A LITTLE WOODEN FRIEND Mushrooms, chestnuts, and all the wonderful colors nature puts on. You know what I’m talking about. It is the abundant autumn season that year after year brings its wonderful delicacies to the people of Tiny Town who buy fruit and vegetables at the outdoor market. The colors, of course, are for free. You can pick up the bright leaves that have fallen on the streets. The orderly inhabitants of Tiny Town and of course the street cleaners rake the leaves into neat piles but they don’t last long. Piles of leaves have many enemies. The most dangerous among them are playful children who fall on the piles like tornadoes, scattering them all around. Little Emma is no different. She may be the smartest kid in her class and a very good girl but still, she cannot resist the temptation. “Hurrah!” the war-like scream echoed across the playground. Emma jumped wildly over two piles of leaves and landed like a bomb on a third one. The leaves danced and the little girl spun like a ballet dancer in the colorful storm. “Emmaaa!” her father bellowed from the window. “It took me over an hour to rake all those leaves into piles and now you’ve destroyed them in a few seconds just for a bit of fun.” “Oops,” Emma looked remorseful. “I didn’t mean to.” “Go get the rake and clean up this mess!” Her father could hardly conceal his smile. He would have also loved to dance through the leaves himself but he was the mayor of Tiny Town and that would have been extremely inappropriate. Emma listened to his scolding, saluted like a soldier, and proceeded to rake the dry leaves back into piles. “You aren’t very good at this, are you?” Emma heard a reedy voice in her ears. She turned to the left and then to the right but didn’t see anyone. “I’m right here,” the voice said again. “You’re looking right at me.” Emma stared skeptically at a spindly tree, too skinny for even the smallest child to hide behind. “Am I talking to a tree?” she asked cautiously. “Indeed you are! But calling me a tree is not very original. We can come up with a better name!” “Are you a boy or a girl?” Emma asked. “Hmm, I don’t know! A maple tree is not a boy and a cherry tree not a girl just because people imagine them to be so.” “All right then,” Emma decided quickly. “I’ll just call you Woody.” “It’s a deal,” said the newly named Woody. He extended a swaying branch in greeting. “Tell me: what’s it like to live in that cube with a roof on the top?” That was the first of Woody’s countless questions about Emma’s house and family. He was curious about everything from the gold fish in the glass bowl to the cornflakes in the cupboard. Emma’s mouth began to get tired from answering all of his questions. “Why don’t I just invite you in and you can take a look around?” The curious Woody was all for it: “Great idea! All we need is a big flower pot and some wheels.” Emma went to the shed and returned with everything they needed. She dug up Woody with a shovel and planted him in a colorful ceramic flower pot. She also found a handcart to use to drive Woody to the house. “Fantastic!” Woody was delighted. “We young trees should travel more in order to broaden our horizons!” Emma, full of understanding, nodded and drove the cart into the house. There was no end to Woody’s amazement. He poked his nose under the bed, into the wardrobe, into the sock drawer. He pressed all the switches in the house and tried all the kitchen appliances. He opened the refrigerator where the colorful plastic bottles attracted his attention. He opened one and poured a sip of a bubbly drink into his flower pot. He frowned: “Yuck, this is terrible! Water is still the best drink in the world.” Then Woody pointed at the large screen in the living room and said: “Hey, what’s that?” Emma proudly switched on the television set. “Wow!” Woody was fascinated by the cartoon on the screen. “Crazy!” He became so engrossed watching the cat chasing the mouse that Emma had to forcefully push him away. “Hey, buddy!” Woody said to a green plant in the corner. His friendly greeting went unanswered and Woody quickly figured out that the plastic fichus plant was no more talkative than a chair. The decorative plants on the windowsill were no more intelligent than lettuce. “What did you expect?” Emma laughed. “Not much,” Woody said dismissively. “I know that intelligent plants like me are rare. Almost all trees are dumb as sheep waiting for people to turn them into a table or logs.” Suddenly the voice of Emma’s father was heard from the stairs: “Who are you talking to Emma?” “Woody,” answered Emma. “My new friend.” Her father didn’t ask who Woody was because his head was full of mayoral obligations. “I’m off to work. Today is the grand opening of a new electric power plant, a miracle of green technology.” He said to Emma as he jumped into his shoes and rushed out the door. “My father is used to my amazing friends,” Emma explained. “Forgive him for not saying hello to you. But I’ll now take you somewhere where you will be the main attraction.” Emma locked the front door and drove the cart carrying the satisfied Woody out to the street. She drove him up the winding dusty road that led to the old castle on the top of the hill. The ancient and mighty Holey Moley Castle reigned above Tiny Town and nobody apart from Emma knew its inhabitants. The rumors about terrifying ghosts that resided in the castle were exaggerated. There is only one ghost: his name is Spook. THE TOWN HERALD “Hello, Emma!” said the white apparition who answered the castle door. “Why did you bring this spindly tree to visit?” “Spook, meet my new friend Woody,” Emma introduced them. “Pleased to meet you,” the two said at the same time and shook on it, one extending a white hand, the other a branch. They took the elevator up to the high tower and entered the hall of wonders. Woody saw piles of old clutter, interesting antiques, and cabinets full of books. An evergreen melody blared from the flared horn of an old gramophone player that stood next to a potted cactus. “Plants enjoy music,” said a small frog-like man with a colorful tuft of hair on his head. He was reading a book. “They grow faster when they hear it and become even more green and lustrous.” “They may, but this ancient gramophone creaks like a knight in a rusted suit of armor,” said the grey-haired scholar sitting next to him. He covered his ears as if he were in pain. At the moment, the two noticed the visitors and introduced themselves to Woody. “Hello, little leaved friend,” said the talkative fellow with the colorful tuft of hair. “I’m Georgie. “And I'm Willy,” said the scholar, shaking the branch held out by Woody. “Also known as famous Willy the Wizard.” “You’ve come just in time to give us your opinion on whether this