[Thanks to everyone who has been following along on this long co-operative story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far and I’m thrilled to be able to bring you the conclusion TODAY!!! If you need a refresher please go back and re-read PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4 and Part 5.]

Rock rose in twisted shapes above them. The whole mountain looked as if it had been a giant black candle, melted down to a series of drips at its base. Jeffry could see clouds before the pointed tops of those drips.

“What now?” he asked Mary-Kate, who was tucking the crochet hook into it’s sheaf beside her. His voice was less exasperated than resigned.

“We climb.” she handed him a pair of long poles with very sharp ends. They didn’t need them for the first mile or so, but by the second mile the path of the mountain had grown steep, and by the third mile the climb was almost vertical. They didn’t speak.

Jeffry started to feel tired, and he began to ponder the events of the past day. What on earth was happening to him? Yesterday morning, less than twenty-four hours earlier, he had been a cowherd in a sheep town and he had been counting his luck to get up with enough time to make a breakfast sandwich before his bigger brothers could take all the bread. What had they said when he didn’t come home last night? Had they said anything? Had they gone looking for him?

Not that it would matter. They’d never find him here — wherever here was. He could only hope that Mary-Kate had a plan to catch up with the others (preferably a plan that didn’t involve more mountains.)

They reached a small platform halfway up the mountain where the waxy rock had melted flat for a few yards wide and a few feet deep.

To his surprise Mary-Kate reached out to the stone side and knocked. A door opened — though no door had been visible before — and she stepped inside. Jeffry followed.

They were on a small platform, identical in dimensions to the one outside the door. But now they were inside the mountain. A set of stairs led from the platform down to the base of the mountain. The stairs went around and around the inside of the outer wall.  A low thick stone wall guarded the inner, inner edge, separating the stairs from the cavity at the center of the mountain. Jeffry could not see to the stairs bottom. They had climbed a long way up, and these stairs went a long way down.

They rested their poles against the side wall and Mary-Kate lifted what looked like a pair of saddles from a hook on the wall. “I had better tie ours together in case you get stuck. I take it you’ve never banistered before?”

“Uh.. banistered?”

“Don’t worry, you can just hold on to me, and you’ll be roped on anyway.” She put the saddles on the stone edge and tied the back handles of one to the front handles of the other. Then she tied a rope around Jeffry’s waist, and through all the handles. “Now sit, like this.” she sat side saddle on the first and he imitated on the second, “Hold on!”

He was not quite sure what to hold on to, so he grabbed a handle with one hand and put his other arm around her middle. Then she kicked off along the stone edge and the saddles moved along the stone wall. They accelerated, zooming down the stone edge of the stairs, around and around the mountain’s hollow interior, narrowly avoiding stalagmites and stalagtites.

The air wizzed by him so fast that he couldn’t catch his breath and he wondered what would happen when they hit the bottom. His hand on the saddle handle had turned white at the knuckles and the rope cut into his waist. They rode, going faster with each passing second, then after about five minutes they began to slow. He could just catch his breath again when they slammed into a pile of dusty old pillows and the ride was over.

It took as much time for Jeffry to get over his own shock that it did for Mary-Kate to get them untangled. “Couldn’t we have gone around the mountains another way?” he asked.

“There is no other way, boy.” a voice crackled in the darkness.

Three figured loomed out of the darkness, though technically speaking they were only able to loom because Jeffry and Mary-Kate were on the ground. In reality the three old women were much shorter than both travelers, but very intimidating. They all wore odd poncho-like garments that seemed to be made of shimmering light and shadow woven together. This fell to their knees, but Jeffry didn’t want to look further down. Two had seized Mary-Kate for examination while the other seized up Jeffry.

“She’s one of our’s.” crackled the taller of the paired examiners.

“He’s not.” reported Jeffry’s voyeur.

“He’s with me, and he doesn’t have weapons,” said Mary-Kate, “Grannies, we are on our way to the groundless castle-”

“You will stay for tea.” interrupted one of the grandmothers.

