. How would she be able to cope with a pregnancy, as well as all the other pressure she was facing. And how would she take care of a newborn?


Everything went along smoothly. Walter's biggest concern however, was the official removal day, when the Indians would be forced to leave. Would the soldiers check their house? The day kept drawing nearer, it hung around the air as if it were an execution day. Walter decided that it was too risky hoping that no-one would check the house, so he dug five large cellars with the help of several other men. Walter figured out that twenty people could fit in one cellar, so the cellars should fit everyone. 


KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! came the dreadful sound on a cold and gloomy day in May 1838. Every Indian woman, man and child hid in Walter five cellars. But even though they hid in cellars, that unwelcome sound of army personnel at the door, made even the bravest men hold their breath. 


Walter walked up to the door. Louise ran around the house to make sure there was no evidence of one-hundred people living in it. 


"We have permission from the Government to investigate your house Sir. Just to check that no Indians have decided to hide out here. You live very close to their tribe." Said the closest man to Walter at the door. 


As the soldiers investigated the rooms and the barn, little Adsila sensed that something was wrong and got nervous. 


"Mamma, please can we get out?" 
"Not now, we're playing a game, like hide-and-seek, but you have to be very, very quiet"
"Where's Dadda?"
"I'm here, but you be quiet." replied Onacona 


The three-year-old must have heard the tension in his usually calm voice, and started to cry.


"shh" whispered Stella in desperation, "Be quiet do you hear!"


"I WANT OUT" Wailed Adsila.


Stella heard muffled voices from above her, and none of them were Walter's or Louise's. The cellar door opened up and came the most horrible sight they could imagine. Six armed soldiers were suddenly in the cellar forcing everyone out. 


One of the men roughly grabbed Stella's arm, and pushed her out of the cellar door. 


"What are you doing here, go back to your own home, and stay out of this business" Shouted the solider, "Wait a minute, is that Ingin' girl your kin?"


"Yes, she's my daughter, and this is my husband (pointing to Onacona), I am an Indian." Stella bravely replied.   


Twenty of the Cherokees hiding in that cellar were forced out and into the wagons waiting outside. None of the other cellars were found. 


"Stella!" moaned Louise
"How can you! Can't you see she is with child?" Cried Walter his voice chocked with emotion.


Stella ran free from the soldiers, and hugged her brother and sister for the last time. 


"Thank you so much, you have saved many of my family, please take care of them." She whispered.


"Oy, git back in line miss!" yelled a solider.

"I love you!" Stella cried out as she was hustled into a wagon.


Although one of the cellars was found, the Cole family saved many of the Cherokees. Over two-hundred men, women and children were saved from this fate. Walter took good care of the remaining Indians and a few years later they returned to their home, hiding, so they were never found. 


As Stella said, she travelled the Trail Of Tears and comforted and helped her 'family' where she could. On that terrible day 16,542 Cherokees and 201 inter-married whites travelled that horrific journey. They were all loaded like cattle into six hundred and forty-five wagons.
     
Helpless Cherokees were arrested and dragged from their homes. Children were often separated from their parents, and in the chill of drizzling rain. They encountered a terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures. The sufferings were awful, they slept on the ground without a fire. And several of the Cherokees were murdered by the locals passing through towns. When the journey ended in March 1839, there were four-thousand silent graves.


All of this was to satisfy white man's greed, and a prejudism towards a different colour skin and a different cuture.   


Stella indeed had an unusual and inspiring destiny. If she had have been an ordinary girl for those times, she would have married a white man, and raised a family, and probably had a relatively easy life. But Stella was destined to help the unloved and unwanted of America, even to the extent of proudly becoming a Indian. Her mission was as noble as they come. 

'Stella's Destiny Part 2' By Lauren

This is part 2 of my story. Click here to read part 1.

Stella woke up in a daze. She was lying in a strange house that was different from anything she had ever seen before. A Cherokee women was cooking something in the small kitchen.

Suddenly Stella remembered her fall from the day before, and someone had picked her up. Was it possible that her rescuer was an Indian?