cactus likes the music we’ve been playing for it,” Georgie pointed at the patient audience member. “The only thing I have in common with that prickly cucumber is our green color,” Woody laughed and bent down to the cactus. “But I can still ask.” He leaned over, whispered a question at the cactus, listened and nodded. “The cactus says that Georgie’s music is excellent. The wild screeching makes its needles very sharp.” “Did you hear that?” Georgie looked proudly at Willy and caressed the cactus without thinking. “Ouch!” He cried as loud as a magpie, blowing on his throbbing hand. “That’s gratitude for you!” Georgie fumed as he pulled the spikes out of his palm. “You desert beast!” “Anybody for milk and cookies?” Willy clapped his hands, interrupting the funny scene. All expressed enthusiasm for a snack and sat down near the window. They put Woody in the sun and opened the window to let in a little fresh air. Then they deluged him with questions. “Winter is coming. Do trees sleep and dream during the winter?” “I’m not foolish enough to waste my youth sleeping,” Woody waved a branch expansively. “I plan to travel the world before I find a place to put down roots.” The friends munched on the cookies and nodded with interest at the plans of the tiny tree. All of a sudden, loud applause was heard in the distance. Spook looked out the window down at the town in the valley beneath them. “A large and jubilant crowd has gathered around an unusual looking building,” he described what he saw. “I think I know what’s going on,” Willy crowed, holding out a newspaper. “I read about it in the latest Town Herald.” “My father, the mayor of Tiny Town, cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the plant,” Emma boasted to Willy who couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photograph of the entrepreneur in the newspaper. “That Grimy Grady looks awfully familiar,” the wizard scratched his head. “I’m sure he’s just another one of your old school friends,” Georgie laughed. “You’re right,” Willy snapped his fingers. “Grady was a nice enough guy but he was the worst student in our wizardry school. He got into mischief every day and was often called into Headmaster Numbskull’s office. Once, while he was waiting to be punished, he spotted a book of black magic on the shelf and tore out some pages. I don’t know what spells were on those pages but Grady raised a terrible ruckus with them. The school building grew legs and wandered off for a ramble only to return several days later covered with dirt. Grady was expelled from school and the pages from Headmaster Numbskull’s book were never found.” “What kind of spells did he cast?” Emma asked curiously. “This old friend of yours?” “I don't know,” Willy shrugged, “but we were all very happy. There was no school for a whole week and the building had to be repainted because it was as black as a coal mine.” Georgie frowned and spat something out: “Look at what’s swimming in my cup?” He pointed at the black spots scattered over the surface of the white milk. “Achoo!” Emma sneezed and then rubbed her burning eyes. “Why am I so dirty?” Spook looked at the black blotches on his snow-white arms. Willy looked with alarm out of the window. All the while, stinky black soot poured into the room. “Heavens to Murgatroyd! It’s black as an asteroid! The new chimney is the same height as our tower and the wind is blowing the soot directly over to us.” He drew a line over the black filth with his finger, smelled it and then cautiously licked it. “That grimy con artist is not using modern equipment at his new plant,” he sneezed dramatically. “This smells like hairy black magic.” “Let’s close the windows or everything will get dirty.” Emma jumped up and began to close the shutters. She looked for the switch and turned all the lights on because they couldn’t see a thing even in broad daylight. “Long live electricity!” Georgie applauded. “Here, here!” Willy agreed. “We have genuine home-made electricity produced by solar cells on the roof of the tower.” But just as the proud inventor ended his sentence, the lightbulbs on the ceiling flickered, and then went out. DIRTY ELECTRICITY »“Whose nose is this?” asked Georgie, feeling something that felt like a big cucumber in the darkness. “Get your dirty paws off me so I can get some light in here,” grumbled Willy and struck a match. The wizard lit a candle with the small flame and then used the candle to light several torches. “And we are back in the middle ages,” Spook said. Willy pointed towards the roof with concern: “Would you please fly up there and check what is wrong with the solar panels.” Spook nodded and flew directly through one of the thick walls. Only a white splash remained on the wall and its now invisible owner continued directly to the roof. A minute later there was a loud banging at the shutters. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! “Open up!” Spook’s voice was heard from outside. “I have something to show you!” They let him in and closed the window swiftly. “Oh my! Look at the chimney sweep!” Emma admired the now almost completely black Spook who had acquired a new set of clothes on his errand. “I’ll wash some other time.” Spook was carrying a solar panel, the cells of which could hardly be seen because of all the black and oily soot. “But first you better take a look at this. There is a stinky dark fog surrounding the castle,” Spook described the weather outside. “It’s as if our neighbor was a volcano with a bad cold.” “Hey, Willy, why didn’t we put some wipers on the panels?” Georgie giggled. Willy gave him a dismissive sidelong glance: “Even if we clean them it wouldn’t do much good. They’ll soon look the same again. But I have another idea that calls for strong healthy legs.” He dragged a dusty stationary bicycle into the room and connected it to a generator. “Until I come up with something better we’ll use this and have some fun too. Who will go first?” Spook jumped forward: “I’ll go first! I’ve never get bicycled before!” He pushed down on the squeaky pedals with all his strength and soon the lightbulbs were glowing. “But what about clean air?” asked Georgie. “We can’t even open the windows.” “My team will take care of the oxygen,” Woody answered, pointing at the cactus and a couple of other green plants. “I’ll go into town to see what’s going on,” volunteered Emma. The electricity generated by the bike was not enough to operate the elevator so Emma ran down the stairs. She hurried into the valley, looking back at the castle over her shoulder. A dark river of smoke belched out of the giant chimney, enfolded the castle towers, and then rolled on towards the mountains. “Yuck! I need to talk to my father about this.” She walked directly toward