Monday, January 19, 2009


Grace Tenderstitch looked through her spectacles at the Tiny mouse before her, who was shouting loudly. She nursed her thumb and between her lips came muffled "Yes, I can hear you clearly...I am not deaf, so stop your shouting."

Maybell sat down abruptly. Removed her hat and held it tightly crunched in her hand as she spoke to Mrs. Tenderstitch. "I am Maybell. My Mother was your friend Marvel, she told me so much about you and the Baggaraggs. I had to come. I had to warn you, had to tell you about the Pie-rats." This she finished breathlessly.

Grace Tenderstitch frowned. Her thumb throbbed and now her head joined in. "What is this now? What are you saying to me? What Pie-rats?"

"They are coming up the Loch, in rafts. They have probably landed by now. I know what they are going to do Mrs. Tenderstitch...they are coming to steal your Thread pusher. They are coming to take the Brother...your Thread Machine," she gestured now to the sewing machine that was off to the left of the drawing table. "They mean to have it."

Grace Tenderstitch looked at Maybell. Her dress which may have been her best, was soiled, as was her Lacey apron. Her little hat was scrunched up in a wad, now being wound into a knot by the nervous hands of Maybell.

"How do you know all this Maybell? How did you come to learn about this Invasion?'

Maybell paused. The story that she was about to share seemed a little far fetched. "I am the friend of an Osprey that lives down near the loch. His name is Windslow. He rides the thermals and watches the water high above for Fish. He is a great Fisherman. He has a beautiful black stripe above his eyes. He has a very sharp beak, and could tear me to pieces in a second, instead he invites me to fly with him. I went once. It was ....frightening, and lovely at the same time." She stopped for a few seconds and seemed to be enjoying the memory of the flight all over again. Her eyes closed and she swayed slightly. Her eyes were still dreamy when she began again. "In winter, I knit him a scarf for his flies out behind him like a flag in the wind, he wears my colors. We are friends," she blushed...and continued. "Yesterday Windslow saw them coming, sailing their underdrawer-sails up the Loch. He perched high in a tree and heard them talking about their plan to steal the Brother Thread Pusher. I came to warn you, Grace Tenderstitch."

Grace glanced around the studio and thought for a second. "Pie-rats?," she thought to herself. "Here in Baggaraggs?"

The Ernest look upon the mouse's face convinced her that a trip to the Loch was in order. She donned her jacket over her work apron, and called Murray. The old Bouvier started up from sleep, and got to his feet, stiff and disheveled. "Come on Maybell, come on Murray, we are talking a little walk."

Maybell scrambled onto the shoulder of Grace Tenderstitch and held onto her collar, and they went out into the late Autumn day.

1 comment:

Debra said...

I love the Osprey. I can almost see his scarf. I hope you are making him too.
Love, debra