Meanwhile Louise and Walter had search parties out looking for her. When she had not returned after supper and Aunt Rosa arrived home, they got worried.

 Aunt Rosa was told everything and she insisted that they send search parties out for her. But because of the storm, Walter was unable to even ride to town to get help, so they had waited until morning.

Louise was devastated and Walter was shattered. The search parties had looked for her for three weeks, so they started their father’s funeral without her.     

For five years they heard nothing of their beloved sister. Walter was married and had two of his own children. He became a wealthy ranch owner, after inheriting Aunt Rosa’s farm. Louise was engaged and lived with Walter and his wife Charlotte.

One day a knock disturbed Louise from her piano playing. She opened the door and saw a young woman, just a little younger then herself, with dark curly hair and a tiny baby in her arms. It took a few moments for Louise to recognize the women as her own sister Stella.

“St-Stella?” stammered Louise, “Is it really you?...I’m so happy to see you, we thought you were dead, I can’t believe this, why haven’t you come sooner?”

The words all came out in such a hurry that Louise could barley hear what she was saying.

“Walter come quickly” shouted Louise.

Walter appeared quickly. He was as startled and as overjoyed to see her as Louise was.

After much greetings and hugs, Stella sat down and told her story.

“After the news of Father’s death, I ran away through the storm and out of Aunt Rosa’s property. Speaking of Aunt, where is she?”

“She passed away a year after you left us.” Walter informed her.

“I have been gone so long,” Stella said thoughtfully, “Oh, back to the storm, Blanche suddenly skidded and I fell off. A kind Cherokee named Onacona (meaning white owl) picked me up and carried me to his village. I was unconscious.

His mother and sisters took care of me until I had fully recovered from the fever I had from riding in the storm. I didn’t return home because I needed a break from this house, and I wasn’t ready to face my life again.

 After staying for a few months, I was accepted into their village and I became a Cherokee. I married Onacona and this is my daughter, Adsila (meaning flowering). 

I have lived in that village for five years, It has become my home and I love the Cherokee people as if they were my own kin. Of course I still thought about all of you, and I missed you, but I still couldn't turn back. 

Recently there has been trouble in the Cherokee tribe. There are rumours about a Cherokee removal by the Government. There are some men in the village that say we should fight for our land and our hopes, and even fight white man. But many beleive we should try to make peace and do whatever the white men say we should. 

However this is still only a rumour, but I have to admit that the rumour is looking more likely then ever. The Government has already taken most of the children to boarding schools, to be 'civilised'.  Their parents had no choice. 

We have even adapted to their customs, and Cherokee no longer have their own religion, the missionaries have brought revival and Christianity to us, and we have hoped that white man can see us as brothers and sisters in Christ. However, different skin colour means a lot to some people. 

I decided to come here and ask if these rumours are true. If they are, my plan is to implore you to hide as many Cherokee Indians in this house as it can hold."

As Stella finished, her brother and sister noticed a new determination and a passion for her new 'people'. She was still the same Stella, but also somehow different. Was this perhaps, because of her new-found mission and destiny? To save the unwanted people of America? 

After thinking for a while, Walter spoke up. 

"How do you think you can hide a whole tribe in this house, I know you have entirely good intentions, but your plan is just not realistic" 

Stella stood up; narrowed her eyes; and drew herself as tall as she could against her brother. Her siblings immediately recognised this as the typical iron-will-Stella-look. 

"If you can't save even one of my people, then I will march with them to the ends of this country, helping comfort as much as I can. You can be sure that I will escape no fate that my family faces, all because of skin colour."

Walter and Louise could see that there was no way they could refuse her.

  

"I will help you and your people as much as I possibly can, but I cannot guarantee how many I can save. But Stella, you will go with Louise, Charlotte and my children to England where you can be safe. If this rumour is true, there could be serious consequences for hiding Indians, and I don't want you to be involved. "

"Walter, I am already as heavily involved in this issue as much as anybody could be, there is no use stopping me, but of course Louise and your family must go", replied Stella.  

After talking it through, Louise claimed that she wouldn't return to safety if both her sister and brother wouldn't. So Charlotte and her children went alone.   

