The Tunneller
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe
By Jonathan Metcalfe
The Tunneller
A brief background
The Tunneller began it’s first incarnation as a storyboard as
an idea for an animation back in 1992. I was immersed in the ideas of deep
ecology and system theories at the time and feeling extremely frustrated and
impotent at the ecological destruction taking place all around us. This was the
impulse behind the idea though it would change, as I myself changed.
It
lay forgotten for more than a year. I quickly realised that, although working
in the industry at the time, getting the money and finding the time to make it
into an animated film was nigh on impossible so I decided to shelve that idea
in favour of a story-book. I still think it would work best as an animation
however, as the story was first conceived wholly as a visual medium.
I
began writing the text in the winter of 1994 aiming the story at children aged
12, upwards. Yet I wanted it to work at two levels. It could be viewed as an
ecological fable or modern fairy tale, and/or an allegory for the journey of
the soul. From 1995 to 1997 I barely looked at the manuscript though it was in
my mind. I did however begin to play with some illustrations in 1996.
It
then lay dormant once again due to time constraints and general upheavals, but
returning to both the illustrations and the text in 1997. By now, the book had
become a way of exploring my own journey, my own “tunnelling” with all its
failures and far too occasional successes. It had become a cathartic process
all its own. In early 1999 I added a few more illustrations and fleshed out the
story.
I
hope you enjoy reading it.
Jonathan
Text and Illustrations registered under International Copyright © 2003
By Jonathan Metcalfe
All Rights Reserved.
If you wish to reproduce an Illustration or a section of text please ask
permission first.
THE BUTTERFLY AND
THE BIRD
DREAMING OF THE STIX
FURTHER ADVENTURES
IN RUBBISH
THE
THE KEY
THE RIVER STIX
THE SLEEPERS AWAKE
FIRE IN THE
THE STIX REVEALED
IN SEARCH OF SPACE
THE
BUTTERFLY AND THE BIRD
Far into space, all was quiet. The multitude of
stars shone brightly and the blackness continued to think its deepest thoughts.
A planet lay at the outer rim of a galaxy.
It seemed devoid of life, forlorn and miserable, as if it were silently
weeping. There was no sound save the wind that howled across the barren land.
Dead trees shivered under the grey skies and shifting sands lapped at the edges
of rocks. From North, South, East and West the planet remained colourless and
crude, its beauty long since faded.
It would have been incorrect, however, to say that this was a planet
truly without life. If one travelled towards the Northern part of the land and
journeyed deep below the surface, beneath the many crusts and layers of ancient
remains… something was stirring. And what was the cause of this stirring? This
restlessness?
A little ball of light lay shining brightly in a cavern of its own
making, lodged in the ground, glowing like miniature sun. How long it had lain
there was impossible to say. Perhaps it had always been there.
On this day, it began to shake and jiggle, as though something was
trying to escape. What’s more, a muffled, ringing sound of an alarm-clock could
be heard. The ball of light began to rock from side to side, the soil around
its rim beginning to fall away until eventually it’s radiance began to soften
and dim until the ball could be seen for what it was:
A little white miner's helmet, complete
with a polished lamp!
Seconds later a large, dark head popped up from under that helmet,
sending soil and stone in all directions. A pair of head-light eyes shone out
and a small mouth let out a loud yawn….
...The Tunneller had awoken!
He shook his head from side to side,
causing great clods of earth to fly from his little ears. Noticing the pin-point
of daylight at the very top of the tunnel, he lifted himself out of the hole
and was busily brushing his long slim body with a delicate white cloth. He was
dressed in a smart uniform the colour of coal with a belt and large shoes which
matched the snow-white of his helmet.
Clearing his throat in a business-like fashion, he gazed up the length
of the tunnel above him. With one huge leap he was climbing upwards towards the
surface where the prospect of filling his lungs with cool, fresh air was most inviting.
The Tunneller scanned the rugged terrain which stretched endlessly
before him. Brooding clouds sent shadows oozing over brittle rocks. Huge cracks
littered the landscape like wounds on a once healthy skin. A long despairing
sigh left his lips:
“This is a planet with a most heavy heart,” he said softly. I must help
her breathe again.”
He placed a hand on a huge slab of rock and closed his eyes. The
memories of the planet's long forgotten past flooded into his mind.
He saw emerald-green meadows and bright,
fresh waterfalls; rain-forests bursting with colourful birds and undiscovered
animals.
He saw the tides of the ocean and
creamy-white sands; secret rivers flowing through rolling hills and mist laden
mountains. He smelt the scent of flowers and tasted the salt of the sea. He
could see no separation between people and Nature. He heard their laughter
carried on the winds.
Then the memories changed.
He saw towering buildings spreading over the land; great highways and
roads blasted through mountains and gouged into the planet; forests were burned
and stripped away and the sky was filled with acid smoke and choking fumes.
He saw
people separated from Nature and becoming sad and lonely. He saw people burying
mountains of decaying rubbish into the planet and toxic waste into the sea
until there was no space left for anyone. The planet was overflowing with
people's greed and she could no longer breathe. When this was so, then the
people could also no longer breathe. All that was left was the rubbish, the
waste and a howling wind.
The Tunneller lifted his hand from the rock and shook his head. The
visions of the rain-forests and crystal-clear waters swam into his mind once more.
“Well, it’s time for a different possibility.” he said, and tipping his
miners helmet forward with an air of determination, he made for the entrance of
the tunnel.
As the little man turned towards the mouth of the tunnel, he stumbled on
a small rock. Recovering his balance, he looked down and picked it up.
“Did you wish for my attention?” he said, “Perhaps I can reward you for
your trouble.”
With that, The Tunneller dipped his head and held the rock up to a
steady stream of laser-blue light which now flowed from the lamp in his helmet.
It began to change colour from dark, dull grey, to rose-pink, then to yellow,
green, orange and blue until its shape began to alter. What was once a simple
rock, now became a mass of shifting colour, organising itself into a new form.
Before long, there lay in the palm of The Tunneller's hand a beautiful
Butterfly, its bright orange wings quivering gently as blood coursed through
its veins. It flew into the air,
circling its creator again and again until it came to rest on the top of his
head.
“What am I?” she said.
“A Butterfly,” answered The Tunneller cheerfully.
“Butterfly! I like it!” she carefully unrolled her tongue several times
and opened and shut her wings.
“So what do I do now? ...”
“Be a Butterfly.”
“How do I do that?”
“Just do what comes naturally.”
She settled on The Tunneller’s outstretched hand.
“I must admit, this is very different. What was I doing before?”
“Being a rock actually,” said The Tunneller, pointing at the ground.
“Oh yes,” said The Butterfly, a little disappointed, “Well, I much
prefer being a Butter..Butter..Butterfly...I have things to do!”
“Ah, yes, slight problem there at the moment,” said The Tunneller
scratching his nose, “I need to help get this planet back into working order
first, according to protocol No. 64 on the Tunneller charter of planetary
response, then you'll be able to do all the things that a Butterfly is meant to
do.”
“Can I help?” She asked, admiring
the length of her tongue.
The Tunneller raised his eyebrows. “Well
I'm not sure there's much you can do right now but stick around, I think you
may play a part somewhere.”
“What is it? What it is it? What?..What?..What?..” She flew clumsily
around The Tunneller's face.
“Calm down little one, calm yourself!” he laughed quietly, “Everything
has its allotted time and you shall have yours.”
He approached the edge of the tunnel and
lowered himself into the opening.
“Wait for me here, I'll be back.” And with that, he disappeared.
“What? Where are you going? Come back!”
The Butterfly fluttered frantically around
the tunnel entrance. Eventually, she settled on one of the dry rocks at the
tunnel’s edge and slowly fanned her wings, still rolling her tongue back and
forth. “How very boring to be a rock,” she said to herself, “and how lucky I am
to be me.” She fluttered into the air. “Look at me rocks! Look at me!”
The rocks did not answer of course. They were too busy, well…being
rocks.
***
Far below the surface all was cold and
damp.
The inner planet was a mass of ancient
compacted rubbish from many layers of living which had slowly choked her
insides until she could take no more. She had harnessed what little energy she
had left and had withdrawn and waited. But help was at hand.
A speck of light could be seen piercing the shadows. It became bigger
and bigger, a fierce midnight-sun emerging from the gloom. It was The
Tunneller's lamp-light absorbing all the refuse, like a caterpillar of light
munching through the darkness, creating many tunnels through the ancient
layers, so that the planet might breathe again, so that light may flow into the
darkness.
On and on, the beam of blue-white light
cut through every kind of rubbish you can imagine: car engines to umbrellas,
old rubber tyres to floppy disks. He had special wheels fitted to his knees
which aided in his task of tunnelling. They cushioned the shocks from obstacles
that came his way. But because his vision was so keen he manged to avoid the
most serious of obstacles which lay in his path and so maintain the proper
functioning of his wheels.
Although the work was tiring and extremely dirty he found much
satisfaction in his task. However, there were moments when he felt quite
lonely. At times like these he sang songs which helped him concentrate and lift
his spirits.
As the
rubbish spiralled in front of him, being broken down and transformed within the
light, a rhyme entered his mind and he sang it loudly as if performing to a
waiting audience:
I am The Tunneller,
Remember my name,
I come to awaken the
Planetary flame...
With squeaking wheels I
venture forth,
In all directions, east
and north,
Upwards, downwards,
around and around,
Creating channels of
light and sound.
Purple pots and pizza-pans,
Bricks and bottles,
aluminium cans,
Compact discs and
coloured plastic,
Rubber tyres and blue
elastic,
Rusted kettles and
copper coasters,
Radioactive
sandwich-toasters,
Latex,, perspex, barrels
of oil,
Washing-machines and
kitchen foil,
Polythene bags,
super-store trolleys,
Cash-tills, credit cars,
designer brolleys,
Miles of cable and
telephone wires,
Radiators, percolators,
old gas-fires,
Computer consoles and
gold-plated taps,
Engines, fridges and
petrol-caps,
DVDs and mobile phones,
Spark-plugs, jugs and
traffic-cones.
I mine for rubbish in
the cold, damp dark,
Through laser light I
make my mark,
A labyrinth, maze, and
spaghetti junction,
All at once my special
function.
I am The Tunneller,
Remember my name,
I come to awaken the
Planetary flame...
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe
As dawn broke there was an atmosphere of
expectancy in the air.
The Butterfly had been watching The
Tunneller with interest. He would frequently break through to the surface like
a mole, allowing another opening into his underground maze. Finally, he had
emerged and was busily scurrying about the landscape, looking down the many
thousands of tunnel entrances he had made to the underworld. The Butterfly
managed to catch up with him while he rested awhile.
“Have you finished?” she inquired politely, settling on his shoulder.
He looked down to his left and smiled,
“Why yes. Have you been following our progress?”
“Certainly. I've seen how the planet can breathe again. I can see it
rising out of all these tunnels.”
“Well, that's the general idea. There's so much rubbish around that it's
become part of her body and if I don't create space for her to breathe...she'll
die.”
“So, this big planet's alive then?”
“Well, you remember what it was like being a rock?”
“Quite boring.”
“Yes, but you were very good at being that rock weren't you?”
“Of course! It was a great way to make friends with other rocks who were
doing the same thing...just holding things together. I much prefer being a
Butterfly though.”
She fluttered around The Tunneller twice
and landed on his nose. “So this planet's like a big rock then?”
“Yes, at the moment. I've got to work with her and get back to her
old self again so that she can live in a more balanced way; so that she can
hold together every kind of life that's ever been and ever will be.”
“Including me?”
“Of course,” The Tunneller spread out his arms wide in front of him. The
Butterfly hovered above his head, “you're a tiny part of her already, a
messenger of what could be.”
She landed on his helmet and slowly opened her wings.
“You mean there's more than just rocks and Butterflies?”
“Much more.”
She unrolled her tongue, thinking hard. “All I want to know is, where
are all the flowers for me to drink from? You can't get more exciting than
that!”
The Tunneller chuckled, “Wait and see my friend,” and he knocked on the
side of his helmet three times and waited.
Again he knocked, once, twice, three times...
...and waited…
..And waited.
Finally, he knocked a little more forcefully: once, twice three times.
And then he frowned.
“Well I don't call this very exciting.” said The Butterfly.
Just as The Tunneller was about give himself a headache, his helmet
swiftly opened.
“Oh!” exclaimed The Butterfly, her feelers standing to attention.
From within The Tunneller's head there came a strange whirring sound and a little blue bird on
swing emerged, gently moving back and forth.
“QUARK!” she cried loudly and flew from her perch, circling The
Tunneller once, and finally landing on his shoulder.
The little creature could not have been compared to any ordinary bird.
She had the wings of a sparrow, the body of a crow, the beak of a horn-bill,
and the bright turquoise feathers of a bird of paradise, together with a pair
of black, beady eyes sparkling with intelligence. Meanwhile, the swing lowered
into his head and the helmet swung shut with a metallic click!
The Bird stretched the stiffness from her twiglet legs, and began to
preen herself.
“So where were you? I was knocking for a full two minutes,” said The
Tunneller.
“I didn't realise it was that time again,” she mumbled, “my alarm clock
must be slow.”
“I see” said The Tunneller unconvinced.
The Bird hopped from her Master's shoulder and onto the ground. She
looked up at The Butterfly fluttering above her, “So who's the insect?”
“Oh, just a little friend I picked up on the way. Butterfly, meet The
Bird. Bird, meet Butterfly.”
As neither was quite sure how to go about greeting each other The
Butterfly decided the best thing to do would be to roll out its tongue like a
miniature royal carpet. The Bird, who was equally confused, simply cried: “QUARK!”
And eyed her suspiciously.
“Right, now that we have introductions out of the way we have work to
do.” He brought the Bird up to his face. “Are you ready my lady of the lamp?”
“I suppose,” she yawned widely. “What's on the agenda?”
“The usual. But we're behind time so I suggest we get a move on.”
He delved into his chest pocket and produced a small red, velvet pouch.
As he undid the cord, a dazzling quantity of golden seed glittered forth.
“QUARK! QUARK!” cried The Bird eagerly.
“Cor!” whispered The Butterfly.
He pinched a small amount between two fingers and dropped it into her
open beak. She seemed to glow like a Christmas-tree light for a few seconds,
her eyes gleaming.
“There you are, you're all set.”
He placed The Bird at the edge of a tunnel entrance. She looked
hesitantly peered into its depths and turned back to her Master. “What, down
there?”
“That's right. You know the drill.”
She yawned and scratched her belly, her leg becoming a blur.
The Butterfly fluttered over her excitedly, “What are
you going to do?”
She eyed him wearily and exercised her wings. “I…” She paused for
dramatic effect,
“am about to play a rather large part in re-introducing life back into
this planet.”
“What, you?”
The Little Bird blinked her eyes with
irritation. “Yes me!..I happen to be a rather special kind of bird!”
“What happens?”
The Bird cleared her throat hoping to create the right impression, “I
change into a powerful, magical force called The Energia.”
“Why?”
“It's my job description,” she sneered.
The Butterfly landed on the edge of the tunnel on the opposite side to
The Bird.
“Can I come and watch?”
No. I don't take spectators.”
“What's a spectator'?
“Someone who asks too many questions.” She glared at the insect.
“Will there be some flowers around when you've finished then?” piped The
Butterfly excitedly.
“I suppose.”
“I think I'm meant to draw nectar from flowers, that's what I'm meant to
do.” She began to flutter about The Bird in ever decreasing circles. “I'm a
Butterfly you see, that's what I do, now that I'm not a rock anymore.”
“I see,” said The Bird, not seeing at all.
“So I'm free to go anywhere and eat all the nectar I want! Yippee!” The
Butterfly unfurled its tongue several times and fluttered around the head of
The Bird, coming to rest on her beak. “What do you eat then Bird?”
“Oooh, all sorts of things, but mostly flies.”
“Oh that sounds really tasty!” The insect's eyes suddenly bulged. “Hold
on, I’m a Butter-fly aren't I?”
“Why so you are.” The Bird answered with a sly smile.
The Butterfly flew from her perch as
quickly as she could, coming to rest on the Tunnneller's helmet.
“And keep your sticky legs to yourself!” shouted The Bird crossly.
“All right that's enough,” said The Tunneller impatiently, “May I remind
you we have a deadline to keep.”
Without further delay, The Little Bird raised her wing and saluted her
Master. The Tunneller nodded in response, watching her disappear down the hole,
into the depths of the underground network of tunnels. The sound of flapping
wings gradually faded.
The Butterfly settled on a rock and walked about its surface, feelers
drooping. “Maybe being a rock wasn't so bad,” she murmured miserably.
The Tunneller laughed. “There's no going back little one. You are now
officially on The
“Where does that go?”
“Up to you.”
“Then I’d like to go to an ocean of nectar!” proposed the Insect.
The Tunneller listened to The Little Bird's wings descending deeper into
the planet. Suddenly, he clenched his fists and frowned deeply.
“By The Buckles of Orion's Belt!” he
seethed, “I knew I'd forget! How could I have been so careless?”
“What?” inquired The Butterfly.
“This is the planet where The Stix has been assigned his task of keeping
darkness here as a dominat force. The Stix is very powerful this time and I
wanted to warn her to be extra careful. It's been a very long time since
they've crossed paths.”
“What's a Stix?”
There was a pause, as if The Tunneller was
immersed in thought. “Oh, he's a nasty being indeed. He's made up of all the
hateful, frustrated thoughts of people who have come and gone over many
millions of years. He lives in the hearts of planets and all he wishes to do is
to keep people producing more and more rubbish in their minds and dumping it into the universe.
The Butterfly crossed and uncrossed her feelers “Why?”
“Well, that’s what he does. It’s his nature. That’s ok. But it can get
out of control sometimes and the balance needs to be addressed – that’s where
we come in. The only thing he wants more than the hearts of planets and people
is the power of The Little Bird: the power to make his dreams real and
permenant.
The Butterfly had given up trying to understand what The Tunneller was
talking about, but she knew that he was concerned. “What are we going to
do?”she squeaked.
The Tunneller was already making for the
entrance to the world below.
“We must warn her before its too late!
Quickly, follow me!”
DREAMING OF
THE STIX
Meanwhile, The Bird had reached the bottom
of the tunnel.
Bathed in a pool of hazy light, she looked
all around her. She seemed to be at the crossroads of many different tunnels
which went off in as many directions. Each one could have led anywhere.
The Little Bird pecked at the ground for a bit then decided to carry out
her duties. It was time for The Energia to be introduced.
She stood up and flapped her wings. With a loud: “QUARK!” she turned to
her left, then her right and decided to enter one of the tunnels directly in
front of her. With a faint pitter-patter of tiny her twiglet feet, she hopped
into the darkness.
The plan was this: The Little Bird would find a suitable place that felt
just right and begin to spin. Yes, she would flap her wings and begin to spin
around in a circle. She would spin so fast that she would be begin to fall into
a kind of sleep. It was then that a dream of the Energia would form and things
would start to happen.
She had found a location that suited her purposes and all seemed
peaceful. Just as she was exercising her wings and limbering up, she heard a noise.
Squeak, squeak.
She listened again.
Squeak..squeak.
It seemed to be coming from deep in the darkness of the tunnel to her
left. It was faint but getting louder.
Squeak, squeak, squeak...
She tried to see something through the gloom. “QUARK! Who's there?” she
snapped.
Her cry echoed against the furrowed walls.
Squeak..squeak..squeak..squeak...
It sounded like a pair wheels in need of some oil...but of course! It
had to be The Tunneller! No. He would not re-enter the tunnels until The
Energia had made its appearance. She frowned. Who, or what could be making such
a noise? Whatever it was, it was getting closer and louder.
Squeak..squeak..squeak..squeak...
The Little Bird hopped towards the noise and stopped.
The squeaking also stopped.
She hopped forward a few paces.
The squeaking continued.
“QUARK! Who's there?” She began to feel nervous.