“Yes ma’am.” They were seated on slightly slimy rocks, and handed cups of a smelly congealed liquid. Mary-Kate didn’t drink much because the grannies were quizzing her intently on every aspect of her life since they had last seen her (a few months before). Jeffry didn’t drink much because he was pretty sure they had just scraped the cups against the slimier rocks and added hot water.

“So, where is it?” one of the grannies had asked him an unexpected question.

“I’m sorry, what, ma’am?”

“Where is the groundless castle?”

“Ummm… the what?” He had a foggy sense of hearing the word before, but he didn’t know why he should know where it was. To make matters worse, Mary-Kate was looking at him with a mixture of shock and horror.

“You don’t know, do you.” The old woman’s voice had an odd mixture of contempt, annoyance, and satisfaction.

“Why should I know? Isn’t it on a map?”

“No, it’s groundless! That’s the point! Only someone who knows its travel schedule will be able to get to it!” Mary-Kate was now on her feet, “I thought she told you! She must have! All those jumps, and you had no idea?”

“Is the groundless castle where Constance is?” Mary-Kate answered with a sound of derision and smacked her head with the palm of her hand.

“You had better think hard, boy. If you don’t remember some directions you aren’t going to find your princess, and I won’t be so forgiving that you didn’t finish my tea,” Snarled one of her grandmothers.

“Leave him alone. You have trouble thinking under pressure too, and sometimes with no pressure at all.” Another of the crones defended him.

“I do not!” The two began squabbling and carried it over to a fire pit where they began to poke the glowing green coals with sticks. Jeffry took the moment to huddle in a shadowy corner. He was so tired, and he had run out of ideas. He thought about his home and he thought about his darling cow so far away. She was probably scared and definitely in danger. He wanted to cry, but he was just too exhausted. He leaned into his pack trying to pretend it was Sweet Flower’s side. He wanted his cow so he could get some sleep, but his pack was so lumpy, and so glowing.

Glowing? He sat up and looked it closely. It wasn’t the pack that was glowing, but something inside. He dug through it and pulled out some slightly rumpled paper that was definitely glowing and tried to smooth it out. A sketch of Sweet Flower made by one of the Glossys stared back at him… then blinked.

The cow’s tail flicked and she turned sideways then walked her glowing waxy self off the page. The sketch floated in the air before him and walked towards the still cranky voices.

Real Jeffry and sketch Sweet Flower were a few yards away from them when Mary-Kate and the grannies when they looked up and saw the boy and his floating, glowing, cartoon companion.

“Well, well, well I do believe the boy has remembered something.” The cow wagged its tail at the oldest granny in response. The three old women flew into action, adding odd things to a cauldron which was settled over the now roaring fire. As they worked, sketch cow nuzzled Jeffry as he sat with his back against yet another rock. He must have dozed off because he woke when Mary-Kate whispered his name into his ear in a silly sing-song voice he’d heard women use for babies.

“We’re ready.” crackled the shortest granny who then added to the glowing sketch cow, “If you would be so kind, lady cow.”

The sketch leaped forward, and to Jeffry’s horror, into the cauldron. The floor beneath then shook and began to spin. The land leaps felt like calm walks compared to this stomach wrenching method of travel. He quaked along with the floor and thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t had very much of that tea after all. A few sickeningly shaky seconds later they landed on a set of stone stairs in front of a towering oak door.

This time Jeffry knew he was going to be sick, and he wished the grannies would get out-of-the-way so he could vomit off the side of the steps and not on them. One had hold of his arm and another poked his forehead, “Hold still!” she said bossily. He was going to try to push them out-of-the-way when a wave of blue calm burst through her finger and into him, settling both his stomach and his nerves. “That would have been easier if you hadn’t been wriggling like a fish. It wouldn’t hurt if you were all man or all boy, and not something of a mix of the two, but I suppose you can’t help that.”

