Collection of Stories for Demented Children (5 page)

“I dunna know who tuk it, but ya can find
yer leg if you luk on de other side of yerself. Let me go!” He
struggled some more.

“What do you mean:
look on the other side
of myself
? That doesn’t make any sense.” The Irish brogue was
really hard for Drippy to follow, but he concentrated hard.

“If ya wanna find de pot of gold at de end
of de rainbow, ya have to luk on de other side of de rainbow. So
luk on de other side of yerself!” He struggled again.

It was too hard to follow and didn’t make
sense, so Drippy swung his leg and tossed the little green man far
out of the forest, over a few hills and past a dale. Then he stood
there awhile and thought about the words.

A drizzle was falling from scattered clouds
and the sun shone just right for Drippy to glow brightly. The sound
of the rain pitter-pattered against the trees and ground, creating
a gentle symphony. A thought occurred to him that rainbows always
looked toward the sun if it was out. Rainbows always looked
forward.

Without moving, Drippy looked on the other
side of himself. To his immense surprise, he could see his leg far
in the distance to the south near the coast. It was a glistening
sort of a glimmer that could be seen through everything in the
way.

He began walking backward toward it as fast
as he could possibly move. He ran into a few trees and a barn along
the way, but kept going in desperation to recover the leg before
anything else happened to it.

***

By late afternoon, he arrived at a rich
green cliff looking out over the stormy ocean. The rainbow leg was
in the center of the field right above a tiny pot, which Drippy
assumed had gold in it. The leprechaun just happened to be sleeping
with his hat down over his eyes and his back against the pot.
Leprechauns were always taking naps when they weren’t stealing
rainbow legs.

Drippy turned around to be able to look
forward again. The leg remained in sight now that he was close.
“Hey! Leprechaun! I’m here for my leg!” He yelled in a booming
voice, startling the little green man awake.

“Eh? Wha’? . . .” The lecherous leprechaun
stood and stumbled a few steps forward while rubbing the sleep from
his eyes.

Drippy decided not to waste time trying to
listen to any more Irish brogue, so he swung the tree back with all
his might and punted the leprechaun high into the air. The
diminutive scoundrel shot like a rocket through the air headed deep
into the heart of England, yelling curses at Drippy the whole
time.

The pot of gold was still attached to the
stolen leg, holding it down. Drippy swung the tree back and kicked
the pot in the direction of a nearby village for the villagers to
find. If the leprechaun wasn’t mad enough before, he would be when
he came back and found the gold missing.

The leg shimmered dimly, waiting for Drippy
to take it back. But there was still the matter of the beat-up tree
acting as his peg leg. It had done a wonderful job of supporting
Drippy and he had become fond of it, so he dug the roots deep into
the emerald grass atop the cliff. Then he used powerful rainbow
magic to restore the loyal tree’s health. When he stepped away, the
leafy branches reached to the sky to soak in the wonderful warmth
of a ray of sun that was bursting through the clouds. The magic
left the tree with all the brilliant, beautiful shades of the
rainbow. It didn’t seem to miss its natural coloring.

Drippy hopped over to his leg and reattached
it with ease. It felt wonderful to be whole again. He hopped up and
down then walked around the maple tree a few times. Everything was
as it should be and his colors glowed brightly in happiness.

He knew his colors shone bright in Ireland,
but didn’t want to risk his leg again. Plus, the thief might come
back and seek vengeance, so Drippy went off in search of nice
drizzles in lands where there were no leprechauns. Everywhere he
traveled, Drippy was admired by all those who were fortunate enough
to gaze upon him. For the most part, he faced the sun, but every
once in a while, he would look on the other side of himself to keep
things in perspective.

The End

###

This story is dedicated to brooms that have
the misfortune to be ridden by ugly old witches.

***

“I hope they throw out some delicious
leftovers,” Abel the raven cawed eagerly from a nearby branch. He
was staring hopefully at the headlights of a car coming up the dark
country road.

