Getting a few of these hundreds of original characters in my sketch book happening into stories. Here’s two of them: Ange and Grumble.
Part one: The drought of Faeryland
Ange wanted to do something. She could see how her land had become parched. Even the oracle tree looked sapped of strength this year. Hardly produced fruit. And the river was barely enough for the fish to swim in.
The faeries were developing ways of making water. It was not real water, but it would do almost the same trick as water.
But Ange wanted to feel the rain on her skin. She wanted to put up a nasturtium umbrella and watch the droplets fall around her. Little lovely crystals splashing around. And it was because of this desire for rains she had not seen for so long, that she started working on a spell. A wishing spell. She would call to a raincloud. Why not? Faeries have made the dead rise again. Surely a raincloud could not be that hard. They probably all just superstitious, Ange thought.
But it was very clear, calling rainclouds was forbidden by faery lore. Ange reasoned that if she called a small cloud secretly, to just rain near one place, enough to create a bit of green, she could then convince the faeries to ban together and call a bigger cloud up and then they could all dance together under the rain. It would be so lovely! She closed her eyes and dreamed. Then she started singing. “Bring in the rain…”
Her body smoothly moved about, as if in a trance. “The rain is coming now. Bring in the rain…”
And then it came, the thing that the faeries had said was impossible. First a little drop on her cheek. She went to touch it, thinking it might just be a falling leaf or a little creature, but no, it was damp and dissolved with her touch. Her heart beat to the rhythm of falling, falling droplets everywhere around her. So beautiful so wonderful. She sung and danced more vigorously and watched little flowers spring up at her feet.
Then after quite a soaking, the rain stopped. But she could still hear the cloud rumbling above her. She looked up and there it was above her head. It seemed to be trying to get away but was stuck there above her, like a halo of grumbling energy.
“If you wish to go, I suppose you can now,” said Ange. “This was just an experiment. Thankyou. Now I know we really can call a raincloud.”
“I’d leave if I could,” the raincloud called Grumble said. “But some little faery cast a spell on me, didn’t she? Can’t get away now back to my family. Can’t even think of making snow! Errhhhhhhr erhr…”
Rain started falling again, lots of it. Bitter cold rain.
Ange shivered. “Go away rain come back another day.”
“That’s too much of a cliché,” Grumble stopped crying. “Clichés don’t work as spells, because their original magic has been worn thin.”
“But I did get you to stop raining on me.”
“I want to go home!”
“I know. I know. I’ll think of a way Mr Raincloud.”
“Grumble. They called me that when I was born. What do they call you? Twitterbug faery?”
“Ange. I’m an seraph faery. Look, I’m sorry Grumble. It’s just that we had a drought and I thought you might be able to help us.”
Grumble started crying again, “I want to go home. I don’t like being so low to the earth. People will think I’m some kind of fog, but I’m not and I don’t want to be.”
Ange picked a leaf from a nearby tree to try and shelter herself, “Don’t worry Grumble I’ll find a way. If I had the powers to call you here, surely I have the powers to set you free.”
“Easier said than done.”
But, time passed and Ange was not able to set Grumble free. She could no longer fly, for her wings were always wet. And all the faeries wanted nothing to do with her, because she had broken the lore.
It seemed like life couldn’t get worse. Ange couldn’t even complain, because Grumble already did that for her, she couldn’t dwell in her misery because Grumble was better at that than her and she certainly couldn’t grumble.
Ange wanted to do something. She could see how her land had become parched. Even the oracle tree looked sapped of strength this year. Hardly produced fruit. And the river was barely enough for the fish to swim in.
The faeries were developing ways of making water. It was not real water, but it would do almost the same trick as water.
But Ange wanted to feel the rain on her skin. She wanted to put up a nasturtium umbrella and watch the droplets fall around her. Little lovely crystals splashing around. And it was because of this desire for rains she had not seen for so long, that she started working on a spell. A wishing spell. She would call to a raincloud. Why not? Faeries have made the dead rise again. Surely a raincloud could not be that hard. They probably all just superstitious, Ange thought.
But it was very clear, calling rainclouds was forbidden by faery lore. Ange reasoned that if she called a small cloud secretly, to just rain near one place, enough to create a bit of green, she could then convince the faeries to ban together and call a bigger cloud up and then they could all dance together under the rain. It would be so lovely! She closed her eyes and dreamed. Then she started singing. “Bring in the rain…”
Her body smoothly moved about, as if in a trance. “The rain is coming now. Bring in the rain…”
And then it came, the thing that the faeries had said was impossible. First a little drop on her cheek. She went to touch it, thinking it might just be a falling leaf or a little creature, but no, it was damp and dissolved with her touch. Her heart beat to the rhythm of falling, falling droplets everywhere around her. So beautiful so wonderful. She sung and danced more vigorously and watched little flowers spring up at her feet.
Then after quite a soaking, the rain stopped. But she could still hear the cloud rumbling above her. She looked up and there it was above her head. It seemed to be trying to get away but was stuck there above her, like a halo of grumbling energy.
“If you wish to go, I suppose you can now,” said Ange. “This was just an experiment. Thankyou. Now I know we really can call a raincloud.”
“I’d leave if I could,” the raincloud called Grumble said. “But some little faery cast a spell on me, didn’t she? Can’t get away now back to my family. Can’t even think of making snow! Errhhhhhhr erhr…”
Rain started falling again, lots of it. Bitter cold rain.
Ange shivered. “Go away rain come back another day.”
“That’s too much of a cliché,” Grumble stopped crying. “Clichés don’t work as spells, because their original magic has been worn thin.”
“But I did get you to stop raining on me.”
“I want to go home!”
“I know. I know. I’ll think of a way Mr Raincloud.”
“Grumble. They called me that when I was born. What do they call you? Twitterbug faery?”
“Ange. I’m an seraph faery. Look, I’m sorry Grumble. It’s just that we had a drought and I thought you might be able to help us.”
Grumble started crying again, “I want to go home. I don’t like being so low to the earth. People will think I’m some kind of fog, but I’m not and I don’t want to be.”
Ange picked a leaf from a nearby tree to try and shelter herself, “Don’t worry Grumble I’ll find a way. If I had the powers to call you here, surely I have the powers to set you free.”
“Easier said than done.”
But, time passed and Ange was not able to set Grumble free. She could no longer fly, for her wings were always wet. And all the faeries wanted nothing to do with her, because she had broken the lore.
It seemed like life couldn’t get worse. Ange couldn’t even complain, because Grumble already did that for her, she couldn’t dwell in her misery because Grumble was better at that than her and she certainly couldn’t grumble.