the venerable city hall and entered the mayor’s office like a storm. “Daddy! Listen to me! This is horrible!” The mayor didn’t have time to say hello before Emma overwhelmed him with a whole bag of stinky complaints. She gestured wildly, pointing at the castle through the window. “Well! Now you know!” Emma crossed her arms and looked at her father sternly. But the mayor only laughed and dismissed her with a wave of his hand: “If you want to make pancakes, you have to break some eggs. Let Mr. Grimy Grady explain it to you.” Only then did Emma notice the odd-looking scoundrel sitting in an armchair. “Hello, Emma!” Mr. Grady’s artificial smile stretched from ear to ear. “Your father is right. Tomorrow the wind will blow in another direction and the castle will be washed clean by the next rain.” “Wherever the wind blows there are beautiful white mountains,” Emma responded with clenched fists. Mr. Grady was untroubled and continued politely: “Those mountain peaks are terribly far away and when the smoke gets there, it will hardly disturb a couple of poor mountain goats.” Emma’s father nodded to Mr. Grady and added: “In any case, there are no tourists at the castle so we don’t need to worry.” This statement enraged Emma so much that she had to bite her tongue not to say something very rude. “Goodbye to you both!” she almost shouted, then turned around and walked out of the office, slamming the door with such force that her father’s glasses jumped off his round nose. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grady, so very sorry,” he said. “Oh, even our sweetest children have mischievous batteries,” laughed Mr. Grady and then shamelessly added. “We should connect her to my electric power grid and calm her down a bit.” By the time the words were out of his mouth, the furious Emma was already back at the tower. “Can I pedal for a while to work off my bad mood?” she asked Spook who immediately consented. Emma pushed the pedals with such force that three lightbulbs exploded immediately because the voltage was too high. Then she told her friends what happened in her father’s office. “Take it easy, Emma,” Woody said. “Maybe I can be of some help.” “Help?” Georgie asked. “But how? You’re stuck in that planting pot.” “That’s true but there is strength in numbers,” Woody said, smiling at their doubtful faces. “You may think I'm something special but I’m not the only intelligent tree in this town.” TWO OLD GNARLED FELLOWS “Really? How many are there? Where are the other intelligent trees?” The questions came from all directions. Woody cleared his throat importantly to calm the audience. “All in good time. I would now ask my driver to take me down to town for a family visit.” “That must be me,” laughed Emma and grabbed the cart by its handles. The two sped down the curvy staircase out of the castle and down toward the town. “Where should I take you?” asked Emma. Woody looked around and pointed towards the park. “Do you see the two old gnarled trees on that slope?” he asked. “That’s where we’re going.” Emma hurried toward the two mighty trees that reigned over the park. Woody cleared his throat and greeted them. “Hello, how are you?” The wind blew like a whistle, birds sang joyfully, and nothing else happened. “Maybe this is a mistake,” Emma thought, but then the first tree shuddered. Its crown opened and a knotty face appeared and leaned down to her. “My eyesight is poor but my ears are still good. Arthur, did you too hear a familiar voice?” The question was for the other tree, which dropped a few leaves and growled sleepily. “I don’t know whether to be angry or happy,” he said. “This must be our lost brother.” Emma looked at Woody in surprise. He seemed a little embarrassed but swallowed with determination and continued. “Well, I went to look around the town a bit and you wouldn’t believe how many interesting things I saw!” Woody gabbed, even starting to eagerly tell his brothers about the cartoon he watched on television. Emma, seeing that Woody was not getting to the point, interrupted him: “Woody wanted to ask you for help, gentlemen,” she said politely. “Woody? Otis, did you hear that?! His name is Woody now!” The two brothers began to laugh and they laughed for a very long time. When they finally stopped, Arthur pointed at a large tree stump between them. “This is where our brother, the one you call Woody, used to grow. But he’s not here anymore because he ran away. He very brazenly ran away!” “But you saw that I was rotting and getting dry,” Woody shook his head sadly. “I could have fallen on a child. It’s not my fault that I was cut down.” Emma was having trouble following the story and stopped to ask a question: “What do you mean cut down? Did you rise from the dead?” “You must know that an old tree stump regenerates quickly,” Otis explained to her. “Trees are very resilient. Woody disappeared into the earth and reappeared in your backyard.” “I was so bored with the same old thing,” Woody moaned. “Spring then summer, autumn then winter. Leaves on, leaves off. It’s enough to drive you crazy, just standing there accumulating tree rings.” “Well, you obviously had enough of our company and starting associating with humans,” Otis sulked. “And now that you need us, you’re back again.” “That’s true. Now I’m young and slender as hazel rod and you two are not happy for me. And just look at this beautiful pot. I can travel around and discover things, and then come back here and tell you all about them.” The two brothers grumbled, whispered, and one of them finally said: “Well, tell us something interesting then.” “I’d be glad to,” Woody was beside himself with happiness and he began to tell them about the castle and his new friends. He waved his branches passionately, rustled his leaves, and finally brought the story around to Grimy Grady. The brothers nodded gravely and were appalled when he showed them the high chimney. “The three of us could turn the wind in another direction so that my friends in the castle could get some much-needed sun and fresh air,” Woody suggested. “Can you really do something so magical?” Emma asked. “We’ve played with the wind for as long as I can remember,” Woody said. “If we ask the wind to do something, it does it. It rushes through our crowns, blows the leaves about, summons a cloud when we need rain, chases the clouds away when we need sun.” “But Woody would need to be a bit taller,” Otis said, and Emma lifted the pot and placed it on the old tree stump. “Come, brothers, let’s sing,” Woody commanded. The two mighty old trees and the little sapling rustled their request to the wind who had been blowing the smoke toward the castle.” “Beloved wind, oh mighty gale, slow down a bit, take a wee break. Stop for a second, just have