The granny who had ahold of his arm now patted his shoulder, “Well done boy.” The wax cartoon cow that had preceded them snorted and tried to get back into the backpack.

“Speaking of which,” Mary-Kate raised an eyebrow, ”Do you want to knock, or shall I?”

Jeffry inhaled deeply, thankful that he wouldn’t be meeting the princess with sick-breath, reach up to the door’s elaborate gold knocker and pounded it twice. The two door halves creaked open to the largest hall any of them had ever seen. The room had plenty of light, windows the size of the front of Jeffry’s house stretched from floor to ceiling edge, connected by pillars that blossomed into arches so far above them that he had to squint to see the top. The ceiling was painted gold and vibrant scarlet to match the slightly worn scarlet carpet beneath their feet. The floor adornment traveled out before them to the edge of an elegantly carved wooden platform at the other end of the room.

There were a few figures on the distant raised surface, but two stood out. One looked a little familiar to Jeffry, but to his still tired brain seemed to be the wrong color.

The other was definitely familiar because it was his cow!

Both princess and bovine towards the boy — the cow with more difficulty because cows are too dignified to run.

Constance threw her arms around him, knocking out the wind he had so recently taken in. She had appeared to be the wrong color because she was now wearing a fluffy golden princess dress that ruffled over her amber skin. She looked much more princessy and cleaner, as did the soon embraced Sweet Flower, now wearing a matching gold bow.

The grannies were giving Sweet Flower a strange look, which gave Jeffry the creeps but didn’t seem to bother her as she told him, “We get to stay in the castle until they figure out a way to get the shoe out — or as long as we like — as guests of the King. You should taste some of the clover they have in the kitchen!” Then she turned as sheepish as a cow can look, “I’m sorry we left you at the campsite, but I knew you’d be able to find us with picture me.”

“Yeah, that picture was brilliant.” Jeffry told her. “But what about the Knights?” He asked Constance. “We should go back and help them!”

Constance nodded to a trail of yarn which led to a small circle of people happily knitting by the fire.  “No need. They came to us.”

“The dead traitors back at the knitted castle were more interested in following the Princess and the cow than fighting the Knitworthy Knights.” Mary-Kate explained. “They would have loved to have gotten their hands on you for ransom, or in hopes that you could lead them to Constance, but once you were gone too they put away their screaming blue arrows,  gave up the battle and followed her on their two-mile shoes.”

“But won’t they be able to catch up? Won’t they find us here?’

Mary-Kate touched his nose gently with the tip of her knitting needle. “But where is here? You can’t find it  on a map, and they wont be able to follow us with their two-mile shoes.” She picked up the end of the yarn trail and bound on. “This is a MAGIC castle.” She started a simple garter stitch scarf. “It moves about as it pleases, and those old gits will never find us here!” She smiled at him and began to knit in earnest, happy that each stitch brought her closer to her troop.

Constance scratched Sweet Flower behind her ears, “we called for a veterinarian, but she said just to wait and see and that the shoe will come out eventually and we can take you both home.” Constance told him, “And you really should try the clover, they have candied clover from Highlandia, it’s delicious!”

“Say, boy,” cut in one of the grannies, “How long have you owned this cow?”

“I beg your pardon! Owned?!” Sweet Flower snorted indignantly.

“It’s more of the other way around, ma’am. I’m her human.” Jeffry said before Sweet Flower’s temper reached its full swing, “We’ve been together for about two years.”

“Two years, eh?” the grannies fell into intent whispered conversation while Constance pulled Jeffry and Mary-Kate to the platform to meet her parents and sisters. King and Queen Middlelaine were very nice and thanked him again and again for helping Constance, while her older sister, Morning Middlelaine, just giggled and her little sister, Hawlie, hid behind her mother’s skirts. Constance seemed oddly embarrassed by her relatives, but Jeffry thought that shy and giggly siblings were better than grumpy big ones that stole his food. The King and Queen were just mentioning something about dinner when the shortest Granny poked Jeffry’s arm.