The Coles' spent the next three months finding out all they could of this recent 'rumour'. Walter found out that it was indeed true. And with a heavy heart, he informed Stella. What was worse for Walter, was that Stella was considered an Indian to the government since she was married to a Cherokee. She was in just as much danger as every other Cherokee. Plus she had a baby to take care of.  

Walter worked even harder on a plan knowing how personal this issue had become. He knew that Stella would go with her people anyway, but to know that the Government would actually force her out of Tennessee and into the unknown wild west, was unimaginable. 

Part 3 Coming soon!

The Tale of The Three Trees

Being Christmas time, I thought it would be rather fitting to post this short story. It is a different twist on the Christmas story and it is actually a children's book, but it still tells of Christ's great love that he showed us by dying on the cross!
This particular version is retold by Angela Elwell Hunt.

via

The Tale of The Three Trees

Retold by Angela Elwell Hunt

Once upon a mountaintop, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up. 

The first little tree looked up at the starts twinkling like diamonds above him.

"I want to hold treasure," he said. "I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I will be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!"

The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on its way to the ocean.

"I want to be a strong sailing ship," he said. "I want to travel mighty waters and carry powerful kings. I will be the strongest ship in the world!"

The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and women worked in a busy town. "I don't want to leave this mountaintop at all," she said. "I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me they will raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world!"

Years passed. The rains came, the sun shone, and the little trees grew tall. One day three woodcutters climbed the mountain.

The first woodcutter looked at the first tree and said, "This tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his shining axe, the first tree fell. "Now I shall be made into a beautiful chest," thought the first tree. "I shall hold wonderful treasure."

The second woodcutter looked at the second tree and said, "This tree is strong. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his shining axe, the second tree fell. "Now I shall sail mighty waters," thought the second tree. "I shall be a strong ship fit for kings!"

The third tree felt her heart sink when the last woodcutter looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven. But the woodcutter never even looked up. "Any kind of tree will do for me," he muttered. With a swoop of his shining axe, the third tree fell. 

The first tree rejoiced when the woodcutter brought him to a carpenter's shop, but the busy carpenter was not thinking about treasure chests. Instead his work-worn hands fashioned the tree into a feed box for animals. The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold or filled with treasure. He was coated with sawdust and filled with hay for hungry farm animals.

The second tree smiled when the woodcutter took him to a shipyard, but no mighty sailing ships were being made that day. Instead the once-strong tree was hammered and sawed into a simple fishing boat. Too small and too weak to sail an ocean or even a river, he was taken to a little lake. Everyday he brought in loads of dead, smelly fish.

The third tree was confused when the woodcutter cut her into strong beams and left her in a lumberyard. "What happened?" the once tall tree wondered. All I ever wanted to do was stay on the mountaintop and point to God."

Many, many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams. But one night golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feedbox. "I wish I could make a cradle for him," her husband whispered. 

The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the smooth and sturdy wood. "This manger is beautiful" she said.

And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.

One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree quietly sailed out into the lake. Soon a thrashing storm arose. The little tree shuddered. He knew he did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through the wind and rain. The tired man awoke. He stood up, stretched out his hand, and said, "Peace." The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun.

And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the King of heaven and earth!

One Friday morning the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. She flinched as she was carried through an angry, jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a man's hands to her. She felt ugly and harsh and cruel.

But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed everything. 

He had made the first tree beautiful.

He had made the second tree strong.

And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God.

And that was better than being the tallest tree in the world.

Merry Christmas, Friends!

A Lovely Giveaway

Hello everyone!

This is a gorgeous giveaway! Head over to Lucia, etc. to have a look! :)

'Stella's Destiny' By Lauren

It was an ordinary summer’s evening for Stella Cole. Her older sister Louise was sitting on her piano stool and exercising her fingers on the beautiful ivory keys on Aunt Rosa’s grand piano. The familiar sound of music was some sort of comfort to her. It was one of the few things that didn’t change when they moved.  Louise played the pianoforte just as often living with Aunt Rosa, as she did when she lived at home.