some cake.” WHOOOOO! A great blowing sound could be heard as if someone were blowing into a giant glass bottle. That was the wind blowing around the chimney and then it slowly stopped. A fat spider swaying on a thin cobweb grew completely still. The tree brothers congratulated each other: “We still have the stuff. Now let’s send that smoke in the opposite direction.” “Oh, cyclone dearest, to the north blow your winds, may penguins and Eskimos laugh to your whims.” But the smoke couldn’t care less about penguins and Eskimos. It spun around the chimney and slowly snaked its way down to the ground. “It didn’t work,” the brothers said surprised. “Why doesn’t the wind obey us?” Then they slowly and clearly repeated the request. “Gnarly, gnarl,” Arthur growled. “Still nothing. Something’s wrong.” “It must be Woody’s fault,” it dawned on Otis. “He grows in a pot. If we want the wind to listen to us Woody will have to put his roots into the ground.” The two big brothers looked sternly at the tiny sapling in the pot on the tree stump. “No way!” said Woody. “I’m not giving up my freedom!” He stubbornly crossed two branches over his skinny trunk and pointed a wooden tongue out at his brothers. The thick black snake of smoke was now on the ground and had started to spread. Emma and the three brothers could hear coughing and cries of alarm as the black fog enveloped the first town dwellers. “What now?” Emma shook her head. Coughing was only the first of their troubles. They watched as the smoke rolled over the fence and continued its visit to Tiny Town. A SOOT-FILLED SWIMMING POOL “Hey, look!” Spook rejoiced. “A ray of sun is peeking through the cracks of the shutters.” “Let’s look outside.” Willy carefully opened the shutters and bright daylight poured into the tower. “I can finally breathe,” Georgie huffed and puffed on his stationary bike as the bad air in the tower slowly began to be replaced with fresh air. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever ride a bicycle again.” Willy handed Spook an old broom: “You’re dirty already. Go outside and tackle the difficult task of cleaning up.” Spook nodded and flew out to the roof and the dirty solar panels. He whistled a march and pushed the broom back and forth causing black specks of soot to float down toward the town. “Georgie, you and I will clean up all this filth with soapy water and brush.” Willy applied himself to the job but Georgie was not in the mood to scrub and quickly found an old vacuum cleaner and turned it on. “Modern technology,” Georgie said with delight but soon the vacuum cleaner began to sputter and it was not long before it gave a last shuddering breath. “Oh, no! You old beast, get into gear!” Georgie pulled out the disobedient tube, peeked into it, then blew into it, pressed the switch on and off, when suddenly... KABLOOOOM! The vacuum cleaner sneezed and sent out a ball of black soot right at Georgie. “Ah-ah-choo!” Georgie sneezed and coughed and then finally reconciled himself to his fate. He climbed into a bucket full of water and gave himself a good scrub. “Cleanliness is next to healthiness,” he said, trying to found the bright side of the whole story and offering the soapy brush to Spook. “That’s what smart people say.” “Keep the brush,” Spook declined. “I’m not washing. I have a feeling the coming days are going to be very dirty.” The electricity from the solar panels ran through the wires. The elevator roared as it brought someone to the top of the tower. A very dirty Emma and Woody rushed in and, talked one past the other, wheezing and coughing about the brother trees, the wind, and the smoke. Everybody stared at them with puzzled looks on their faces until finally Woody pointed out the window: “Just look down at the town and you’ll understand!” Georgie looked down towards the foggy basin under the castle and gaped: “It’s not very clear down there. Quite the opposite. Where are the houses? The town looks like a dirty swimming pool filled with soot. I’d rather not go swimming today.” “That’s because Woody’s brother trees turned the wind off,” Emma said desperately. “That swimming pool is not going anywhere soon.” “Just pull the plug out and let it drain,” Woody said jokingly but nobody laughed. “The chimney is an open tap we need to close. If it continues to produce smoke at this rate, soon we’ll all be covered in darkness,” Willy looked at Emma seriously. “It’s time we had a talk with Grady. Your father surely knows where we can find him.” “I'll let you know as soon as I find out,” Emma said thoughtfully. “In the meantime, Bruno can wait here in the sunshine.” Bruno fidgeted a little but didn’t dare object because he had guilty conscious. The girl went back into the dirty valley with a T-shirt pulled up over her nose. Her eyes stung and it was so dark she could hardly find her family’s house. Her father wasn’t home yet. She decided to talk to him over breakfast in the morning and went to bed. “What time is it?” Emma yawned when she woke up the next morning, bringing her little watch close to her bleary eyes. “Oh! Why did I sleep so long?” She looked out the window and saw the problem. Not even the tiniest ray of sun penetrated the layer of soot on the glass and her watch that was powered by solar energy didn’t work. She rushed downstairs in her pajamas and found her father in the kitchen. He had just finished his breakfast. “What a catastrophe!” he wailed. He was hunched over the newspaper, biting his nails as he read the front page. “Good morning!” Emma took the newspaper from her father and saw the screaming headlines. “What does it say in the newspaper?” “Drat! Mr. Grady cannot be found anywhere but he is still draining the city budget,” moaned Emma’s father. “Street lights are on around the clock and snowplows are powered by electricity.” “What if you stop running his power plant?” “I don’t even know what it runs on,” her father shrugged. “I don't even know what the front gate looks like. Everything is foggy and unclear. I feel as if I have been hypnotized.” “If you give me Mr. Grady’s telephone number, I might be able to help,” Emma offered and her desperate father happily pulled Grady’s business card out of his pocket. “What strange profession is this?” Emma wondered. She gave her father a grateful kiss on the cheek and grabbed her phone. A minute later the brave team at the castle piled into Willy’s old jalopy. They took a deep breath and rushed around the curves and down into the filthy sooty swimming pool beneath the hill. GRIMY GRADY “Where’s the doorbell?” Woody asked. “Doorbell! We can’t even find the door!” Emma said. The friends had just made the third circle around the power plant but there was not a single opening in the strange walls. Black fog