I don’t think all of us should be fooling around.
A group of us kids should go down to the creek
to meet with the gobs of gook and try to speak
with them, if they are able to converse at all.
We’re coming in peace, so there’s no need to stall.
Let’s do it right now! Raise your hand if you’ll come.
The rest can stay here until the fire is done.”
“I won’t go,” Ryan whispered, sitting very still.
“You won’t go ‘cause you’re scared,” he added with a chill.
We all looked at each other, a little surprised
by the dark cloud of doubt dimming Ryan’s gray eyes.
“I’m going,” piped up Pam. “I’m too curious
about this gook or this mud that you say’s around us.”
“I dare you,” Cyd snickered, with a smirk on his face.
“Double dare you,” hissed Eileen, pushing him out of place,
while she pulled her stick slowly out from the hot coals,
blew the flaming tip out with steady control
and then aimed it at Pam’s face, smoking and orange-tipped,
making Pam lean back in fear, biting her lip.
“Well, I’m going,” I countered, “so at least we have two
brave enough to save the world from this stinky, foul goo.”
“Double-dog dare you,” Ryan raised the stakes higher.
A silence was broken by a crack from the fire.
Greta tucked her nose deeply underneath her front paw
as if hiding from wicked visions she foresaw.
The sun burned above; the fire burned below.
We stared each other down ‘tween the warmth of their glow.
Chapter 5½
“Hi Jules, this is Liv,” began Pam’s mother.
“Hi Liv, how are you? Did Bitsy come over?”
“Oh yeah, all the kids went down to the dead end.
From here, I see them and the fire that they tend.”
“The fire?” my mom chirped. “Did I hear you right?”
Pam’s mom confirmed, “I see smoke and the light.
I feel bad to go yell, since they built it just right.
They cleared all the leaves and weeds that might ignite.”
“Just like we taught them in scouts,” Mom lamented.
“Our class on fire safety was misrepresented.”
“Well, should we all go?”
“Wait, let me call Kat,
because she’ll want to come. I’ll call you right back.”
“Hi Kat, this is Jules. Glance out your window
toward the dead end –do you see something glow?”
“Well, those little stinkers! Did they build a fire?”
“They did,” stated my mom, “but Liv caught it in time.
We’re heading down there just to have a talk.
Would you like to join us for our little walk?”
“No, wait!” Kat exclaimed, “With your consent,
I think we should call up the fire department.
We’ll explain what’s happened, and have them send a truck.
That should scare them all straight, with any luck.”
“Oh! That’s a great plan!” My mom grinned through the phone.
“You call them, I’ll call Liv, and we’ll all watch from her home.”
Chapter 6
“Stop the meeting!” barked Emmy. “I have to pee.”
Eileen dragged her behind a large cluster of weeds.
While the rest of us waited, the rustle of leaves
filled our ears as the apple tree swayed in the breeze.
Now why she peed there, I can’t really say.
It’s not like our houses were so far away.
Yet whenever we played down here at the dead end,
reinacting true life, or just fun pretend,
it seemed like the rest of the world disappears
and all that exists is our game and our peers.
At least, that’s how intense it was always for me,
but I guess I can’t speak for everybody.
The faint sound of sirens came over the hill.
Cyd stared at the fire, mesmerized and quite still.
The cubed embers glowed hot sparkles from within
like angry, ochre flashing octopus skin.
Danny scratched Greta behind each of her ears
and she curled up her mouth in a satisfied sneer.
Her back leg scratched earth in the staccato thumps
of a skipping stone glancing off water crest bumps.
Ryan poked a stick in the heart of the flame.
Pam & I chanted words from our favorite clap game
of that curious misfit named Miss Mary Mack,
who wore silver buttons all down her black back,
beseeching her mother enough currency
to see sights so wondrous, they seemed otherworldly.
Greta pawed at a stick, pulled closer for chewing.
Then she cocked her head, and stopped what she was doing.
She let out a howl that woke us from our daze
and marched back and forth, in some eager displays.
Fire trucks flew past on Old Devil’s Hill Road.
At the top of the hill, they then suddenly slowed.
We sat up straight when they turned onto Nor Lane.
“Someone’s house is on fire!” Cyd stood and exclaimed.
We watched the trucks come zooming fast down the street.
They turned onto Tich Drive; Pam went white as a sheet.
“Put it out!” shrieked Eileen from the weeds where she came.
“Run for it!” screamed Danny.
Pam threw dirt on the flames.
Now the odd thing about that particular spot,
is it’s really just a big, old vacant lot.