“What’s your cow’s name, boy?”

“Sweet Flower. She told me- well she wasn’t talking then exactly- but I knew somehow.”

“Ha! Didn’t I tell you!” she cackled to the other two, “It’s the girl!” She flicked her fingers at Sweet Flower and at once she was surrounded by emerald and gold sparks. Her body began to change, became taller and less wide and deep. In a few moments a girl of around his and Constance’s age stood before them in a rather beaten up brown dress the colors of the cows spots and a dirty white apron. A second later Sweet Flower the human doubled over with pain, clutching her stomach.

“The shoe!” cried Constance, “the shoe was in her cow stomach, but they’re too much for her human form!”

“Quick! Get it out!” shouted Jeffry.

“Woops,” said the granny and she flicked her fingers at Sweet Flower again, who gave a belch and spat out a pink satin shoe.

Epilogue:

The Villagers of Sheepston were surprised when the castle suddenly appeared on the northern hills above their valley, but they didn’t say anything, just as they didn’t when that odd boy who had kept a cow came home with a girl with the same name. The girl was odd too, she ate clover more than was decent in a salad and wore no shoes. When she was asked about the footwear she told the villagers that she had tried them once but they were too chewy. They had shrugged their shoulders and went back to life, because it was no use worrying about it and it didn’t affect them.

When Jeffry’s big brothers tried to steal his food, they would find that tiny knitting needles pinned their sleeves to the table an inch away, or that their knives had been replaced with crochet hooks. Eventually they stopped trying to steal and began conversing about sheep at the table.

The castle would appear for a few months at a time, mostly in summer, then vanish again. The villagers agreed that strange things happened more often when it was there than when it wasn’t, but the family who lived there were nice enough and they were relatively interested in sheep. Occasionally an odd thing would pop up on its own, a tall clanky stranger would wander through, a troop of knit obsessed knights would buy out the entire village’s yield of fleece or a bird man would fly by on his way to a corn field.

The most common odd visitor, though, was the middle daughter from the castle, the one with the dark braid. When she arrived it wasn’t long before she, the boy and the girl would disappear for another adventure.

The End

Finding some shade along my daily walk

I haven’t gone to school in a long, long time, but even I get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I see BACK TO SCHOOL ads on TV and in the newspaper. Why are they always so loud (in volume, color and style)? We all know that Summer Vacation is going to end. Even those of us who don’t mark our days from June to September with a big crayon “x’s” on the kitchen calendar are aware that Labor Day will come eventually. Is  it really necessary for Target and Walmart to jam the fact that freedom is ticking away down our collective throats? And must they do it with such a gleeful homage to consumerism?

“Look at all this awesome stuff I got for the first day of school for my cool, slim, popular self!”  oh, yeah? “YEAH!”

As today is day 19 of the July Creative Challenge. There can be no denying that summer is past the magical half way point. June weddings have come and gone, the Fourth of July fireworks have faded into the night sky, the MBL All Star players have had their last at bat. It seems all we have left  of this summer is the heat, the bugs and the sun burn…

AND …

• Shakespeare under the stars with the Baltimore Shakespeare Factory and the Chesapeake Shakespeare Company
• Zucchini bread
• BBQ with friends
• Hot August Blues
• Mint tea made from the spearmint that grows literally right outside my back door
• Oriole games
• Steamed Crabs
• Flowers from the garden
• Boxes of veggies from the farm
• Day trips to small towns
• Tall ships in the Inner Harbor
• Homemade ice cream at Bonkeys or Summers

What are you looking forward to this summer?

Related articles

• July Creative Challenge Day 4: PRIDE (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge Day 3: EXPLORATION (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge, Day 18, Topsy-Turvy (Part 3) (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge, Day 14, Topsy-Turvy (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge, Day 13: Epic (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge Day 7: Courage (ritalovestowrite.com)
• July Creative Challenge Day 5 Prompt (ritalovestowrite.com)

More on the Topsy-Turvy cooperative story that I’m writing with my daughter, Maggie. Best read PART 1 and  PART 2 before continuing on to part three…

The lane in front of The Hogs Barrow Inn was in chaos. Carts were overturned. Rubble and dust was everywhere.