“Littering is one of my least favorite sins
. . . at least it would be if I had a least favorite sin. I really
like them all,” Runyx replied in her wicked, rhythmic voice before
going back to grazing on luscious green grass. She wasn’t in a
normal field, but in the carefully tended yard of a farmer’s
house.

Runyx was a beautiful, midnight black cow
who loved long walks in the moonlight. She didn’t behave like the
other cows, preferring to go off on her own. She had the ability to
walk through fences and could even talk to people, although she
didn’t like to. Most importantly, she was very evil with unholy
powers at her command.

“Littering is my favorite,” Abel disagreed,
preening his long feathers, which glistened in the light of the
half moon that had just come out from behind puffy clouds.
“Hopefully they’ll throw out perfectly good food for me to eat,
maybe even a little candy. It is Halloween after all.”

“Candy is bad for you, Abel. It’ll rot your
gut.”

“I’m a raven, nothing rots our guts. Plus
I’m immortal, so it doesn’t matter,” he pointed out with a
wingtip.

“Yes . . . well there is that,” Runyx
admitted. They were both immortal, and the best of friends on top
of that. The two of them had known each other for centuries,
working together to spread chaos and turmoil throughout the
lands.

“The moon just disappeared behind the clouds
again,” Abel said, looking up at the glowing cloud passing across
the sky. “Isn’t it supposed to be full on Halloween? It just
doesn’t seem right only being half full.”

“That’s just in the movies. The moon works
normally no matter what night it is.” She tore a flower out of a
pretty garden that had been placed around a fountain with happy
looking cherub statues spitting water out of their mouths. Runyx
hated cherubs. They were little jerks that ran around in diapers
and shot things for no apparent reason.

The car roared by, its lights glistening in
the red glow of Runyx’s eyes. A bag of fast food from the local
Fish Burgers was thrown out the window and Abel immediately pounced
on the bag, ripping it open to get the partially eaten burger and
fries within.

“You get awfully lucky with food being
thrown out windows. Are you using your dark powers for personal
gain?” Runyx asked suspiciously.

“No . . . I would never do that,” he
protested innocently. “I don’t lie either.” Abel laughed in his
high-pitched caw.

Runyx chuckled softly, the evil sound
causing the flowers in the garden to curl back in fear. “What good
is having evil powers if you don’t use them for personal gain?” she
asked in amusement. “Where is Stryk? He should have been here by
now.”

The voice of a proper English gentleman came
from the shadows on the other side of the fountain. “Here I am. A
pumpkin had the nerve to attack my leg. I had to shake the bugger
off!”

“A pumpkin . . . How in the world do you get
attacked by a pumpkin?” Runyx asked the straw man who walked up
dressed in a tux and top hat, unlike the country scarecrows in
their coveralls and plaid shirts. Stryk had joined the pair of them
about eighty years earlier during a mission in England.

“No one respects scarecrows since that
blasted Wizard of Oz movie came out. They seem to think we’re all
brainless gits. It’s
quite
irritating.” Stryk dusted a
sleeve that was already immaculate. Tightly packed straw hands fit
neatly into gloves. Bits of straw stuck out of the sleeves and
collar. His face was also made of bound straw with large button
eyes and coal nose. He was rather handsome for a scarecrow.

“A
pumpkin
attacked you?” Abel asked
incredulously. “Pumpkins don’t watch movies. I’m pretty sure they
don’t actually attack . . .
anything
.”

Stryk put his arms out to the side. “How
should I know why the pumpkin attacked me? I was walking through
the field, minding my own business when it suddenly jumped up and
started bouncing about my head and shoulders.” He took a deep
breath and sighed even though he didn’t actually need to
breathe.

“How did you get away?” Runyx asked.

“Why, I ran, of course. I make it a point
never
to get into fights with pumpkins.” He straightened his
jacket. “Shall we proceed?”

“Did you discover anything useful, or were
you too busy waiting for the Great Pumpkin to do your job?” Abel
asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be scared of me you
foolish little crow?” Stryk folded his arms and glared at Abel.

“I’m a raven, not a crow. And I am neither
little nor foolish. And nobody’s scared of scarecrows, you said so
yourself. And . . .”