lingered at the corners, creating gruesome images in the deadly silence. “Spook, why don’t you poke your nose inside and check if anybody’s home?” Willy suggested to his friend. “I’m sure nobody lives here but somebody might be working,” Spook answered Willy as he headed towards the wall. POP! There was a bang as if a ball had hit the wall. Spook bounced off the wall, made a flip, and landed on his bottom. “Now that’s real black magic,” Willy said smugly. “I suspected as much.” He rubbed his hand down the strange wall and took a phone out of his pocket. “It’s time to talk to Grady,” Willy said, and called the number on the card. RING RING RING RING… The phone rang but nobody answered. Willy hung up, rubbed his nose, and immediately got another idea. “CHEEESE …” his toothy smile spread from ear to ear as he took a selfie and wrote beneath it: “Where are you, Grimy Grady, old chap? I’m in front of your house. Open the door.” He added three smiley faces and sent the message to Grady. Georgie placed his ear on the wall and heard steps approaching from the other side. “AAAAAHHH!” Georgie screamed and fell into the building. A big round hole had opened and an excited Grady came out through it. He tripped over Georgie and rolled over the sooty lawn. But this didn’t diminish his good mood at all. He hugged his old school friend. Grady had completed one and a half years of wizardry school and so the sight of wooden Bruno, black Spook, and green Georgie didn’t surprise him at all. “Willy, you old son-of-a-gun!” Grady was happy to see Willy. “How are you? You used to be such a nerd though you did have a good nose for jokes.” “My nose is still the same and my mind is as sharp as ever,” Willy laughed. They began talking about the good old school days when they were both young and full of mischief. “You were a real troublemaker,” Willy turned the conversation to the missing spells. “I bet that the old Headmaster Numbskull is still looking for those missing pages.” “I confess,” Grady boasted. “I confess to all of it but I did use them wisely.” “Did you?” Willy said with enthusiasm in order to encourage him. “I’m very curious!” “Come inside with me and I will show you the workings of the power plant,” the proud Grady invited them on a tour of the building. At his command, the hole in the wall obediently opened and they entered. “Don’t step off the yellow track no matter what happens,” Grimy Grady warned his visitors. Red veins that looked like roots ran along the walls, pulsating with a steady rhythm. “Yuck! What are these things on the walls?” Emma was shocked. “They look alive!” “Hopefully they won’t eat us,” Georgie moaned. “Tell the walls that I’m not edible. I’m poisonous.” “Don’t touch anything,” Grady ordered. They reached a pile of twisted knotty veins, in the middle of which several old pages filled with writing swam in a ball of blue fire. Rancid smoke rose from the pages, expanded, and then disappeared through a vast opening in the ceiling. “Does this thing generate electricity?” Georgie gaped. “Crazy, isn't it? It burns night and day, no cost, no complaints,” Grady rubbed his hands together. “Electricity flows out through a thick cable and money flows in!” “Are you very rich?” Willy looked at him in surprise. Grimy Grady turned out his empty pockets and said proudly: “Not exactly rich. Those blue flames burn the money. But I’m very popular because I sell the town cheap electricity.” “Popular?” Willy scoffed. “You obviously never go outside or you’d notice that the whole town is suffocating. That’s the real price of your electricity.” Grady gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “A little soot and smoke is a small price to pay for such marvelous technological progress.” “This isn’t technology,” Willy said angrily. “This is BLACK MAGIC which gives nothing for free. You must have been sitting on your ears at school!” “Oh, Willy, come on, don’t make such a fuss,” Grady rolled his eyes and turned towards the exit. “Those were just old-fashioned, scared professors boring us with all those warnings.” He opened the hole with a wave of his hand. He was clearly insulted and said goodbye with his nose held high: “You’ll see! They’ll erect a monument for me one day.” The friends walked back outside into the dark day. The bell tower struck noon but all the street lights were still on. “Grimy Grady’s power plant is a real fortress,” Woody knocked a branch on one of the heavy walls. “He closed all the holes really well.” “All but one,” said Emma and pointed towards the top of the giant chimney. “That’s his Achilles’ heel,” Willy smiled wisely. “You mean his Achilles’ hole?” Georgie said. “No, silly. Willy is saying that the chimney is Grady’s weak spot.” “Exactly,” Willy said and drove the old jalopy back toward the castle. “In order to defeat your opponent, you have to press on his weak spot.” A STINKY TARGET “What is this ancient monster for?” Emma marveled at the contraption they found in the castle armory. “It’s a magnificent military invention devised by my genius ancestors,” Willy said proudly as he oiled the joints. “Are we going to knock down the chimney?” Woody blew into the contraption to chase away a spider. “No, we just have to hit one hole,” Willy flexed his muscles and tried to push the ancient catapult. Instead of the machine’s wheels, it was his own bones that creaked. “Help me move this thing. It’s heavy as a tank.” Joining forces, they pushed the catapult and the old wheels rolled forward to the castle ramparts. Willy peeked through a gauge and measured the power of the metal springs. “This large spoon serves as a scale. The heavier the projectile, the more force we will need.” He placed an apple on the spoon and pulled a lever. BAZOOOM! The apple flew away and disappeared. “Haha! The target’s on the other side of the ocean,” Georgie laughed. Willy didn’t let Georgie bother him. He used a pair of pliers and stubbornly worked on the mechanism, adjusting the little wheels. He placed a rusty helmet on the spoon and shot again. KAPOOOOW! The old army pot flew in an elegant arc toward the target and disappeared into the stinky chimney which jutted up above the black fog. “The chimney didn’t even belch,” Emma commented. “We'll send it a whole raft of old junk,” Willy pushed over a wheelbarrow of projectiles. “We have an endless supply of it.” “Look what I found,” Georgie joyfully showed them an old washing machine. They flexed their muscles and placed the washing machine on the spoon. “We’re finally cleaning this place up,” Willy said exuberantly, piling more and more junk onto the catapult. The old springs creaked under the weight and the wizard began to count down loudly. “Three, two, one, watch out!” KABLAAAANG! He let the mechanism go and