'I DON'T like it here, Gribon!' squeaked little Murmur, trotting nervously along beside the fair one.
'You think it's bad for you? You are not the one who has to be around a purple eyed, human-faced freak!'
'It is bad for me, you ghost-eyed twit! I am the purple eyed freak!'
Gribon's hooves crunched on the golden gravel path cutting a swath through the grand park. 'True, but that is your own doing. I was born coloured thus.'
The little demon's beady eyes swivelled nervously about, searching the park for danger. 'I really don't like it here!'
He could barely prevent himself bolting for cover like a startled rabbit. Belphegor-he was the one behind this. Little Murmur's slightly-pointy ears still ached from all the cries of 'what!' that had rained down upon him in the past day, first from Mammon, then from Belphegor when he arrived at school. The entire demon class had gathered about Murmur, gawping, whispering and nudging each other. When he had suddenly moved they scattered with shrieks of alarm. Belphegor's solution to the problem had been predictable: Murmur needed to harden up. Murmur needed to start acting like a real demon. Murmur needed to walk through the centre of town under the noonday sun.
'Why did he choose me to go with you?' squeaked Gribon, fiddling with the end of his tail.
'Because you are the second most useless demon in all of Hell, that is why.'
Gribon squeaked like a nipped mouse, but he did not say anything.
Murmur was happy with the silence that fell. He still had not thought enough about what had happened in the street on the way down to the park in the centre of town. A gaggle of demons from the senior class at Hell's Gate had been coming up the street, heading towards Murmur and Gribon. When they clapped eyes on the pair coming their way, the demon gaggle had not only crossed the street, they had dived over a hedge too. Murmur still could not decide if he ought to be pleased with giving a bunch of big demons a fright, or hurt at being thought a freak.
'Heh heh heh?' he chortled to himself, finally deciding he enjoyed it.
'Why do you think Belphegor wanted us to walk down this avenue under the noonday sun?' mused Gribon, kicking at some dry leaves lying on the path.
'Perhaps because it would make our eyes water and sting.'
'But my eyes, they do not water and sting,' replied Gribon.
'They do not?' cried a startled Murmur.
'No, I can go out in all but the brightest summer sun, and my eyes do not sting at all. As a matter of fact, I have always rather enjoyed a bit of sunshine. It is nice, you know, to catch a few warming rays on a sunny winter's day like this?'
'No, I don't know!' Murmur shrieked nervously, shrinking away from his companion.
Gribon did not appear to notice. 'Did I hear Belphegor mutter something about us running into someone on our little walk?' he asked, kicking at a few more leaves.
'I did hear him mutter something and then laugh very fiendishly and gleefully, saying 'that will frighten the stupidity out of the pair of fools!' Murmur suddenly skidded to a stop. 'Gribon, Gribon!' he shrieked, tugging at the fair-haired demon's sleeve. 'It's a trap; Belphegor means to have us walk into a trap!'
Although he frowned slightly, Gribon did not seem overly alarmed. 'What sort of trap?'
'A saint or some such thing likely walks along this way every day at noon!'
Gribon's eyes widened. 'Do?do you think so?' He looked around nervously.
On this unusually fine winter's day, with the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky and the air crisp and still, the park seemed safe enough. Murmur saw only groups of young friends, couples walking arm-in-arm, elderly people sitting on the park benches chatting or sunning, and children playing. But he did not let that fool him. Belphegor clearly had something in mind for him.
Little Murmur trotted more quickly than ever, all the while swivelling his beady eyes from side to side.
'Slow down, Murmur!' called Gribon. 'I see nothing here to cause us demons any bother. Let us simply enjoy the outing-after all, it is not often a teacher gives you an assignment that is actually pleasant.'
But there was no appeasing little Murmur. 'Hurry, Gribon, hurry!' he squeaked, tugging at the fair one's coat. 'There has to be someone out to get us, has to!'
'Calm down, would you!' screeched Gribon, shaking Murmur off. 'You really are starting to get on my nerves, rabbit-tail.'
'No, quickly, Gribon, we must pass quickly!'
'You are such a nervous Nelly. Now shut your trap-'
'Look!' Murmur suddenly shrieked, pointing directly ahead.
Saint Kriztofer was striding towards them directly ahead on the path.
The shriek Gribon uttered was not quite so loud as Murmur's had been, but he was no less panicked, although he was quicker-thinking. He had flipped up the lid of a nearby tin dustbin and leapt feet-first into it before Murmur had had a single thought.
'Where to hide, where to hide!' gibbered the little demon, flapping and floundering around in a circle.
He could see no other hiding place except the one just taken by Gribon. All around was open lawn; the nearest trees were over seventy paces away. Saint Kriztofer was walking briskly. Murmur could already smell him.
'Doomed, we are, doomed!' he gibbered franticly.
There was no shelter but the tin dustbin. Filled with panic, little Murmur flipped up its lid and leapt in. Gribon let out a muffled squeak as Murmur landed on top of him. Crouching down as small as he could, the little demon pulled the lid shut over himself. But it would not quite close. Murmur's horns prevented it, and hard as he tried, he could neither shrink down lower nor force the lid any further shut.