Stella and her two older siblings Louise and Walter had moved from their country home in England to live with their Mother’s sister on a horse ranch in Tennessee. Aunt Rosa was kind and generous, but she didn’t replace Stella’s deceased Mother. Aunt Rosa was a widow who had married a pioneer of the States ten years ago. She had no children of her own, and had little patience for ‘impetuous young people’.

Stella didn’t mind the move so much; for one thing, she enjoyed the freedom she had in Tennessee that she could not obtain in England, and riding and mustering horses was better then riding like a prim and proper lady.

Stella was different from her two older siblings. At fifteen, she was a bold horse rider. She preferred riding difficult horses that no other lady would ever dare sit on, and loved nothing better than a good gallop. Aunt Rosa gave her a horse of her own named Blanche, who was a grey 15-hand Quarter Horse.

Stella’s mind was brought back to the present when Aunt Rosa announced that she was going to town. Since she didn’t give a reason for going to town, Stella assumed that she just wanted solitude for a few hours.

“Excuse me ma’am, may I...,” said Stella.

“Yes Stella, you may ride Blanche” finished Aunt Rosa.

 

She wasted no time in saddling up her mare. Blanche started to fidget like she always did when Stella was about to ride her because Blanche knew that they were going to gallop. Stella swiftly mounted and clicked her tongue and taped Blanche with her heels.

Stella and Blanche galloped through the plains and through the surprised horses on the ranch. With her curly black hair streaming out behind her, Stella felt as she did every time she rode, free…

They galloped until Blanche could only canter. For the first time on that ride, she noticed the weather. There were huge black clouds in the sky that covered the sun and thunder that warned her of a storm.

Stella headed for the homestead at a brisk trot. To her surprise Walter was waiting for her. She quickly dismounted and walked up to her 19-year-old brother.

“Stella,” cried Walter.

“What do you want?”

“You'd better come inside.”

Stella tied Blanche’s reigns and walked inside. She knew that Walter didn’t have good news. The sound of his voice made it clear that he had bad news, very bad news.

“Sit down here” Said Walter motioning to a nearby chair.

Stella noticed that Louise had a handkerchief over her face and was sobbing quietly, as if she was trying to hide her anguish, but couldn’t.

“There’s been an accident.” Walter started, "it seems as if Father was going to visit us this fall, but..."
"What?"
"The ship he was traveling on sunk. I have received a telegraph this afternoon. I wanted to tell you without Aunt Rosa around."
"I don't believe it! There's been a mistake" cried Stella.
"Stella, don't make it harder on Walter then it already is" whispered Louise. 


Stella stormed outside, Walter started to go after her, but Louise stopped him. 
"She needs time to think and grieve, let's leave her alone for a while." 


Stella untied Blanche's reins and mounted. This time she didn't lightly tap her heels, but violently kicked Blanche's side. The quarter horse obeyed and broke into a fast gallop. 


The wild wind blew in her face and the pelting rain mingled with her tears. On and on Blanche ran. Stella kept riding until they were beyond Aunt Rosa's boundaries. She didn't care. All she wanted to do was ride forever, and away from the grief that hung around her Aunt's house.


Suddenly Blanche's neck arched and her back legs slid underneath her body. She skidded to a stop. Stella, who wasn't watching or carefully riding fell off and hit her head on the ground, everything went black and the last thing she could remember was strong arms lifting her up. 


Part Two Coming Soon!
   

'Hide It All' By Guest Author Rachael

Here is an amazing story written by a friend and fellow writer, Rachael. [Check out her blog, Rachael's Notes.] Enjoy! 