There’s no close place to hide, where you won’t be found.
The crab apple tree is the only thing around.
So that’s where we went - all eight of us kids.
We ran to the tree and, like monkeys, climbed limbs.
Then Danny and Cyd hoisted Ryan up fast.
He scaled the bark quickly, despite his new cast.
Ryan and I clambered high as the tree would allow,
while the rest huddled tight on a strong u-shaped bough.
We all tried to hold still, and not make a sound,
as our smoldering fire coughed up smoke from the ground.
Greta swiftly circled the base of the tree,
to protect us, that good dog, but barking wildly.
So it was no mystery where we kids were hiding.
Plus, the trunk was littered with the bikes we’d been riding!
The trucks screeched to a stop once they reached the dead end.
Two men dragged a hose down the path behind them.
Flattening the grasses, swerving ‘round the briar,
the hose sprayed with great force ‘til it put out our fire.
We peered through the leaves at the chaos below,
“Oh my…” gasped my brother.
“Oh my,” I echoed.
My brother and I turned our focus away
from the turmoil below to a brand new foray.
“Mud Gullumpers,” I whispered, “they are everywhere!”
The brown gobs of gook had dried in the hot air.
Dried on every leaf, every branch, and every stem,
now small, hard statues of the gook they had been.
Some of the bigger clumps weren’t completely dried.
A thin crust held the hardening goop deep inside.
These wobbled and shook like armored gelatin;
or crispy cicada exoskeletons.
“Here comes Mom,” Eileen scowled. “We’re in for it this time.”
“All the
moms are coming,” Pam hushed. “You know that I’m
already in big trouble for fighting with Quinn.
This will be even worse when I’m grounded with him.”
When I looked past the branches toward where the street stops,
More frightening than Mom, was stuff on the housetops!
It looked like a huge, muddy, wet dog had shook,
splattering every roof in the neighborhood.
Mud stuck up from rooftops like great termite mounds,
claiming soot-darkened chimneys as high burial grounds.
Mud clung to the poles and the telephone wires.
Some stretched up from streetlights like little church spires.
When the firemen extinguished our fire completely,
they all gathered around underneath the crab tree.
They called up to us,
“Come on down. It’s ok!”
But we all feared the punishment coming our way.
“We’re surrounded,” I whispered. “They’re not just in the creek.
They’ve positioned themselves on every high peak.
Ryan, why are they doing this? What do they want?
What else do you know that makes you nonchalant?”
Now that the fire had stopped smoking below,
I could smell the faint odor of mud with my nose.
Brushing ‘gainst my forehead, like a soft piece of fuzz,
I was slowly aware of a very loud buzz.
On my left, hung an apple, swarming with bees
engrossed in its sweet nectar, sucking hungrily.
“Yikes!” I screamed abruptly, descending from the tree.
My shriek scared the others, and they started to flee.
One by one, we dropped as the panic expanded,
with loud thudding pounds, on the dry earth we landed.
Ryan perched on his limb throughout all the ado
and stretched his hand out to a Mud Gullumper statue.
Prying one of them off from a branch near his socks,
he tucked it away in his mother’s matchbox.
Then, admiring the view from his fruit roost atop,
His face raised to the planets, he mouthed the word ‘YOPP!’
“How’d you get up there, with your arm in a cast?”
asked a fireman in shock when Ryan went past.
Later, back at our house, out on the front porch,
the firemen showed us just how quickly things torch,
burning one of Cyd’s shirts and some of Eileen’s hair.
We watched each of these things vanish into thin air.
Jon stood and watched too, though he wasn’t in trouble.
The commotion had made him come out on the double.
I’m sure he was glad he had homework that day
that made him go home a bit early from play.
But at the same time, you could sense his lament
that he missed out on this neighborhood event.
While some kids hung their heads in horrible shame,
I made no attempt to deflect the blame.
We had needed a fire as our main protection
to prevent a Mud Gullumper resurrection.
Now our chances of seeing Mud Gullumpers were bleak,
since we were all grounded for the rest of the week.
Chapter 7
Those days passed quickly, and by Saturday
the grounding was lifted, so we came out to play
in the hottest of falls anyone could remember.
No drenching rain fell in the month of September.
We zipped past on bikes, swerving free down the road.
Cyd leapt off of his, though he had barely slowed,
and his bike skidded off to the edge of the street,
as he stood staring down at something by his feet.
He squatted down close to a smooshed up pink blotch
in the center of the road, and told me to watch
out for cars, and if one came, to give him a yell.
If he had to get out of the way, I could tell.
