crispina kemp

Continuing the story of Thredwyl’s adventure. Read it all FOR FREE on Thredwyl’s very own site

* * *

No one had ever said of Thredwyl that he was wise. Adventuresome, aye, and brave, some might say to the point of stupidity, but he never could turn his back on a challenge. Not ever. Aye, and that was the folly that had brought him to here, to what he’d first thought was the fabled Land of Giants, but now he realised was the world of Man and his Kind.

Yet he’d had the forethought – and that surely must count as a kind of wisdom – to take the chair closest to the window and then to ask that the window be opened. For that terrible hacking cough of his wasn’t feigned, the professor’s study truly was thick with sweet-acrid smoke that wafted and billowed from countless small dishes. Though here, in Professor Angelus’s inner sanctum, there were no fumes, neither cloying nor pungent.

Now, before the professor had gathered his wits – a fine self-proclaimed guardian of Man and his Kind this bubblehead was – Thredwyl leapt from chair to sill then out of the window, a kind of a step and a fall. It was no distance, no more than twice or thrice his height. And the landing was soft, nothing compared with the many tumbles he’d taken while exploring the Dolstone caverns that were his homeland.

He hid amongst the sharp-thorned trees. Roses, so Daisy had told him; they grew in abundance in her family’s garden. Let the professor try to grab him from there. Those thorns would rip the imposter’s perfection to pieces.

But now he had to think. And thought, like wisdom, was not his great suit.

First, what were these secrets Professor Angelus believed him to hold? And how likely was he to reveal them to Daisy? Yet Thredwyl had no secrets, or at least none that he’d keep from her. He’d been straight up, he’d told her everything. But…but…the professor, arch deceiver as he was, might lie – would lie. What defamatory stories might he construct? But would Daisy believe him? Thredwyl thought not.

Second, how much did Daisy know about the professor? Did she really believe him kindly? Was she aware the professor was a magician, and more than that, a servant of Grandma’s greatest Adversary? Did she even know about Grandma? Nay, Thredwyl firmly believed that Daisy had no inkling of what Professor Angelus was, and in her innocence had brought him here that the professor might help him.

Aye, he could trust Daisy, he was sure. That was, if Daisy ever found him again. And that was the next question. How likely was Daisy to rescue him?

She had remained in the professor’s study, searching through whatever this thing called the intranet for folk-tales and folk-lore of Thredwyl’s kind. Now she would wonder where he was. What would the professor tell her? That he’d jumped out the window and run away? Would Daisy dash out, come try to find him? Would the professor allow it? Aye, likely he would. But first, even more likely, he would seed Daisy’s ears with his lies.

So now the question, would she believe those lies?

Thredwyl didn’t know. He supposed that depended on how plausible the bubbleheaded deceiver made his stories.

How long had Thredwyl crouched beneath the roses? He needed to change his position, his toes had grown numb. And now he thought of it, what a fool place to hide. Away from the professor, true, but what were the chances of Daisy finding him here?

He stood. And a loud hiss sounded close to his ear.

Instinct swiftly jumped him sideways.

Ouch! his head collided with the hard wall. Sparks peppered his vision, he felt oddly light-headed, his knees buckled beneath him, he slid to the ground, crunching upon a shell-made midden.

Ouch! harsh claws raked his face. What the…!?

“Scat, Cat,” a female voice called. “What have I told you of touching the birds? Oh. You’re not a bird. You’re a…”

“Kupie,” Thredwyl said and peered up at the female who peered down at him.

She had on a low-cut top – or rather, she mostly didn’t. A Kupie could suffocate snuggled in there. He sighed. He’d no liking of the males of the species, judging by those he’d met so far. But the females…. He sighed again. Grandma sure gave them a desirable form, unlike the Nixies with their pendulous chesty things and snaky bottoms.

“You might know me better as a goblin,” he said.

She tittered and looked across to the professor’s window. With a hand to her mouth, she slowly nodded. “We’ve all heard of his illegal proclivities, but don’t say it’s spreading?”

Thredwyl watched as she walked away in her very tight skirt, her snakeless bum wobbling. A lot.

“Nice pussy,” Thredwyl cooed to the cat that was again advancing, this time cautiously sniffing and testing. “Boo!”

With a yowl, the cat scatted.

“Thredwyl? Is that you in those bushes?”

Thredwyl blew a great phew of relief. Daisy had found him.

“The professor said you jumped out of the window. What made you do that?”

She held open her school bag for him to crawl in. Would that be wise of him? He looked up at the window.

“Did he say anything about…my secrets?”

“He said you are a nasty demon and I’m to have no more truck with you,” she owned. “He said that God would curse me and send me down to the Pit along with you. I suppose he means down to Hell. But” – she giggled – “I can’t go there if I don’t believe in it. Come on, be quick and get comfy in there. Only if I’m seen here, crouched by the roses, someone might accuse me of stealing the blooms. Right, now let’s get you home.”

Home? Oh, that he could. Instead, he supposed he was in for another night in the pink plastic palace that used to be a rabbit hutch. He could hardly contain his excitement at the thought of those green and yellow check jimmies, borrowed off Ted. But at the thought of another bath…all those bubbles, in that pink bowl, all slippery and smelling sweetly of Fleur. Fleur, he sighed, remembering her chest – he gulped – as she seductively revealed it. Remembering how she had peeled away those black glossy leggings to reveal…aye, the female of Man’s Kind didn’t have snakes for a bum.

He gasped for air, so hot here in Daisy’s school bag.

Home. To the rabbit’s hutch, the door bolted with intent to keep him safe from the predations of Flirtatious Fleur. Oh, if only she would sneak in during the night and shoot that bolt, whisper to him, ease his fears of her, reach in and touch him…. There’s a law against that, he heard Daisy saying again. If she touches you, you’re to tell me. But Fleur had a lovely snakeless bum. And he was getting to an age now when perhaps he’d prefer to explore fresh caverns.

Aye, and he remembered the jawmen’s tale of The Giantess and the Stone. Aye, but giantess, not a female of Man and his Kind. And Fleur was very forthcoming with her desirable delights.

It was unbearably hot in Daisy’s bag. Hot, and dark. So dark, all he could see were the visions in his head. And in those visions…. But the visions disappeared when he remembered again what Daisy had said of the law.

He sighed, that wasn’t ever going to happen; Fleur had only been teasing him. Indeed, now he remembered, she was going to take him to the Anthropology Geeks who, according to Daisy, would imprison him in a cage and not let him go, not ever. Aye, but what was Daisy to do with him now? Professor Angelus Margev had been their best hope for getting him home.