"To sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong would have been lying, and I had been taught to never lie. But, however I tried, I found it was easier to conceal my feelings than to show them. I tried to reveal my anger by spitting out a snide remark (in a conversation which wasn't even mine) but as soon as my little mouth opened I shut it again, unable to make any sound come out. It was all in my head; and as I sat there staring at my hands, smiling occasionally if I thought someone might happen to look at me, I realised how my cheeks were burning - they almost hurt from the heat. Should a hand touch them its fingers would have been singed, I was sure of it. But the socialising people around me, even my friends didn't seem to notice anything was wrong; I was a quiet person, but to sit looking as if I was bored stiff might look a little too obvious. So I looked up from my entwined fingers and scanned the room, moving my head slightly to look at the people on either side of me, or the ones at the far end of the room. Everyone seemed to be so engaged in their conversations that it was no wonder none of them had come to sit with me. My older sister Neodasha was surrounded by more than two people, as the case usually was and no wonder - she was so pretty; she had doll features and the way she applied her makeup! Well, you would have had to see her to believe just how  how unhuman she really looked. But she wasn't only a pretty girl - she had brains. A good deal of them too. Most of the words she used talking to me went right over my head, so you can imagine how learned she sounded talking to her equals. Watching her animated discussion take place wasn't enough to cheer me, so I kept observing the other small circles hoping perhaps there would be something to totally take over my mind. Ugh, there was that hideous man who manipulated pretty much every person he spoke to. He was tall, but short at the same time ( I wasn't sure how that could work, but it certainly seemed to in his case) and his mass of reddish brown hair had, again, been style with his boof, but, according to me, he had never succeeded. And if that wasn't enough to creep you out, his name was Boris, which was an unfortunate choice from his parents because it means 'fame'. I can't help to, but I do prefer not to dwell on this person. So my eyes roamed once again and rested on a young man who was, well.... rather attractive. His hair was quite the opposite to poor Boris'; it was neatly styled, and a length, volume and colour that I really liked the look of. Every time I looked at Aleksey  my eyes doubled their size, as if they couldn't take all of him in unless they were a certain, which wasn't true. I was training them to behave in his presence. I had only known Aleksey for three years, yet in that time we hadn't had more than a ten minute conversation.
When I took in these few things I had glued my artificial smile to my face, just to be sure that if I was looked at they might not think I was not enjoying myself. If Boris wasn't leaning against the door frame I wouldn't have been sitting there still, but I reasoned with myself that to sit and be bored was better than to walk so close underneath Boris. Not interested enough to take in anyone else in the room individually, I occupied myself again by staring with apparent awe at my fingers, which were now fidgeting nervously amongst themselves. I couldn't stand the hot buzzing room any longer. Boris would have to do. I stood up and straightened my skirt. I took a deep breath to stop my eyes from filling and held up my head. Maybe I was looking a little too obvious in hiding being upset. Easing slightly, I dodged around the scattered chairs, some of which were occupied by chatterers. Holding my hands placidly in front of me and walking a little tentatively, I crossed over to the door. Boris stopped mid word and looked at me with such deliberation that I felt even more uneasy and thought, where do I look? The door handle seemed the safest place. Looking at it I said, "Do you think I might be able to get out?" I looked up at him and he didn't seem to have blinked; without moving his eyes off my face his hand came out of his jeans pocket and encased the handle.  He heaved himself off the door frame and opened the door as slowly as possible. I raised my eyebrows (as I always did when I wanted to emphasise my feelings) and said "thanks"; without waiting for the door to open fully I squeezed through and shut it behind me."

'A Wollypog called Petoskey' by Big Sister

Chapter the first: The Forest

Petoskey Alexander George Herbert Xanderfeild was peacefully reading on the verandah of Xander House, stretched out comfortably in a hammock. It was a peaceful afternoon, and nothing much was happening.

Petoskey was just getting up to a terribly exiting bit in his book, when his neighbor and best friend Hexaldonn Jean Peter Stewart Zegreeves (who was nicknamed Hexagon because of his ample belly) running furiously up the path.

“Petoskey!” puffed Hexagon. “Petoskey!”

“What is the matter, Hexagon?” asked Petoskey, rather cross at being interrupted (everyone knows how irritating it is to be disturbed while reading, and this was a very interesting book too – all about a Snuzz-woggler who had such a long nose he could blow a song out of his ears).

“I saw a Jewelbird in the woods!” gasped Hexagon breathlessly.

