Hi everyone,
Need to explain a few things before you start to read the book.
- This is the third book in the Aggie Lichen; Pilp Collector series.
- The book was not really intended to be a read aloud book, more a read alone book.
- Grublins and Grublin-fairies have always spoken with a double letter at the end of each word. Adults seem to have a problem with this, but I can honestly say that not one child has ever asked how to pronounce Grublin speak.
- Spritespiel is based on Caesar cipher where the previous letter is taken to understand what the sprites say. This has proven popular with boys who have read the books.
I think that’s it!
Chapter One
It was the revolting stench that first aroused the sleeping pilp donor, a female human child of about ten years - that along with the constant pushing and shoving beneath its head. It started as a slightly unpleasant pong - the type often associated with mild foot odour. If it had stayed at that smell level then perhaps the events that followed wouldn’t have followed!
As the first whiff arrived, the child pulled the pink flowered bed covers up close to her face and turned over. Her eyes remained tightly shut as the night’s sleep consumed her still, her breathing deep, long and unaffected. Then as the tiny winged creature moved nearer, the smell it emitted grew stronger and more powerful. The human child gave a gentle cough causing her freckled nose to wrinkle as the invasion of her nostrils began. A stronger cough followed then a splutter. Like a snake, her tongue slipped from her mouth as she tasted the vile air. Her head was bumped around on the matching pillow as the creature rummaged underneath for its reward. As the child’s eyes shot open there came a sudden awareness that all was not right in her world.
‘MUM! MUM! Come quick! There’s another one under my pillow.’ Maddie, as the human child was called, leapt out of bed and grabbed the strategically placed plastic fly swotter from her chest of drawers. She turned back catching sight of the creature’s hairy legs as it scrambled around, still searching. Maddie crept up to the edge of the bed, moving slowly towards the pillow from which a thin piece of string protruded and dangled over the side. She heard her mum climb the stairs and enter the room but, following a familiar routine, never turned round. With mum now positioned on the opposite side of the bed, they waited patiently for the string to wiggle, a sure sign that the bait had been taken. They didn’t have to wait long!
As the string moved, mum swung into action lifting the pillow high in the air creating a large space which allowed her daughter to swoop down with a mighty whack. The creature, now sandwiched between the swotter and the bedsheet, made no attempt to move, partly because it was trapped and partly as it had been rendered unconscious by the force of the blow.
‘Get the jar, mum. There’s one on the dresser,’ Maddie whispered. ‘Quick, before it wakes up.’ She turned to point, keeping the pressure on the fly swotter as she spoke.
Mum swung round and grabbed the large glass container. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it to Maddie with the lid already flipped open. Placing the jar directly over the creature and pushing down on the sheet, Maddie slid the swotter out carefully.
‘Hurry, dear. It’s stirring!’ Seeing the creature’s eyes flicker, mum shoved a piece of card directly under its body and flicked the creature into the jar. Snap! With the lid secured and a few air holes punched in, the capture was complete. Mum sighed with relief. ‘Put it downstairs, Maddie, with the others.’
The child ran out of the room and leapt down the stairs to the basement. ‘There,’ she said proudly, pushing the jar onto a long wooden shelf full of similar looking containers.
Maddie stood back and admired her growing collection then shook her head. ‘Oh dear, that won’t do!’ She moved her latest captive along slightly then took the two jars that were already on the shelf and changed them around. ‘Height order, that’s how I like it! You must have grown,’ she said to the creature in jar six. ‘We’ll have to cut your food down!’
She took a step back again and after nodding in approval, returned to the shelf. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight!’ She tapped each one noisily as she spoke startling each of the seven imprisoned creatures in turn. ‘And now, number eight!’
She picked up jar number eight, turning it this way and that for a full minute. It was only a question from her mother that stopped the girl from completely flipping the jar over in her effort to fully awaken its occupant.
‘Eight,’ she answered, putting the jar back into its position. ‘We’ve got eight altogether.’
‘Wow!’ shouted mum, her head appearing round the basement door. ‘That’ll make them believe us. Then we’ll be on T.V. and everything.’
‘Yep! But that reporter said to call him back when we had ten. Well, we’re almost there, mum.’ Maddie made her way towards the stairs counting on her hands as she climbed up and out of the basement. ‘Just two more will do it,’ she said, slamming the door hard behind her.