Suddenly, from out of the murk a hazy shape began to form. The Bird's eyes
widened. The squeaking became stronger and the shape grew larger, until a large
metallic dust-bin on wheels wobbled into view, coming to an abrupt halt in
front of her.
In a state of panic, The Bird flew into the air, leaving a cloud of
feathers in her wake until she landed heavily against the tunnel wall. She slid
to the ground feeling foolish.
After The Little Bird had regained her composure she began to eye the
dust-bin, cautiously turning her head from left to right.
“Humph!” she snorted, “to think I was frightened by a trash-can on
wheels!”
She hopped closer, inspecting it from all sides.
She hopped closer still and pecked at the metal.
CLANG!
CLANG! went the dust-bin.
She hopped back.
Nothing happened.
Jumping up onto the top she tried to remove
the lid with her beak. Perhaps there would be food inside! The lid held fast.
The Little Blue Bird pecked at the lid with frustration: CLANG! CLANG ! CLANG !
..until..
“HELLO! HELLO!” rasped a voice from within.
The Bird screeched and catapulted herself into the air, claws slipping
on metal and feathers flying once again like blue blossom, until she lay in a
heap on the ground nearby. The voice continued:
“WELCOME LITTLE BIRD! WELCOME! THIS IS YOUUUUUR LUCKY DAY!”
She blinked and looked nervously about her. “Who?...Me?”
“YES YOU! I'M TALKING TO YOU! DON'T BE BASHFUL NOW.”
The Dust-bin spun round on its wheels to face her. A panel in the centre
flipped open to reveal a T.V. screen. It flickered into life casting an
artificial, green-yellow glow over the Bird. A spiky little face with pointed
nose and pock-marked skin appeared. A toothy grin spread like slime.
“YOU WANNA KNOW WHY IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY BIRD?” yelled the creature, his
mouth and teeth curling up like an accordion, “WELL I'M GONNA TELL YA!...IT'S
YOUR LUCKY DAY BECAUSE YOU, AND ONLY YOU, HAVE WON A TRIP, ALL EXPENSES
PAID...” The creature winked knowingly, “...TO THE PLACE OF YOUR DREAMS, WHERE
FANTASY BECOMES REALITY, WHERE EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED CAN BE YOURS FOR THE
TAKING!”
The face pressed itself to the screen.
“NOW DON'T CLOSE THE DOOR ON AN
“Well, I..I..”
“I KNEW YOU HAD BRAINS! Screamed the creature, eyes aflame, “I KNEW THE
MOMENT I SET EYES ON YOU, I SAID TO MYSELF, I SAID, THIS HERE IS NO BIRD-BRAIN,
BUT A
All The Bird could hear was the harsh echo of the voice travelling down
the tunnel. The light from the screen had suddenly dimmed. She blinked a few
times as her eyes became used to the new gloom. With a whirr! and a click! the
t.v. screen flipped back into the dust-bin and all was silent.
She held her breath and listened
carefully. A soft, almost kindly voice could be heard from within the dust-bin
itself:
“So, my precious little feathered friend,
it's your only chance to take what's owed to you. And you HAVE been working
sooooo hard,” it purred sweetly.
The Bird frowned. She HAD been working hard and it would be nice to take
a break. She was a very special bird after all! But there was also something
very, very strange about all this, and familiar too...Before she could get any
further with her thoughts, there was a loud CLANG!
and the dust-bin lid flew open.
“PLEASED TO MEET YOU BIRD!” Itr
shrieked with arms spread wide, “THEY CALL ME THE STIX AND I'M YOUR HOST FOR
TONIGHT!”
The Stix reached down with his white, spindly arms and scooped up The
Bird, vanishing back into the depths of the dust-bin and wheeling away at
top-speed, the sound of squeaking wheels becoming fainter and fainter.
It was as though nothing had ever set foot inside the tunnel and that
nothing would again.
***
“What was THAT?” asked The Butterfly as it
perched on top of The Tunneller's head.
He nodded and his brow wrinkled deeply.
“That'll be The Stix. I recognise that laugh anywhere.”
“He sounded very happy,” replied The Butterfly, “as happy as someone who
had just found an ocean of nectar.”
The Tunneller edged forward on his wheels, the lamp shining powerfully
into the darkness.
“I don't think we've been in time my friend,”
he mumbled sadly, “The Bird may already be in The Stix's hands, and not for the
first time.”
“What does he want with her?” inquired The Butterfly.
The Tunneller sighed. “He wants to keep her for himself so that no-one
ever finds her. That way, he can fill up the universe with only rubbish and
darkness and we can’t have that. The sun must be allowed to have equal time to
shine.”
Suddenly, The Tunneller saw a flash of blue in the light of his miners'
lamp straight ahead of him, “Wait!” he
exclaimed, “What's that?”
“Nectar?” replied The Butterfly hopefully.
“No..It's a feather!” shouted The Tuneller, pointing excitedly ahead. He
picked it up and held it up to the beam of light, “Yes, it's The Bird's all
right.”
“So where's the nectar then?” said The Butterfly, rolling it's tongue
back and forth like a party blower.
“Now is not the time to think about nectar!”
“When is a good time?”
“When we find The Bird. Now, hold on...it's full speed ahead!”
The Tunneller and his colourful companion wheeled their way down yet
another tunnel in search of their friend who was, at that very moment,
travelling deeper and deeper towards the heart of the planet.
***
The Little Blue Bird bounced around the
bottom of the dust-bin as it rolled up, and down, around and around the complex
labyrinth. It was pitch-black inside, as hot as a furnace and smelt of rotten
vegetables and burnt plastic. She was waiting for her moment to escape, but as
yet, it had not come. As soon as the lid opened she would make her bid for
freedom.
A voice from behind her, frighteningly close, whispered in a sneer:
“We're nearly there and boy are you gonna love it! Well you better, 'cause
you ain't leaving anytime soon!”
“Let me out!” piped The Bird, “What do you mean by kidnapping me like
this?”
“The Stix cackled delightedly, “You'll see, you'll see.”
All she could see were two yellow eyes staring back at her like strange
candle flames. She wondered when The
Tunneller would rescue her. He would surely know by now that something was
wrong. This thought was lost as the dust-bin lid flew open and yellow light
flooded in. The Stix's shadow spread over her. He grabbed The Bird, holding her
tightly to his chest as though she were a priceless bag of booty. Her bid for
freedom seemed like a distant memory.
“HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN MY LITTLE FRIEND!” he roared, turning around and
around on the spot.
“I'm not your friend thank you very much!” snapped The Bird, beginning
to feel dizzy, “let me go! Right now!”
The Stix stopped spinning and looked down at his charge. His toothy grin
changed to an unpleasant snarl. “I'M THE ONE IN CONTROL HERE! he screamed “AND
I SAY YOU'RE MY FRIEND!”
The Stix squeezed her so hard that she felt like a sponge and that the
water of life was dripping out of her. She began to feel her eyes straining at
their sockets and her legs were as stiff as a pair of chop-sticks. She decided
to it might be as well to agree and managed a series of rapid nods. The Stix
relaxed his grip. He carefully placed her on the ground, stepping back quickly
as though The Bird might explode at any moment. In a crouching position he
watched her.
The Little Blue Bird ruffled her feathers indignantly and looked around
her new surroundings. She seemed to be in a vast underground cavern of rubbish.
Along the domed walls were fossilized patterns of car doors and circuit boards,
radiators and gas cans, steel pipes and all manner of engine parts.
Hanging from the ceiling were great mounds
of garbage and thousands of live cables and light bulbs, illuminating the scene
with a variety of artificial lights.
Great towers of televisions and piles of
computer consoles were stacked up in every direction, most of which were
working, flickering out programs from an ancient age. The air was thick with
garbled voices and bright harsh screens. It was hard to think with all the
noise.
In the centre of the cavern on a small island, surrounded by a moat of
thick brown sludge, was a large building which looked like an ancient temple of
some kind. A small bridge provided a route across the moat which in turn led to
wide steps leading up to two great supporting columns at the entrance. The whole building seemed to be made out of
melted plastic and corrugated iron, fused together in chaotic, jagged mess of
green, black, brown and white. It was all like some nightmarish metallic jungle
of toxic waste. The Bird thought it so horrible that all she could think to say
was: “Egh.”
“AH, I SEE YOU'RE ADMIRING MY HOME!” screeched The Stix happily,
“IMPRESSIVE EH?”
The Bird now had a chance to get a proper view of her captor and she
found it an even more upsetting experience than The
A shock of raven-black hair shot out from
the back of his head like porcupines quills. His legs were like those of a
spider, while his hands and feet dwarfed the rest of his body. Nails extruded
from his toes like squirming maggots from rotten plums and he was dressed in
what appeared to be a white industrial size refuse bag which occasionally
willowed out behind him like a synthetic sail, especially whenever gas escaped
from a nearby vent (or indeed himself).
The Little Blue Bird had never been surrounded by such a lack of beauty
before and she trembled with fear. She was surprised however, when The Stix
retreated from her, taking several jumps backwards like an over-sized insect.
“LOOK ABOVE YOU BIRD, The Stix pointed,” THIS WILL BE YOUR NEW HOME FOR
A WHILE!”
She realised she was standing on a cold iron panel. She also knew the
moment she turned her beak towards the whistling noise above her that something
nasty was on its way. The Little Bird just had time to shield her eyes with her
wings as a wrought iron cage came crashing down around her. The Stix rushed
over and thrust a key into the lock, turning it once. Satisfied that it was
secure, he began to winch her up, pulling with all his might at the copper
cable threaded through the top of the cage.
“QUARK! QUARK! “ squawked The Bird angrily, “Let me down!”
The Stix wheezed and grunted continuing to hoist her into the air, “IT'S
TIME TO GO UP INTHE WORLD!
“I said, let me down!”
“OH, NO, NO, NO!” said The Stix cheerfully, “I HAVE PLANS FOR YOU MY
LITTLE BUNDLE OF FUN!”
He tied the rope to a large piece of rusted piping jutting from the wall
and tugged on it a few times to make sure it was secure. Peering up at The
Little Bird, he folded his arms across his chest and nodded triumphantly.
“THE TUNNELLER WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP ANYMORE PLANETS WHILE I HAVE YOU
HERE TO KEEP ME COMPANY!”
The Bird flapped about her cage, “QUARK! QUARK! QUARK!” she cried
furiously.
“THAT'S RIGHT,” responded The Stix, “MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS YOU LIKE,
NO-ONE CAN HEAR YOU!”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked him, catching her breath.
The Stix tilted his head slightly and
stroked his quills. For a moment, all that could be heard was faint hum of
computers and the squeaking of the cage swinging in the air. He spoke slowly
and quietly. The Bird had to strain to hear his words.
“Call it my job description Bird. Without me, life would be oh so boring
now wouldn’t it? And without The Tunneller and the precious fire of The Golden
Seed you are part of MY world…and as such I can now replace that seed with
something more to my liking.”
The Stix paused for effect.
When I eat The Golden Seed The Energia is created. Nothing can change
that!” said The Bird defiantly.
“I WAS HOPING YOU’D SAY THAT!” screamed The Stix, spittle Flying from
the corners of his curling lips, “BECAUSE I HAVE THE ANSWER TO THAT LITTLE
RIDDLE RIGHT HERE IN THIS WONDERFUL HEAD OF MINE!”
He tapped the side of his greasy head to drive the point through. Then
he paused, realising he had tapped a little too hard. After blinking rapidly,
he quickly looked around him as if all the chaotic rubbish may be listening.
Almost whispering, he pointed at The Little Bird above him.
“I have created my own bird-seed which I’ll feed you in order to create
an alternative Energia,” he suddenly raised his voice, making The Little Bird
jump with fright, “ONE THAT WILL FILL THIS PLANET WITH DREAMS OF ONLY DEATH,
DIRT AND DISEASE!”
“Never!” shouted The Bird.
“THE DARK SEED WILL RULE THIS PLANET FOR ALL ETERNITY!”
“Look just hold it right there for second!” said The Bird firmly, poking
her beak through the bars, “This isn’t opera you know. “I mean I understand you
and I have a role to play here but I think you’re over stepping the mark
somewhat don’t you? Talk about hamming it up.”
“What do you mean?” replied the Stix his face falling.
The Bird leant closer to the bars. “You’re evil right?”
“Yes of course I am. What are you implying?”
“Only that I think you’ll be much more
effective if you understate your performance, you know speak more softly maybe
stare at me a little with a raised eyebrow here and there – ah, you haven’t got
any eyebrows. Well, a lip curl would do– can you do a lip curl?”
“Well I think so, I...LOOK DO YOU MIND?
I’M THE ONE CENTRE STAGE HERE IF THAT’S ALL RIGHT WITH YOU!”
“Fine, whatever, just a suggestion.”
“CAN WE CONTINUE?”
“Don’t mind me.”
“NOW…I…Where was I?” The Stix frowned and raised a bony finer to his
lower lip.
“You were about to laugh diabolically,” said The Bird.
“Ahhh, yes.”
The Stix cleared his throat and let out a
high pitched shriek of laughter and began to dance about, bits of his polythene
cloak fluttering in the musty air, while a sickly sheen formed across his
grey-white features. He danced through all the rubbish until he got to the edge
of the moat full of sludge. He bent down and with an old tin can, scooped up a
dollop of the foul-smelling mud and poured it down his throat in one giant
gulp!
From behind the bars of her cage The Bird winced with disgust and looked
away. The Stix drew a hand across his mouth and smacked his lips.
“Ahhhhhhhh” he said happily, “PRIME QUALITY FILTH!”
He hopped and skipped over the bridge towards The
I AM THE STIX,
I LIVE TO CONSUME,
MY HOME IS A
FOUL-SMELLING,
GANGRENOUS GLOOM,
I AM THE STIX AND I KNOW
THE KEY,
FOR HUMANITY'S ROLE IN CREATING ME!
TOXIC WASTE AND LIQUID
RUST SEEP BETWEEN YOUR TOES,
I'LL
AND GAS GOES UP YOUR
NOSE,
YOU'LL CUT YOURSELF ON
BARBED-WIRE SPIKES
AND CHOKE ON CHEMICAL
FUMES,
LOSE YOURSELF IN
SULPUROUS CLOUDS
AND SLIP ON ALGAE
BLOOMS,
I'LL MAKE YOU SWIM IN
LAKES OF OIL
THICK WITH FETID SCUM,
I'LL SERVE YOU COCKTAILS
OF BLEACH AND BILE
AND ANCIENT CHEWING GUM.
I AM THE STIX,
I LIVE TO CONSUME,
MY HOME IS A
FOUL-SMELLING,
GANGRENOUS GLOOM,
I AM THE STIX, I LIVE IN
YOUR MIND,
AND I THRIVE ON THE FEAR
OF WHAT YOU MIGHT FIND…
The Stix finished his song with his arms spread wide and his figure
casting a shadow over the length of the cavern.
The Little Bird cowered in her cage and drew her wings over her eyes.
She felt very sad and alone. Where was The Tunneller? Surely he would not leave
her here, to be left at the mercy of The Stix? As if answering her thoughts,
the creature appeared below, breathing heavily from his attempts at music and
verse. He craned his pointed head towards his captor and held up a tin can full
of toxic sludge, shining in the unnatural light.
“SOON IT WILL BE TIME FOR YOU TO TASTE THE POISONOUS PILL OF DARKNESS!
He laughed excitedly and began to tip the contents of the tin into his upturned
palm. The green-brown sludge oozed through his fingers and fizzed into the
rubbish strewn about his feet. He then placed his hands together, as if a small
creature was contained within.
Steam began to rise...
...his eyes glowed red...
...He frowned with concentration...
...sparks from hanging cables flew around him...
...plastic bags floated by like dying angels.
“BEHOOOOLD! he shrieked triumphantly, “I HAVE YOUR FIRST NUGGET OF NOXIOUS NIGHTMARES!”
Laughing delightedly, he thrust his hand towards The Bird whose beak
peeked nervously between the cold bars of her cage. There, nestled in his palm,
in a ring of rising steam, was an object which looked like ball of lead. It had a dull sheen to its surface and it
seemed to draw The Birds eyes.
“I'll never take it,” she croaked feebly, “Never.”
The Stix had already untied the rope and was busily winching the cage
down to his level, his green tongue flicking in and out of his mouth with the
effort. Soon the cage was amongst the rubbish again. The Stix stood with his
hands on his hips, looking down at the Little Blue bird with a menacing leer.
“SO!” He bent down, his face pressed against the bars. The Bird felt his
warm breath flow across her face. It smelt of a mixture rotten cabbages,
rancid and engine oil. “Are you ready to
sample the delights of my imagination contained here in this little pill?”
whispered The Stix, eyes gleaming, “I'm quite sure you'll find it to your
liking,” he paused and raised for what passed as eyebrows, “it may stick to the
roof of your beak initially, but I'm working on the mixture.” Raising a finger
to his chin he continued:
“I think I add too much toilet-cleaner to
it…Or it could be too much shampoo,”
The Stix nodded vigorously, “No, I think I
the problem could be too much white sugar, that always tends to give it a bitty
texture, and besides,” he tapped his nose with a crooked smile, “we have to
watch our waistlines now don't we?”
The Bird stared wide-eyed, at her captor. “You're mad,” she said
quietly.
The Stix's smile widened so sickeningly that The Bird thought she might
fall between the mountainous yellow teeth and be gone forever. The silence
continued for a second as if he were relishing the moment and then his voice
screeched forth like a car tyre on hair-pin bend:
“ENOUGH CHATTER! IT'S TIME YOU WERE FED!”
The Bird threw herself to the far side of the cage in a panic, “QUARK!
QUARK! QUARK!”
“NOW THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH OF THAT! COME TO UNCLE STIX LIKE A GOOD LITTLE
BIRD!
“QUARK! QUARK! QUARK!”
The Stix produced the key and placed it in the padlock:
CLICK-CLUNK!
He shoved his head through the door.
His shadow fell across the terrified Bird.
She tried to desperately squeeze between the bars.
He began to squash himself into the cage. The door closed behind him.
“Now then my friend it's time for your dinner,” said The Stix suddenly
very serious., his eyes gleaming.
The Bird looked around wildly. Where was The Tunneller? Where was he?
The Stix grabbed her and held her up to his
pointed face.
“OPEN WIDE!”
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe
FURTHER
ADVENTURES IN RUBBISH
The Tunneller was worried.
It was taking too long to find The Bird.
They had wheeled down a thousand tunnels and had not seen any sign of
them.
“So what do we do now?” piped The Butterfly happily.
“We keep looking,” He replied,
his eyes fixed on his beam of light piercing the darkness ahead.
“What does This Stix person want with The Bird anyway? Is he lonely?”
The Tunneller smiled, “He may well be.”
“So why can't he tag along with us then?”
“Well, it's not quite as simple as that Butterfly - he's not interested
in what he can give only what he can take – that’s his nature.
The Tunneller spun round a tight bend, “Hold on!”
“Wheeeeeee!” cried The Butterfly, barely clinging to her perch.
“Sorry about that - took that bend a little too fast. Perhaps we should
rest for a short while.”
Can we do that again? Can we?” said The Butterfly breathlessly, “I like
going too fast! !”
“Shhh, now. Sometimes going too fast means you miss things, then you
have to go back.”
The Tunneller switched off his miners lamp-light and he sat back against
the cool mottled wall.
“It's dark down here isn't?” whispered The Butterfly.
“Hmmm.”
The Tunneller closed his eyes and sank deep into himself. He felt the
tiniest breeze of The Butterfly's wings gently opening and closing on his nose.
...Opening and closing...
...Opening and closing..
He sensed that somehow the planet was guiding him through her system. He
could see the network of tunnels he had created within her from a great
distance, far away, and a pin-point of light flashed into view.
“That's where they were! I have the coordinates. I can see the path.”
He saw The Bird trapped in a cage and The Stix laughing horribly. He
held something in his hand...something dark...The Dark Seed. “Right!” he
shouted.