A crowd of townspeople blocked Jeffry and Sweet Flower from actually getting to the Inn, but they could see that the Golem, the Giant and the Metal Man had been at work trying to force their way inside.

The Golem banged his rocky fist against the rapidly disintegrating daub and timber exterior. His deep stoney voice rumbled, “The Great Garbonzo compels you!”

A smallish, balding man stuck his head out a window on the other side of the building’s front facade. In a high, whiny voice he responded, “I don’t have to obey your ring-whatever! I ain’t in your circus. An I gots a full hall here, you ain’t the only circus on the fair-way!”

A metal voice chimed in, “We carry royalty, you fool! Open up in the name of noble blood!”

“I don’t care if you’re travlin’ with the king of the moon and all its pits, you ain’t comin’ in or bringin’ no cow in ta my inn!” The Innkeeper slurred his words, and he looked as if he drank more wine than he sold.

Sweet Flower pulled up at the indignation. “Moo?”

The Giant, who. it seemed. had been gnawing on a corner of the inn stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Give us what we can pay for, if not in the name of royalty, then in the name of MAGIC.” His voice was low, but it managed to carry over the inn-keeper’s rantings and the Golem’s banging.

That seemed to be last straw for the Innkeeper. “I don’t believe in no magic!” He shouted. He seemed to miss the irony that he was shouting at three magically made beings. “That’s unnatural, that is! All them magics oughta be run out a’ town and drowned in the river! Them and all that follow ‘em! Freaks they are!”

“I wouldn’t talk to magic people that way if I were you.” Sweet Flower’s tone was low and dangerous in a way Jeffry had never heard it before. Granted, before today he’d never heard her tone at all, but her ‘moos’ were always gentle and passive. This warning was dire, almost harsh. “I’ve seen what happens when the magic folk get crossed.”

Jeffry gave her a reassuring pat.

“Are you threatening me, cow? Idda sooner make sausage out of you!” the Innkeeper growled.

An ear-piercing whistle came from one of the Metal Man’s Claws and Constance peeked out from behind his thumb. “ENOUGH!” She had to whistle a few more times until they were all looking at her.  “Jeffry, Sweet Flower, and I will travel on and take our business elsewhere.” She slipped down from her hiding space, and gave Ludvinnio’s leg a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for your kindness, dear Ludvinnio.” Then she turned to the Innkeeper “Old man–” the red-faced Innkeeper seemed to have lost his voice temporarily — “may those who have heard you have mercy on you… I fear you’ll need it  when the Great Garbonzo hears what you have said!”

Constance pushed her way through the crowd and got to the cow. Then she attached herself to Sweet Flower’s collar. “Lets get out of here.” Jeffry took hold of Sweet Flower’s tail, and they land leaped again.

The town had grown up on both sides of the river. Their leap took them to the other river bank and into the midst of the western part of the village. The Innkeeper may have been an idiot and a bigot, but he was right about there being more than one circus in town. There were more performers on this side of the ferry.

It was so chaotic that no one seemed to have noticed the sudden appearance of two preteens and a cow.

Constance immediately started walking into the crowd and Jeffry and Sweet Flower had to rush to follow her.  When they caught up she spoke in a voice just loud enough for them to hear, “We need to lose ourselves in the crowd, pretend we’re just here for the fair.”

Jeffry’s stomach growled — it had been a long time since his sandwich — “I’ve never been to the fair, but if I had I think I’d probably go for some food.”

She plowed ahead “oh, yes?” They passed Franklin’s Fallafels but she kept moving.

He spotted a shop that looked like a confectioner’s cake. The sign outside read ‘The Princesses’ Tea Room’, “How about there?”