Since the demise of the pilp collector - or tooth fairy as humans call them - the capturing of Grublin-fairies had become a daily occurence in this household. Maddie and her mother had quickly realised that these strange little creatures could be worth a small fortune - if they could get someone to believe them! Several of the bigger newspapers had turned their story down flat dismissing them both as loonies and time wasters. Even the tabloids had ridiculed their story, bearing in mind that they ran stories like, ‘A greenfly ate my gerbil!’ In fact, it had become increasingly difficult to find anyone who would even answer their phone calls, until one small monthly magazine finally agreed to run the story, but there was one strict condition - ten captured creatures. The magazine was doubtful, just like the other publications, but by insisting on much greater evidence, there was a possibility of a news story. And now with just two more creatures to go, it finally looked as if fame and fortune were smiling down on Maddie and her mum, and their dream of going to Disneyland Paris could soon come true.
In truth, the Grublin-fairies were such easy prey as they were fundamentally ill-equipped to do the job of the tooth fairy. They were much heavier, smelt really bad and tended to flump - a cross between jumping and flying - rather than fly. Yet all was not as it seemed. A Grublin was indeed just that, a Grublin - an inhabitant of Grublin City which lay far to the north of Pilpsville, land of the tooth fairies, which in turn was part of the world of Mirvellon. Generally speaking, Grublins did not venture much into the human world and certainly did not collect pilps - teeth. The occupants of the glass jars that stood carefully upon the wooden shelf were, therefore, not true Grublins at all. They were, in fact, part Grublin, part pilp collector - Grublin-fairies.
At the bottom of the stairs, the jar filled shelf trembled slightly, knocking glass against glass. In jar number six the tiny creature steadied itself by pressing its grey chubby hands and feet against the sides, then once the rocking had stopped, it slumped despondently to the bottom. It scraped the remains of the mouldy scraps of bread off the inside of the jar into its hands, hungrily gobbling them down. The bulging eyes surveyed the extent of their prison. A piece of ragged green cloth served as a make-shift bed while a less than fluffy cotton wool ball posed as a pillow. The creature sighed, flicking thin strands of long black hair behind its shoulder. The screwed up face portrayed a mind in turmoil as it tried deperately to remember what it had been told to forget.
‘II wass inn aa squaree, butt whatt wass II doingg theree?’ The creature picked absent-mindedly at a black thread on its tatty skirt. ‘Theree weree otherss.’
It reached into its bag, tossing an empty grey bottle over its shoulder. How it longed for one more drop of its tasty contents. It had been two long days since the last dregs of juice had been drunk. Now, the only liquid came in the form of water sprayed in the top of the jar by the human child.
‘Onlyy aa feww dayss agoo II wass freee. Nott stuckk inn somee crummyy jarr withh noo properr foodd andd drinkk. Poorr mee!’
A sudden tapping made the creature look directly to the left into the jar of captive number seven, a grey skinned beast not unlike itself. On its face, a pair of thick framed glasses fought with its nose to stay in position. Dark tufts of hair were scattered across its head like clumps of grass, making it look quite ridiculous. The creature was jumping up and down like a furious froglet. The third nostril it possessed flared wildly as it tried deperately to catch the attention of creature six.
‘Aaaaahhhh, over heree look att me,’ it screamed - not that creature six could hear much through the thick barrier of glass walls.
Creature six, having no idea what this creature wanted, hurled a nasty remark then added, ‘Ohh, justt goo awayy. I’mm veryy busyy beingg miserablee andd wouldd ratherr nott bee disturbedd!’
With that, it turned its back on creature seven, choosing to dwell a lot deeper into self-pity than it had originally intended. After all, things were getting worse not better so what was the point in trying to communicate with something that also had no future.
‘II meann, II havee beenn heree twoo wholee dayss andd noww itt wantss too talkk.’
But the banging continued, and as hard as creature six tried, it could not ignore the thumpity-thump noises that kept pounding its eardrums. Cotton wool from the pillow, stuffed into the ears, had filtered some of the noise out. However, the vibrations on the glass from the banging were most disturbing and terribly irritating. It was no good, creature six had to concede defeat.
‘Whatt iss itt? Whatt doo youu wantt withh mee?’ it screamed.