Petoskey instantly forgot all about his book. He snapped it shut and attempted to jump out of his hammock. Unfortunately, it is quite impossible to jump out of a hammock, and Petoskey had to spend some time untangling himself.

"Where was it?" He exclaimed.

“Follow me!”

They ran off in the direction of the forest.

Now, if you should happen to see Petoskey and Hexagon (which I sincerely doubt), you would instantly perceive that they are not people, as you might have guessed. They are, as a matter of fact, Wollypogs.

Wollypogs are funny little people. They have large feet, short legs, and are not more than two feet high. They live in the land of Annerastis, (of which you will not have heard no matter how well you know your geography), in little villages scattered all over the place. And all of them have very long names.

Petoskey and Hexagon reached the Forest. It was dark and gloomy, yet the sun shone through the trees and made golden patterns on the ground.

As they went deeper into the forest, it got darker and darker. Petoskey was just beginning to wonder if Hexagon had been dreaming, when there was a sudden flash of gorgeous colors – red, gold, silver, blue – and there before them was the Jewelbird.

Petoskey and Hexagon stood and stared at the beautiful bird. The Jewelbird looked at them with glittering black eyes, cocked his head to one side and squawked.

Petoskey was suddenly struck by a thought. “It’s wonderful Hexagon…but whatever where you doing so deep in the woods all by yourself?”

Hexagon looked down at his feet. “Well” he said awkwardly, “I was looking for mushrooms and I sort of…er…got lost”.

Petoskey was not surprised. His friend was well known for his absent-mindedness.

“And then” continued Hexagon, “I saw the Jewelbird. And I was so excited I simply ran straight back.”

“But how…” began Petoskey, then grinned. “You are a nong, Hexagon.”

Hexagon indignantly opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the Jewelbird, obviously bored, fluttered his wings and flew away.

“Quick!” cried Petoskey. “Follow it!”

They ran after the bird, dodging trees and jumping over logs. The Jewelbird apparently thought it was all a game, because when it was far ahead he would stop, wait for his pursuers to catch up, then squawked cheekily and flew off again. This game went on for some time, until Petoskey and Hexagon where completely exhausted. They collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath. The Jewelbird, not the slightest bit tired, landed in a tree and chirped inquisitively.

Jewelbirds, so called not only because their plumage shines like jewels, but also because they also take any jewels they can get their claws on. They are rarely seen, and are very intelligent. If a Jewelbird saw your favorite ring, you would never see it again - unless you happened to find its nest, and the only way you could do that is to follow one. For Jewelbirds hide their nests deep in the forest.

The residents of the village in which Petoskey lived (which was named Pettal, and was at the foot of a mountain) had lost many a precious item to this thief, but none had the heart to harm it, for Jewelbirds never mean to steal – they simply take whatever their beady little eyes fall upon.

Petoskey soon recovered his breath, but the rather fatter Hexagon did not. He lay on the ground, eyes closed tightly, gasping and spluttering. Petoskey felt a little concerned.

“Are you all right, Hexagon?”

His only answer was a moan.

“Hexagon!”

Hexagon opened one eye. “I feel,” he said sadly, “as if I am completely made out of jelly.”

Petoskey simply could not help laughing. Hexagon was offended.

“I can’t see anything funny about it” he said crossly. “I shall never be the same again.”

“Of course you shall,” snorted Petoskey, still grinning. “Now stop moaning and get up, otherwise the Jewelbird will fly away and we’ll never find its nest.

Hexagon got up, moaning and groaning. The Jewelbird, delighted that the game was beginning again, flew off, and the chase was on once more.

About a quarter of an hour later Petoskey and Hexagon, utterly exhausted, came across a particularly large tree. The Jewelbird gave a squawk of delight, then flew up into the branches of the tree and disappeared.

Petoskey looked up at the tree. It was huge, the upper branches disappearing from sight.

“That must be where the nest is,” he said.

“Do you mean to say that we have to climb all the way up there?” said Hexagon nervously.

“I’m afraid so” answered Petoskey. “Or rather, I have to. It’s no use both of us climbing up there. You stay here, and I’ll throw the stuff down to you.