“Rather pink, don’t you think?”

He gave her a pleading look and Sweet Flower added a whiny ‘moo’.

“Fine. You want a sugar coma? Fine. My mother doesn’t let me have those kinds of sweets, so I don’t think much research was done on the “princess” concept. But if YOU think THAT is what being a princess is really all about, by all means, lets go in, and you can judge for yourself.”

Jeffry was beginning to think HIS princess needed to get a nap, and soon!

They never made it inside, so Jeffry and Sweet Flower never did get to  judge for themselves whether the “The Princesses’ Tea Room” embodied an appropriate amount of real princess-i-ness. As they approached the door it swung open and a rather robust figure woman filled the door frame. The owner of “The Princesses’ Tea Room” gave them a stern look. The skinny girl was dressed well enough, but where was her shoe? The raggedy boy could perhaps buy a cup of soup from the kitchen door, but he wouldn’t be entering her dining room.  And the COW?  “No cows,” the  she said with an affected, fake French accent, “not in my tea room.”

A very offended Jeffry put a protective arm around Sweet Flower, “But she’s such a well-behaved cow! She can ever talk!”

“I don’t care if it’s solid gold. I won’t have an animal in my tea room, and that is that!”

“Funny, you don’t seem to mind them on your plate. Seems like a double standard to me.” A woman with a voice like honey leaned out of the window of the pub next door.

It was a much shabbier looking establishment, but her smile made up for it. Her face was the kindest any of the travelers had ever seen. “You folks can come here.” She gestured to the opposite side of the building. “Meet you at the front.”

They walked around and found a sign that informed them they were entering ‘The Agitated Poodle’. On the wall under the sign was a series of poorly drawn, but festive looking flowers. The travelers knew right away that they would like this place.

“I bet my honorable neighbor got her stiff rump from the uncomfortable cushions on her chairs.” The honey voiced woman muttered as she ushered them in.  She was round faced and moved in a way that put Jeffry in mind of a graceful pear blowing on a branch in the wind. The impression was emphasized by her honey brown hair, smoothed back into a green and yellow cap, and with her matching apron. “My name is Glossy Belle. We have a nice cow couch and table over here by the window, and a clover puree I would very much recommend.”

As she walked them to their table the travelers caught a glimpse of a herd of smaller Glossys peering out from the open kitchen door.

Theirs was not the only animal-inclusive group in the pub, a man shared an ice-cream sundae with a rust colored sheep and a huddle of hedgehogs sat around a tiny table playing poker. The rest of the guest were humans, including a rather rambunctious party in a small private dining room off the main hall.

A tall dark-haired boy brought them their drink order while Glossy went back to tending the kitchen. When he brought them bowls of clover puree two of the smaller Glossys peeled off to join him, carrying bread trenchers.

“These are for you.” The older of the two passed around the bread. Her hair was held up in a bun by two colored wax crayons and a few more stuck out of the pocket of her smock. Her companion, a boy Glossy about four or five years old, had an orange crayon conveyed up his left nostril — obviously the pocket of his green overalls was not up to the task. “We make pictures too.”

“Are you the artist of these fresceos?” Constance asked, gesturing to the childlike flowers and birds that seem to have carried in from the sign outside and were clustered in odd groups on the walls.

“We all did them –well not the babies,” the girl Glossy blushed, “but Sam n’ I, n’ Ellie, n’ Malcom, n’ Bonnie, n’ Sage. Them good ones are Momma’s,” she gestured to a row of even and detailed flowers near a window. “We can put ‘em on paper too, so you can take with. Not just flowers, I learned to do horses too.”

“Can you draw a cow?” Jeffry inquired.

The little girl furrowed her brow for a moment then brightened.

“I’ll ask momma how!” she rushed off but not before little Sam promised, “I’ll make youse an orange cow!”

Constance turned back to her companions, “I think we will be well  hidden here for a while. It’s pretty out of the way, and I’ve never been here before, so I doubt we’ll run into anybody who knows–”

“PRINCESS CONSTANCE? IS THAT YOU?”