a colorful salvo of junk flew toward the target. TRONK PONK SHEBONK! The junk disappeared down the smoky gullet with a series of loud bangs and could be heard rumbling in the depths. “Victory!” cried Woody. “Is that all there is to it?” Spook applauded with surprise. But then the chimney shrunk a little, blew out a puff of smoke, burped, and then began to spit out everything it had just swallowed. “Run! Hide! Hurry!” Emma shouted, and she grabbed Woody and pushed his cart away from danger. The chimney spat the stuff directly back at the castle. The junk struck against the mighty walls like metal hail. Fortunately, nobody was hurt. “The storm is over!” Georgie commanded and got out his protective gear. “Get into position!” He rushed towards the contraption but was knocked over by a strong current of air. BRAAANG! A horrific sound was heard as the washing machine came flying through the sky and smashed the mighty catapult into a sad pile of wood and useless iron. Georgie changed colors from absolute terror and soon began to berate the washing machine: “You silly rotten tin can! I hope termites and rust eat the rest of you!” “If we had a bomb the size of a tomato,” suggested Spook. “I could carry it there myself.” “Brilliant! A little bomb that will work like a cork and stop the chimney up!” Willy jumped up and ran to his workshop. “I'll be right back!” he called over his shoulder and soon they could hear the clatter of an engine. Not much time passed before Willy was back, proudly holding a little orb in his hand. Willy explained his invention: “When this little ball smells the smoke, it will sneeze, and get much bigger.” “I’d also like to help,” Woody said timidly. “I’m not strong but I’m as young and flexible as a hazel rod.” “Of course,” Spook nodded and winked at his friends. “You could do the job much better than me.” “Who will take care of this little bomb?” Willy asked, handing the ball over to Georgie who was the first to raise his hand. He could have hardly found a more unsuitable custodian. Everyone watched as Woody transformed himself into a slingshot, everyone that is except Georgie who had spotted an old candle in the corner of the room. He couldn’t resist. His fingers began to itch and, as if on their own volition, they struck a match and lit the candle. Just as the flame began to burn brightly, Georgie put it out and it emitted a smelly smoke. He brought the little ball close to the smoke and when nothing happened he opened his mouth to complain: “This isn’t really...!!!” KAPOW! There was a loud bang. All heads turned and looked up as Georgie was carried aloft on a huge ball. “AAAAAAAH! HELP!” cried Georgie, holding onto the tiny threads that stuck out of the projectile. “Rancid ravioli and rotten rhubarb!” Willy slapped his forehead in despair. “Not again!” Then, to the horror of the friends, the giant ball began to fall down toward the town. It fell into the filthy smoke, punched through, and disappeared into the black fog. “Terrible! Poor Georgie!” Emma said. “He must have splattered all over the asphalt.” But the giant ball bounced back and the next moment it was elegantly flying into the sky again, a tail of smoke trailed behind it, the terrified Georgie still clinging to it. Then the ball landed right in the middle of the chimney as if its flight had been calculated by the most brilliant rocket scientist. It plugged the hole airtight. “Unbelievable!” Willy remarked on the unlikely strike. “Georgie has more luck than wisdom.” “Hurrah, hurrah!” Georgie could be heard hooting from the distance. “Did you see that? Right into the target! I rule!” He waved at his friends so triumphantly, they almost thought he had planned the whole thing himself “I'm hungry,” he called out. “Send me a snack.” “You deserve it.” Willy handed Woody a fresh apple, placing it in the elastic band. The flexible wooden body bent back like a bow ready to shoot its arrow. “It’s your turn, slingshot!” “Fire!” Woody commanded and clenched his teeth. With a single movement, Willy let go of the elastic band and Woody snapped through the air, firing the apple toward the hungry Georgie. Georgie was thrilled with the game, and jumped left and right to catch the apple. “Just a little more!” Then: “Ouch!” Georgie squealed in pain because the apple hit him right in the middle of his forehead and knocked him down. But as usual, he rebounded quickly, stroked his bruise, and looked around. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he victoriously held the apple above his head before biting into it. At the same moment, the big chimney began to sway like a drunken skyscraper. BLACK MAGIC ON THE RUN “Yuck! Cough! Cough!” Grimy Grady was choking in his own power plant. He waved his hands in front of him, trying to disperse the smoke. His eyes stung and he could hardly feel his way along the wall as he coughed out a spell and rolled out of the building. The hole quickly closed behind him. The hellish building shook and groaned. “What’s happening?” Grimy Grady thought he was losing his mind. “Calm down, crazy house!” He waved his arms, trying different spells to open a hole in the walls and get some air into the plant, but nothing worked. The black magic had gone totally berserk. Something had blocked its nose and it couldn’t be unblocked. The building rose from the ground, shook its foundations, and walked off on knobby hairy legs. “Wait! Where are you going?” Grady ran after the building, cursing. The company watching from within the castle walls could only stare as the chimney began to cut through the filthy fog. It made even circles, not straying far. “It’s like a dog on a long chain,” Emma observed. “The power plant must be tied to something.” Emma was right and the situation surely delighted Grimy Grady. He had been afraid that the power plant would simply run away but then a huge cable came out of the ground. A band of wires, thick as an African piton, ran out of the ground and then suddenly stopped and prevented the unlikely escape of the building. The infernal walls, made of heavy concrete, groaned and squealed as they tried to wrench themselves free from captivity. Finally, the desperate edifice simply began to walk in perfect circles, sniffing around its own yard. “Help!” screamed Georgie. “Save me!” He was straddling the giant ball on top of the chimney as if he were riding a mad bull. “I’ll get him,” Spook said, flying off to help his friend. But he was a second too late for Georgie had finally come to the end of his strength. He fell down exhausted. Spook used all his power to swoop after him. They both disappeared into the dark smoke. The blood froze in the veins of all those watching. “Oh, Georgie, dearest Georgie,” wept Willy. “If you live through this, I