Hexagon did not argue. He was in no mood to take a perilous climb up a huge tree, especially as he was already exhausted.

“That’s fine with me,” he said, and sat down.

Petoskey walked around the tree, trying to find the best place to climb up. Luckily there was a huge vine coiling around it, which made climbing quite easy. Petoskey started his ascent. Up and up he went, higher and higher. Petoskey looked down – and wished that he hadn’t. Hexagon was the size of an ant, and he felt so giddy that he nearly let go. But he clamped his jaw hard and gripped on like a vice. He wasn’t giving up now. Petoskey climbed higher, and Hexagon faded out of sight. Still higher he climbed, then suddenly he came face to beak with the Jewelbird – who was standing on the edge of a huge nest.

Petoskey slid himself carefully over to the nest, looked inside, and gasped. The amount of jewels was tremendous! There were diamonds, emeralds, rubies, amethysts, turquoise, nuggets of gold and silver – and a lot of jewelry.

Petoskey reached out and grasped his mother’s engagement ring. Suddenly the Jewelbird, furious at this rude intrusion, gave a loud squawk of indignation.

“It’s alright, I’m only taking the stuff you stole” said Petoskey.

Unfortunately, Jewelbirds do not understand Wollypoggish, and this did not help the slightest bit. Petoskey started throwing down the jewelry – Mrs. Karxarlons necklace, the mayor’s daughter’s favorite earrings… All the while the Jewelbird jumped from branch to branch, screaming and scolding furiously.

“Well, that’s all, I believe” said Petoskey, and started his decent. The Jewelbird flew to the edge of his nest and sat there, making fussy little noises.

When Petoskey reached the bottom of the tree, he found Hexagon sound asleep. The jewelry was scattered everywhere.

“Hexagon!” said Petoskey, a little crossly. Hexagon muttered something in his sleep and rolled over.

“HEXAGON!” roared Petoskey.

“Help! Save me!” cried Hexagon, sitting up very suddenly.

“It’s only me, Hexagon.”

“Thank goodness!” said Hexagon warmly. “I was dreaming that The Beast ate you, and then ran off with me! It was awful!”

A cold chill went down Petoskey’s spine at the mention of The Beast.

“Come on Hexagon” he said hurriedly. “Let’s pick up the jewels and head back home.”

“But” said Hexagon rather nervously, “where IS home?”

At that moment Petoskey realized that they were hopelessly and utterly lost.

And the darkness was settling like a thick, dark blanket over the forest.

Please comment! Chapter II coming soon!

'The Misfortunes of William Reed' by Alice

Hi everyone!

Here is a short story I wrote last week. I hope you like it, and please leave a comment and tell me what you think! 

Enjoy!

Blessings,

Alice

"It was almost dawn. Will breathed heavily as his hands fumbled for the bridle in the dark. Ah! There it was.

‘Shhh......” He comforted Pippin as he slid the bridle over her long, brown neck; she began to whinny.

“Shhh...it’s just me.. the-re’s a girl.” His voice was barely a whisper, he couldn’t risk waking the stable boy who was no doubt sleeping right above him. Will rubbed her shoulder and said nothing. Time was running out. His heart beat faster by the minute.

Will led Pippin out of the stable and down an old alleyway. The town was still asleep and the steady clip-clop-clop of her hooves echoed throughout the streets.

Pippin trusted Will - they had played together in the pastures ever since she was a young foal. Now that she was fully grown, the old farmer had sold her to the Mayor. She had been overworked and beaten, and now Will, who was young and earnest, had come to free her.

Out in the fields, a rooster crowed. The sun was rising. The stable boy would soon be awake and realize Pippin was missing. He would inform the Mayor of the disappearance, who in turn would arouse the cops.

Will quickened his pace. His grasp on the reins tightened. Just a few more steps and around the corner, and the old dirt road that led out of the town would be in view.

The rooster crowed for the second time that morning. Smoke was starting to ascend out of the baker’s chimney, and farmers began heading out to their fields. The fishermen were coming ashore, and before long, children were out playing in the streets. The stable boy would be up and Pippin’s escape would have been discovered.