Creature seven pointed to its left, tapping madly on the glass trying make its neighbour follow its gesture. Through the layers of glass creature six, still sitting on the base of the jar, cast its eyes, squinting to make a clearer picture. ‘Ohh greatt! There’ss anotherr onee justt likee youu andd mee. Whichh meanss lesss foodd, youu stupidd idiott! Noww leavee mee alonee.’
To say the last few days had been hard for this pathetic little creature was really a bit of an understatement. It was driven by food and drink - especially the drink, and was used to having regular meals in return for collecting teeth. Going without food was one thing, but not having the special juice from the grey bottle gave the creature acute withdrawal symptoms. There were the mood swings, the cold sweats, the shivers and of course the big thirst where it ached to have just one tiny drop. But at this moment in time it was the former symptom, mood swings, that was dominating the arena.
‘Sorryy, didn’tt meann too shoutt,’ it said, apologetically. ‘Justt havingg aa bitt off aa badd dayy!’
The creature in glass seven was having a bit of a bad day too. Having been in the jar two days longer than creature six, it had already gone through the withdrawal symptoms from not having had regular juice. It was now just hungry and thirsty, but with the constant influx of new arrivals it seemed that the human child was forgetting that her other captives still needed to eat and drink.
And then, creature eight had arrived. There was something about the new captive that stirred up memories in creature seven’s mind. It didn’t have thoughts like this before, yet now faces and ideas were darting around its brain like an FFP.
What’s an FFP? it thought, determined to find out about it later. As its thoughts thinned and refined themselves over the last two days, it started to remember things. The first thing it remembered was that it was a Grublin-fairy! Then it started to remember faces. And today it started to remember who the creature in jar eight was. Then it had sighed as it remembered who creature six was too. It realised, as the only one of the three who probably remembered anything, that it would have to get the attention of both creature six and eight. Perhaps through them, it thought, there may be a way out of all this. Which is where the constant banging came in! But the creature in jar six was just being impossible and all his attempts to direct its attention to jar eight had been in vain.
‘Youu know herr,’ it screamed again. ‘Look againn.’ It banged on the glass with the empty grey bottle it had been using as a pillow. ‘Lookk you, stupid creature, lookk!’
In jar six, the mood swing continued. ‘Whatt noww? Can’tt youu leavee mee inn peacee, huhh?’ Its occupant pulled up the green cloth over its face. ‘I’mm asleepp, can’tt youu seee?’
Bang! Bang! Bang!
‘Okayy, okayy. II givee upp!’ Creature six threw the make-do bed cover on the floor of the jar and marched over to the left side. ‘I’lll havee aa lookk, youu patheticc idiott,’ it bellowed and then pushed its face up closely to the glass, taking in the distorted features of creature eight as best it could.
In the jar next door but one creature eight was starting to come round and was stretching its arms and legs. After feeling around the base of the jar, it pushed against the glass sides for support as it took its first glimpse of its new surroundings.
‘Okayy, soo it’ss anotherr onee off uss,’ said creature six to itself. ‘It’ss sortt off smalll, quitee skinnyy tooo.’
Creature seven now started tapping and waving at creature eight who seemed more than a little startled at this sudden invasion of its senses.
‘Leavee thee poorr thingg alonee. It’ss justt wokenn upp,’ screamed creature six. ‘Stupidd busybodyy.’
But hey, what was this? The creature in jar eight was also now tapping frantically on its own jar.
‘It’ss aa diseasee!’ said creature six. ‘Probablyy caughtt itt fromm thee humanss.’
Wisps of wiry red hair bounced around with each movement creature eight made. A strange smile appeared on its lips. Its eyes were suddenly alert and bright.
Something stirred in creature six’s brain. Something fluttered across its heart. What was it? Who was it? It fell back hard onto the glass floor as the memories started to emerge, flitting in and out of its brain. But not being able to stay just yet, they disappeared as fast as they came. That hair, that dreadful hair. It held the key to all the memories.
As the banging and jumping continued, creature six sat looking up at the jar lid for some kind of inspiration. ‘II knoww thiss creaturee, II knoww II doo!’
Then, with a broad smile emblazoned on its face, creature six jumped to its feet, pushing its eyes and mouth against the coldness of the glass.
It waved across to jar eight and called out, ‘Bugfacee, iss thatt youu?’