The Butterfly shot off his nose. “What? What? What?” she spluttered.
The Tunneller was immediately wide awake. “I know where she is! Let's
go!”
The light beam sprang to life.
The Butterfly clung on to the front of his helmet.
“Ready?”
“Yes, yes, very ready!”
They sped into the darkness, letting The Tunneller’s beam of light guide
them to the place where The Bird would be found.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee! cried The Butterfly joyfully, “go faster! FASTER!”
The Tunneller obliged.
But as they turned a particularly tight corner, The Butterfly lost her
grip and was immediately left behind in a cloud of dust, turning over and over
like a lone autumn leaf lost in a gale.
Once she had realised that she lost her carriage was lost, The Butterfly
settled on the tunnel ceiling and watched lamp light slowly recede into the
distance. Not wishing to miss out on
anything exciting, she kept the image of the light-beam in her mind and
launched herself into the coloured shadows, gradually fading like a flickering
orange flame in the dead of night.
Meanwhile, The Tunneller had been
concentrating so hard on finding The Bird that he hadn't realised that his
friend was missing. He had been busy talking to her as if she were still there.
“I think we are approaching the spot.”
He began to slow down, shining his lamp light towards the ground in
front of him. “Yes, we're very deep now, right in the heart of The Planet. Her
heart-beat is very faint. I can feel her breath in the tunnels. What about you
Butterfly? Butterfly?” he repeated, rolling his eyes upwards. When he did not
receive an answer he carefully placed a hand just above his lamp. “By The
Buckles of Orion’s Belt! She's gone!”
He looked behind him and scanned the length of the Tunnel. There was no
sign. She could have dropped off at any point. How silly of him to have given
her the same warning and yet he has allowed himself to be swept along by her
enthusiasm. But something told him that The Butterfly would find them. The Bird
was too important to waste any more time.
The Tunneller turned back to the ground ahead of him. Minute bits of
rubbish sparkled as the light coursed through the gloom. Presently, he felt The
Planet trying to tell him something. He closed his eyes...Was it to turn off
his light? Although puzzled, at the request he did so and immediately became
aware of very fine streams of hazy light coming from beneath his wheels. It was
here, below the surface! He had missed the Stix's lair during his tunnelling;
passing over the whole lair without even slightly penetrating the
interior. His attention was slipping.
The Tunneller's lamp-light came on once more and he gently turned the
lamp's dial so that it changed into a blue-edged laser beam. He directed it
towards the ground. Like melting chocolate the encrusted, rubbish-ridden soil
gradually gave way so that a strange yellow-orange light burst forth, painting
The Tunneller's shadow on the curved wall behind him.
Switching off the beam, he peeked through the hole he had made and
gasped at what he saw. He was looking down, from a great height, at a vast
cavern which was full of great mountains of rubbish. Around the domed ceiling
and walls hung a plastic jungle of cables, wires, lights and lead pipes from
every direction. The air was moist and unnaturally warm. Down below in the
centre was the
It was vital that he maintained the element of surprise by moving
swiftly but extremely carefully, keeping watch for the slightest hint of
danger.
The Tunneller could not get a full view of the cavern to his right. He
decided to try and push himself through the gap he had created. It was going to
be a dangerous exercise. He could see some of the cables had live wires at
their ends and he had no idea how secure this tangle of wire and rubber really
was. If he slipped it would be a very long way down.
Wrinkling his nose, as he smelt the sludge and melted plastic waft into
his nostrils, The Tunneller began to squeeze himself through a gap head first,
aware that at any moment his foothold might give way.
A piece of piping fell from his grasp and plummeted down into the
depths.
He froze, watching it turn over and over, waiting for the sound as it
hit the ground. After what seemed like an eternity, it fell harmlessly into the
sludge-filled moat with a loud: GLOP!
He waited a few moments to see if The Stix had heard. The
Holding onto a bunch of old telephone wires The Tunneller pulled himself
through the hole and onto a make-shift platform of criss-crossing cables. He
tested their strength before releasing his hold and crouched low to get a
better view. A large, ugly, rusted iron bird-cage was attached to the far
corner of the ceiling, gently turning. Something was inside, huddled up in one
corner.
Yes, he was sure he could see the dishevelled presence of The Bird.
She seemed very still and small with real misery in her posture.
How was he to get to her?
A long rope ran through a ring on top of the cage which was itself
attached to a ring in the overhanging rubbish. The rope reached all the way
down to the lower end of the wall, tied off into a collection of impenetrable
knots.
He didn't want to climb down into the cavern itself, as he'd be unfamiliar
with The Stix's territory and would therefore be at a disadvantage. The
quickest route would be to clamber over the rubbish-ridden ceiling in a direct
line, until he came within reach of the cage. He could retrieve The Bird and
return the way he came, slipping away before The Stix had time to notice. It
would not be the easiest approach but it was the best option he had.
Wiping sweat from his brow, The Tunneller planned his route as best he
could but part of him had decided it would be a fruitless exercise, as it was
impossible to know which path could be relied upon as secure and which would
send him hurtling headlong into disaster.
“It's now or never,” he muttered. Nevertheless he had to keep his eyes
wide open for the unexpected.
The Tunneller carefully crawled across a rusted steel girder towards an
opening in a collection of buckets, barrels and hub-caps. As it creaked and
whined under his weight, he stared through the jagged holes in the steel.
Ocassionally a mobile phone would send its cheery ring-tone into the void or a
he would catch the briefest crackle and hiss of a long forgotten radio station.
It was recognizable only as an irritation to The Tunneller.
It was a very, very long way down. He could see broken bottles and circuit
boards glinting in the artificial light like fallen stars, winking at him as
though they knew something he did not. Swallowing hard, he continued on his
way.
It was impossible to not make a noise as he travelled through the piles
of suspended rubbish. Whether it was a loud rustle from plastic bags or
the CLANG
of metal on metal or the CRUNCH of
cartons underfoot, it made The Tunneller stop and hold his breath, assuming
that The Stix would appear at any second. He was however, able to make steady
progress towards his goal.
Struggling through a wall of assorted debris, he popped his head through
to discover that the growth of rubbish had abruptly ceased, only to continue
several metres on. A whole section had, at some time collapsed and fallen away.
Bits of foil floated lazily into the void. It made him dizzy to watch their
descent, hoping he too would not be following them.
The Bird was still hunched up in the shadows of her cage. She had not
moved at all since he had first sighted her. This concerned him. She was less
than a few metres away, but there was nothing close enough to the cage for him
to be able to reach it safely. The gap was simply too big. Before he could
think further on this problem he had the curious sensation that he was moving.
Remaining absolutely still he realised that the whole mass of rubbish he had
been crawling through was shifting!
He desperately tried to move to the left, but he found that he was
enfolded in an envelope of ancient remains, as though the rubbish had closed in
on him as an intruder in a world of litter and left-overs. The overall
rummaging had loosened enough of the material for it to begin to give way, with
The Tunneller in tow. Each time he tried to move an arm or a leg he came closer
to the edge of the drop.
“By..The..Buckles..of..Orion's..Belt!” he whispered through gritted
teeth, “What now?”
He was sliding slowly over a car door, his legs beginning to dangle into
the abyss.
He grabbed at the handle.
It held fast.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief while
looking over his shoulder at the view below.
The Tunneller swallowed and closed his eyes. He never had had good head
for heights. Luckily, he could see no sign of The Stix. If he could just get
himself back to a safer position...
NO! He was slipping away again!
The door slid away from him and like melting snow on a mountain, the
rest of the section of rubbish swiftly followed.
“WHOOOOAAAAH!” cried The Tunneller as he flailed in the air.
In an instant he knew his only chance was to make a leap of faith and
hope he would find one of the cables which he knew were hanging all about him.
He launched himself into the air and immediately found two plastic bags
stuck to his face and a beer crate attached to one foot. As he fell, he felt
the panic rise and his hands searched for anything which might save him. Just
as he thought his last moments had come he felt something brush past the back
of his hand. He jerked his body around, the air whistling about his ears,
and tried to grip a cable with all the
will and strength he could muster, trying desperately to hold on, managing to
bring his other arm up to take the strain. It was like trying to grip a long
slimy eel which was intent on wriggling away.
He closed his eyes tightly waiting for the end of the cable to run
through his hands and the impact of the ground as it rushing up to meet him.
Then a powerful and painful shock jarred his hands, travelling through
his whole body. He held on determinedly, baring his teeth with the effort.
Slowly The Tunneller had come to a halt,
swinging gently from left to right like a pendulum in a grandfather clock.
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe
He opened his eyes and looked to see what he had been gripping so
tightly. It was a thick optics cable with a collection of ancient telephones
tangled up in mass along its length.
As he swung back and forth he realised that The Stix might arrive at any
moment. He glanced across at the
The Tunneller pulled himself up the cable and began to make it swing
back and forth once again. Before long, he was travelling in a very wide arc.
As it reached the highest point, he swung onto the next convenient plastic
creeper, like an urban Tarzan, going from one to the other, so that he crossed
the remainder of the synthetic jungle in just a few seconds.
However, as he reached for the last cable nearest to the cage he lost
his concentration and misjudged the distance, momentarily falling into the void
once again. His awareness was enough for him to grab hold of the edge of the
cage just in time.
The Little Bird shot into the air with surprise, squawking and puffing
up her feathers crossly, “Who's that? Who's there?” she snapped.
“It's me,” replied The Tunneller weakly from below, “I've come to free
you!”
“Who are you? What are you talking about?”
The Tunneller slowly pulled himself up so that he was peering through
the bars. He crouched on the side of the cage like a monkey. “See,” he panted,
“It's...it's me...”
The Bird turned her back on him. “I don't know who you are, I've never seen
you before! Get out of here! QUARK!”
The Tunneller stared in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
The Bird hopped to the other side of the cage. “I MEAN, I'd like you to
leave, you're disturbing me. SO SHOVE OFF!”
The Tunneller clenched his hands around the bars. He remembered The Dark
Seed. The Stix must have forced her to eat it. She had lost her identity, her
memory. It would not be long before The Stix would feed her more seeds until
she would imagine nothing but The Stix's dreams: Rivers of toxic sludge where
nothing would grow. The Energia would never appear while The Bird was in his
hands. He must give her The Golden Seed and return her to her proper state. He
noticed the padlock on the tiny door. The Stix would have the key.
“Are you still here!” exclaimed The Bird.
“Shhhh!” The Tunneller signalled with a hand.
“Don't ‘shhh’ me! Get off my
cage you disgusting creature! Who asked you to rescue me anyway? I don’t need
rescuing. I WANT to be here!”
“Don't you remember me Bird? I'm The Tunneller, we work together.”
“What drivel! I've never clapped eyes on you before. Now stop pestering
me or I’ll peck out your eyes!”
The Tunneller pressed his face against the bars. “Do you remember how
you came to be here?”
“Of course I do you idiot! Of course…I…I…do..” The Bird faltered and
gazed beyond her Master's face, “I...do…what…what do you mean…?”
“You remember Flying into the tunnels, preparing to dream about The
Energia...”
“The Energia?” The Bird looked up her eye-lids heavy.
“Yes...The Energia you make it real..”
“I'm not sure...I…Who are you?”
“The Tunneller..The Tunneller” he said, softly coaxing The Bird.
There was silence between them for a moment. The hum and crackle of
televisions and computer screens hung in the air.
“Tunneller?” whispered The Bird.
“That's right,” he smiled, his arms becoming tired.
The Bird frowned, trying to piece the puzzle together. “Where am I?” she
said at last.
“You were kidnapped by The Stix - this is his home, in the heart of The
Planet,” said The Tunneller stroking her beak through the bars.
“I...I can't remember..” said The Bird quietly.
“You will, you WILL. First, we must melt these bars with my miner's lamp
and get you out of this horrible prison.”
Before The Tunneller could do anything, the copper rope was suddenly
whizzing through the ring; the cage plummeting to the ground with terrific
speed.
“What's happening?” screeched
The Bird.
“I don't know! HOLD ON!”
It hit the ground with a loud metallic CRASH! The Tunneller was thrown clear while The Bird was stunned by
the shock of the impact and lay in a daze in one corner.
“WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE TUNNELLER! - I'VE BEEN EXPECTING YOU!”
The Tunneller had had the wind knocked out
of him and his vision was blurred. He was trying to catch his breath as The
Stix stood in front of him, wringing his hands gleefully.
“SO MUCH EFFORT FOR SO LITTLE GAIN! I'LL TRY AND REWARD YOU ALL THE
SAME! The Stix's laughter echoed in his ears, before everything faded and he
closed his eyes.
THE
The little orange flame that was The
Butterfly flickered through the darkness, following the patterns of The
Planet's breath.
Finally, just when she had begun to think
that she had lost her friends for good, she saw a gentle glow flowing around
the curve of the tunnel wall. Quickening her pace she turned the corner to find
a fountain of yellow/green light spilling out of a hole in the ground.
“Oh that's pretty,” she said and without a moment's hesitation flew into
its centre and disappeared from view.
While her tiny eyes became used to the strange glare of The Stix's
cavern, she tried to pick out The Tunneller and The Bird from the array of new
smells, sights and sounds riding on the warm air.
She noticed a movement to her left and saw a odd little being pulling on
a rope, raising a cage into the air which contained...hold on…it looked like
her friends! What were they doing in there? They didn't seem very happy.
She thought that the curious creature who
was laughing a lot must be The Stix. He looked blissfully happy. She decided to
investigate further.
The Stix was so busy hurling triumphant abuse at his captors and
congratulating himself on catching The Bird and The Tunneller, that he did not
notice The Butterfly coming to rest on the arm of an old chair, a little way up
from the bird-cage.
“WHAT A LOVELY ADDITION TO MY HUMBLE ABODE! The creature shrieked, “YOU
BOTH GIVE IT THAT...hmmm...CERTAIN SOMETHING!”
He gazed at the bird-cage with a fierce delight, feverishly wringing his
hands. The Tunneller and The Bird stared back defiantly.
“You'll never hold us here Stix,” said The Tunneller calmly.
The Stix folded his arms. The quills rose
on the back of his head like a many-tailed scorpion, “WRONG!” he shouted, “YOU
WILL BOTH TASTE THE DARK SEED AND BOTH LIVE UNDER IT'S SPELL!
“I don't think so,” replied The Tunneller quietly.
The Stix threw his head back and squealed with delight while stomping
loudly through the rubbish towards the
The door slammed causing the whole
As soon as The Stix had gone, The Butterfly flew over to the cage and
landed on the bars.
“Hi, what's going on?”
“Butterfly!” exclaimed The Tunneller, “I knew you’d get it here
eventually!”
“Who's that?” said The Bird indifferently.
“It's me, Butterfly, don't you remember?
“No, should I?”
“It's all right, she's had some memory loss, interrupted The Tunneller,
“but let's not worry about that now.” He shuffled over to the bars so that The
Butterfly was between his eyes. The Bird hopped onto her Master's foot and
regarded her suspiciously.
The Tunneller took a deep breath. “Right, we haven't got much time so
listen carefully. Usually, I would’ve simply melted the bars with my miner's
lamp but the lens broke during the fall and I have no spares with me.”
The Bird rolled her eyes and tutted.
“Anyway,” he continued, glaring at The Bird, “The Stix has the key to
this cage and I need you to try and retrieve it for me. You'll have to go to
the
“Sure. Sounds exciting.”
“It's also very dangerous. He'll certainly try to kill you if he sees
you, so remain hidden from view.”
“What's kill ?” said The
Butterfly.
“It means The Stix would want to take your life away if he saw you.”
She blinked rapidly. “where would he want to take it?”
The Bird rolled her eyes once again and decided to speed things up a
bit. “He wouldn’t take it anywhere. In other words, you'd be an ex-Butterfly, a
tiny pulped mess; nothing more than a smear on the sole of The Stix's foot,”
The Bird fixed The Butterfly with an icy
look, “and if you don't get a move on I'll give you a practical demonstration
of my own.”
“Yes, thank you Bird,” remarked The Tunneller, “I think she gets the idea.
You understand what you have to do?”
“Understood!”
He smiled and shifted his feet awkwardly. His body was beginning to ache
from being such a cramped position. “One more important thing Butterfly. The
Stix stole The Golden Seed from me and I'd like you to keep a look-out for it.
I'll try and get it back once I'm free.”
“Roger!” piped The Butterfly.
“Not wishing to put too much pressure on you,” said The Little Bird,
“but if you fail, this whole planet will continue to be one big ball of toxic
waste and us along with it. But don't let that worry you.”
“What's pressure ?”
“Never mind.” said The Tunneller quickly, frowning at The Bird, “off you
go now!”
“Right! See you in a while.”
“Good luck!” said The Bird, “You're going to need it.”
She gazed up at The Tunneller who was watching The Butterfly gradually
becoming a speck of orange set against the ominous facade of The
“Do you really think she can do it?”
“We can only hope. It’s the only way we are getting out of here.”
The Butterfly made her irregular way over
the bridge and across the moat full of sludge and stopped at the long line of
steps resting for a moment.
Staring up at The
They were made out of several iron drums
and enormous rubber tyres set on top of each other and wrapped around with a
variety of ancient matter including washing lines, computer consoles, copper
wire, beer-mats, plugs, leads and bubble-wrap, all fashioned into chaotic
patterns which The Butterfly found quite fascinating.
The edge of the roof consisted solely of shampoo bottles and spray cans.
Thousands of disposable razors, various oil ridden paint-pots and engine parts
made up the roof itself, all bound together with melted plastic and industrial
glue. The stench made The Butterfly's wings quiver.
“What a strange place this is!” she remarked and fluttered up the rest
of the steps. As she reached the
Adjusting her eyes to the gloom she found that she was in a long hallway
with vaulted ceilings. The hall seemed to be made out of compacted and crushed
slabs of twisted metal and broken plastic which twinkled in the half-light.
They were laid out like tiles on the floor and compressed together in the
walls. Straight ahead, there was an ornate archway and hanging down from the
top was a huge grimy, shower curtain, full of gaping holes.
The Butterfly journeyed down the length of
the hall and hovered for a while to look at a threadbare, bristle mat which had
the faded word WELCOME on it.
Confused, she continued on until she came to rest on the curtain. She looked
through one of the holes and her eyes widened with surprise. It seemed as
though the whole room was alive with movement.
The walls and ceiling were flickering with t.v. screens and coloured
lights from hi-fi-systems; escalators, without passengers, rose up and down in
an eternal cycle, answer-machines ran continuous messages and telephones
constantly rang. Neon signs flashed on and off, while irons heated and shot out
clouds of steam; car engines roared into life and then spluttered and faded
away; computer-game noises competed with
the sounds of pipes gurgling with stagnant water, with cameras flashing, fax
machines dialling; photocopiers copying and glowing green in darkened corners;
Dish-washer cycles clattered, tumble-driers hummed, washing-machine doors
periodically flew open, sending foam into the air to meet stray sparks from
exposed electrical cables.
In the centre of the room a huge spherical chandelier, made from
sparkling diamonds shone it's moon-light onto a lone leather arm chair.
Cigarette and cigar smoke rose in rings from within and a gnarled, pearly-white
hand clutched an enormous T.V. remote control which was poised, ready for
action on the arm of the chair.
The floor of the room was made up of an elaborate maze of mechanical
cogs, wheels, pistons and pulleys glinting under the changing lights. Several
clear pathways radiated out from the armchair like a spider's web. It was as
though the floor was a writhing mass of metallic serpents hissing and rattling
as they chased their own tails. All the while the air crackled with a cacophony
of useless sounds.
The Butterfly did not want to enter. She had a strange feeling that this
was not such an exciting adventure after all. The life of a rock now seemed
quite inviting. She didn’t like this new feeling. However, the fate of the
planet and her friends depended on her. She had to brave the ugliness, the
harsh sights and sounds and locate the key from The Stix. (And there was always
the chance of some nectar lying around.)