“Aren’t ravens and crows the same thing?”
Runyx asked, mostly to shut him up.

“You’re my best friend and you don’t know
the difference? I’m offended,” Abel declared. He went back to
picking at the fishburger with his beak.

“The basic difference between ravens and
crows is that ravens are larger, pointier and much crazier than
crows,” Stryk stated with a grin and a wink. Runyx chuckled and
winked back.

Abel spun around and fluffed his feathers,
ready to pull straw out of the scarecrow’s collar. Instead, he
hopped up to the fountain, spread his wings, and flew off toward
the small town that was their destination.

Runyx followed at a casual pace with Stryk
right next to her. She magically shifted through the wooden fence
protecting the farm’s grassy yard and turned alongside of the road.
It would take about fifteen minutes to reach the edge of the town,
but they had plenty of time.

“Dear girl, I regret to inform you, but I
saw a herd of holy cows eating grass near the graveyard,” Stryk
told her nervously, clearly not wanting to bring the matter up.
Runyx froze in her tracks without saying a word in response. Stryk
stopped as well, holding perfectly still as only a scarecrow could.
After a minute, they resumed walking again. “They’ll likely stay
near the graveyard to protect the dead from being disturbed,” Stryk
suggested hopefully.

“You’re right. We don’t need to worry about
them tonight. I just don’t like holy cows. They’re so
irritating
and they won’t stop preaching whenever you get
near one.”

“True. At least they’re not as bad as a holy
moly. Those things really get on my nerves. Even worse is holy sh .
. .”

“Shh, I hear people ahead.” Runyx stopped
and cocked her head to listen. She could hear a group of people
talking and laughing in a cornfield not far off the road.

“I say, it’s most likely teenagers partying
and getting drunk like idiots. They always do that this time of
year.”

“They always do that anytime of the year,”
Runyx replied with a snort. “Hey, get on my back. Let’s have some
fun.”

Stryk jumped onto her back with a laugh. “Ha
ha! Are we going to do the old - charge through while wailing -
prank? That’s one of my favorites.”

“Exactly.” Runyx began jogging. From her
nostrils, she puffed supernatural smoke that smelled faintly of
brimstone. It flowed rapidly ahead of them to make the dim
moonlight even spookier. It didn’t take long for her to reach a
pounding, rhythmic run and she began snorting loudly to add to the
effect.

“Oooooo, ooooohhhhh,
beeeewwwaaaaarrrreeeeee!” Stryk moaned chillingly. He flopped
around like a rag doll while using supernatural powers to stay on
her back. The straw man hardly weighed anything, so Runyx didn’t
mind him being there for things like this even though she normally
wouldn’t accept anyone on her back.

“
Moooooo
ooooooo
ooooo
!” she bellowed as they tore through
the small area where six teens had trampled enough of the
cornstalks to sit comfortably. They had a camp lantern to provide a
little bit of light while they drank cheap beer.

All but one screamed in fright while
scattering in different directions. The one that didn’t move froze
in terror while urine darkened his jeans. Runyx made it a point to
shatter the lantern by kicking it as she charged by.

A minute later, she and Stryk were far
enough away to slow down to a walk. They couldn’t stop laughing at
the reactions of the teens who were still screaming and yelling
from deep within the cornfield. One girl was especially loud,
letting out high-pitched shrieks over and over again.

Stryk hopped off her back and they laughed
the rest of the way to town.

***

Most of the town was brightly lit so it
would be safe for children to stroll through the neighborhoods.
Kids from surrounding farms joined with the ones in town, most
wearing homemade costumes like sheets over their head for ghosts.
Oddly enough, no one dressed up like a farmer.

The edge of the town was darker and few
children ventured there. Runyx and Stryk were heading toward a
specific house on the outskirts. It was a large manor with sculpted
bushes, low cut lawn, pretty trees and a tall stone fence that
surrounded everything. Wrought iron gates at the driveway entrance
were shut tight and had a sign that said
Trick or Treaters not
welcome
.

“She’s inside,” Abel called from a
low-hanging branch of a nearby tree where he had been waiting for
them. “Her parents are there too.”