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Primrose Bolger · 03-18-2005, 03:41 PM

Walking along in the Old Forest . . .

‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire . . .’ Sassy could just hear her Gammer saying that old saw. And now Sassy understood it. The wolves and Big Folk had gone away, one way or the other. But these trees . . . they crowded in on her with their dark branches and shadowed trunks. The possibility of getting away from the thick closeness that closed in around them seemed to diminish with each step the group took on the mouldering dried leaves that covered the forest floor.

‘I am never going on another adventure again,’ she muttered. ‘I’m never even going to think about going on another one . . . ever!’

And what were these boys and her brother thinking? Seems they didn’t care a bit about the fact that they’d almost been killed by wolves and gosh knows what by the Big Folk ruffians. How could they shrug that off, she wondered.

Worse yet, she had seen some of them take things from the dead men. Stories from her Gammer about those dead men of old in their mossy green barrows on those Downs somewhere made her shiver. What if those Big Folk that just died came after their things . . . reached out for them in the night with the bony fingers of their fleshless hands? Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t throw up again. Probably just get a laugh from some of the boys and a disgusted look from her brother.

She looked round at the others in a sly manner as they tramped along; sliding her eyes from figure to figure. The light from above barely filtered through the thick branches of the trees. It cast a gloomy pall on the group, sliding in pale, murky bars over the moving Hobbits. Sometimes she could see one of the boys or another as the light heightened their features . . . but their eyes, if they turned her way, were always deep pools of shadow . . . and sometimes they seemed to slide into the shadows altogether where the light did not penetrate. Sometimes her imagination got the better of her and she wondered if she had fallen into one of the scary old stories her Gammer had told at night near the little fire in the kitchen.

And save for their footsteps, it was so very quiet. Oppressively so . . . Sassy was frightened to the bone.

‘Shhh!’ she told herself, clenching her jaw together to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘Just watch out for yourself, Sassafras,’ she thought firmly. ‘Keep your eyes on what’s about you and step along.’ If she didn’t feel brave, she could at least look it.

‘And watch out for the goblins,’ she murmured to herself, drawing her now raggedy cloak about her, her eyes darting round her as she tramped on.

And old piece of verse from one of Gammer’s tales rattled in her little head as her toes crunched through the dried leaves; a little story of a little girl who didn’t care what others thought and always did what she wanted . . . and then just when she wasn’t looking out . . .

They was two great Black Things
a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’
‘fore she knowed what she’s about!

An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git YOU

Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

---------

verse courtesy of James Whitcome Riley - "Little Orphan Annie"

03-18-2005, 03:41 PM	#155
Primrose Bolger Wight Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: Near Bywater Pool Posts: 196	Walking along in the Old Forest . . . ‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire . . .’ Sassy could just hear her Gammer saying that old saw. And now Sassy understood it. The wolves and Big Folk had gone away, one way or the other. But these trees . . . they crowded in on her with their dark branches and shadowed trunks. The possibility of getting away from the thick closeness that closed in around them seemed to diminish with each step the group took on the mouldering dried leaves that covered the forest floor. ‘I am never going on another adventure again,’ she muttered. ‘I’m never even going to think about going on another one . . . ever!’ And what were these boys and her brother thinking? Seems they didn’t care a bit about the fact that they’d almost been killed by wolves and gosh knows what by the Big Folk ruffians. How could they shrug that off, she wondered. Worse yet, she had seen some of them take things from the dead men. Stories from her Gammer about those dead men of old in their mossy green barrows on those Downs somewhere made her shiver. What if those Big Folk that just died came after their things . . . reached out for them in the night with the bony fingers of their fleshless hands? Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t throw up again. Probably just get a laugh from some of the boys and a disgusted look from her brother. She looked round at the others in a sly manner as they tramped along; sliding her eyes from figure to figure. The light from above barely filtered through the thick branches of the trees. It cast a gloomy pall on the group, sliding in pale, murky bars over the moving Hobbits. Sometimes she could see one of the boys or another as the light heightened their features . . . but their eyes, if they turned her way, were always deep pools of shadow . . . and sometimes they seemed to slide into the shadows altogether where the light did not penetrate. Sometimes her imagination got the better of her and she wondered if she had fallen into one of the scary old stories her Gammer had told at night near the little fire in the kitchen. And save for their footsteps, it was so very quiet. Oppressively so . . . Sassy was frightened to the bone. ‘Shhh!’ she told herself, clenching her jaw together to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘Just watch out for yourself, Sassafras,’ she thought firmly. ‘Keep your eyes on what’s about you and step along.’ If she didn’t feel brave, she could at least look it. ‘And watch out for the goblins,’ she murmured to herself, drawing her now raggedy cloak about her, her eyes darting round her as she tramped on. And old piece of verse from one of Gammer’s tales rattled in her little head as her toes crunched through the dried leaves; a little story of a little girl who didn’t care what others thought and always did what she wanted . . . and then just when she wasn’t looking out . . . They was two great Black Things a-standin’ by her side, An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about! An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git YOU Ef you Don’t Watch Out! --------- verse courtesy of James Whitcome Riley - "Little Orphan Annie" Last edited by Primrose Bolger; 03-19-2005 at 02:20 PM.