With a burst of enthusiasm The Butterfly popped through the hole in the
shower curtain and disappeared through a cloud of steam and smoke. She felt the
multitude of noises would be enough to send her spiralling into the mechanical
mayhem below her, but she kept to her path and crossed in a diagonal line from
the archway to the armchair, dodging the sparks and swinging lights, before
settling on the back of the chair. She carefully polished her eyeballs and
rubbed her legs to get rid of the dust and dirt she had collected. Trying not
to be distracted from her task, she took a deep breath and slowly edged
forward.
In front of her, sitting comfortably in the arm-chair was The Stix, his
shrunken head silhouetted against the several t.v. screens stacked up in a
tower in front of him.
Various ancient programmes from civilisations long since gone were
reflected in his vacant eyes. He was asleep yet his eyes were open. His brittle
mouth was stuffed with sodden cigars glowing orange-red and sending occasional
clouds of thick smoke wafting into the warm air.
The quills on the back of his head rose
and fell and his polythene cape crinkled noisily in the decaying leather of the
arm-chair.
A
huge explosion of gas suddenly erupted from The Stix which nearly sent The
Butterfly to the far end of the room. She clung weakly to the top of the chair.
The Stix bowed his head, tucking in his pointed chin so that it rested on his
chest, and let out another horrible belch.
The Butterfly's feelers drooped.
His head fell back and before long he was snoring loudly. A veil of
green smoke hung thinly over the creature like a radioactive cloud.
The Butterfly realised she had been
distracted by the thought of nectar and scolded herself. She had a mission to
fulfil.
She wasted no time and climbed onto The Stix's shoulder. She scanned his
front to see if she could see any sign of the key. There was nothing but a
shiny, plastic, bulbous belly, rising and falling like a balloon. The Butterfly
crossed behind The Stix's head to the other side, glancing at the folds of his
skin which contained rows of boils like red peas in rotten pods. She delicately
walked down the length of his arm and onto his knee. A shower of electrical
sparks sprayed over the The Stix's bare feet. He grunted. His nostrils flared,
displaying tendrils of debris vibrating like the strings of a guitar. Then, his
regular breathing returned. The Butterfly mopped her brow with a feeler. Then,
all of a sudden…she saw it.
Held between his thumb and forefinger was the key.
The Butterfly now had to find a way for The Stix to release it without
him knowing. Her feelers almost tied themselves in knots as she tried to think
what to do.
She flew down onto the leg and crawled along it's length until she was
an inch away from his hand. Somehow, she would have to try and get The Stix to
open his hand and release the key. She turned around and around in a tight
circle:
“What to do? What to do? ! !”
All of a sudden her feelers stood to attention. “I know!” she exclaimed
gleefully.
The Butterfly flew up onto the tip of The Stix's pointed nose. Her wings
purring, she slowly started to walk over the rough terrain, daubed with powered
foundation, that was The Stix's face. Over creases, carbuncles, crevices and
craters; through hairs as tough as
hogweed, she tickled his sickly features with the delicate tread of her
tiny feet. Soon, the muscles in his cheeks and jaw began to twitch and his
forehead wrinkled. She watched his hand move, but it was not the hand which
clasped the key.
She continued her travels by climbing up and down his nose.
The Stix sniffed.
She ran across his pock-marked forehead and circled his slippery
temples.
The Stix grunted.
She flew onto the back of the hand without the key and began to jump up
and down, fan her wings and generally try to irritate The Stix into moving the
other hand to relieve the itch she was hopefully creating.
It didn't seem as if it was having much effect.
The instant The Butterfly had this thought The Stix's hand opened and
reached towards her. She had a split second to launch herself into the air
before the palm came crashing down with a loud: SMACK!
The Stix curled his leathery lips and yawned.
“Phew!” she gasped, “That was exciting!”
Hanging on to the underside of the chair, she walked up onto the arm and
glanced at The Stix's upturned face. Good. He was still napping. She peered at
his lap. There had not been any sign of The Golden Seed but there was certainly
a chance to retrieve the Key. It was lying on his leg with the occasional
streak of light catching the metallic surface.
It was now or never.
The Butterfly flew across and wrapped her legs around the key and pulled
with all the strength she could muster. Feeling as if her feather-light legs
were about to be stretched like elastic, she rose into the air with the
precious key in tow.
Back through the shadows and sparks she journeyed, buffeted by smoke and
steam, lit by neon lights, while her fragile body bobbed up and down with the
terrible weight.
The Butterfly watched the mechanical
landscape passing her below and knew if she faltered now, she would fall into a
dark expanse of grinding machinery; to be squeezed between cogs and wheels or
flattened by levers and pistons. The Planet and her friends would be lost.
The archway came into view, with the shower curtain billowing like a
tattered sail on a ship-wreck. She made a direct line for one of the jagged
holes but suddenly remembered that it wouldn't be possible to make it through
with the key as well.
As luck would have it, a draught caught
the curtain and she quickly took her chance, passing through to the hall as
fast as her silken wings could carry her. But her strength was ebbing away with
every square foot she covered, the car-door entrance ahead seemed further away
than ever.
She tried to recall where she had entered. She was becoming more weary
by the second, with her legs weakening and becoming numb with the strain.
Before it slipped out of her grasp completely The Butterfly decided that she
she must rest for a while to regain a little of her energy. She fluttered
weakly to the floor, gently touching down like a stray piece of flotsam. CLINK! went the key and The Butterfly
collapsed on the floor, her tongue unrolling to it's fullest length.
As she rested, she recalled The Tunneller and The Bird, still locked up
in the cage. She thought of the Planet choking with rubbish and imagined
herself as the rock she had been and then as the beautiful Butterfly she now
was.
She didn't want to fail on her important mission so she decided to ask
for some extra help.
“Excuse me Planet, she whispered feebly, “give me some energy so that I
can help you. I want to help...The Tunneller...and The Bird...so that they can
make you...into the biggest...Butterfly of all.” She rolled up her tongue and
tilted her head upwards. “I’m asking for your help. Breathe some life into
Almost immediately, The Butterfly felt her wings brushed by a soft
breeze. She felt buoyant and lighter than ever before. Taking hold of the key
once again, it seemed less heavy though it was still an effort. Somehow her
resolve had strengthened nad she shot into the air.
A ray of light had suddenly appeared at
the top of the door, piercing the gloom of the hall, she flew towards it, discovering
it to be a large hole in the top of a fizzy drink can. With a squeal of delight
she shot through, taking the key with her.
Or so she thought.
As she passed through the hole the key caught on the rim and was
wrenched from The Butterfly's grasp. In an instant it plummeted downwards
hitting a broken clock face and skidding across the tiled floor, coming to rest
in a darkened corner. To make matters worse, the clock, as a result of the
impact, had begun to sound it's alarm, a shrill high-pitched ringing which was
surprisingly loud.
The Butterfly was desperate. “What to do? What to do? she cried, “This
isn't exciting! This isn't exciting!”
She darted back though the hole and fluttered frantically around
searching for the key. As she skimmed across the tiles and flitted from one
pile of rubbish to another, she wondered if the noise from the alarm-clock
would be loud enough to hear above the other strange noises in the
The Butterfly's question was about to answered as a shadowy figure
emerged behind the shower curtain.
ZZZZZZHHHHIIIIIP!
It was aggressively whipped aside. Standing under the arch with his
spiky head surrounded by a halo of green smoke was indeed The Stix. And he was not
best pleased.
“WELL, WHAT HAVE WE HERE?” he bellowed, A LIVE BUTTERFLY IN THE HOUSE.
WE CAN'T BE DOING WITH THAT NOW CAN WE?”
The Butterfly regarded The Stix with curiosity. He was even odder
looking when awake. She certainly preferred him when he was asleep. So, what
was she to do now? Remain calm? That's what a Tunneller would do. Would
remaining calm mean she would end up an ex-Butterfly? She wasn't sure. Perhaps
she better tread air for while, Butterfly around a bit and make sure she wasn't
caught. Yes, that's what she'd do. That would give her time to think.
As The Butterfly was busy pondering the situation, opening and shutting
her wings on the window of the door, The Stix was striding towards her. He
stopped and pulled out something from the wall.
“HERE WE ARE, JUST WHAT I NEED! BUTTERFLY-SPRAY FOR HOUSE-HOLD PESTS -
AND YOU CERTAINLY COME INTO THAT CATEGORY MY FRIEND!”
He rushed up to the door and pointed the can of Butterfly-spray an inch
away from The Butterfly. She turned full circle and stared at The Stix.
His eyes narrowed and yellow teeth burst through peeling lips. “BEFORE I
SPRAY YOU ALL OVER MY DOOR YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHERE MY KEY IS!”
“I'll be your friend if you like,” continued The Butterfly, “but I've
been told you don't make friends very easily.”
“WHAT?” said The Stix.
The Butterfly suddenly spied the key. She had to keep him talking. “You
seem to get on all right with rubbish though don't you?”
I LIKE RUBBISH!” he shouted triumphantly.
“Me too!”
“What?”
“Me too. I like rubbish as well. It can be quite interesting to look
at,” said The Butterfly cheerfully.
“It can?” said The Stix, raising the few hairs which passed for
eyebrows.
“Of course!”
The Stix looked troubled and his shoulders sagged. Suddenly, as if
waking from a dream he pushed The Butterfly-spray closer.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY CONFUSING ME? TELL ME WHERE THE KEY IS OR YOU'LL
END YOUR DAYS IN A CLOUD OF INSECTICIDE!
The Butterfly pointed with a leg to the corner where she thought the key
might be lying.
The Stix grinned.
“PREPARE TO BE DISSOLVED! he screamed and pressed down on the nozzle.
Unfortunately for The Stix, not being the brightest bulb on the planet, hadn't
realised that the spray nozzle was pointing away from The Butterfly and into
his own face.
PSSSSSSSHSHHHHHHHH! went the can.
“AAAAARRRRRRRRGH!” went The Stix.
The Butterfly and dived for the key.
The Stix, meanwhile, staggered around the
“NOOOOO!” yelled The Stix furiously, hurling the can of Butterfly-spray
as hard as he could at The Butterfly.
She dodged the missile easily, watching it sail into the one of the
windows of the door. The Butterfly saw her chance and took it,
fluttering lazily out of the jagged hole convieniently created.
The Stix, his eyes still watering, stared at his prey weaving it’s way
across the field of rubbish.
“HMMPH! You won’t get far.” He rushed back through the archway tearing
the shower curtain from it's rings and ran down the path and dived into his
leather arm-chair. “AHA!” He lunged at the remote control channel changer,
darted across the room, and opened another door fashioned out of a freezer lid.
He rushed up a spiral staircase towards the roof of the
Meanwhile, The Tunneller and The Bird had
been peering forlornly through the bars of the cage hoping for a glimpse of
their little friend.
“It’s no good. She’s only a Butterfly. She can’t hope to tackle the
likes of The Stix.” said The Bird miserably.
“Have faith Bird – she can do it.” replied The Tunneller.
The Bird was about to disagree when a flash of distant orange caught her
eye. “I don’t believe it! Look! Look! The Butterfly's got the key!” cried The
Bird, flapping her wings excitedly, “Come on Butterfly you can do it!”
The Tunneller grasped the cold bars of the cage and stared intently at
the emerging orange speck of The Butterfly as she travelled across the cavern
of rubbish.
“Its true....but It's not over yet,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean? It won't take her more than a minute to reach us.”
said The Bird, confused.
The Tunneller pointed. “Look…On the roof of The
The Bird squinted and her beak dropped open. “The Stix!” she whispered,
“What's he got in his hand?”
The Tunneller nodded grimly. “There's one thing I know about The Stix,
gadgets and gizmos are the second most important craving in his life.”
“What’s the first?” Asked The Bird.
“CONTROL, and that’s a remote to end all remotes his holding in his
hand.
“So what does that mean?” asked The Bird.
“It means The Butterfly has a few surprises ahead of him.”
They glanced at each other nervously.
“COME ON BUTTERFLY!” they shouted together.
The Stix cackled to himself and ran his hand through his quills in
anticipation.“We'll see how clever she is now!” he muttered, and he pressed one
of several coloured buttons.
Within a second, long jets of fire were escaping in perfect upward
streams from old gas-cookers, Bunsen burners and car exhausts all poking up
from the ground, from the walls, or amid the many mountains of assorted
rubbish. The cavern became alive with lines of fire.
The Butterfly was already tiring as she
hung onto the key and dipped and dived through the foul-smelling air. She was
caught totally by surprise as fire leapt up in all directions.
“Not exciting! Not exciting!” she cried, veering away from another flame
which shot out of a petrol-pump to her left.
She dropped to the right as a searing flame erupted overhead. What was
happening? Had the cavern been set on fire? If one of those flames came within
a few inches of her wings they would shrivel in an instant and all would be
lost. She concentrated on the cage with all the intensity she could muster. The
Tunneller and The Bird urged her on.
The Butterfly descended a few feet as a
wide stream of fire exploded out of an
industrial pipe lodged in the wall.
She continued her flight towards the centre of the cavern, away from the
walls where there was less chance of her being cooked. As she moved forward,
she glanced below her and just had time to catch sight of a huge rusty car
exhaust protruding from a pile of radioactive drums.
She saw a spark and then a massive fountain of flame flew up towards
her. A satellite cable was hanging nearby and she dived through a hole in its
side. It was luckily big enough for
herself and the key. Fire ran up the cable like the legs of an orange octopus.
“Too Hot! Too hot!” she whispered nervously as the searing heat worked
it's way through the cable lining.
Luckliy, as quickly as the fire had sprung into the air it returned to
its source in similar fashion. The Butterfly did not hang around.
Yet another line of yellow and orange came in diagonally from below,
bursting forth from a micro-wave oven. She felt the heat on her wings and
turned full circle to avoid it.
“Not exciting! Not exciting!” she yelled, climbing higher.
Now slightly confused as to where she was, The Butterfly ended up
travelling in the wrong direction.
Seeing that she was going back towards the
She avoided another flame from above and turned around.
“Oops!”
She found the cage in her sights once more and pushed onwards.
The Stix cursed loudly and gripped the remote control more tightly. He
jabbed at another button and then another and another until his finger was a
blur, and all the coloured buttons had been pressed.
“NOW FEEL THE MIGHT OF THE STIX!” he screeched, shaking his fist in the
air and nearly toppling from the roof.
Immediately the cavern was full of manic movement. It was as though all
the rubbish had been awakened. The Butterfly had become embroiled in a
desperate journey for her life. She gripped the key tighter and tried to
concentrate on the cage. She was determined to reach her friends.
On she ventured, flying through a gap in a waterfall of weed-killer,
zigzagging thorough great globs of paint, cascading from the domed ceiling like
fresh whipped cream.
WHIZZZZZZZ...BANG!' golf balls
shot out from lead pipes.
PHFOOOOOOHH...CLONK!'
spark-plugs flew from car engines.
CLANG!..SHHHWWWIIINNNG...CHUNK!'
CLANG!..SHHHWWWIIINNNG...CHUNK!'
Hundreds of pedal-bins flipped open, sending ancient beef-burgers
sailing through the air.
The Butterfly ducked and dived under the attack, while all manner of
refuse began to fall from the upper reaches of the cavern.
WHOOOOSH!' A large mattress
passed in front of her, nearly drawing her down in it's slip-stream.
ZZZZIIING!' ZZZZIIING!'
ZZZZIIING!' ZZZZIIING!'
Thousands of compact-discs and credit cards sliced through the air like
cut glass.
“Not exciting!” yelped The Butterfly, “Help!”
Without thinking, she banked to the right and weaved in and out of
swaying light bulbs which exploded as she passed them, spraying shards of glass
into the smoke-filled air.
She felt one of her wings nicked and the key slipped.
“Mustn't fail now! Can't fail now!” she cried.
Globs of nuclear waste glowing like green fire oozed from barrels and
dropped all about her.
“Hold on!” yelled The Bird, clinging to the bars.
“Not much further!” bellowed The Tunneller wide eyed.
“So tired...very tired...” whispered The Butterfly. The cage was very
near now.
But the key fell.
The Butterfly watched it spinning slowly all the way to the ground.
The Tunneller froze.
The Bird's beak fell open.
The Stix's eyes gleamed. He whipped out a telescope and zoomed in on the
action while producing a deep-throated cackle.
The Butterfly was already fluttering down to
where the key was resting. Great lumps of rubbish were thundering into the
ground all about her and her little body shook with the force. Wasting no time,
she tried to pick up the key but it was held fast by a glob of chewing gum
sticky from the heat. She heaved and pulled until finally she began to fly
weakly upwards once again, her strength ebbing away by the second. Great
tendrils of gum were still attached to the key threatening to wrap themselves
around her delicate legs.
The Stix pressed another red button.
The Butterfly gained some more height and was only a several feet away
from the bird-cage, when a huge rumble shook the cavern. An avalanche of
rubbish was falling slowly from all sides. The Butterfly had no-where to go.
“Butterfly! LOOK OUT! shouted The Tunneller.
“QUAAARK!” screeched The Bird.
Among a shower of trainers, shop-mannequins, watches and tyres came a
huge septic-oil tank, hurtling through the air in a cloud of black rain. The
Butterfly only had time to see it's shadow looming before she was pinned, like
the petals of a flower to it's iron base, plummeting with the tank towards the
cavern floor.
Her friends watched her descent with horror.
KAAAABOOOOOOOOMMMMM!'
There was an eerie silence for a few moments. The hum and crackle of
T.V.s gradually began to break through the shock and then the manic laugh of
The Stix began reaching a crescendo of triumphant delight.
The Little Bird sat down heavily in the cage.
“Well, that's it. We've had it.” she said matter-of-factly, “How could we have
expected her to succeed - she was only an ex-rock with wings.”
The Tunneller's hands slipped from the bars and he lowered his head.
“We're doomed,” continued The Bird, “and so is The Planet.”
Her Master turned around and regarded his companion calmly. “Wait a
while lady of the lamp, just wait a while,” he said.
The Stix was punching the air and whooping like a monkey, leaping about
the roof dancing to some strange inner melody.
His white cape rustled an crackled in the breezes and his bulbous belly
wobbled like a freshly whipped blancmange. “I'M THE KING OF THE CAAAASTLE! I'M
THE KING OF THE CAAAASTLE!” He screamed, “TIME TO COLLECT MY KEEEEY!”
He disappeared from the roof, reappearing at the
“YEOW! OUCH! OOOH! Let me..OW!...through!”
And so this went on, while The Tunneller continued to stare determinedly
at the septic-oil tank which lay far below them. Something was telling him not
to give up hope that they would be free.
“There's no point hoping,” muttered The Bird miserably, “The Butterfly
will be as flat as five-penny-piece by now.”
The Tunneller's eyes narrowed as he stared at the tank.
The Bird hopped around in an
ever-decreasing circle. “You'll have to scrap her off with a wire brush after
an impact like that.”
The tank stood motionless. Bits of rubbish still fell from above; the
odd flame danced amongst the chaos, while chemicals bubbled and fizzed in
hidden pools. The Stix thrashed about making little head-way over the clutter.
Then all at once, The Tunneller's face brightened, “There! Look, Bird
LOOK!” he yelled excitedly.
She shuffled around on her tail feathers and squinted in the direction
her Master was pointing. In a second, The Bird was standing bolt up-right.
“BUTTERFLY!” she cried.
Sure enough, The Butterfly was fluttering happily, but wearily towards
them - with the key.
As The Stix was still busy clambering over an old sofa he saw The
Butterfly journeying upwards to meet her friends in the bird-cage above. He
turned a deep scarlet, then to a rather delicate blue as he boiled with
rage.
“PHFFRRRAAAHHGG!” was all he could say, as he fell off the sofa and
straight into a car boot which slammed shut with a resounding ‘CHUNK’!