will never be angry with you again!” “Aaaah…!” A terrible scream echoed through the fog and faded into the depths. Did Spook catch him? No, he didn’t, but as usual Georgie’s lucky star was shining bright. Not long after he fell through the filthy surface, he landed on a soft bed of leaves. Not on some small raked-together pile of leaves but on a huge and colorful mountain of leaves. “Are you all right?” The worried Spook dug through the leaves looking for his friend. “Georgie, say something!” “Oh, oh! Am I still in one piece?” Georgie’s trembling voice came from somewhere below. Badly scratched, the lucky fellow crawled out of the mass of leaves, spitting them out of his mouth. Spook, overjoyed with happiness, could not stop hugging and kissing him. “You’re also completely dirty now,” Spook laughed but, having survived the crazy fall, Georgie didn’t mind the teasing at all. “Who just woke me up?” The great bald tree next to them shook angrily. “Grrr, I was enjoying my nap,” groaned a second tree who, like the first one, did not have a single leaf on its branches. “You two must be Arthur and Otis,” Spook figured it out. “Good morning, gentlemen. It is an honor to meet you. My name is Spook and this is Georgie. He deeply regrets falling into your neat pile of leaves.” Spook bowed to the ground. “But thank you: it saved his life.” “Don’t mention the leaves,” Arthur said. “The sun is hiding, the winter is coming, and we don’t need them anymore.” “Yes,” added Otis. “We dropped our leaves and went to sleep and, there being no wind, the leaves stayed put in one great pile.” “Great honor to you!” Georgie saluted. “Long live the great pile of leaves!” “Forget the leaves,” Spook said. “Listen to that noise!” A noise rose from the town as if from a building site. Street lights and trees fell like ears of corn under a sickle as the great cable knocked down everything it crossed. There would have been much more damage if the power plant had been closer to the town’s houses. The terrifying sound of footsteps could be heard approaching. The outlines of the power plant emerged from the fog. It was tied tightly and followed its path as if it were guided by a huge compass for drawing perfect circles. At last, it walked up to them, swayed a bit, and then collapsed like a wounded dinosaur. It fell so heavily that it scattered the leaves up into the bare branches, surprising Woody’s two brothers. They had been sleeping through the recent events and could only stare in disbelief at the huge living building and its furious owner who came running after it. “I’ve got you now, you good-for-nothing!” yelled Grady, catching his breath. He recited several spells but none of them worked. So he began to draw spells. He drew big circles on the power plant’s walls and filled them in with mysterious signs in an effort to make another hole. But no matter what he tried the power plant simply didn’t respond. “I think you need professional help,” Georgie approached Grady and pointed significantly at his pocket. Grady resigned himself to his fate, reached for the phone, and handed it to Georgie. RING! RING! The phone rang within the castle walls, interrupting the grieving for Georgie. The sobbing Willy looked at the screen, sniffled a bit, and answered. “Hello, Grady! I’m sorry but this is not the right moment,” Willy explained sadly and wiped his nose. But then his face brightened as if he has just won the lottery. “Georgie? Georgie, you’re alive!” The wizard was overwhelmed with happiness and began clapping with his ears. “What are you saying? What’s happening?” Willy looked thoughtful and nodded: “Of course, of course, we’ll come straight away and help you.” He hung up the phone and glanced at all the questioning faces with satisfaction. “Georgie has just reported that we won round one and that Grimy Grady has invited us to round two.” WHITE MAGIC The company of friends jumped into Willy’s jalopy and went racing down the hill to the filthy park where the stinking power plant was resting. They jumped out of the car and rushed to hug Georgie who hadn’t felt so much love in a long time. “Thank you very much! I missed you too,” Georgie said. He was a little embarrassed and quickly pointed at Arthur and Otis. “It is thanks to these kind gentlemen that I’m not as flat as a pancake right now.” The friends applauded the two saviors who waved their branches modestly. “I would have helped too if I had been here,” Woody said a bit enviously. “These few leaves of yours wouldn’t cushion anyone’s fall,” Otis teased him. Woody sighed: “Ever since I’ve been a sapling cut off from my native soil, I’ve felt utterly useless.” Willy thought for a moment and then went to look in the boot of his car. He found a cordless drill, tested it, and glanced over at Woody. “You can keep your beloved pot,” he said. “I’ll just drill a few small holes in it.” “Will it hurt?” Woody stammered. “Not at all,” Willy said calmly and started to drill. “Ha! Unbelievable!” Georgie guffawed. “Now he’s a dentist drilling cavities.” Willy skillfully carried out the small intervention and offered the patient a glass of water: “Take a sip of water. Rinse out the holes and soon you will feel the soil around you.” Woody did as he was told, extended his roots into the brown soil: “Very tasty! Truly refreshing!” “You will be able to take the pot and go for a ramble anytime you want,” Willy explained to Woody. “But today we need your help.” In the meantime, Grimy Grady was kicking the disobedient power plant, which snarled at him like a beast. If it had teeth, it definitely would have bitten him. In any case, Grady preferred to retreat into safety with the company of friends. “Looks like it’s not obeying you anymore,” Willy teased him. “Stop making fun!” snapped the angry Grady. “Just help me if you know how!” Willy brought his chest of mysteries from the jalopy and rummaged around in it for wizard’s hat and a big sharp nail. He handed the nail to Spook and whispered something into his ear. Spook nodded, flew towards the top of the chimney, and disappeared inside. The wizard then turned to the three brother trees and gave them instructions. “Do your best to wake up the wind,” he said. “It should find the nearest cloud and send it over to us.” The freshly rooted Woody nodded in delight and began to waves his branches. His big brothers swayed as if they were in a trance and all three of them sang in one voice. “Gale, tempest, wait no more, blow a hole right through the door. Blow as hard as trumpets blare,blow and blow, we need fresh air. Blow the black fog far away, grant us all a sunny day!” All around a mighty wind began to bluster and rage through the town. Piles of leaves twisted into tornadoes and the black sooty smog was sucked