He picked and he peeled at the soft, gooey gum,
hot on his fingers from the bright, midday sun.
The top was pale gray and embedded with sand.
He pulled up a gob, holding it in his hand.
Then he pressed it right up to his nose and he sniffed.
“Watermelon,” he gushed. “Do you want a bit?”
“No thanks,” my nose crinkled, “I think you’ll agree
that it can’t taste too good if it’s ABC.”
“If mom saw me chewing, I’d get in big trouble.
But it feels soft enough to be good for a bubble
and since most pink gum has a long-lasting flavor,
I think I’ll continue this disgusting behavior.”
Popping it in his mouth, he licked his fingers clean.
His eyes suddenly softened and glazed over serene.
Pebbles crunched on his teeth as he chomped and he chewed,
but the grin on his face showed a boy quite subdued.
Danny raced down the street, flying past on his bike.
“Meeting at the apple tree! Come if you like!”
We watched his frame shrink as he neared the dead end.
I just hoped we wouldn’t get in trouble again.
“Come on,” Cyd beckoned, picking up his white bike,
“I’ll beat you there riding backwards, if you like.”
Then he leaned on his handlebars, facing the rear,
stretching back both his arms for balance and to steer.
He then lifted his legs, and finding the pedals,
slowly wobbled away, offering grand farewells.
“Catch up if you can! You should set the pace!
If it’s thousands of miles, I’ll still win the race!”
I still stood by my bike as he teetered away,
amused to the core by his circus display,
when I heard Jon’s skateboard approaching from behind.
I hopped on my bike and he quickly aligned
himself next to me so he could declare
there’s no way he would miss this neighborhood affair.
Eight kids huddled in the crab apple tree shade.
“Let’s get started, it’s clear that the others all stayed
home to watch TV or something,” grumbled Eileen.
“I think we should meet in the submarine.”
It was Cyd who piped up and suggested the move.
“Raise your hand high if you want to approve.
We’ve no privacy here, with our moms always spying.
Plus, it’s cooler down there. It’ll save us from frying.”
Even though Cyd’s a jerk, he’s really no dummy.
We can see eye-to-eye and be kind of chummy.
Plus sometimes the plans he comes up with are great,
So today I‘m so glad that he’s one of us eight.
We all stretched our hands high through the afternoon dust.
Some kids had never been, so they followed on trust.
We knew the submarine was a top secret place
hidden off dead-end paths that were hard to retrace.
We walked single-file through the overgrown grasses,
while the big kids looked for unmarked concealed passes.
“The coast is clear,” called Cyd, glancing once more around.
One-by-one we all filed deep down into the ground,
through a rusty old hole, down corroded red steps
onto dirt covered floors at the deepest of depths.
Greta lay down up top in a nice, sunny place.
Her eyes twitched rapidly as some flies buzzed her face.
She exhaled once more deeply, snorting up tan dust,
as I peeked one last time over the earth’s arid crust.
Since Cyd
had gone first, he had flashlight patrol.
He lit up the shaft so that no one would fall.
When the last kid was down, he shined light on his face,
“The dead end kids’ meeting begins in this place.
And what happens here should not be repeated
to those not present and currently seated.
All our other friends are certainly slouches,
too lazy to get their big butts off their couches
and come here to discuss the creature that stirs
in the creek near our homes –the Mud Gullumpers.”
“Say your name,” he demanded, “when light hits your chin.”
“I’m Ryan.”
“I’m Danny.”
“I’m Bits.”
“I’m Quinn.”
He continued around, shining from kid to kid.
“I’m Pam.”
“Jon here.”
“Eileen.”
“Boo! It’s Cyd!”
From the ceiling, he hung the light, when he was done.
A deep silence ensued that engulfed everyone.
This underground room had a strong resonance
that tugged my brain into a hypnotic trance.
The light oscillated between Ryan and me,
demonstrating the strong effects of gravity.
The room smelled of rusty metal and ancient dirt,
and the black, creepy corners kept all eyes alert.
I spoke up at that point, to get the thing started.
“This meeting is clearly not for the fainthearted!
Let’s continue our talk from last week’s campfire.
Since that time, things have become increasingly dire.
We’ve found out the beasts spread as far as they could.
They are on every high point in the neighborhood.
Now, we are lucky, of course, that it hasn’t rained.
For a couple of days their movement’s been contained.
But this dry spell is sure to end one of these days,
ending our protection from the sun’s scorching rays.
So unless anyone has a much better plan,
Pam and I will go meet them and talk if we can,
to see what they want, and what danger they pose,