The Butterfly finally reached the cage and collapsed. Her tongue
unrolled and her tiny body lay heaving with exhaustion.
“You did it Butterfly! You really did it! QUARK! QUARK!”
“Yes...yes, I did..didn't I?” she replied weakly. Then she lay quite
still.
The Tunneller bent down and peered at the tiny form. “She’s going.”
“What? What do you mean? Going where?”
“There’s only so much a Butterfly can take. She wasn’t designed for
this. She’ll change into something new.”
“You mean she’s hit the final home run?”
He gently picked her up. His helmet opened. “You'll be safe in here my
little one, I think you could do with a rest don't you?”
The Bird lowered her beak and her eyes began to water. “Thank you
Butterfly.” She said quietly.
He placed her in his head and the helmet gently closed over her.
He looked at The Bird solemnly. “I don’t often see you shed a tear.”
“I feel ashamed. That pea-brain sacrificed her 3 day existence for us.”
The Tunneller rasied The Bird’s beak with a finger. “She made a choice
to help us and she fulfilled that choice above and beyond the call of duty. We
can honour her courage by doing what we came here to DO.” “Now let's get out of here while The Stix is
occupied.”
“I'm with you all the way.”
He grabbed the key and placed it in the padlock and with one swift turn
the door swung open creaking on its rusting hinges. The Little Blue Bird shot
out and flew around the cavern in long wide arcs.
The Tunneller unfolded himself from the cage. It was good to be able
move about with some freedom at last! He jumped onto one of the many hanging
telephone wires and hung there for a moment, trying to see where he had
entered. Most of the rubbish had fallen away to leave a fresh layer exposed. It
was almost impossible to see where the original hole was. He would have to get
The Bird to search for it. He scanned the cavern and saw her circling a rack of
photocopiers at the far wall.
“Stretch your wings but don't stray too far! shouted The Tunneller,
“It's still dangerous and The Stix could free himself at any moment!”
The Stix was indeed trying furiously to escape from his own rubbish,
gnashing his teeth and beating his fists from inside the car boot. He knew his
captors were escaping and he wasn't about to let that happen. The latch was
gradually loosening...a few more kicks with his feet and he would be free.
“One...two...three!”
The boot door flew open and The Stix fell out into a pile of old and tin
cans and toilet seats. After some crashing around, he stood up breathing
heavily, clouds of steam rising from his head. In a half-crouch he swung around
wildly and immediately saw The Tunneller hanging from a cable way up above. The
Stix ran his tongue over his teeth and quickly ran up a line of tyres until he
stood on the top of some old monitors which served as a suitable platform for
his continuing rant.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK I HAVE HERE?” He thrust his hand into the folds of
his bin liner and rummaged around. “A POWDER-BOX? TICKETS FOR THE OPERA? OR A
SIGNED PHOTOGRAPH OF YOURS TRULY?”
He turned his back on The Tunneller, then suddenly whipped around to
thrust a red, velvet pouch into the air, “OR PERHAPS SOMETHING YOU WILL
RECOGNISE AS THE GOLDEN SEED!”
The Tunneller slid down his cable a few feet. “Hand it back Stix - don't
handle something you cannot control!” he voiced sternly.
“I REALLY DON'T THINK YOU'RE IN THE POSITION TO BARGAIN DO YOU?” snarled The Stix.
He produced a small plastic bag which he had been holding behind his
back. This too, he held up in the air. It was full of thousands of
lead-coloured pills, which spilled out of the sides.
“BEHOLD, THE DARK SEED ON MY LEFT!” The Stix winked and grinned,
“BEHOLD! THE GOLDEN SEED ON MY RIGHT!” He lowered his voice menacingly, “Now,
which do think deserves to be consumed?”
The Tunneller swung onto another cable and another. The Stix watched him
with gleaming yellow eyes. A strand of saliva hung from his pointed chin.
“WELL? ANSWER MY QUESTION TARZAN?” He moved his arms up and down as
though he were a set of scales.
“You know my answer!” shouted The Tunneller, “The Bird will have The
Golden Seed!”
The Stix laughed. “REALLY?” His eyes became slits and his nose buckled
up as his mouth drew into a grimace, “DON'T...BE...SO...SURE! With that, The Stix hurled the little red
pouch full of The Golden Seed towards the moat full of toxic sludge. It sailed
gracefully into the air as if in slow-motion…
...falling down...
...down...down...
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe 2003
The Stix enjoyed watching the The Tunneller's worried eyes as he, in
turn followed it’s fateful course, falling further and further towards the all
consuming sludge...
Then suddenly – SNOP!
It was gathered up in one fell swoop by The Little Blue Bird soaring
through the air.
The Stix's jaw dropped open in disbelief.
The Bird released the red pouch into the outstretched hand of The
Tunneller.
“BULLS-EYE!” she cried.
The Stix began to pull out great tufts of the little hair that he had
while jumping up and down on the spot.
The Bird perched on a wire above her Master's head. “Such language!” she
whispered..
“I blame the parents,” replied The Tunneller with a wry smile, “NOW
let's go eh? We've got work to do!”
He opened his helmet once again and the little perch rose up from
within. The Bird climbed aboard and exercised her wings until they were heading
upwards towards the centre of the cavern.
The Tunneller pointed ahead, “I think the entry point might be touch
more to the south.”
They flew along the ceiling past all the many protrusions of rubbish
until -
“I see it.” said The Bird. The Tunneller jabbed his thumb upwards.
And up they went, rising cleanly through the hole.
They were free.
Almost.
***
The Stix stood alone amongst the refuse.
Light bulbs exploded, towers of t.v. screens
flickered and died, chemicals dripped down the walls, toxic mists swirled in
spirals.
He inhaled deeply, calmly pulling out his remote control from an inside
pocket. He pressed a button and looked upwards. From the depths of the ceiling
came a strange wooden handle attached to an ever-extending chain. It descended
into the cavern and abruptly stopped just above The Stix's head.
He threw away the remote and rubbed his hands together. “Did they really
think I would let them go?” He stared at the gently swinging chain. The Stix
was motionless, as if hypnotized.
Suddenly, he screamed:
“IT’S TIME TO LET LOOSE THE RIVER STIX!
With one huge bound he reached for the chain, his spindly legs and huge
feet, up by his ears. He slid down so that his hands came to rest on the wooden
handle. While he swung back and forth, hundreds of plastic pipes protruded from
the cavern walls and ceiling, dislodging more rubbish and debris. A dark,
fluorescent green and brown sludge began to pour from the pipes in great
torrents, bubbling and steaming like molten magma. The sludge in the moat
surrounding The
The Cavern was filling up fast with the sludge. It would not be long
before it burst through into the surrounding channels laid by The Tunneller.
“I'LL USE YOUR TUNNELS TO FLOOD THE PLANET WITH POISON FROM MILLIONS OF
YEARS MR. TUNNELLER!” shrieked The Stix, veins standing out all over his face
like a bad rash, “NOTHING WILL SAVE YOU OR THE PLANET NOW!...NOT EVEN THE
ENERGIA!” DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEEEEAAAARRR?!”
THE RIVER
STIX
“What was that?” said The Bird, somewhat
startled.
The Tunneller halted and sighed. “It's
what I was afraid The Stix might resort to. We're going to have to move quickly
now.”
The Tunneller had made reasonable progress through the labyrinth of
tunnels, even though they had only the weakest light to navigate. His broken
lamp could only illuminate less than a few feet ahead of them.
But they both had excellent night-vision.
Vision however, was the least of their problems. If The Bird did not have
sufficient time to change into The Energia then all would be lost.
“Why do I get the sensation something horrible is brewing…” remarked The
Bird.
The Tunneller nodded, “The Stix has let loose all the toxic sludge which
has collected in the heart of The Planet and which he has been feeding on since
he came into being. It represent a powerful force indeed. We have no time to
lose!”
“So, what do we do?”
The Tunneller produced the red pouch from his top pocket and undid the
cord. “Here, open your beak!”
The Bird hopped forward eagerly. The Golden Seed sparkled in the
darkness. Twelve seeds toppled onto The Bird's tongue. She gulped and belched
cheerfully.
“You can travel through the tunnels faster than me, “The Tunneller
continued, “Go on ahead and find a place on the far side of The Planet so that
you can bring forth The Energia. Quickly now!”
“What about you?”
“I'll take the most direct route I can find to the surface. Go now Bird,
fly like the wind!”
“I'll do my best.”
The Bird cast a concerned eye at her Master who waved her on. She
hopped, skipped and jumped into the air and The Tunneller watched her disappear
into the gloom once again.
He heard the distant rumble of the toxic
river of sludge which would now be crashing through the tunnels at a terrifying
speed. He must be swift but sure. Making certain his wheels were secure he set
off down the tunnel, his lamp growing weaker by the minute. It was going to be
difficult to see, but experience would stand him in good stead.
All he could hear was the cold dark, silence interrupted by the
squeaking of his wheels. He was looking for an upward shaft or channel he could
escape into which would take him right up to the surface.
He wanted to find a suitable one which
would take him back to the original coordinates from which he first began to
tunnel. If his navigational sense was working properly he had quite a way to
go.
As he turned yet another corner the once distant rumble seemed much
louder now. He stopped at an intersection. As he rested on his wheels and
listened intently, he came to the frightening conclusion that he wasn't
actually sure where the rumble was coming from. Had the toxic river already
over-taken him, to somehow flow through all the many channels faster than he
had expected and was now doubling back on itself? Was it ahead of him or
flowing along side, still some distance away?
If that was so, which tunnel should he
take? He could be travelling straight into the raging torrent where he would be
dashed and dissolved to bits in a sea of toxic emotion.
“No! By the Buckles of Orion's Belt, that was not going to happen” he
said aloud.
He had to think and think clearly.
Which tunnel would be the safest option and in line with his navigational
sense? One thing was for sure, if he waited any longer the river would make the
decision for him.
He wheeled forward then stopped. His instincts told him to go to the
right yet his logic told him to go to the left. A small rock suddenly dislodged
itself from the mouth of a tunnel that lay between the left and the right. That
was all the sign he needed. The Tunneller sped off into one of his many
creations.
Not more than a minute passed and a huge wave of liquid darkness crashed
onto the spot where The Tuneller had once been, becoming a writhing mass of
foam, mud and metal. The walls of the tunnels hissed and fizzed as the river
rose to the top and rushed and roared through all the tunnels like a predator
searching for its prey. It would gain on The Tunneller every second that
passed.
***
The Little Blue Bird had flown as fast as she was able, streaking
through the tunnels like a feathered bullet.
She had thought of the courage of The Butterfly and was not about to
risk all her efforts. She had thought her maddeningly irritating however, and
that as insects go, she would probably have been rather tasty, but that wasn't
important. She had rescued The Tunneller and herself from The Stix. Now it was
up to her to show the same courage and introduce The Energia to the Planet so
that she could dream life back again should she so wish.
At least, that was the theory.
As she rode on The Planet's breath she couldn't help feeling worried
about The Tunneller. She had worked with him many times and had answered the
call of many planets for assistance but never had she come up against The Stix
in such a powerful form.
Perhaps this was a special planet in some way.
She cast aside all doubts before slowing down and finally coming to a
halt. Standing in a pool of diffused
light as though appearing on stage to a waiting audience, The Bird listened for
the rumble of the River Stix. There was only the sound of her breathing. Hoping
dearly that she had allowed enough time, she closed her eyes and tried to calm
herself. Soon, she began to spin.
It was not long before the dream of The
Energia began…
***
The
Bird was rushing through the tunnels again. On and on she journeyed, gaining
speed at every turn, becoming a blur as she tore past the rounded walls like a
bright blue feathered rocket. The Finch was becoming the Falcon, soaring
through occasional pools of day-light, creating whirling clouds of dust and
gravel in her wake. She entered the collection of tunnels at the centre of The
Planet's core, where The Stix's lair used to be, where once the Planet's heart
beat loud and strong and echoed in every human heart. It was here that she
began to transform…
Her feathers quivered from the rushing
air, they grew lighter in shade until they became as white as mountain snow.
Her beak grew longer and wider, as did her head and neck, until her whole body
had the shape and grace of a Swan. But only for an instant, as The Bird was
changing all the time. She flew on, riding the air through countless channels,
around the tightest bends and sharpest corners. The feathers of The Bird
flashed with a blue sun-light and she arched her head proudly, causing fine
crests of glittering plumage to rain down throughout her tail, as though a
rushing river of gold were flowing through her veins.
From a Falcon to a
She had become the
Energia: a river of light-filled creation flowing through all of the many
channels within the planet; a flood of energy which whirled, raced and swirled,
crashing through the darkness; rising up
to the beacons of daylight which had once been reflected in the Little
Bird's beady, black eyes.
***
The Tunneller was travelling down one of
the longest tunnels he had created, nearing the channel which would lead him
straight up, out of the underworld.
He saw a hazy pool of light towards the end, as it curved to the left.
The rumble of the toxic river was getting very loud. He hoped it was The
Energia. He could feel the vibrations in his body. The whole Planet seemed to
be shaking.
A new, high-pitched roar suddenly invaded his ears and his heart skipped
a beat. He glanced behind him and could not prevent a gasp of shock escaping
from his mouth. The river of toxic sludge had appeared at the far end of the
tunnel; a writhing storm of foaming black slime, the worst of negative emotion
bursting forth with a ferocious poisonous energy. He took another nervous
glimpse and saw a figure at the front of this terrible liquid-locomotive. It
was The Stix, his yellow eyes like molten lead, glowing with a cruel intensity.
He was crouching on a long surf-board, riding on its wave with his black
plastic cape streaming out behind him. He could just hear his faint laughter
carried on the air being forced in front of him.
The Tunneller increased his speed, his knees straining as he shot over
the bumps and occasional pot-holes in the ground. He knew he would be enveloped
by the river in less than a minute.
He had to get to the channel which led up to the sky.
The River Stix was closing in.
Come on...he could do it..he could beat it..
The Stix sensed victory and crouched low on his surf-board.
The Tunneller's wheels spun, kicking up gravel and debris..
The River roared in his ears..
The Stix shouted his name through the noise: “Oooh...Tunneller..Coo-ee...can...you...see me...?”
He gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face.
“Heeeloooooo...”
The pool of light was so close now..
“Come..to..Stix..”
He could feel the icy breeze from the river clutching at his heels..
Slithering streams of sludge coursed across the walls alongside him…
“I'm almost there…”
The desire to look behind him was over-powering, but he knew if he did,
he would be gone.
...hold on..just a few more feet..
Then everything seemed to happen in slow-motion.
The Tunneller skidded to a halt into the hazy pool of light and in one
movement pulled himself up into the channel. He had the merest flash of The
Stix as he bore down on him atop the crest of the chemical wave, teeth
gnashing, his cloak now black, flapping like a giant bat's wing.
With a deafening roar The Stix and his toxic river surged past him.
The Tunneller flew up the channel towards the day-light as fast as he
could, avoiding by a whisker the splashes from the river which fizzed and
frothed angrily below.
The Stix shrieked in anguish and looked back behind him. The Tunneller
had escaped yet again. When he turned around he saw a blinding light, a golden
river of white fire ahead of him.
It could only be The Energia.
He shielded his eyes, losing his balance on the board.
The River Stix and the golden fire were going to meet. The Stix
whimpered loudly before everything was enveloped by an explosion of light and
dark.
***
The Tunneller had reached the top and was
still squinting painfully from all the brightness. He leaned over the entrance
to the tunnel. “What's The Bird doing
down there?” he said aloud. He peered into the gloom. “Well, she would have changed into the
Energia by now...I only hope she was in time.”
Suddenly, he froze and stared more intently. He focused his large round
eyes into the murk below. He had heard something. It was as though the whole
land was holding it's breath.
A thunderous rumble came from deep below the surface, spreading out
across the land. Even the mountains on the horizon seemed to be shaking. The
many tunnels were acting as funnels of sound. It became so intense that The
Tunneller’s placed his hands over his ears. It became louder and louder with
every passing second.
He threw himself to one side just in time before:
WHOOOOOSH!
The Energia exploded out of the tunnel and into the sky, like a huge
stream of sun-filled water, bringing with it a vast collection of ancient
rubbish.
“Whew!” he breathed, “that was too close for comfort!” He looked up at the
tower of light-filled energy willowing gracefully above him.
The low rumble had been replaced by a high-pitched hush, as if distant oceans were whispering to the circling winds.
All the while, ancient layers of rubbish were being drawn up to the top and
sent spinning into the sky with fantastic force.
WHOOOSHHH!
And a second
“Yippee!” Shrieked The Tunneller clapping his hands with glee.
WHOOOSHHH!
A third shot into the sky!
WHOOOSHHH!
A fourth!
WHOOOSHHH!
WHOOOSHHH!
WHOOOSHHH!
Then there were eight, ten, fifteen, thirty, eighty, one hundred! Still
the numbers rose until every one of the tunnels were channelling the Energia,
drawing the collected rubbish out of the planet and into the sky.
From all directions towers of light soared upwards. The land was ablaze
with the force of a million suns, alive with the hush of waiting seas.
The Tunneller lay on his back and watched
the rubbish of millions of years gather in gigantic clusters beneath the
darkening clouds. Great explosions of refuse spattered the sky, merging into a
heavy mass, spreading out to the horizon, touching the tops of watching
mountains. The fragments of metal caught the light from the numerous towers of
Energia, making it seem like a hanging cloak of smoky-quartz.
He stretched and yawned noisily,“I do so dislike untidy skies!” he
exclaimed, “It's time we sorted this mess out!”
He adjusted his helmet and looked up towards the sky. A jet of
blue-white light darted forth, passing through the rubbish and into the
swirling clouds beyond. Then it was gone.
“That should do it. A small greeting to the Sun.”
Before long, a space in the clouds had formed, exactly where The
Tunneller's beam of light had disappeared. As the clouds slowly parted, the sun
shone through with all its might and like a vast conveyor-belt, it drew the
huge, age-old mass of rubbish into its centre, casting great shadows on the
ground and passing the towers of Energia, all of whom bowed respectfully. All
that could be heard was the squeak
and pop of fusing plastic; the
grinding waves of rusted metal and shimmering currents of glass.
Patches of deep blue could now be seen as the rubbish retreated. Before
The Tunneller had turned full circle, most of the floating world of waste had
gone; only a few remains lingered like wind-blown litter on a calm, clear
sea.
The sun rose high and the last of the grey clouds departed, but not
before they had shed their quantity of rain. The land sighed as fresh water hit
the dry, brittle planet. The air was alive with moisture and the crackle of
electricity as lightening streaked across the new-born sky. Triumphant thunder
clapped with approval.
The dazzling towers of the Energia were returning to the tunnels,
sinking into the fresh, moisture-laden soil, giving life to new forms of
growth. In their place stood huge trees of every kind, from the elders of Oak
to the silver-dressed Birch.
The tunnels were soon filled with their web
of roots and wave upon wave of greenery covered the land like an organic quilt
sewn with many shades of colours. Insects and a variety of small animals came
into being from the rocks and pebbles that once lay in the dust. They buzzed,
flew, hopped and scuttled into their paths of life, startled by their new
forms.
Flowers sprinkled hillsides and hidden
groves; running brooks sparkled in the sun and the purple haze of mountains
looked on with pride. From space, the Planet had been transformed. From an ugly
mass of compacted rubbish, it was now a ball of brightest blue marble, painted
with the whitest wind-swept clouds, where the cycle of seasons and coming tides
danced to the rhythm of the planet's breath.
***
A lone dust-bin had fallen from the departing rubbish. It lay on it's
side, half hidden in the long meadow grass. There came a dull thud thud thud from within, before two
large ugly feet abruptly appeared causing the lid to shoot into the air like a
flying saucer.
A shadow crept from the dust-bin as swiftly as quick-silver and was
gone, slithering through the grass…watching and waiting.
***
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe 2003
THE SLEEPERS
AWAKE
He walked down the hill and made his way
across a lush meadow teeming with new life.
