Read Online The Windvale Sprites by Mackenzie Crook - Free Book Online
Authors: Mackenzie Crook
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jar will keep a specimen indefinitely but all colours fade to a uniform yellow-grey within a matter of weeks.
Each gruesome description was accompanied by an equally grizzly illustration; twisted bodies in glass jars, wizened specimens stretched out and pinned on boards. It was hard to tell how many of the things Tooth had killed; he probably lost count himself. The reading got worse still as the scientist started dissecting his specimens and sketching the internal organs and bones.
All of this helped Asa decide that he would approach his studies from a different angle, as a conservationist. He would concentrate on the areas Tooth did not, on how the creatures lived, what they ate, and how they could be protected.
It was getting late so Asa closed the book, resolving to build the sprite a proper spacious home first thing in the morning.
He got into bed and closed his eyes but for a long time his brain was swimming with the sinister images of pickled sprites in half-gallon jars.
15
The Greenhouse
Next morning he set to work early.
Straight away he knew he wanted the sprite to have enough room to fly around and, remembering how last summer a starling had got trapped in the greenhouse, he decided to see if it could be made into a suitable home.
At the end of the garden, obscured from the view of the kitchen window by a holly hedge, the recently repaired greenhouse was ideal.
He started by fixing netting over the windows at the top so they could be opened to let in fresh air. Back in the garage he unscrewed the legs of the hutch and, by putting it on his skateboard, was able to wheel it relatively smoothly down the garden. He placed it on the ground in the corner of the greenhouse and taking a spade and wheelbarrow he proceeded to pile earth and compost on top, leaving the entrance clear. Down by the pond he pulled great handfuls of long grass which came up with a wad of roots which he planted all over the mound until it started to resemble a burrow in a grassy bank.
Asa then carried the broken remains of Dad’s tomato vines back into the greenhouse and tried to untangle them. Those that could be saved he replanted in pots and the snapped stems he hung up at the glass to provide shade and cover. He wedged some branches high up for perches and by the end of two hours he had created a nice little habitat that looked a lot more appealing than a birdcage. He made sure the greenhouse door was slid shut and then carefully reached in and pulled open the front of the guinea-pig hutch.
All was quiet and still from inside and Asa withdrew to the opposite corner of the greenhouse and watched like a statue. He didn’t have to wait for long before he heard a faint shuffling and saw a shape edging to the front of the box. Suddenly the sprite shot out of the hutch and flew vertically upwards, slamming into the roof. It fell down, momentarily dazed but then zipped across, ricocheting off the glass. Asa threw up his hands, wanting to stop it, wanting to catch it and prevent it hurting itself, but that only terrified the creature more and it became even more frantic.
Deciding that recapturing it would be impossible, Asa lowered his arms and stood very still. Then he slowly started to lower himself down so that he was sitting in the corner clasping his knees. The sprite, dazed and exhausted, slowed a bit. It hid in the tomato vines, watching Asa and catching its breath before again attacking the glass in three or four places. It soon learned that the panes were solid but was clearly confused by it, touching the glass with its fingertips and pushing with its shoulder. All the while it kept an eye on Asa who sat as still as stone in the corner.
Asa watched as it searched for a means of escape but after about ten minutes it disappeared back into the hutch and didn’t come out.
He slowly got to his feet, sneaked out of the greenhouse and set about thinking what the sprite might like to eat.
In the kitchen he
Each gruesome description was accompanied by an equally grizzly illustration; twisted bodies in glass jars, wizened specimens stretched out and pinned on boards. It was hard to tell how many of the things Tooth had killed; he probably lost count himself. The reading got worse still as the scientist started dissecting his specimens and sketching the internal organs and bones.
All of this helped Asa decide that he would approach his studies from a different angle, as a conservationist. He would concentrate on the areas Tooth did not, on how the creatures lived, what they ate, and how they could be protected.
It was getting late so Asa closed the book, resolving to build the sprite a proper spacious home first thing in the morning.
He got into bed and closed his eyes but for a long time his brain was swimming with the sinister images of pickled sprites in half-gallon jars.
15
The Greenhouse
Next morning he set to work early.
Straight away he knew he wanted the sprite to have enough room to fly around and, remembering how last summer a starling had got trapped in the greenhouse, he decided to see if it could be made into a suitable home.
At the end of the garden, obscured from the view of the kitchen window by a holly hedge, the recently repaired greenhouse was ideal.
He started by fixing netting over the windows at the top so they could be opened to let in fresh air. Back in the garage he unscrewed the legs of the hutch and, by putting it on his skateboard, was able to wheel it relatively smoothly down the garden. He placed it on the ground in the corner of the greenhouse and taking a spade and wheelbarrow he proceeded to pile earth and compost on top, leaving the entrance clear. Down by the pond he pulled great handfuls of long grass which came up with a wad of roots which he planted all over the mound until it started to resemble a burrow in a grassy bank.
Asa then carried the broken remains of Dad’s tomato vines back into the greenhouse and tried to untangle them. Those that could be saved he replanted in pots and the snapped stems he hung up at the glass to provide shade and cover. He wedged some branches high up for perches and by the end of two hours he had created a nice little habitat that looked a lot more appealing than a birdcage. He made sure the greenhouse door was slid shut and then carefully reached in and pulled open the front of the guinea-pig hutch.
All was quiet and still from inside and Asa withdrew to the opposite corner of the greenhouse and watched like a statue. He didn’t have to wait for long before he heard a faint shuffling and saw a shape edging to the front of the box. Suddenly the sprite shot out of the hutch and flew vertically upwards, slamming into the roof. It fell down, momentarily dazed but then zipped across, ricocheting off the glass. Asa threw up his hands, wanting to stop it, wanting to catch it and prevent it hurting itself, but that only terrified the creature more and it became even more frantic.
Deciding that recapturing it would be impossible, Asa lowered his arms and stood very still. Then he slowly started to lower himself down so that he was sitting in the corner clasping his knees. The sprite, dazed and exhausted, slowed a bit. It hid in the tomato vines, watching Asa and catching its breath before again attacking the glass in three or four places. It soon learned that the panes were solid but was clearly confused by it, touching the glass with its fingertips and pushing with its shoulder. All the while it kept an eye on Asa who sat as still as stone in the corner.
Asa watched as it searched for a means of escape but after about ten minutes it disappeared back into the hutch and didn’t come out.
He slowly got to his feet, sneaked out of the greenhouse and set about thinking what the sprite might like to eat.
In the kitchen he
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