Will swung himself up onto Pippin’s bare back as they reached the end of the town, and together they swiftly sped down the old dirt road. How wonderful it felt to be riding Pippin again! He tossed his head back and let the early morning breeze rush through him. 

A sudden clip-clop-clop caught his attention: he turned his head and what he saw neither pleased nor surprised him. Several cops were on his tail.

“Yee-hah!” Will dug his heels into Pippin’s sides and together they sped down the old road. Excitement surged through him, pumping through his veins.They rounded the bend and the woods came into view. The cops were catching up. Faster and faster they ran, until they made it to the forest. The tall oaks closed in around them and for a heartbeat Will thought they had lost the cops, but alas! Round the bend they came and would be upon him any minute. 

In a moment of despair, Will realized it was Pippin’s freedom or his. Without hesitation he descended the horse and, with one last glance into her sparkling eyes, slapped and sent her scooting off into the thickets. She was free.

Will instantly turned his attention to his own fate. One by one the cops surrounded him. He was trapped, and he knew it. With great despair, he turned his head, hoping to get one last glimpse of his treasured horse. But she was gone. 

Will woke up, screaming. The pain from his fresh wounds surged through his body, and memories from the past haunted him as if they happened yesterday. Then he remembered his attempt to escape...fifty lashes... salt on his wounds... He couldn’t remember anything after the salt. He guessed he had fallen unconscious.

There was a stomping of boots outside and the door flew open.

“You’re awake!” 

The Warden’s words were like a dog’s bark, short and stubborn.

“I...er.... ahhhhh.......” 

“Speak up boy! Cat got yer tongue??”

“N-n-noo s-s-irr, I... er...” Will could barely raise his voice above a whisper. The pain was too great. He sunk back into his bed and before he knew it, fell unconscious again.

Once again Will was haunted by the past. Images flickered in his mind, refusing to leave him alone. 

“Order! Order! Order in the court!” Three times the Judge tapped his hammer on the desk.

“Who brings charges against this man??”

A short, fat, stumpy old man stood up. He was an ugly man, his face covered in wrinkles and scorn. He was the Mayor.

“I do!”

“And what is your charge against him?” 

The Mayor  looked at Will. For a moment, Will thought he saw pity in his eyes, but it vanished like a lightning bolt. 

“Horse theft!” 

“And are there any witnesses?”

A small boy of about ten stood up. “I saw him! I saw him take the horse! He walked right out of the stable and down the street. I saw him!”

Curse him! Will silently thought. He looked around the room and saw the police officers. The Mayor. The boy. He had no chance of getting away, no excuses, and he knew it.

“I hereby sentence...”

A commotion arose above the court. The judge was old and weary and barely had the strength to sentence Will.

“Order! Order! I hereby sentence William A. Reed to imprisonment for life, for horse theft. Order! Order!”

Will’s eyes flickered open. Sweat ran down his cheeks as he gasped for air. The pain was still insufferable; his back was covered in scars and so was his heart. I can’t carry on like this, he thought.

As the days rolled by, Will’s wounds began to heal. Presently, the Warden came back to fetch him.

“Aye, ye ready to go back to work?” he snapped.

“No, s-sir.”

The Warden struck Will across the face.
"I said, are ye ready to go back to work?"

“Y-yes sir - sir.” 

The Warden fastened irons around Will’s hands and pushed him outside. 

As he took a breath of fresh air, he looked up to the sky and let the warmth of the sun sink into his skin. How wonderful it felt! 

“Oi, enough o’ that! Keep moving!”

“Yes, sir.”

The Warden dragged Will out to the fields to begin his days work. He unlocked the irons, barked a few quick orders, then left. 

“Hey mate.” Will turned to see his friend George working beside him. “You all right?” 

“Yeh, I’m all right” he acknowledged.

There was no expression in his words. No happiness, no sadness, no nothing. They were just words, empty words.

As the day wore on, Will slaved away at his work. The sun grew hotter and began to sink into his wounds, and with it the hope of the future disappeared. "

THE END