The crickets and grass-hoppers jumped out
of his path and the tiny spiders held fast to their silver webs. He leapt over
a sparkling stream, waded through a crop of blue-bells and scrambled down a
small hill until he was at the edge of a small valley which had emerged during
the transformation. There, in its centre lay a circle of grand old stones which
were almost as old as The Planet itself.
“Ah, that's what I'm looking for,” voiced The Tunneller, with his hands
on his hips, “now we need to wake the Sleepers, then we should see this planet
finding her rhythm again.”
He trudged through the sweet-smelling wet grass until he was in the
centre of the circle. The long, lichen-covered stones loomed over him. He sat
down on a mossy rock and listened.
“Now where has she got to?” He said frowning.
Listening intently, all he could hear were the sounds of other birds in
the nearby forest and gentle gurgling of hidden streams.
Then suddenly, he picked up on a noise coming from directly above him.
“ZZZZZZZ”.....”ZZZZZZZZ”
“Ah,” said The Tunneller grinning, “ I recognize that snoring anywhere.”
On top of one of the huge stones the Bird
was happily sleeping, her little wings stretched out to capture the warmth of
the sun.
“Ahem!” coughed The Tunneller.
“ZZZZZZZ...”
“AHEM!”
There was a pause. She turned onto her side, obviously enjoying a
dream..
“ZZZZZZZ...”
“Excuse me!”
The Bird opened her eyes blearily and looked down at her Master who had
folded his arms and was tapping his large white foot.
“Well?”
“What?” replied The Bird.
The Tunneller rolled his eyes. “Are you going to come down, or are you
staying up there all day?”
She pulled a face. “I am a tad weary. The Energia does take it out of
you.”
“The Tunneller smiled. “There'll be plenty of time for rest when we've
finished our work, now come down here and help with the next phase.”
“Work, work, work that's all I ever do,” muttered The Bird as she flew
onto The Tunneller's outstretched hand.
“You haven’t forgotten a certain singular being that allowed us to
continue the work I hope.”
“THAT is your purpose. And I hope you haven’t forgotten one singular
contribution that was given on your behalf and that allows you the honour of
continuing that same work?”
“It might surprise you that I haven’t forgotten,” replied The Bird haughtily,
“I’m just not very good in the morning that’s all. While we’re on the subject,
I actually think that Butterfly made quite an impression on me.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Especially as I was considering having her as a side salad at one point.”
“BIRD!” exclaimned The Tunneller in horror.
“Nothing personal, it's just that my stomach tends to set the rules,”
she mumbled sheepishly.
“That's because you let it. Now, can we get on please?”
The Tunneller looked around him for a moment. The sky was gradually
turning rose-pink, signalling the onset of evening. “I'd like you to fly around
the valley making sure that all the Sleepers are waking up and if they are, it
means our own wake-up call has been successful.”
The Bird yawned.
“Ready?”
“Quark!”
“Good, off you go.”
She flew into the sky, circling the tops of emerald green trees.
The Tunneller walked into the centre of the great circle and stood over
a small moss-ridden rock. He bent down and reached into a narrow crack in the
base of the rock, pulling out a blue velvet pouch. He undid the cord and
revealed a spare bulb for his lamp. Screwing it into his helmet he then
replaced the pouch. He then produced a small black rod from his chest pocket
and tugged at the end so that it extended into a long staff almost the height
of The Tunneller himself. A beautiful ball of clear crystal was produced, no
bigger than the palm of his hand and he screwed it carefully to top of the
staff. Turning back to the moss-covered rock, he stood still for a while.
Balmy evening air brushed his face and whispered in his tiny ears. The
shadows in the stone softened. All became silent.
“It is time to wake the Sleepers,” he said softly.
As the sun
sent an arc of gold over his helmet he drew back the long staff so that it was
high above his head and with a mighty effort sent it crashing down onto the
rock. The crystal ball shattered into millions of fragments; sending a stream of
blue-white fire flashing upwards, lighting up the face of The Tunneller,
casting his shadow over the stones. The light had travelled from the rock and
rode out beneath the skin of the land like a pulse of electricity, separating
into the many bolts of laser-blue as it reached the edge of the valley and
eventually fanning out in all directions. The staff smoked gently.
The Little Bird was busy enjoying the
currents of warm air which were lifting in a spiral above the stone circle.
She had seen the bright flash of light and
was beginning to scan the valley for awakening Sleepers. Gliding over meadows
surrounded by thick woodland, she began to notice specks of light emerging from
the landscape. They ranged from green to light blue, from violet to orange. She
decided to take a closer look.
Flying just above the surface of rivers and streams, she saw clusters of
blue lights riding the currents and emerging from the roar of waterfalls.
She flew in and out of trees and saw green
balls of light emerge from the bark and the leaves; orange lights amid the
forest floor and streams of white lights flowing with the patterns of the wind.
Placing a hand over his brow The Tunneller
could just see the silhouette of the little Bird against the orange sun. She
was on her way back. Followed by a huge river of multi-coloured orbs.
“Excellent,” he cried, clapping his hands, “The Sleepers are back
again.”
He realised that many Sleepers were waking up all around him. Amid the
reds and oranges of the setting sun shifting shapes could be seen in the
surface of the pock-marked stone.
The Bird flew overhead: “QUARK! QUARK! QUARK!”
“Well done Bird! Follow me to the clearing!” He pointed in the direction of a large forest
of golden-tinged Oak trees.
He followed the course of a small stream,
occasionally dipping his fingers in the cool water, watching the bubbles dance
between his fingers and travel the length of underwater plants, like diamonds
set in olive-green hair.
From his chest pocket he brought out some wooden pipes. He cleared his throat and looked behind him.
Many Sleepers were gathering in assorted groups of colour, hovering in the air
and in the grass behind him, curious as to his presence.
“Good! Good!” he said happily, “Come with me little ones! Just follow
the music!”
The Tunneller began to play his pipes and a beautiful haunting melody
echoed out throughout the valley.
The Sleepers seemed fascinated and all the various colours became
brighter still.
“QUARK! QUARK!” called The Bird and settled with a THUMP! on The Tunneller's Helmet. Sounds of laughter could be heard
from all around.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Not really.” she replied, her twiglet legs at right angles.
“Right, then let's finish our work. Follow me Sleepers!”
The Bird rolled her eyes and as she tried to keep her balance. She heard
the Sleepers accompany The Tunneller's music with their own particular song:
We are Sleepers of this
land,
The hidden lives in
Nature’s Hand
The unfolding of
flowers,
The growth of a tree,
The twist of the river,
The ‘buzz’ of the Bee,
Look for us in the
silver and gold,
From the sun and the
moon,
And the stories of old,
In the cycles of change
We are not as we seem,
Unless you keep hold
of that inner most dream...
***
Behind one of the standing stones a
creature in the shadows lurked. It listened to the fading noises of laughter,
screwing up its face with hate. It flitted from one stone to another, keeping a
watchful eye on the departing procession.
***
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe 2003
With the joyful strains of the pipes
echoing throughout the valley, The Tunneller, The Bird and the newly awakened
multitude of Sleepers approached the edge of a wood.
“Can you fly above the forest and find the lake?” He asked.
The Bird hovered above him,“Anything to get away from this cacophony.”
And she was off, over the tree tops and flying towards the setting sun.
The Tunneller tucked his pipes into his chest
pocket and ducked underneath some branches and was immediately swallowed up by
green and purple shadows. After parting several layers of foliage, he found
himself on a path leading to a cathedral of Oaks and Birch trees shining with
russet browns, oranges, yellows and greens and where his weakening shadow slid
over buttressed roots as big as his waist. He heard The Bird calling at the end
of the avenue of trees – she had
discovered the lake.
The moon revealed itself as the sun begun to touch the tops of trees
and the forest creatures settled into
their newly created rhythms.
The small lake was surrounded by tightly packed trees and burgeoning
brambles. A large willow dipped the ends of graceful branches in the reflected
stillness and several tired lines of light spot-lit the calm, silver surface
and the gently turning lily-pads.
The enclave became a cavern of colour of
all shapes and sizes; dipping and diving playfully, all reflected in The
Tunneller's eyes like a strange liquid painting. Finally, when he had coughed
politely for the third time, the Sleepers calmed down and took their positions.
Some hovered in the air, others settled on the banks of the lake and the rest
simply flitted from place to place, too excited to remain still. The Tunneller
raised his arms to his expectant audience.
“Friends! I am pleased to be able to awaken you to the task ahead. Maybe
this time the future inhabitants will honour your various roles in all the
kingdoms of nature! Now, before I proceed, I would like...Oh!”
The Tunneller stopped abruptly, feeling an odd sensation under his foot.
He looked to see tiny streams of green light escaping from beneath his sole. He
quickly lifted his foot allowing a green Sleeper to escape. “I'm terribly sorry
little one, I had no idea you were there!”
Quite all right Mr.Tunneller.
The Little Green Sleeper happily hung on The Tunneller's shoulder.
There was a frantic rustling of leaves from above and The Bird came
tumbling from a tree landing on ground directly in front of her Master. She
flapped her wings crossly.
“Excuse me! There's only one birds eye view around here, and you're
sitting on it!”
The Little Green Sleeper's glow dimmed somewhat.
The Tunneller folded his arms. “Now come on Bird, you can come and perch
on my other shoulder if you like?”
“I have no wish to perch anywhere!” said The Bird snootily, “least of
all next to a common garden Sleeper!”
The Sleeper dimmed still further.
“That's quite enough! You're holding up evolution!” said The Tunneller
sternly.
“Humph!” she flew angrily through a cluster of violet lights, scattering
them in all directions. They laughed delightedly, thinking it was a fun new
game to play.
“That's what I can't stand about this bunch,” exclaimed The Bird,
“They're always so happy.”
And with that, she flew up to the highest
branch she could find and perched unsteadily on the end, simmering gently.
The Tunneller shook his head and sighed. “Never mind her, she's
sometimes gets full of her own importance that's all.”
Why? said the Sleeper.
“She thinks too much and forgets to feel, and she feels too much and
forgets to think.”
The Little Green Sleeper joined his friends and watched The Tunneller
expectantly. He walked a few paces to the left, then a few to the right then
stopped and peered at the ground. The Sleepers watched his every move. The
Tunneller stroked his chin and then whistled to The Bird who is still sulking
in the tree. She turned her back on him.
“Bird!”
She hopped to the end of the branch and
shook her feathers.
“I'm not deaf you know! What is it?”
“I need your help, if you'd be so kind!”
“I'll have to consult my diary. I'm very much in demand in other parts
of the galaxy you know..”
“Ahem!”
“...Some Tunnellers appreciate their co-workers in creation...”
“Bird!” voiced the The Tunneller sternly.
The Little Bird flapped her way down the length of the tree and hopped
towards him. “I was only waiting for the magic word: “Please” she remarked, preening herself.
The Tunneller rolled his eyes. “Can you try and locate The Cauldron, I
buried it last time we were here. I'm sure it’s in the clearing somewhere.”
She scratched her belly looking unconcerned.
The Tunneller sighed. If you PLEASE.”
“Certainly.”
The Bird began to cheerfully hop to and fro, occasionally sniffing the
ground in ever decreasing circles until she stopped abruptly and pointed to a
patch of soil just a few feet from the bank of the lake.
“You'll find it there!” she said, rather pleased with herself.
“Thank you.”
The Tunneller knelt down on the spot and brushed away any sticks or
stones. He took out a small trowel from his chest pocket. With a tug at one end
the trowel extended into a spade and in less than a second, he was carefully
digging.
It wasn't long before The Tunneller had disappeared into the hole of his
own making, clods of earth flying in all directions.
“It's there somewhere...I think.” said The Bird, neatly avoiding an
air-borne heap of soil.
A loud CLANG! echoed throughout the clearing as if to
confirm the Bird's statement.
“This is it,” said a muffled voice from below.
The spade came hurtling out of the ground. Two thin arms pushed a large
Golden Cauldron out of the hole. The Tunneller closely followed, wiping his
forehead with a neatly pressed handkerchief.
“Phew! That was deeper than I remember it!” he gasped.
“It HAS been a few years.”
“Indeed.”
“I haven't had a break for aeons,” she murmured wistfully.”
The Tunneller eyed his companion with a
half smile. “Let's hope you can get a holiday this time eh?”
“Fat chance.”
The Tunneller carried The Cauldron to the centre of the clearing and
with his handkerchief, polished it inside and out, until its golden shine
competed with the rays of the moon. He
took off its lid and placed it on the ground. The Bird flew onto its rim and
the audience of Sleepers came closer.
The Tunneller opened his chest pocket and pulled out an oval shaped
bottle with a dropper in the top. He held it up and general sounds of awe and
appreciation came from all corners of the gathering. He glanced at the label on
the bottle just to make sure he had the right one. It read:
ESSENCE OF HUMAN
HANDLE WITH CARE
Add water
Shake well
(Always
read the label)
The Tunneller removed the dropper and squeezed a drop of the clear
liquid into The Cauldron. The Little Bird followed the liquid, as delicate as a
tear, as it made its way to the bottom. It was like a beautiful pearl lying
inside a gigantic clam.
Without pausing for a second The Tunneller
pulled out his pocket pipes.
“This is the song of the Air,” he shouted, “a song to the wind!”
He began to play a long flowing melody which caused The Bird to sway gently
on the side of The Cauldron. The Sleepers also begin to move rhythmically, as
if following the patterns of sound riding on the gentle breezes. The wind
suddenly increased and it could be heard rushing through the trees and howling
across the land.
The Tunneller struggled to for his music to
be heard. A stream of Sleepers glowing white, poured from the sky and merged
into one bright miniature sun, which then descended into The Golden Cauldron.
“Another tune,” said The Bird, hopping from foot to the other, “I rather
enjoyed that.”
“It's time to summon the Sleepers of the Earth.”
The Tunneller played the pipes with all his might, dancing around the
glowing Cauldron with The Bird hovering above him. Before long, clusters of
Green Sleepers shot out from the depths of the wood, from thickets and from
shadows, forming into one big ball of vibrant green, descending softly into The
Cauldron, mixing with the bright white light.
“QUARK! QUARK!” cried the Bird, “This is better than a firework
display!”
“Now the Sleepers of Water if you please!”
The Tunneller began to play a melody which seemed to mirror both the
peace of the lake and the hurried flow of gurgling brooks. As the music filled
the clearing it began to rain gently.
“Rats! I hate the rain,” exclaimed The Bird, “it plays havoc with my
plumage.”
Nevertheless, she danced with her Master along the edge of the lake and
watched a wave of Sleepers emerge from the watery stillness and make their way
towards The Cauldron, merging once again as a ball of pale blue light and
disappearing into its depths.
The Golden Cauldron now shone with the colours of green, blue and a halo
of white.
“Now, we need the final and most important element of all,” said The Tunneller
dramatically, “FIRE!”
The Tunneller approached the gaping hole from where The Cauldron was
found and knelt at the edge. The Little Bird flew onto her Master's shoulder.
“I'll just sit next to you, in case it gets too scary...I mean in case
you need some advice,” she muttered nervously.
“How considerate,” replied The Tunneller, smirking.
He adjusted his miners helmet, loosened his belt, put the pipes to his
mouth and took a deep breath. He briefly wondered if there was any fire left to
summon, but the planet usually kept some in reserve when things became grim. At
least, he hoped so. His fingers twinkled over the pipes and the music which
floated around the enclave was so beautiful that many Sleepers returned,
surrounding The Tunneller in a neat circle.
Then, all of a sudden, the music stopped as quickly as it had started.
The Tunneller put his pipes away and leant forward towards the hole, listening
intently.
The Little Green Sleeper darted out from underneath some brambles and
glided around the hole.
The Bird frowned. “Not you again,” she mumbled.
Where's the Fire Mr. Tunneller?
“All in good time, one can't rush these things.”
The Sleepers hung back. The Bird hopped
onto The Tunneller's shoulder, and listened. A roaring sound could be heard
coming from the hole as though a storm was brewing beneath. Then it seemed to
fade. All that could be heard were the crickets in the bushes.
“So is it coming or not? We haven't got all day!” snapped The Bird,
hopping from her perch onto the rim of the hole. She peered into the darkness.
“QUARK! QUARK!” She cried. “Get a move on Fire, we have other planets to tend
to you know!”
“SHHHH!” Said The Tunneller raising a finger to his mouth. “Have some
respect! This is the Planet's creative energy we are dealing with here.”
The Little Bird turned around. “Well, its rather rude keeping us waiting
like this,” she whispered.
Then it happened.
A huge jet of Fire shot up from the hole forming into a flaming circle
of orange and yellow right above their heads. Pandemonium ensued.
Sleepers darted everywhere. The Tunneller
fell on his back with his legs in the air and the Bird flew around the clearing
with her tail feathers aflame, before dropping into the lake with a resounding SPLASH!
Surfacing under a lily-pad with a lotus-flower draped over her head like
an exotic head-dress, she spat out a long stream of water and spluttered and
splashed her way to the bank.
“I suppose you think that's funny?” she remarked crossly, shaking off
the excess water from each leg. She stopped a moment and craned her head
around, looking at her own back. A small, green frog had hitched a ride and was
sitting comfortably, enjoying the performance.
“Do you mind?” snapped The Bird.
RRRRRIBIT! Replied the frog.
“I said, move it buster!”
The frog reluctantly obeyed and
hopped back into the lake.
Meanwhile, a healthy respect had fallen over the gathering.
“Ah, Fire, you have arrived,” said The Tunneller, picking himself up
from the ground, “and in such style!”
The circle of Fire seemed to grow hotter.
“Would you care to step this way?” he bowed respectfully and with an
outstretched hand offered the path to The Cauldron. The Fire spun into a ball
and lowered itself into the vessel. Steam rose with a HISSSSSS. The Tunneller quickly picked up the lid and placed it
firmly on top.
“Phew! That was getting a little too hot!” he said breathlessly.
The Cauldron's handles began to rattle
noisily. A carnival of coloured lights glowed around the rim and a noise like a
thousand waterfalls came from within. The Tunneller stepped back and shielded
his eyes as the lid shot straight up into the air and came hurtling down again
with a massive KERRANG! It spun like a sovereign for several moments,
before finally coming to a rest with a puff of white smoke rising lazily into
the cool night air.
Nothing stirred or made a sound.
That is, except for the Little Blue Bird.
“I ask you! What does this Fire think its playing at?” She hopped
wearily towards The Cauldron, making tiny footprints across a small mud bank
and lay panting on the grass.
“I thought you didn't like the water?” remarked The Tunneller, covering
a smile with his hand.
She glared at him and wrung out her tail feathers like a wet towel.
“Very funny. I happen to have nearly gone up in flames and almost ended my days
at the bottom of a lake...I don't see it as a cause for merriment!”
“No, no of course not,” said The Tunneller trying to suppress his
laughter.
He took another handkerchief from his chest pocket, mopped his brow, and
approached The Cauldron. It steamed gently, with droplets of water running down
its gleaming sides. Using his handkerchief wrapped around his hand, he lifted
the heavy lid and peered inside. A wave of warm air and steam rose up to his
face and he stood back momentarily. As he leant forward again, he saw a tiny
pool of liquid glinting under the moon. It seemed like the essence of a rainbow
with gold and silver dancing over its oval surface.
“That's what we want.” exclaimed The Tunneller cheerfully.
Wasting no time, the little man produced the labelled bottle once again
and removed the dropper. He carefully sucked up the precious liquid - SCHEELICK! - and walked to the edge of the lake. He
knelt down and held the dropper over the water.
The Bird hopped along side him. “This is it then?”
“This is it.”
There was a solemn pause.
The Sleepers slowly reappeared, sensing the importance of the occasion.
“Good Luck!” whispered The Bird, suddenly humbled.
“Good
luck!” said The Tunneller under his breath.
“And get it
right this time.” remarked The Bird.
