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Authors: Daniel Pinkwater
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aboveâwhere there was something tall and ... evil. My whiskers were tingling.
My mind was processing a lot of information that I was not getting from the usual sensesâit wasn't something I saw or heard, or the muffin smell, that told me it was something evil. I was getting that from some part of my brain I hadn't known was there. But I was certain that something really bad was closing in on us, and from the way Molly was squeezing my hand, I could tell she was getting the same message.
"Why don't we stop walking?" I asked myself. And then I realized we had stoppedâit was the patch of darkness that was moving ... toward us, and getting darker, and bigger.
We never did see him clearly. He remained just a cloudy darkness, even when he spread himself and rushed us. I felt myself choking. Like choking on a muffin. We were being enveloped in the blackest black. There was no pain, but I was very sure the worst kind of pain was about to come. Molly screamed.
Well, she didn't exactly scream. It was like a scream, but also like a whistle, also like rattling pebbles in a can, also like breaking glass. It was the kind of sound that makes you see colors and flashes of light. And it wasn't a scream of fear. It was more like a weapon, a sharp knife.
And in that moment there were thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of sharp knives whizzing all around us. Fast-moving, making a keen, hard, singing noise, slicing and slashingâI knew these things could cut through anything, and I imagined the burning wounds and my hot blood spilling, but they were not touching us. They were after the big black foggy thingâand it was hurting. I saw, or felt, or maybe heard it twist and shift, recoil and jump, trying to collect itself so it could get away. But they were after it, the thin, quick, vicious things. And all the time, Molly was screaming that ear-breaking scream.
Then the scream stopped. The sharp, angry flying things stopped. The black thing was gone. And here was Chicken Nancy, holding up a lantern and carrying an old-fashioned blunderbuss. Weer, the dog, was with her.
"Well, I see I had no call to worry about you," she said. "You're quite the dwerg, Molly dear."
"Chicken Nancy! You saved us!" I said.
"Not I," Chicken Nancy said. "Though I did bring my blunderbuss loaded with rock salt and juniper berries."
"Would that have worked?" I asked.
"Well, he wouldn't have liked it," Chicken Nancy said. We were walking along now. "But what Molly did was much more effective. I doubt he'll be back this way for a year or more after that experience."
"What exactly did I do?" Molly asked.
"It was your dwergish instinct," Chicken Nancy said. "You called out the tree spirits to protect you."
"The tree spirits?"
"Oh, yes. Every Christmas tree has a fierce, bloodthirsty demon within it," Chicken Nancy said. "And people think all they risk by bringing them indoors is burning the house down."
CHAPTER 24
What Happened?
We were sitting at Chicken Nancy's table. She had cut us thick slices of hot apple pie with crumbly cheddar cheese on top, and poured glasses of milk from a crockery pitcher. There was a fire in the kitchen fireplace, and the room was lit by candles. Weer was sleeping by the fire. We felt so cozy and safe in the little house that being scared to death in the fog seemed like it had happened a long time ago.
"What happened out there?" Molly asked.
"You ran into the Muffin Man," Chicken Nancy said.
"We figured that out," Molly said. "But the other things that happened. Tree spirits, you said. What was that all about?"
"You summoned them," Chicken Nancy said.
"How could I have summoned them? I never heard of them before."
"It was instinct," Chicken Nancy said. "Dwergs have powers."
"They do? The only power I noticed dwergs having when I was living at home was the power to stay on their feet after drinking lots of homemade Catskill Mountain gin."
"Are you sure?" Chicken Nancy asked. "Have you never noticed any
My mind was processing a lot of information that I was not getting from the usual sensesâit wasn't something I saw or heard, or the muffin smell, that told me it was something evil. I was getting that from some part of my brain I hadn't known was there. But I was certain that something really bad was closing in on us, and from the way Molly was squeezing my hand, I could tell she was getting the same message.
"Why don't we stop walking?" I asked myself. And then I realized we had stoppedâit was the patch of darkness that was moving ... toward us, and getting darker, and bigger.
We never did see him clearly. He remained just a cloudy darkness, even when he spread himself and rushed us. I felt myself choking. Like choking on a muffin. We were being enveloped in the blackest black. There was no pain, but I was very sure the worst kind of pain was about to come. Molly screamed.
Well, she didn't exactly scream. It was like a scream, but also like a whistle, also like rattling pebbles in a can, also like breaking glass. It was the kind of sound that makes you see colors and flashes of light. And it wasn't a scream of fear. It was more like a weapon, a sharp knife.
And in that moment there were thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of sharp knives whizzing all around us. Fast-moving, making a keen, hard, singing noise, slicing and slashingâI knew these things could cut through anything, and I imagined the burning wounds and my hot blood spilling, but they were not touching us. They were after the big black foggy thingâand it was hurting. I saw, or felt, or maybe heard it twist and shift, recoil and jump, trying to collect itself so it could get away. But they were after it, the thin, quick, vicious things. And all the time, Molly was screaming that ear-breaking scream.
Then the scream stopped. The sharp, angry flying things stopped. The black thing was gone. And here was Chicken Nancy, holding up a lantern and carrying an old-fashioned blunderbuss. Weer, the dog, was with her.
"Well, I see I had no call to worry about you," she said. "You're quite the dwerg, Molly dear."
"Chicken Nancy! You saved us!" I said.
"Not I," Chicken Nancy said. "Though I did bring my blunderbuss loaded with rock salt and juniper berries."
"Would that have worked?" I asked.
"Well, he wouldn't have liked it," Chicken Nancy said. We were walking along now. "But what Molly did was much more effective. I doubt he'll be back this way for a year or more after that experience."
"What exactly did I do?" Molly asked.
"It was your dwergish instinct," Chicken Nancy said. "You called out the tree spirits to protect you."
"The tree spirits?"
"Oh, yes. Every Christmas tree has a fierce, bloodthirsty demon within it," Chicken Nancy said. "And people think all they risk by bringing them indoors is burning the house down."
CHAPTER 24
What Happened?
We were sitting at Chicken Nancy's table. She had cut us thick slices of hot apple pie with crumbly cheddar cheese on top, and poured glasses of milk from a crockery pitcher. There was a fire in the kitchen fireplace, and the room was lit by candles. Weer was sleeping by the fire. We felt so cozy and safe in the little house that being scared to death in the fog seemed like it had happened a long time ago.
"What happened out there?" Molly asked.
"You ran into the Muffin Man," Chicken Nancy said.
"We figured that out," Molly said. "But the other things that happened. Tree spirits, you said. What was that all about?"
"You summoned them," Chicken Nancy said.
"How could I have summoned them? I never heard of them before."
"It was instinct," Chicken Nancy said. "Dwergs have powers."
"They do? The only power I noticed dwergs having when I was living at home was the power to stay on their feet after drinking lots of homemade Catskill Mountain gin."
"Are you sure?" Chicken Nancy asked. "Have you never noticed any
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