Of sticks and squirrels, from eltpics by Martin Eayrs |
The dog at her feet hummed and heeee-ed in that
way dogs do when dreaming of sticks and squirrels. The strawberry jam
left on her plate was attracting dusk-time midges; oh how she wished
they were fireflies, like in the bedtime stories she loved. She looked
towards the fence at the foot of the garden and at the nettle-decked
path beyond. Nettles in summer didn’t bother her, scuffed knees and
nettle-stung elbows were all part of being an adventurer, a pirate, a
swagman. Not that she knew what a swagman was, or a billabong for that
matter, but it sounded like something exciting. She stood up and
stretched, licking a fleck of jam from the corner of her mouth then
followed her tongue with her hand. Close inspection convinced her there
were no snacks left to be had. She stepped onto the warm grass and
headed for the gap in the fence.
Through the gap and across the path, she could push through the nettles and brambles to the tracks. Underfoot, the rails would be warm in the evening sun, a tightrope to the other side! Balancing artfully, she thrust her arms out either side. Sway left, sway right, eyes on the rail, I am The Magnificent Molly. The rails began to tingle, a hum like the sounds when she swam under water. She kicked off her sandals and closed her eyes “I shall cross the canyon using nothing but skill and courage!” The hum was louder now.
Fidelius roused from his squirrel chase and sat up with a bark. Molly’s head skimmed the tops of the nettles. He barked again. The hum was noticeably louder. Molly continued across the canyon. A few more steps and I’m there.
The train flew past, a blur of blue and windows.
Fidelius ran barking wildly at the bending nettles and bouncing
brambles, charging full pelt towards the rails and into a flattened
patch of wheatgrass and weeds, where Molly lay laughing, her feet just
inches from the sparking wheels. Fidelius sank down onto his human and
licked the taste of jam.
Through the gap and across the path, she could push through the nettles and brambles to the tracks. Underfoot, the rails would be warm in the evening sun, a tightrope to the other side! Balancing artfully, she thrust her arms out either side. Sway left, sway right, eyes on the rail, I am The Magnificent Molly. The rails began to tingle, a hum like the sounds when she swam under water. She kicked off her sandals and closed her eyes “I shall cross the canyon using nothing but skill and courage!” The hum was louder now.
Fidelius roused from his squirrel chase and sat up with a bark. Molly’s head skimmed the tops of the nettles. He barked again. The hum was noticeably louder. Molly continued across the canyon. A few more steps and I’m there.
Thru' the nettles, from eltpics by Carol Goodey |