The
Tunneller frowned, “Thank you. May I continue?”
She nodded
ruefully.
He squeezed
the dropper and the white-gold liquid fell into the lake, sending a series of
perfect ripples on their gentle way. They stayed at the lake's edge for a while.
The
Tunneller was the first to break the spell: “Right, I have a report to fill
out.”
He removed
a small black wallet from his left chest pocket and opened it up to reveal a
mini clip-board and pen. He began to write briskly, turning the pages every so
often with a flick of his wrist. The final page read as follows:
RESTART SERVICE
CORP:TIME-LINE 2000012
PLANET: Earth
BYPASS: Complete
PURIFICATION: Complete
GERMINATION: Complete
INTRODUCTION: Complete
He returned to the centre of the clearing
and spoke to all the Sleepers hovering beneath the old gnarled oaks.
“I have introduced your future partners on The Planet this planet. Work with
them my friends and in helping them, you will be helping yourselves. Continue
to help the water flow; the trees and flowers grow and to keep the cycles of
life flowing freely. Maybe this time they can come to you with open eyes.”
The Sleepers began to flit about excitedly in clusters of violet, green
orange and blue. The Little Green Sleeper swiftly appeared at The Tunneller's
shoulder.
Are you leaving now?
“Soon little one, soon. I must bury The Cauldron again. Will you look
after it for me?”
Oh yes, I'd like that very much!
The Little Green Sleeper dimmed slightly. But what if someone finds it?
The Tunneller held out his hand and the Sleeper bobbed into his palm.
When the time is right, someone will and you'll be there to share with them all
that you know.”
I don't know about anything much...except
how to care for my tree!
“That's very important! By the time someone finds The Cauldron you'll be
responsible for the whole valley...maybe all of this land!” he spread his arms
wide.
Me?
“You.”
The Little Green Sleeper glowed brightly and spun around the head of The
Tunneller before whizzing off into the depths of the forest. Presently, it
emerged with a long trail of many Green Sleepers who, under supervision, lifted
The Cauldron into the air and gently lowered it into its former resting place.
The hole was filled in and the rich, dark soil patted down.
The Sleepers gradually disappeared into the forest and back to their
rivers and streams; rocks and meadows, flowers and clouds. The Little Green
Sleeper was the last. With one last look at The Tunneller he was gone, flitting
away on a trail of child-like laughter, coming to rest within a sapling which
was growing out of the roots of an old Oak.
The Tunneller looked around. He could see no sign of his companion
anywhere. Then he heard the familiar sound of snoring and he looked above to
find the little Bird fast sleep on a branch, her twiglet legs dangling in
space.
The sun was beginning to peek above the tree-tops with the sky changing
to a creamy yellow.
“That's a good idea, I think we've earned a brief rest, he murmured,
“and I know just the place.”
Perseus Foundation Inc.
All Rights Reserved.
Peace fell upon the valley.
Moths purred on the trunks of trees and
spiders hastily spun their webs before the coming dawn. The Tunneller strode
through the wet grass and climbed a small hill where the old Yew-Tree stood.
The golden dawn shimmered around the outline of the tree and a gust of
wind rushed through the network of branches causing it to creak and groan. He
sat down next to the thick roots which sank deep into the earth.
“Will you watch over me as I sleep in your shadow?” The Tunneller
requested politely.
The Yew-tree's breath mingled with the wind's: HUSHHHHhhhh...
The Sleepers giggled in the grass.
He nodded gratefully and lay out in the bed of blue-bells; his arms behind
his head. After a while he lay on his side and pulled over a blanket of flowers
and long grass enfolding himself into The Planet's skin.
Soon he lapsed into a deep and fitful sleep, dreaming of new worlds and
grand designs...
FIRE IN THE
The Little Blue Bird opened one eye.
The forest was quiet save the sounds of
insects and smaller animals foraging for food. She yawned and hopped along the
branch, looking down at the clearing where so much activity had taken place.
She spied the freshly laid soil where The Tunneller and the Sleepers had
replaced the cauldron. Soft sunlight dappled the area making leaves a luminous
green and the bark of trees a golden brown.
She preened herself and exercised her wings and was about to Butterfly
off to meet The Tunneller at the Yew-Tree as usual, when...
Pssssst!
She stood still and listened again.
PSSSST!
It was louder this time.
“Who is it? Who's there?” said The Bird nervously.
“Come and find out!”
The Bird gasped and hopped back along the branch.
“Come aaaaan. What are you afraid of?” drawled the voice.
“Where are you?”
“I'm over here.”
“Where's ‘here’?” she replied,
scanning the foliage.
“Down here, behind the bush to the left of this tree.”
“Which tree?”
“LOOK YOU STUPID...ahem..I mean, if you come down here I'll be able to
show you.”
“You must be joking,” scoffed The Bird, “how about you come out of the
trees and into the clearing where I can see you.”
There was a pause.
“Very well.” There was a long period of rustling. “Er..just a tick..I'll
be there...in a jiffy.”
The Bird waited with her head cocked to
one side. The rustling increased, with the occasional sound of twigs being
broken.
“What are you doing?”
“Er..nothing..I'm coming.”
Suddenly, from the thick undergrowth leapt a shadowy figure who seemed
to be made out of the forest itself.
The creature stood in the middle of the clearing. Its black hair was
filled with leaves, an angular face thick with mud upon which all manner of
boscage sprouted forth. Several bushes were crudely wrapped around his fat
little body and his feet were huge and quite repulsive. They were very familiar
to The Bird. One of the bushes dropped onto the floor.
“Oops! Blast!” snarled the creature, snatching up the bush and trying to
force it back in place, without success. In a panic, he hurled it to the
ground.
“Er..Behold! I am the spirit of this forest..er..” another clump of
leaves fell from his hair, “Behold! I will grant you any wish you desire! For I
am..”
“Yes, I know,” interrupted The Bird, “The Spirit of the
“Yes! And I can--”
“--Grant me anything I want, yes, yes.” The Bird sat on the branch and
began to preen herself. “So how long are you going to keep this performance up
for Mr. Stix.?”
The Stix was silent. His arms dropped down to his sides and his
shoulders sagged. He fell on his knees and to The Bird's surprise, began to sob
loudly.
The Bird looked around rather embarrassed.
“BERRRRAAAAHH!”
“She hopped along to the end of the branch. “Shhhhhhh!”.
The Stix drew in a huge lungful of air
and..
“WHAAAAAAA...HA..HA..HA..HAAA!”
“Look, will you hush..er...stop!”
The Stix's chin wobbled like white jelly, “I only wanted to make
friends..sniff..now all my rubbish
has gone and I have no power..sniff..sniff..I
wanted to make you think I was one of you and one of the Sleepers..sniff..sniff..”
The Stix paused for dramatic effect and blew his nose on a leaf which
promptly scattered into a hundred pieces.
The Bird had almost forgotten how ugly The Stix was. Passing for a
Sleeper would have been like a 300 lb gorilla passing for a new-born chick, but
she thought she'd keep that one to herself. She flew down from the tree and
approached him cautiously.
“How do I know your telling the truth?”
The Stix bent down and grovelled at her feet for a bit, then looked
beseechingly into her eyes.
“Can't you see my pain? Can't you see that I'm sorry? Can't you..”
“Can't you get your hand off my foot,” whispered The Bird, “you’re
cutting off the blood supply.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Thanks. Now, what were you saying?”
“The Stix frowned. “Ahem…Well, can't you see that I'm lonely? Can you
not find it in your heart to forgive me the terrible wrongs I have committed
against you, The Tunneller and The Earth?”
“Er..No, not really.” replied The Bird.
“Oh, thank...” The Stix looked up, aghast, “what do you mean ‘NO’ ?”
The Bird turned away from him. “I can't forgive you, but maybe The
Tunneller has it in his heart to do so. I'll take you to him.”
“Umm..well..wait a moment, I'd much rather be YOUR Master. I'll do
anything to make up for all the nasty things I did to you.”
The Bird stopped.
The Stix's eyes flashed red.
“Yes, I'll bring you the finest seeds from all corners of the land I'll
tell all Nature of your powerful ways,
how you single-handedly brought back life to The Planet..”
The Bird made patterns in the soil with an
outstretched claw. “Well, I had some help of course..”
The Stix came closer. “Ah, but you are THEE source of The Energia where
your dream becomes real. The Tunneller would be nothing without you!”
“Well I-”
“Admit it Bird, you are a GOD!”
The Bird puffed out her chest and strutted about the clearing. “It has
been said, more than once that if it wasn't for me, the universe would not be
in the state it's in now. She frowned. “I mean a good state.”
“Of course!” gushed The Stix, wringing his hands.
“Yeeees. I've been in this business a long time you know. No summer
holidays for me.”
“I'm sure!”
“It's a round the clock job - answering the call of planets.” The Bird nodded
sagely, hugely enjoying the feeling of importance.
“I don't think The Tunneller appreciates the part you play in all this,”
The Stix encouraged.
The Bird’s eyes narrowed.
“He didn't say so much as a thank you after the job was done...”
“That's true.”
“Why, you could go freelance if you needed to...you'd be worshipped in
all corners of the universe, free to become the God you always were and still
could be!”
The Bird flew up to her branch. “You're right! I've been too long
playing second fiddle to The Tunneller. I could be cleaning up a thousand
planets in one week if I had my way!”
“Or in one day!” yelled The Stix.
“Or in one...No that's too much.”
“Oh right.”
“But the point is, I have power and a frankly, great personality.” The
Bird looked at The Stix pointedly, “And as birds go I'm one of the chosen few
from paradise.”
The Stix grimaced.
She flapped her wings and looked at the sky. “Yes, it's time I spread my
wings and found some freedom and justice for all...especially me.”
The Stix clapped loudly. “Oh Bravo! Bravo!”
She bowed, smiling smugly.
The Stix shuffled forward on his knees.
“There is one thing I would love to see you do Bird, as you do
everything so well..”
“Naturally.”
“Naturally yes, ha-ha, but this little thing I'd be honoured for you try
is...oh no, I couldn't..” He clasped his hands bashfully.
“What is it?”
“No really I couldn't ask you.”
“Please.” said The Bird, her inflated pride becoming bigger still.
“Well, I think you could play the pipes so much better and with so much
more...what's the word?”
“Creativity?” offered The Bird.
“Why, yes that's just the word I was looking for,” gushed The Stix,
“you're so clever!”
The Bird shrugged.
The Stix got up and ran forward looking up at the branch. Most of the
bushes and leaves were falling about his feet. “Will you? Will you play the
pipes? I have a set right here.”
“They look like The Tunneller's” observed The Bird.
“Er…They are actually. He dropped them in the undergrowth in all the
excitement, so I looked after them for him.”
“Yes, I'm sure you did.” remarked The Bird unconvinced. She paused and
minced along the branch. “Well...all right then. But one thing.”
“What's that?”
“Kindly put something on.”
The Stix looked down and turned bright red. After nipping into the
bushes and putting on a dust-bin liner, he returned.
“Here you are.” He handed her the pipes.
“What would you like me to play?” she asked, holding the instrument in
her foot.
“Er..I loved that melody..what was it..?” He tapped his long pointed
nose and scratched the spots on his leathery skin, “Oh yes! The Fire Song.”
“Right, I - What? I can't play that?”
“Why not? Oh, I know you're not afraid,” said The Stix, holding up his
hand, “so that must mean you think it's technically difficult. Don't you worry
Bird.
I have faith in you, I know you can do
anything and you wouldn't be afraid of a little bit of heat.”
“Umm..quite.” said The Bird, slightly uncomfortable.
The Stix grinned and sat down cross-legged.
“All right...Now, how did that tune go?” she mused.
The Bird blew into the pipes several times without much success. But
finally, after many painful notes she began to find the melodies which The
Tunneller had played so beautifully. They were not as accomplished, but she was
enjoying herself tremendously. It was also the fact that she knew to play a
Tunneller's pipes was strictly forbidden and this was of course, what made it
all the more satisfying.
The Stix's grin was broadening with each passing minute.
The broken music echoed throughout the forest, with animals pricking up
their ears in puzzlement. The sound of the pipes sang out until The Bird had
exhausted herself and could play them no more.
“QUARK! QUARK!” She cried, “Now that was fun!”
“It most certainly was. You played beautifully.” said The Stix quietly.
Lights appeared in the shadows of bushes nearby. Two violet coloured
Sleepers drew near.
“What do you want?” snapped The Bird.
We..we weren't sure what was
happening...
“Nothing's happening! I'm just enjoying myself for a change.”
The Sleepers dimmed.
“Look, I know what I'm doing! I'm not your average bird you know!”
The Stix hung back in the shadows.
She stood up straight and strutted over to them. “I could tell you some
stories, the planets we...I have healed are countless. Take the one just
outside the second galaxy...”
Suddenly, the Sleepers vanished and so did
The Stix.
The Bird's eye widened. “Hey! Where did they go?” She hopped about from
left to right. “Typical! These Sleepers have the attention span of a microbe.
Put them in charge of a tree or a blade of grass – fine. But try to get them to
understand new ideas...Stix? STIX? Now where's HE gone?”
A deep rumble rippled through the forest, cutting her short. Trees began
to vibrate.
Any remaining Sleepers disappeared.
Animals scattered.
The Little Blue Bird was alone. She thought she heard The Stix laughing
deep in the forest. It began to dawn on her that she had allowed herself to be
deceived. She began to feel dizzy and very tired, as though awakening from a
dream. How could she have been so stupid? She had fallen under his spell due to
her shameful arrogance! Her horrible pride! Oh, what had she done?
From the centre of the clearing the grass began to undulate like the sea
and a large crack tore across the surface. The Bird nervously retreated a few
paces and tripped over the pipes, landing in an undignified heap. A gigantic
The
As the forest began to burn she thought she could hear a voice
whispering amid the crackle and hiss :
I am Fire, the heart of
the sun,
The spark of thought,
Of worlds begun,
I am Fire, the peak of
pleasure,
Of heat and heart
In equal measure,
I am Fire you now
explore,
From the candle flame,
To the planet's core.
I am Fire, the dragon’s
breath,
In the cycle of birth
And the cycle of death…
“Oops,” said The Bird.
***
This time, it was The Tunneller who was
snoring happily.
The Yew-Tree creaked as the breezes flowed
over the hill and into the blue-bells and fields of heather. The air was thick
with fragrance. Honey-bees buzzed from flower to flower. One such honey-bee
settled on the wide petal of an Orchid and cleaned his legs of pollen. It
noticed a large pall of smoke hanging over the forest. The other Bees went
about there business but this one decided to fly towards The Tunneller.
The Bee circled around and around his head, buzzing as loudly as it
could. It settled on his face and walked from his forehead to his chin and
buzzed in his ears. The Tunneller remained asleep.
Finally, the Bee decided it must wake The Tunneller at any cost.
So it stung him on the bottom.
“YEEEOOOWWW!”
The Tunneller leapt up from his bed of blue-bells, “What's going on?” he
shouted, rubbing his behind.
“Buzzzzzz...Sorry about that! Buzzzzzz...It was the only way I could get
your attention.”
The Bee settled on his head.
“And who are you exactly?” The Tunneller asked, rolling his eyes
upwards.
“You mean you don't remember?”
“Er..”
“I have all the nectar I could ever want now...”
The Tunneller's face lit up. “Why, it's The Butterfly!”
“Buzz…Hi!”
“I knew I'd see you again! So, how’s life as a bee?”
“Well, the hours a long and the Queen is rather demanding but it’s more
interesting than being a rock or a Butterfly for that matter, but I love the
team-work. I'm surrounded by everyone making the most glorious sweetness and
its my job to do the same! How lucky can you get?”
The Tunneller saw the smoke drifting over the valley. “What's that?”
“Buzzzzzz...Oh I almost forgot! That's why I woke you. There's a fire
over there and it's getting out of control.”
The Tunneller dashed off down the hill in the direction of the burning
forest, shouting his goodbyes to the bee as he went.
***
The roar of the fire had engulfed the
clearing and was busy consuming more of the forest.
The Bird was desperately trying to find a
way out of the furnace but without success. Every time she saw an opening it
would immediately be filled by a fire-ball or a falling tree.
“QUARK! QUARK!” she cried, becoming hotter and hotter by the minute.
There were walls of fire all about her,
rising higher and higher into the air. A huge tree crashed down, sending its
burning debris in every direction. The little Bird managed to dodge the flaming
arrows of bark and splintered branches, hopping fearfully from one hot-spot to
another.
A fire-ball sprang from the heart of the inferno and made straight for
her.
She screeched and scrambled out of its path just in time. She tried to
look for the lake, but could barely see or indeed breathe such was the
intensity of heat and glowng embers floating all around her. What was she to
do?
The fire-ball was tracking her again.
It came from above this time and caught all of The Bird's tail-feathers
as she flapped feebly to one side. Blowing out the flames quickly she flew
through a gap in the crook of a burning oak.
But it was the wrong way.
In the time it takes one to blink, she the fire rise up in columns over
the trees, over her head and back down behind her, to close off any hope of
escape.
“QUARK! QUARK! QUARK! she cried forlornly.
CRASH! A tree fell behind her.
WHOOOSH! More forest canopy
was consumed above.
The Little Bird cowered on the ground, the flames reflected in the
blackness of her eyes. She covered them with her wings as the flames licked at
the grass around her.
“Help me, help me!” wept The Bird, “Where are you Tunneller?”
All of a sudden, she heard voices in her head: Look up
Bird! Look up! Confused, she opened her wings and with streaming eyes, did
as she was told. There, hovering in a gap in the ceiling of fire was a
collection of Blue Sleepers shining brightly.
Quick! Quick! Butterfly through the gap!
We can't hold it much longer!
She did not need any encouragement. She flew up towards the Sleepers as
fast as her little wings could carry her.
Her lungs were bursting with the effort...
…Come on not much further!
She dogged burning bits of bark...Almost there!
Flaming trees cut across her path, almost drawing her down in their
vacuum; Falling branches and suffocating waves of heat and ash came at her from
every direction.
“QUARK!” she croaked, and darted through the circle of fire and into the
lights of the Sleepers. They carried her away from the inferno and to safety.
The Fire, out of control, continued to have its fun.
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe 2003
***
The Tunneller was at the edge of the
forest. He felt the heat seeping through the leaves.
He looked for his pipes in his chest pocket, but was dismayed to find
them missing. He gulped and felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead. Hold
on…Of course! He always kept a reserve in case of accidents. The Tunneller
rummaged in his other chest pocket and there was a brand new service issue set.
He could not afford to lose anymore time if he wanted to save the Bird. The
leaves parted and he vanished into the smoke.
In the centre of the forest was a raging inferno with shifting patterns
of oranges, reds, and yellows bound up in aura of white-hot heat.
If one looked hard enough, one could see
Little
The melody seemed at once to establish a path of calm and peace. The
pipes competed with the roar of the Fire until the pure melodic sounds finally
won through.
The Tunneller strode forth into the fiery sea, parting the waves before
him. It began to retreat and relax it's hold on the forest, draining into the
clearing; journeying back to the heart of The Earth. The roar of the Fire at
last began to subside.
As the final flames uncurled themselves from the lengths of trees, a
fire-ball leapt from the inferno seeping into the soil and exploded in front of
The Tunneller who stepped back in surprise.
He started to play the pipes once again, while the fire-ball rose into a
pillar and shifted it's shape into a
mirror-image of The Tunneller.
It bowed respectfully.
The Tunneller did the same.
The Fire flashed back into a ball and tore into the air, diving down
into the centre of the clearing and into The Earth in search of its fiery
friends.
THE STIX
REVEALED
The Tunneller mopped his brow and wiped
the smudges of ash from his uniform.
He wondered where The Little Bird had got
to, for he knew that it was very likely that she had played a part in all this.
He shook his head and sighed deeply as he viewed the remains of the forest.