Through the gap, he watched with terrified eyes as Saint Kriztofer came closer and closer. Kriztofer was a lean man of medium height. Dressed in a long dark coat, he walked with a purpose, energy and dignity which Murmur had never before seen. As the man neared the dustbin, Murmur could see his features clearly. His straight, jet-black hair was slicked neatly back from his pale, care-lined face-a face filled with such kindness and wisdom as Murmur had never before seen in any human face. His piercing dark eyes seemed both to see everything, and to see through everything. And when he drew level with the dustbin, the saint's all-seeing eyes suddenly were looking directly at little Murmur. His firm, determined lips lifted into a slight smile as he halted before it.
Cowering within, the little demon trembled and jittered and shook, while beneath him Gribon steamed and smoked.
Still smiling his kind smile, Saint Kriztofer reached out and lifted the lid on the dustbin of demons.
'Why are you so afraid of me, Murmur?' he asked quietly.
Little Murmur's teeth chattered as he trembled and shook. 'Don't kn-know!' he gibbered, looking up in wide-eyed terror.
'There is no need to be afraid of me, Murmur. What beautiful eyes you have?' Kriztofer's kind yet piercing eyes gazed with wonder upon Murmur.
'A horrid sunlight of an angel gave me them!'
'If ever you are in need, Murmur, or just wish to talk a bit, come to see me where I lodge on top Duet Hill. You will always be welcome.'
And with that, Kriztofer nodded a goodbye, let fall the dustbin lid, and continued on his way.
As the little demon's terrified eyes followed the saint's departure, he noticed an entourage he had not before. Fluttering all about Saint Kriztofer in the air above his head and behind him, were a host of winged angels and spirits. There were little baby angels, lithe, dawn-faced youths, and noble-browed, magnificent-winged great angels with eyes of love and wisdom. In voices that were music more beautiful than any earthly music, the winged spirits sang, talked among themselves and sometimes fluttered close to whisper in Saint Kriztofer's ear. In thought, he would answer back or ask questions of the hovering angels.
But also accompanying Saint Kriztofer was a great two-horned black demon with vast bat-like wings, taloned toes and fingers, glowing, beady red eyes and a sharply pointed, snarling face. Marching beside Kriztofer, the two-horned beast jeered a
nd mocked and hissed at him. Sometimes the saint answered the taunting, jeering demon back, but mostly he ignored him.
Watching from between the gap in his dustbin, little Murmur felt sorry. The effects of the relentless demon assault were worn into Kriztofer's tired face. To be plagued day and night?Murmur could think of no worse thing than that. But before he could dwell any further on these very un-demonic feelings, a sharp pair of horns jabbed him in the rear.
'Has he gone?' came Gribon's muffled screech from below.
'Not quite,' muttered Murmur, crouching low as the saint receded into the distance attended by his spirit-band.
The squashed demon at the bottom of the bin pushed up. 'Get out, rabbit-tail!'
The top demon clung to the sides with his little fingers and pushed down. 'I can still see him in the distance, he's not quite gone!' squeaked he.
'Get out!'
Even though smoke and steam were beginning to seep up around him, Murmur still clung on. 'It's not safe!'
'I'm getting out anyway, saint or no saint!' screeched Gribon, pushing Murmur up and out.
The dustbin toppled over and tipped out its demonic contents. Once the grumpy Gribon had dragged himself to his feet and done something to smooth his rumpled clothes, he turned to Murmur with a hiss.
'This dustbin was taken!' he screeched. 'I'll get back at you for squashing me like that, you rabbit-tailed, baby-faced, angel-eyed, human-handed little runt!'
'Don't you call me mean names!' squeaked the little demon, jabbing his finger at Gribon. 'A sunlight-haired freak has no business calling other demons mean names!'
But Gribon merely turned his respectably hooked nose up and stepped away. 'I'm not talking to you anymore, small-ears.'
'And I'm going home!' screeched little Murmur, seizing his pitchfork.
'What will Belphegor say when you tell him you didn't do as he asked?'
'A lot of mean names and rude words!'
'You are such a wet drip,' scoffed Gribon, looking down his nose contemptuously.
'I thought you were not speaking to me anymore!'
Gribon did not reply to this very valid point. Instead, he turned away even more sniffily.
Without further ado, little Murmur set off at a brisk trot. His beady eyes snapped this way and that, scanning for demons and saints. But apart from a squirrel that darted across the path and made Murmur jump half a meter off the ground in fright, no danger did he see.
Meanwhile, Gribon strutted nonchalantly along down the path. But with every step he took, his walk became a little less nonchalant and a little more furtive. Rapidly becoming the only demon in the very open and very sunny park was frightening. After a few more timid, faltering steps, he stopped. Birds were singing all around, the sun was shining, and joyful childish shouts and laughter rang out across the wide lawn. Panic suddenly gripped him.
'Wait for me, Murmur!' he cried, turning back and breaking into a gallop.
Almost about to hurry through a gap between the hedge, Murmur paused and looked to find a vision of flapping black and red satin, flailing goat-legs and wild little eyes bolting towards him.
