The Next Day Was Completely Different

 

            One of the neat things about a Great Forest Music Festival is the relative lack of any sign that there had even been a festival on the “grounds.” Forest Keepers don’t leave trash, even if they had any to leave, and their human friends had taken the Coke cans back with themselves when they went home. Only some wax paper from the ham on rye sandwiches lay on the ground, with the wind moving it around a little.
            The next day dawned gray and there was a ghost of a chill in the air, when Aunt Suzy got up early to feed the fire. She picked up the sandwich wrappers and added them to the fire. Then all was as before, except for the change in weather.
            It had rained a little before dawn. Ralph’s dark blue cloud and little lights had disappeared during the night, to be replaced by normal light gray haze up high.
            Uncle Bob was still sleeping, after his big day.
            Nobody wondered where Maurice was.
            Down at her own fire, Ramona was also up and starting her day. Bob and Berry woke when she did and were out hunting somewhere. Cherry and Blue, and Ralph slept on.
            Ramona was noticing the change in the weather too. She knew the sun would shine again, but that fall was really coming. It started raining. Little puffs of steam fizzed up from the coals of her fire. It seemed like an oatmeal kind of day. She had no leftover meat, or soup.
            While she was planning, a familiar presence made herself known. It was Maeve, of course. She drifted silently down out of the rainy sky, and landed beside the fire on one of those logs.
            “Looks like fall is coming,” said Ramona, almost to herself.
            “Soon,” agreed Maeve.
            “I guess I’ll make oatmeal,” said Ramona, still thinking.
            “I need to talk to Ralph, Ramona. Something isn’t right,” said Maeve.
            “What did you see? What kind of not right? Are you sure?” said that lady.
            “It’s weird and hard to explain. Maurice is outside his old farmhouse playing his tunes, but something is there with him. It’s not a person, or an animal, or any of you all, in fact I don’t know what it is, and it’s singing the songs from the concert yesterday,” said Maeve, looking worried.
            “That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Ramona. “I’ve been humming the songs too!”
            “Oh, I know, but you oughta see this whatever,” said Maeve. “OK, listen. It has wings, gray wings, and it’s not a bird! It has long grey hair and it’s not a woman or a man! It’s nearly as tall as Ralph, Honey, and Maurice looks scared out of his hairy mind!” insisted Maeve. “I better talk to Ralph.”
            “You’re right,” but just as she turned to go wake him, he appeared, yawning.
            “What’s up out here? Something is not right, I know it,” said Ralph, looking from Ramona to Maeve and back to Ramona.
            So, Maeve filed her report with Ralph, mentioning a few other details, such as the fact that Maurice seemed to be under some kind of compulsion to stand out in the rain and make music for this creature to sing to, and that it had burning green eyes like little green fires.
            “That’s not good,” said Ralph. “Fire eyes are never good! Maybe I better go see who goes there!”
            When Ralph and Maeve arrived at Maurice’s hideaway, they found that all she had said was true. The small abandoned farmhouse stood forlorn in the rain. Its door hung open. Overgrown fruit trees crowded close around. No light shone in the window; no smoke rose from the crooked small chimney.
            Maurice stood in front playing his tunes with desperation in his eyes, and rain running down his snout onto his beloved harmonica. His bag lay on the ground, empty.
            The ghastly creature cavorted, spreading its wings, and singing horrible distortions of yesterday’s songs to Maurice’s own tunes. Her, for it was some sort of femme thing, green eyes glowed in the dim morning light.
 
            You’ll All Fall In!
            I’ll make sure you do!
            But it won’t be a picnic!
            Not for you!
            Etc, etc..
 
            “Ew,” said Ralph, “This thing is no poet!”    
            “Make it stop, Boss!” cried Maeve.
           
            You’re Ugly And Your Mom Hated You! The witch sang in a voice like a choir of Banshees. She was waving Maurice’s red Allegory book around as she whirled, laughing and making up rude rhymes.
 
            “Stop witch,” said Ralph. “Say your name!”
            “Make me!” sang the witch, mid-cavort.
            “Say it, or I will say it, and you don’t want that!” said Ralph. Maurice played on as if  he  couldn’t stop or help himself.
            “You don’t know my name, Pigface!” laughed the dancing witch.
            “Dwollop Leer!” said Ralph, loudly.
            She stopped and looked at him with hate filled burning eyes.
            “What is the nature of your power over Maurice?” said Ralph.
            “I won’t tell you, Pig-arse!” Dwollop Leer screamed.
            “Give him back his book, or I’ll say your name again,” said Ralph.
            The witch seemed to become insubstantial, standing in the rain, wings folded, bitterly hissing, but she gave the book to Maurice, handing it over with a hand no more solid than heavy fog.
            Maurice was instantly released, and weeping, he put his book and his harmonica back in his bag, and put it on his waist again.
            “No devil or witch can live here, Dwollop Leer!” said Ralph, and it was so, because he said it was so, and she was no more. Not even a flash of green or a smokey wing remained.
            “Maurice why don’t you come home with me and Maeve and dry your things? Mona is making a bunch of oatmeal, and you  look like a Howler who needs some hot food,” said Ralph.
            Maurice wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded.
            “How did she get your book?”
            “She just walked into the old house, singing those awful verses, rifled through my bag and took it! I wasn’t wearing it, I was sleeping,” said Maurice.
            “She must have sensed the value that it has to you,” said Ralph.
            “How did you know her name?” asked Maurice, in wonder.
            “Oh, I didn’t! I named her right then and there, and since I have the gift, it became her name! There wasn’t a thing she could do about it!” laughed Ralph. “Pretty neat trick, huh?
            “You amaze me,” murmured Maurice, as they all set off to have some oatmeal for breakfast. “Thank you, Ralph.”
            “Of course,” said Ralph, cheerfully.
            “Nothing really surprises me,” said Maeve, from her perch on his shoulder, “But that was one for the books.”
            It wasn’t a really lasting rain storm, after all. The sun came back out, and it was like late summer again. Steam was in the air as everything dried off, and the clouds blew off toward the Sound.

🍁📕🍁