Great stumps of charred wood still smouldered weakly. The ground was still hot
from dying embers and piles of semi-burnt branches lay strewn all around. The
lake was full of blackened bark and sodden leaves.
Sleepers began to appear.
“Where is The Bird?” he asked them sadly.
A cluster of green Sleepers parted and she hopped towards him, looking a
sorry sight. Her remaining feathers were black, sticking straight up in the air
and tiny patches of smoke rose from her body. She bowed her head at his feet.
“The Stix tricked me,” she croaked.
The Tunneller folded his arms. “And the choice was yours to let him
trick you!” he said angrily, “look at this forest!” He gestured with
outstretched arms. “You've made a horrible mess.”
“Quark.”
“You seem to justly reflect the damage you have caused in your woeful
appearance.”
“Quark.”
The Tunneller knelt down and raised The Bird's beak with one finger. “I
am assuming you have gained valuable knowledge from this lesson?”
“Quark.”
“Hmmm,” The Tunneller nodded, “I can't afford to lose you Bird. We have
far too many missions to complete.”
He gently picked up his companion and raised her to his lamp. A soft
golden beam of light shone over the Bird, quickly returning her to her former
self.
“Thank you,” said the Bird. And she meant it.
“I believe you have someone else to thank.”
The Tunneller pointed at the many Sleepers, their colours brighter than
ever against the darkness of the once green forest.
The Bird hopped out of The Tunneller's hands and approached them. They
gathered around in a circle, some close to the ground others high in the air.
“I..er..” she looked back to The Tunneller who nodded encouragement, “I
feel I..I must thank you for all that you did for me...I..er...I appreciate
it.” The Bird lowered her beak.
The Sleepers laughed and grew brighter. The Little Green Sleeper circled
The Bird like a spinning top.
The Tunneller walked up behind them, “The first thing we must do now, is
find The Stix.”
“Perhaps the Fire caught him,” said The Bird hopefully.
“No, he's far too clever for that, as you've discovered.”
“Um..yes.”
“No, he's probably far away by now. It wouldn’t be the first time...”
The Tunneller was cut short by a strange distant wailing sound. “Whatever
can that be?” he asked.
They looked in all directions to try and discover where the sound was
coming from until one of the Sleepers alerted them: Look! Look up in the tree!
So, everyone looked skywards.
There, at the top of the charred remains of the tallest tree was The
Stix, with his arms wrapped tightly around it's trunk, wailing like a baby. The
tree was beginning to sway dangerously as he shifted his bulk about.
“WHAAAAAAAAA! I hate heights! WHAAAAA! Get me down! WHAAAAAAA!”
“He must of got trapped up there from the fire. What shall we do?” said
The Bird.
The Tunneller slowly nodded, “I think the tree is going to grant his
wish very soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Watch,” he answered, backing away.
The Stix's wailing was accompanied by the howl of the wind which had
started to pick up and was now causing the tree to sway back and forth before
there was an ear-splitting CRACK! and the tall tree was falling towards the
clearing below.
“TIMBER!” called The Tunneller, running in the opposite direction.
WHOOOOOSH...CRAAAASH'...CLANG!
With the full force of the tree, The Stix was sent straight into the
ground. All that could be seen were two huge muddy feet dotted with assorted
debris sticking out of the soil.
Everyone gradually approached the clearing again. Sleepers clustered
around what was left of the tree and The Tunneller and The Bird cautiously
approached the The Stix's feet.
“Well he's down anyway,” remarked The Bird.
The Tunneller raised his eyebrows. “The question is, what to do with
him?”
“You don't suppose he's...you know?” She ran a wing across her throat.
“Oh heavens no! The Stix is very resilient.”
The Bird hopped about the end of the shattered tree. She pecked at the
fresh soil pushed up by the impact. “Wasn't this the place we buried The
Cauldron?”
The Tunneller's eyes narrowed, “Yes, I believe it was. Wait a minute,
did you hear a loud metallic noise when
The Stix hit?”
The Bird sat on the ground and crossed her legs. “Now you come to
mention it, yes I did. Why?”
“Help me get him out of the ground and I'll show you.”
They took hold of The Stix's feet and heaved. The Tunneller struggled
and stretched but could not shift him. The Bird hung uselessly from The Stix's
big toe.
“He's really stuck fast!” she panted.
“Let's try again, but this time we'll pull on three. Ready?”
“One...two...Three! HEAVE!
In a cloud of earth The Stix popped out with the Golden Cauldron stuck
to his head.
“Well, that explains it!” cried The Bird.
The Tunneller prised it from The Stix's head and laid it carefully to
one side. He then took out one of his fresh white handkerchiefs and gently brushed
The Stix down. It made little difference. A large egg-sized lump was clearly
visible on the crown of his matted head. His body was limp and his eyes
remained closed. Smoke and soot from the Fire had turned his body as dark as
the soil, with twigs and leaves sprouting from every direction. His usually
shining dust-bin liner clothes were now in tatters. He was truly like a being
from Nature.
“Well, well, well.” said The Tunneller shaking his head, “how the mighty
have fallen.”
The Bird hopped onto his head and peered down at his peaceful face.
“Are you sure he's still breathing?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” The Tunneller wrinkled his nose,” I can smell his breath from
here.”
Just as the Sleepers began to return, The Stix's feet and arms twitched
violently and his eyes flew open.
The Sleepers scattered once again.
“Ah, welcome back!” greeted The Tunneller.
The creature rubbed his eyes, blinked and looked around with a dazed
expression,“What happened?” he asked groggily.
The Tunneller took a few steps closer, “You had a nasty fall.”
“Oh....Where did I fall from?”
The Bird was still perched on his head. “You fell from the sky..Quark!”
The Stix jumped, “Who was that?”
She flew down in front of him, some of his hair still attached to her
claws.
He rubbed his head and winced as he found the lump.
“I'm sure you remember me!” she snapped crossly, “I'm the one you
kidnapped. You made me eat The Dark Seed and tricked me into raising the Fire.”
“Sorry, but I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.” said The
Stix rather bewildered.
The Little Blue Bird started to walk in a tight circle, her temper
brewing.
“Don't expect me to fall for that a second time. This is just another one
of your wicked tricks!”
She hopped up onto his knee and curled a wing into a fist, shaking it in
his face. “Well it won't work this time do you hear?”
“I...”
“I'll be watching you, got it?”
“Er...yeees, I think so.”
“Good!”
The Tunneller was observing The Stix closely.
The Sleepers were returning and making straight for him. Already there
were several dozen hovering around his head.
The Bird shook her tail-feathers impatiently. “They don't seem to be
afraid of him anymore,” she looked around at her Master, “have they gone
crazy?”
The Stix was busy picking at the blackened soil, digging with his
fingers. He picked up the remains of a shrivelled grey flower and passed his
hand over it. Colour and energy sprang from it's petals once more. He handed it to a Green Sleeper who excepted
it gratefully.
“Go now and plant it.”
The Tunneller and The Bird stared in wonder.
While The Stix began to dig around in the dirt again, The Bird flew up onto
The Tunneller's shoulder.
“What in Heaven and Earth’s name is going on?” she whispered urgently in
his ear, “This isn't what's meant to happen! Aren't we meant to banish him into
space with nothing more than a can of fizzy-pop for company?”
“I suppose so,” replied The Tunneller, still staring at The Stix, “But
something unexpected has happened Bird, that means the story changes.”
“But..but he could be deceiving us again!” insisted The Bird.
“You might be right, but The Sleepers wouldn’t approach him if something
hadn’t changed. Extremely rare occurrence I’ll admit, but it’s a good sign. Who
knows what a sudden impact with a cauldron can do?”
The Tunneller walked over to The Stix and pulled him up from the ground.
“Do you know who I am?” he said holding The Stix’s clumsy hands.
“I was hoping you could tell me actually.”
The Tunneller laughed, “That remains to be seen. What would you like to
do while you remember?
The Stix thought for a moment “I think I'd like to stay here, try to
find some more flowers, maybe help repair the forest.”
The Bird rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead with her wing.
“I think you'll have some help at your disposal,” said The Tunneller
gesturing to the Sleepers crowding around them both, jostling playfully.
The Tunneller placed his hands on his shoulders. “How about looking
after this planet for me?
“Who me?”
He nodded.
“Him?” whispered The Bird.
“Shhh! Who better to care for The Planet while I am away? And we may be
away for a very long time.”
“The Bird turned to The Stix. “Look, give us a moment will you? I’d like
to confer with my Boss.”
“Oh, no problem.” The Stix
wandered off nonchalantly.
The
Bird whispered urgently in her Master’s ear: “How long have we worked
together?”
The Tunneller sighed, “Oh, several millennia give or take a spot of
time-travelling inbetween.”
“Right. How many times have we been through similar situations?”
“Countless.”
“But dark beings like The Stix don’t change, its their nature to be
evil, so why are you offering the Earth to him on a silver platter?”
“I am simply allowing him to do a bit of planetary gardening that’s all.
If I’m correct he won’t remember his own nature for quite a while and by that
time another Stix will have slowly taken his former role. With a bit of luck,
our friend here will be used to his new job as Nature’s Head Gardener and
things will balance out rather well. At least, the cycles will keep ticking
over nicely until we pass this way again.”
The Bird puffed out her feathers. “I still don’t like it.”
The Tunneller laughed and stroked her back. You don’t like uncertainty
my friend, but in the end that’s all we have.”
The Tunneller strolled over to The Stix who was deep in conversation
with a violet Sleeper.
“Well, after our little board meeting all seems in order. What do you
think? Are you up to looking after this rather special planet?”
“I’m game.”
The two shook hands, while The Bird shook her head: “I dread to think
what our superiors will say,” she muttered miserably.
“All right, all right, it's time we got this mess sorted out!” yelled
The Tunneller clapping his hands together.
The Little Green Sleeper floated towards him. What do we do now Mr. Tunneller? Some of us don't have any trees to care for.
“Ah, perfect timing my friend,” said The Tunneller, Take your duties
from this gentleman here,” he extended an open palm towards The Stix.
All The Sleepers waited expectantly.
The Stix shuffled on the spot nervously for a while then collected
himself. He bent down towards The Little Green Sleeper: “Er..right, “I want you
to gather together all of the Sleepers of this valley and bring them to the
remains of the forest. All of the Sleepers mind, Earth, Water, Air and Fire.
Tell them to organize themselves into their patterns.”
The Stix looked over at The Tunneller who was watching with arms folded.
He raised a thumb and grinned.
The Stix smiled, shrugging his shoulders and turned back to his helpers.
Before long, a great sea of coloured lights were moving across the land,
their destination: the blackened area which was once the forest. Voices like
that of excited children filled the air. The wind blew all the ashes away; the
soil shifted and seeds were sown; the sun beat down and the rain poured. The
cycles of life were set in motion.
The forest was alive with a countless
number of Sleepers. Where once there was one Sleeper for every tree, one for
every flower, now there was ten for every seedling pushing up through the newly
wet soil, ten to every leaf and wounded tree, with The Stix directing the
proceedings with considerable flair.
Before the afternoon came, the forest and indeed the valley, were well
on the way to normality once again.
“It's almost as though it never happened,” said The Bird quietly.
“Oh it happened all right. An excellent example of team-work though
don’t you think?
He looked up at the sky. It was time to go.
“Are you ready?”
“Most certainly,” The Bird chirped. She continued to gaze at the distant
Stix. “Do you think he'll be able to cope?
“The Stix? Oh yes, it's all coming back to him now. He’ll be able to
handle it until the next time and then we’ll have to come back again I suppose.
Just as Nature intended.
“Something to look forward to,” mumbled The Bird, “NOT.”
The Tunneller's eyes suddenly became rounder, “oh, I almost forgot!”
The Bird flapped around on his shoulder as he raced across the meadow.
“Steady! Woah! What's the rush?”
He approached The Stix who was instructing a group of Blue Sleepers in
the middle of a stream at what pitch the gurgling should be adopted between a
set of rocks.
“What do you think?” shoutebd The Stix. He stood before them proudly
with his arms outstretched.
“Fine work!” said The Tunneller.
“And what about these?” voiced The Stix, running his hands over his
body. His legs were wrapped a round with deep green trousers of moss and he
wore a tunic of compressed sycamore leaves rounded off with a crown of roses on
his head. His hair was an explosion of wild grasses, with a cape of thickly
spun spiders web, interlaced with petals and ivy. “Not bad eh? I think I needed
a new look.”
The Tunneller shook his head with wonder, “I'm quite jealous. I have to
stick to regulation uniform.”
“He looks ridiculous,” mumbled The Bird preening herself.
“Bird.”
“And he still needs to see a dentist.”
The Tunneller retrieved something out of his top pocket and quickly
handed it to The Stix, closing his own hand over it so that he could not see
what it was.
“You may need this,” he said warmly, “hold it there for a while and open
your hands when we're in the sky.”
“Very well,” he replied, somewhat puzzled, “Thank you.”
With a Whirr! and a Click! The Tunneller's Helmet swiftly
opened. The perch rose up out of his head and The Little Bird climbed aboard.
“It's time for us to go.”
“Will I see you again? inquired The Stix.
“Hopefully, not for a long, long time,” said The Bird.
“Oh.”
The Tunneller stifled a laugh, “But more than likely at some point – I’d
say even probable...things never stay the same…Goodbye.”
They rose into the air until they were hovering over the tops of the
trees.
The Stix opened his hands to look at the gift. There lay the pipes
shining brightly under the afternoon sun.
Sleepers gathered at his feet and
followed the direction of his gaze, but The Tunneller and The Little Blue Bird
had gone.
***
The rusting dustbin still lay hidden in
the tall grass. The darkest shadows that lay within ever so slowly began to
seep out into the soil, like a thousand snakes settling in for the night. A new cycle had already begun…light and
shadow would begin to dance again.
IN SEARCH OF
SPACE
“Onward my lady of the lamp! Onward!”
shouted The Tunneller.
They flew over the forest and across the
valley. The Bird took him higher and higher. Nature and the Sleepers had truly
found their rhythms. The greetings from all the kingdoms filled his ears: the
hush of waterfalls the gurgle of brooks; the “crack” of Deer rutting in the
distance, the call of the cautious Fox and the drumming of Hares' feet on
grassy knolls; kingfishers darted in and out of the tracks of rivers; otters
turned there gaze to the sky and watched with whiskers twitching, The Tunneller
and the Bird travelling through the clouds.
They passed over the edge of soaring cliffs and followed the sparkling
sun reflected on the sea. Two eagles flew along side them. They viewed the
little Bird with puzzlement, curious to see such power in one so small. Then
on, speeding across the dark blue sea, happy to have the taste of salt on their
tongues.
They spied a group of dolphins diving in and out of the waves; passed
over a squadron of pelicans returning from the daily patrol; flew through the
spray of one-hundred blue whales that glided serenely through their watery
kingdom like vast slabs of polished rock.
As they moved higher into the clouds, a large seagull crossed their
path.
“We meet again!” she screeched, trying to keep up with them.
The Tunneller looked around. “It's not is it?”
“Yes it is! It's me!”
“How are you?”
“I'm fine!”
“Would someone like to introduce me!” interrupted The Bird, rather
bewildered.
“Of course! I do apologise,” said The Tunneller. “Meet The
Butterfly..er..and the honey-bee!”
The seagull bowed her head.
“You don't waste any time do you?” laughed The Bird.
“Life's too interesting to stay in one place!” said the seagull.
“So, what's it like this time around?” asked The Tunneller.
The seagull glided on the patterns of warm air. “Oh, I'm much more
independent. I really have to work for it and I've got all these urges and
sensations. I'm learning an awful lot. I've got copies of myself now - a few
mouths to feed as well as my own! Maybe I'll end up like you one day little
bird? !”
“Anything’s possible – I’ve learnt that much.” answered The Bird
frostily.
“Pay no attention to her,” The Tunneller laughed, “enjoy the ride!”
“I will! By the way...” The sea-gull flew as close as she could get,
“Where is everything going?”
“Well we’re going home,” muttered The Bird.
“No, but what does life mean?”
The Bird rolled her eyes skywards, “Great, Another philosophical sea-gull.”
“Life is an adventure of becoming!” The Tunneller shouted.
“Becoming what?”
“This or that....Or that or this! One or the other! Just be all that you
can BE!”
The Tunneller began to rise into the clouds.
The sea-gull began to fall back.
“So where do I go next?” she called after them.
“Higher and higher...until you reach your own sun!”
Then they were gone once again, fading into the snow-white clouds.
The sea-gull flew in a circle for a while, before catching sight of a
fish in the sea. “AHA!” she squawked and
dived towards her next meal.
The Tunneller and The Little Blue Bird flew over snow-capped mountains
and evergreen trees; catching the eye of the crouching cougar on sandstone
boulders; the great brown bears scooping fresh-water fish in waterfalls.
On and on, where polar bears roamed and penguins slid on sheets of ice;
where Elephants trudged along dusty tracks and hippos bathed in water holes;
while cheetahs lay in waiting for leaping gazelles and snakes made zigzags in
the hot summer sand.
“It all seems satisfactory,” said The Tunneller.
“It's looking promising,” said the Bird.
As they climbed higher and higher, the land became a distant pattern of
rivers, mountains, plains and lakes all held together by the intricate web of
Sleepers. They climbed still higher and travelled across a carpet of endless
cloud set against a sapphire-blue sky.
The Tunneller took out an old pocket-watch on a chain. “Well, I believe
we're over the target area, they should be here anytime now.”
“There’re nothing if not punctual.” The
Bird responded. In less than a few seconds a reply wsa forthcoming with the
sound of another pair of wings to her left side.
“Right on cue,” she chirped.
Another Tunneller and his Bird had joined them. They saluted each other.
“ Afternoon Tunneller 22/3! Tunneller No.49/7 reporting for duty.”
“Good to see you Tunneller 49/7. How is Jupiter these days?”
“Oh not bad, shaping up well considering all the comets she’s
attracting.”
Before they could continue their mid-air conversation, three more
Tunnellers with their Birds, came from north, south, east and west.
Then, there were four, six, twelve,
twenty-one, fourty-one, eighty-one, one-hundred and one! And still the number
increased!
The Tunneller was leading a formation of fellow workers each powered by
little Birds of varying colours. They filled the sky from every direction and
travelled across the Earth, gaining speed as every minute passed. Slowly they
climbed higher and higher until they were in the upper atmosphere and touching
space.
The Tunneller's locked hands.
The Birds carried them faster still..
…Faster and faster…Until each Tunneller blurred into streaks of white
faster than light, coursing around the length and breadth of the Earth,
circling the globe, until a halo had been formed.
Finally, each Tunneller shot out from the luminescence they had jointly created
and travelled on into space. Eventually, all The Tunnellers and their Birds
were journeying on to other constellations, their trails of light forming
a network of never-ending connections.
Copyright © Jonathan
Metcalfe 2003
***
After what seemed like an eternity The
Tunneller and the Bird were the only ones left, floating in space, looking down
on the new Earth and its newly-formed halo of protection.
“Thank you boys,” waved The Tunneller to his departing friends.
“I always like this part,” whispered the Bird.
“Me too. She's a beautiful thing to behold.”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of having the chance to rest
my wings, but yes, that too.”
The Tunneller smirked. “What would I do without you, my lady of the
lamp?”
The Bird, lowered her beak modestly, “So where to next boss?”
“I think we'll rest for a while.”
The Bird fluttered her tail feathers happily.
“I don't think she'll need assistance anytime soon,” The Tunneller continued.
“How can you know?”
“Oh, a Little Bird told me.”
“QUARK.”
The pair drifted for a while until they closed their eyes. The Bird
climbed onto her perch which lowered into The Tunneller’s head.
He closed his eyes and drew his legs up to his ears. Then he began to
spin gently until his image was merely a blur...
...faster and faster...hotter and hotter...
...spinning beyond the speed of light…spinning so quickly, that in time,
a new star was born.
Silence reigned and another Planet settled into her rhythm...
…And waited.
THE END