'Now we see his true colours?' hissed the little demon. Then he sniggered quietly to himself. 'Now we see them?'
When the wild-eyed Gribon drew level with little Murmur, he did not stop. Flashing past him, he bolted on.
'Gribon?' squeaked Murmur, trotting more quickly after him. 'Gribon, wait!'
Gribon did not wait. If anything, the flailing blur that was his little goat-legs moved even faster. 'Run,' he shrieked, 'run for your evil, Murmur! It is not safe in this saint-infested sunlighty park!'
Gribon's panic was contagious. It shot through Murmur. In no time his furry little goat-legs were flailing as fast as Gribon's. In a wild-eyed panic, he sped out of the park and down the street towards home. Then he veered off into the park in front of the old churchyard. The sound of Gribon's high clatter was still with Murmur. He swivelled his beady eyes sideways and found Gribon sprinting along beside him.
'What are you doing?' he shrieked. 'Your home is back the other way!'
'I'm not going back there-they pick on me and call me mean names because my hair is pale!'
'And your eyes!'
'Don't you call me pale-eyed!'
Murmur was about to answer rudely back when a branch slapped him across the face. 'They are after you, Murmur, after you!' he gibbered, ducking and diving in an attempt to avoid the branches which reached out twiggy arms. 'The trees love Saint Kriztofer and they loves him!'
A sudden shriek erupted beside Murmur. He swivelled his beady eyes to see Gribon's lacy white ruff being torn from him by a low-hanging branch. 'I told you they are after us!' he shrieked, and increased the speed of his goat-legs' flailing.
Then something tight about his throat jerked him back. A tearing sound followed, and he was released. Leaving his little satin cloak hanging from the branch that had hooked it, he bolted onwards without looking back.
When Murmur finally emerged into the churchyard, he slowed. But he still was hurrying. Through the broken stones he hurried, then past the stone angel, then past the tomb slabs. Throwing darting glances about him, he was soon hurrying along towards the gap in the tumbledown wall. Then a smell reached his none-hooked nose. It was the smell of the angel.
'It's there, it's still there!' he gibbered, reaching to fiddle with his tail.
But his tail was not there. Still with his beady little eyes fixed fearfully on the place where light shone from amongst the hazel and dogroses, he fished for it again. His hand did not close around anything. Franticly he flapped around feeling for it behind himself.
'Gribon, my tail-I can't find my tail!' he squeaked, in a voice so high-pitched it could hardly be heard.
'Don't think I'm falling for nonsense like that!' Gribon replied crossly.
'But I can't find it, I'm telling you!'
This wiped the scowl off the fair one's face. He looked at the place where Murmur's tail ought to be.
'Well?' demanded Murmur.
'It's-it's gone.' Gribon's face was pale and disbelieving and his mouth gaping.
The little demon could only gasp and put his hand over his mouth. His eyes were round as full moons and almost popping out.
'Who's the freak now, goat-tail!' Gribon suddenly shrieked triumphantly, pointing a mocking finger at little Murmur. 'Not so clever now, are we! Not so superior and normal, eh!' he crowed, dancing a little jig.
'Gribon?'
'Tailless demon, tailless demon, where is your mean tongue, where is your mean tongue? Did it fall off with your tail, with your tail-tail-tail!'
'Gribon!'
'Don't think I'm stopping here! Oh no, you are only at the beginning of this!' hissed the pale-eyed demon, continuing his dancing.
'Gribon, your tail is gone!'
The dancing suddenly stopped. 'W-what?' gasped Gribon, staring at Murmur with horrified, disbelieving eyes.
'Your tail, it's gone too!'
Gribon felt fearfully behind himself. 'I?can't find my tail?I can't find my tail!' he gibbered, his eyes staring with an almost mad horror.
Little Murmur could not take any more. He bolted like a startled rabbit and did not stop running until he was crouched down behind the old dresser in the attic.
Gribon followed close behind. With a crash and a clatter he thudded down next to Murmur. After a taking a few minutes to calm down and catch his breath, Gribon peered over the top of the dresser. Having satisfied himself that it was safe, he then hopped back over the dresser and started pacing up and down the room. Noise enough for three stampeding baby goats filled the air.
'I'm not having this, Murmur!' he screeched, shaking his fist. 'That Saint Kriztofer is not getting away with the theft!'
'W-what are you going to do?' came little Murmur's tiny, shrill squeak from behind the dresser.
'I'm going to stride right up to him and demand he give us back our tails!'
'B-but I did
not see him take them?'
'He's taken them; I'd wager anything on that!'
The room was getting mildly smoggy from Gribon's wisps of smoke and steam.
'But I did not see them on him?'
'Listen to me, rabbit-tail-'
'Don't you dare, no-tail!'
'Shut it, small-ears! Now you listen to me; tonight we are marching up Duet Hill, finding that angelic, goody-goody saint and demanding he give us back what belongs to us!'
'He can't give back what he doesn't have?' came Murmur's timid little reply. 'What if we end up losing something else? That saint is dangerous.'
'We are getting our tails back and that is that-I'm having no more of your drippy, wet-behind-the-ears nonsense!'