[End of Part Three]

Another blog I follow suggested doing a topsy-turvy kind of day — do something you’ve never done before. I’m still digging the Character For An Epic Tale (C.F.A.E.T)  theme that was yesterday’s prompt so today my daughter Maggie and I decided to join forces and write a cooperative story using as many of the C.F.A.E.T as we could. We make a good team, and we cooperate on a lot of things, but I don’t know that we’ve ever cooperated on a story of this magnitude. And I know for sure we’ve never done it with the help of Google Docs.  But that’s what you are getting today. At least you are getting the first bit of it.

We both love to write so this short story (which is supposed to be epic anyway) runs on the long side. Here’s part one:

Constance and the Cow

It is an epic tale. I should have told it to you sooner, but I didn’t think  you would believe me.  You probably still wont believe me, but kindly remember, I’m just the messenger… and sometimes a story takes on a life all its own. It becomes an unwieldy hairy beast of ink on paper, dots on screen, and as a writer the best I can do is hold my breath and let it flow through me.

Prologue:

The first thing I should tell you about is Sweet Flower. Sweet Flower was a girl a long time ago, the daughter of an inn keeper in the town of Bowder. One day  three old women, crones, came into Bowder seeking to sell herbs at the market. But the town and the market was unkind to them that day and they did not have enough money to stay at the inn. They didn’t even have enough money for a cup of porridge.

Sweet Flower’s father was a stingy, hard man when it came to business and he turned the old women away with out a cup of water or a crust of bread. But Sweet Flower had a  kind heart and she snuck outside with a pitcher of milk and pocket full of golden corn muffins. “Here” she said to the old women. “I sorry it isn’t more.”

The tallest of the old women turned to her and grabbed the milk. “Your father” she hissed “should not have been so cruel to three poor wanders.”

The second tallest of the old women grabbed the muffins. “He will be punished for the way he treated us.” She croaked. “This town of Bowder should have treated us better too. They’ll pay as well.”

Suddenly Sweet Flower realized that these old women were more than just peasant beggar women, they were witches. She feared for her father, for the town and for herself.  She took  a step back.

The smallest of the old women reached a gnarled hand out and grabbed Sweet Flower by the arm. “But you have shown kindness so we will give you a chance to escape.”

“Escape?” cried Sweet Flower. “From WHAT?”

In a chorus the three witches hissed out her “From our revenge!”

Sweet Flower wiggled out of the third witch’s grasp “Oh, no.”  and ran back toward the Inn.

“Tell no one or you will suffer as well!” They warned with an evil cackle.

As Sweet Flower gave one last terrified look over her shoulder the witches pressed in on one another and with one maniacal laugh they morphed into a giant evil blue cat.

Sweet Flower ran as fast as she could out of the village. Just as she reached the woods she met a peasant boy going up the lane. “Don’t go in!” She cried grasping him by the shoulders, “There are witches and a giant cat, and…”

The boy looked at her as if she was insane. “Yeah, well…” he said rather dumbly, “That’s all very nice, but I’ve these magic beans to sell, so, if you don’t mind letting go of me I’ll be on my way. ‘K?”

“But…”

He shook off her hand and went on his way (checking that she hadn’t lifted the magic beans from his pocket.)

With the evil laugh still ringing in her ears Sweet Flower  continued to run until the moon  was high. An unworldly blue glow hovered over her village and occasional red and purple explosions  lit up the night sky. She was nearly to the edge of the forest when she tripped on a root and struck her head on the tree trunk. As she began to loose consciousness she started to feel very strange indeed.

When Sweet Flower awoke she  could only remember three things.

• Her name was Sweet Flower
• She was a COW and
• She was very fond of grass.