into the sky. The company cheered the brothers who then recited the second part of the magic spell. “Search through the sky, past its bluest blue, and find a cloud that will follow you. Then bring it to us,all fluffy and white, make haste and hurry, travel faster than light.” The wind whistled and howled in the heights and soon they spotted a fat white cloud rolling from the horizon towards the town. Willy pointed at the top of the chimney and the three brothers stopped the cloud right above the target. Everyone applauded and Willy put his fingers into his mouth and whistled sharply. “Action!” said Spook and poked the nail into the giant ball that was plugging up the chimney. He swiftly jumped away, just managing to escape the dusty filth that exploded from the chimney. SWOOOOOSH!!! The revolting sound of the explosive spurt that hit the innocent cloud reverberated through the houses and skyscrapers. But the white giant hovered patiently and, like a sponge, absorbed the stinky eruption, getting bigger and bigger. “I don’t know if that poor cloud can take it,” Emma was worried. Luckily, the chimney had already spat out most of the tar and soot that had gathered in the dirty lungs of the power plant. The building could breathe a little more lightly and the street lights began to glow again. “Hurrah!” Grimy Grady cheered. “It's working at full speed!” He noticed that Willy was rummaging for something else in his chest of mysteries. “What are you doing, Willy?” Grady asked suspiciously. “We’ve solved the problem.” “Only white magic can overcome black magic,” Willy said, lifting a small glass bottle high above his head. “You must have slept through this lesson. Woody, we need to hit the cloud with this. Can you do it?” Woody nodded agreeably when, all of a sudden, Willy was swept off his feet and began to turn through the air like a soap bubble. THE PROUD CLOUD “No, you don’t!” Grimy Grady had yelled, casting a spell with his wiggling fingers. Willy’s head was spinning through the air but luckily he still wore his wizard’s hat and broke Grady’s spell with ease. “One plus one is two! Let that amateur get stuck like glue!” Willy hurled the words against Grady and they immediately disabled the hot-tempered guy. Grady’s legs froze and his fingers became as sticky and tangled as rain worms. He could only helplessly watch Willy hand the little glass bottle to Woody, bend one of the slender branches of the tiny tree, and… VROOOOOM! The mysterious missile disappeared into the fat cloud above them. A tiny POP was heard, followed by a hollow rumbling in the cloud’s belly. It got bigger and bigger and then suddenly released a huge shower of black filth back into the chimney. “Mhh, mhh! Bllh, bllh!” Grady muttered furiously, his mouth glued shut by Willy’s spell. He watched the infernal building swallow what it had just spat out. “Now ask that the fresh fluffy fellow to send down a million volts,” Willy instructed the trees. “He wants one fresh and hot bolt of lightning,” Woody said to his brothers. The three of them got to work, singing a new request to the skies. “Oh, proud cloud! Show us your greatest wonder! Blast that dirty chimney with a mighty thunder!” Electric sparks crackled deep inside the cloud and soon came together to create a white flash of light. The mighty lightning hit the chimney, ran straight down into the intestines of the infernal plant, and then even farther into the town’s power grid. Thousands of lightbulbs exploded all over the town. Street lights shattered into shards. “It’s falling down!” Georgie screamed. “Run!” The friends ran in all directions as cracks swiftly travelled through the chimney. The next second, it crumbled into a thousand pieces. Like great fists, the concrete smashed into the power plant, severely damaging it. The building stumbled up on to its strange legs and began to dance like a drunk. “Ooow!” cried Otis when one of the giant legs kicked it. Before he received a second kick, both legs sank into the collapsing mass. The huge pile of debris shuddered in the middle of the dusty meadow and then let out a moan like a rat with a toothache. Three singed pages filled with spells were carried aloft on the smoke and landed in front of Woody’s pot. Woody picked them up curiously, admired the drawings and the unusual calligraphy. “It’s like upside-down Chinese?” Willy snapped his fingers loudly and poor Grady was able to move his limbs and tongue again. But this only made him more furious and he immediately began to insult and threaten everyone around him. The big brothers smiled at him leniently. Meanwhile, the young Woody looked at the spell in front of him and tried to read it: “This guy is one big meltdown! We don’t want him in our town!” “You illiterate piece of wood,” the enraged Grady grabbed Woody, plucking at his poor leaves. “I’ll show you meltdown!” KABLANG! Strong sparks began to explode all around the bully. “OW OUCH OOOOCH!” Grady screamed as he got an unexpected electric shock from Woody. He landed on his backside, his fingers burned and his hair smoldering. “Wow!” the whole company sighed in admiration. Woody, mouth open, stared at the fireworks display in amazement. *** The heap of debris soon grew green and was named Woody’s Hill. The wooden hero who had turned black electricity into clean green electricity now stands at the top of the hill. His diligent leaves make electricity from sunlight and sends it through his roots to all the hungry light bulbs in town. Sometimes Emma brings her old record player to the hill and plays Woody old squeaky records. Woody dances wildly and quickly fills all the depositories so the town won’t miss him and then he is free to discover the world with his friend. Woody always sends home colorful postcards and his big brothers are always happy to receive them. What about Grimy Grady? What happened to him? Grady burned his fingers so badly with black magic in our story that he went to the school of wizardry to apologize to Headmaster Numbskull. He asked if he could go back to class to make up for what he had missed. We still don’t know what happened to him: whether he was beaten by a colorful pot or a spell turned him upside down. Uroš Hrovat DARK ELECTRICITY Series HOLEY MOLEY CASTLE Written and illustrated by Uroš Hrovat Translated by Erica Johnson Debeljak Book design Uroš Hrovat 1. electronic edition Publisher Uroš Hrovat Ljubljana 2019 No part of this book may be reprinted, reproduced or utilised in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Dostopno na https://www.biblos.si Kataložni zapis o publikaciji (CIP) pripravili v Narodni in univerzitetni knjižnici v Ljubljani COBISS.SI-ID=303254016 ISBN 978-961-290-729-7 (epub) YOUTUBE AMAZON GOODREADS FACEBOOK INSTAGRAM