8.12.16 Visionary Blue Eagle Wavespell

“Screee Wheee Wheee Screeee, Wheee, Eeeeeee,” sang the child happily, running pitter patter up and down the hall way.

“Screee Wheee Wheee,” sang the kitchen knife slicing across and through his neck.

“There’ll be no more of that!” spat Rumana Rubblebum, the giantess, as she picked up the child’s head and threw it out a window, followed by the body. Slamming the tip of the knife into the counter, where it twanged a moment, she settled down on her bed. She smiled a crooked smile, looking forward to a long quiet uninterrupted nap.

Outside four vultures had already descended on the body. The head, however, rolled, bouncity bouncity bouncing away from Rumana Rubblebum’s giant ramshack on Rumbletumble Mountain. It rolled and bounced all the way down to the creek where it hit the bottom of a birch tree and came to a stop, laying still as a rock near a pile of stones, eyes wide open.

Fereshteh and Pari were racing their matching dragonflies, Billwilli and Zipnilli, to the pile of stones. When they saw the bouncing head rolling toward them they swerved away atop their mounts into the branches of the birch tree. They beheld what was lying beneath them quietly, holding their breaths for a few moments.

“I say Pari, do you see that? Why it looks like a child’s head!”

“It does Fereshteh, coming down from the top of Rumbletumble Mountain, I’ll bet it was . . . .”

Pari was cut off by the sound of shuffling feet approaching. Nessta Nixit was hobbling from across the creek, gnarled hands holding a gnarled twisted old branch as she made her way toward them.

“Now now little ones, don’t touch a thing,” she croaked at the pair of fairies, the wart on the tip of her nose wobbling, “Rumbletumble Mountain you said, heheheh, I have a score to settle with that fat old bum, that monumentous mistake of a giant, that rombinating rodent loving Rumana Red, teeehhee, let’s see what we have here.”

She waved them to the side with the twisted branch, which she set to leaning against the birch tree. Rubbing her hands with glee she picked up the head and held it to her ears then she looked deeply into the sightless open eyes. She frowned and scowled in the direction of the mountain.

“You’ll pay for this Rumana,” she wheezed, “You’ve gone too far this time, now what to do what to do?”

At that exact moment a feather floated down and landed gently directly beneath the head in the warm puddle of blood it had made; simultaneously a single drop of blood from above fell and splashed on the feather. Nessta Nixit’s eyes gleamed and she nodded her head, “So be it, so be it.”

Fereshteh and Pari watched her place the head on the feather in the puddle of blood. The eyes faced Rumbletumble Mounatain. Nessta Nixit began laying articles from in the pockets of her patched robe around the head. She gathered moss and lichen and twigs and bark and arranged these around the head too. When she was satisfied, she picked up her branch and placed herself behind the head. Opening her arms she embraced the mountain and began incantations and chanting, then with a flick of her wrists and a sprinkle of her fingers she let loose some powders that sparked and enveloped the head in a sizzle and crackling pop and a bang of smoke.

The fairies ooh’d and aah’d at what they saw when it subsided. The child’s open eyed head was gone and in its place was a fine bird with red streaks on his wings and tail and head. He looked in the direction of Rumbletumble Mountain and lifted off purposefully, happily singing, all the way to the mountain.

The fairies flew off on their dragonflies, happy to have a new story to share with their friends. Nessta Nixit hobbled back across the creek to her hut in the forest with satisfaction.

High above in the mountains, the Skreal circled and swooped daily over Rumana Rubblebum’s giant ramshack, shrieking with joy, and there was not a thing the giantess could do about the incessant “Screee Wheee Wheee Screeee, Wheee, Eeeeeee”.

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