It was two years to the day that Jeffry  the farm boy had found the golden bottomed cow grazing on one of the hills outside his village. He claimed the cow for his own. Because hey, who was going to argue, this was more of a sheep town really. He only knew what a cow looked like because of the missing cow pictures on the side of the milk cartons, and she didn’t look anything like one of those.

Jeffry had never been outside his village, which was in a low, grassy basin, at the foot of several towering hills. He had never been over those hills, although Bruno , his second oldest brother, who had once been a wrestler with the fair, told him it was ten miles from the top of one hill to the other.

He and his golden bottomed cow stuck to the clover field next to the withered old peach tree. They were at this favored spot one morning when something quite unusual happened. Jeffry had finished his sandwich. Sweet Flower was devouring a particularly lovely clump of clover — It was exactly like every other clump of clover in the field, but as it was the current one…it was obviously the best.

Both boy and cow were facing west, which was the entirely wrong direction to face to see the disruption of dust  and small rock slide that occurred suddenly and explicably at the top of a hill about three miles away.

They could not, however, miss the next disruption when a second, much closer, puff of dust appeared and something crashed into Jeffry, knocking him over in a scattering of sandwich crusts and slippers.

Sweet Flower gave an unconcerned look. Then she returned to her patch of clover as a girl with the dark braid straightened up, brushed herself off  and put a hand down to help Jeffry up. “I’m so terribly sorry.” She said, brushing the last of the dust off her nose. “I was in quite the rush, so I couldn’t see where I was going. “ She looked down at her toes. “Oh no my slippers!”

“What slippers?” He asked, dumbfoundedly as she began to look frantically in the clover around them.

“My slippers I need them!!”

“There’s a cobbler in the village.” He said unhelpfully.

“These are special — oh, it’s hard to explain.”

Jeffry began to search through the grass with her.  “ Um — Where did you come from?”

“Middlelaine.”

“But that’s three countries over!” It was a place he had only heard of from Bruno, and he has suspected his brother had made it up. Castles with glass roofs and kings that rode dancing bears were just the sort of thing Bruno would say to pull a tall tale on him.

She looked up at him for a moment, “Is it really? I’m making excellent time then. I’ve only been running for three days.”

Perhaps she was mad, he decided as he spied a pink and gold shoe on a gnarled tree branch. He figured he’d best fetch it down for her. The sooner she had her shoes, the sooner she’d get going, the sooner he’d be left in peace. He was descending the tree with a cobbler’s confection of a prize in hand, wondering how she had snuck up on him so quietly, when she squealed.

“Oh excellent! Excellent! You’ve got it! Now we just need to find the other one.” He tossed it to her and she tugged it on. As she looked up to begin the search again she gasped and pointed behind him, “ Oh no!”

Sweet Flower had decided to deviate from her usual meal of clover and grass to try a bit of shoe leather. Pink and gold shoe leather to be exact. She had found she wasn’t fond of it, but had already swallowed most of the entree before judging its full distasteful manner. It had just disappeared into her mouth when the girl gasped.

“Sorry. She’s an odd eater.” Jeffry patted the cows shoulder and she nudged him affectionately with her head.

The girl groaned, “ no… oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Look I need to get out of here. They were only a bit behind me last night. I’ve already wasted too much time here.” She stared at the cow as if she could will the slipper back out of her mouth. The girl stood still just long enough unnerve Jeffry a bit further before she snapped her head as if making a decision, “ Right, well the cow is just going to have to come with me.”

“You can’t take me cow! I know she ate your shoe, but cows are worth a couple of dozen shoes. And she’s MY cow.” He held on to Sweet Flower’s collar possessively, “I won’t let her out of my sight!”

“Then you’ll have to come with us too.” Within a quick stride the girl took a hold of Sweet Flower’s collar just under where Jeffry had impulsively grabbed it.

She stepped forward and the cow moved with her. A puff of dust erupted around them and Jeffry felt himself pulled by the collar with tremendous force. A second later the dust cleared and he could see that they were now on top of the hill on the far side of the valley, and further from the village than he had ever been in his life.

to be continued…