Short Tales

  “I thought we’d be climbing it,” said Rosie.

  “Well we could. There are stairs but I don’t think I’m up for that!” Dad answered.

  “Me neither,” added Judy. “Let’s take the lift.”

  They joined the long line and even Rosie had to admit that the wait was tedious. Dad and Judy stifled any boredom they might have been experiencing.

  When at last the three of them found themselves high above the city of light, all their spirits soared.

  “It really is magnificent,” said Judy. She was smiling broadly, and she put her arm around Rosie.

  “You were right to want to come here,” said her father. And he kissed her. Without reason. Just because he loved her.

  “And now a photo!”

  Dad took a photo of Rosie on his mobile phone so that he could immediately send it to Mimi.

  “Wait. Dad, I want to send her a message too,” Rosie said. She wrote, ‘Wish you were here, Mimi, lots of love, Rosie. X’.

  Dad pressed Send and minutes later, the text message came back: ‘Bravo ma petite fille, Mimi. X’.

  Previously published as Mimi’s Gift at ziptales.com

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  Pipe Dream

  AT Davidson

  Darla didn’t care if the others wanted to play with her or not.

  She sat under the tree in the corner of the playground. It was her corner.

  Melanie Daniels used to sit with her. Now Melanie had made friends with some other girls and hardly spoke to her.

  The old, broken concrete pipe was about six inches wide and stuck up about a foot from the ground. The top was broken. Long, stray blades of grass grew up its sides, as though trying to seek shelter in its broken opening. Inside was a build up of leaves and twigs. Beyond that, no more could be seen.

  Darla opened her lunch box and took out the wrapped biscuits. A football bounced towards her, knocking them from her hand. They flew through the air and landed near the pipe.

  “Hey... sorry,” a boy she had never seen before said.

  Then Teddy Wright came up behind him and started to smile. “It’s okay, it’s only Darla from the parlour.”

  Darla didn’t know why Teddy always said this. She didn’t live in a parlour.

  The boy with the football smiled. He ran off. Teddy Wright, Calvin Murchison and Phillip Smith ran after him.

  They kept a distance after that, but Darla saw the new boy look her way occasionally and smile. She ignored him.

  As Darla picked up her biscuits, she saw something white just inside the concrete pipe. It looked like paper. She tentatively reached inside and snatched it out. It was neatly folded. When she unfolded it, her eyes grew wide. She looked around the playground to see if anyone was watching.

  HELLO. IF YOU CAN READ

  THIS THEN MAYBE YOU

  CAN HELP ME.

  COME BACK TOMORROW.

  Darla looked around again and refolded the note. The boys were still kicking the football to each other.

  Shea sat silently for some time, every now and then, peering over to the pipe. Maybe it wasn’t completely blocked. She was becoming surer by the minute that the note had been pushed up the pipe from the inside.

  Then the bell for the end of recess rang.

  * * *

  Darla slept fitfully that night. She wondered how anyone could live below the pipe. What was down there? Where did the pipe lead to? Was there an underground room under the playground? Maybe a city was down there – a city of magical people? Elves, fairies, or perhaps nasty little things – perhaps trolls.

  Darla had put the note in the drawer beside her bed. The person who had written the note had said that maybe she could help them. It didn’t sound like someone bad.

  She reached across, pulled the note from the drawer and unfolded it.

  COME BACK TOMORROW.

  Darla would be there.

  * * *

  Before school the following morning, Darla went to the broken pipe. She looked inside, but there was nothing. Perhaps whoever had written the note hadn’t had time to put another there? Maybe the person was still asleep, or was maybe running away from someone down there who was after them? What if that person was being chased by a monster and that was why they needed help?

  All morning, Darla thought about that poor person down the pipe. She couldn’t concentrate on her school work. Mrs Pearson spoke to her several times.

  “Darla . . . Darla, are you listening . . .?”

  “Huh?” Darla said.

  “Darla, what is wrong with you today?” Mrs Pearson asked. “You look as though you’re away with the fairies.”

  Melanie Daniels, Carl Murchison and Phillip Smith all giggled and Phillip and Carl spoke to each other and winked, until Mrs Pearson told them to shoosh and pay attention. Darla looked at the clock on the wall and waited.

  * * *

  At recess, Darla ran straight to the pipe. She saw nothing there but the leaves, mud and twigs that clogged it.

  The note writer – whoever it had been – had abandoned her!

  She walked back towards the school building. Then something occurred to her: the writer might not have had time to write and leave a note for her yet. After all, being on the run from monsters was a pretty bad thing!

  She turned and walked slowly back to the pipe. The boys were kicking the football near her spot. She hoped that none of them would see another note, if one was there, and read it themselves.

  Calvin and Phillip were jumping up and down and shouting to that new boy to kick the football their way. The boy did, and Calvin and Phillip jostled each other to mark it.

  When Darla walked past the boy, he smiled and began to talk.

  “I’m James,” he said, as Darla sat down at a distance from the pipe.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey, James!” Calvin Murchison shouted, but James ignored him.

  “You always sit here by yourself?” James asked.

  Darla nodded.

  “How come?”

  “I like to,” she said, curtly.

  “Well, okay then.”

  “Hey, James!”

  It was Calvin again. Both he and Phillip were laughing.

  “You and Darla from the parlour in love?”

  James frowned and blushed a little, then he turned back to the boys.

  Darla watched, pretending not to watch, as James jumped in the air and caught the ball. When they seemed totally engrossed in their game, Darla inched towards the pipe.

  There was something white inside: another note.

  Looking about, she snatched it from the pipe and, looking around once more to be sure no one was watching, unfolded it:

  I AM IN LOTS OF TROUBLE. YOU HAVE

  TO WAIT HERE FOR ME AFTER SCHOOL!

  Darla was so engrossed in the note that she didn’t hear the bell. When she felt the tap on her shoulder, she squealed and crumpled the note up in her hands. Looking up, she saw that it was the new boy, James.

  “The bell’s gone,” he said. It seemed as though he wanted to say something more but Darla got to her feet, brushed herself down and walked away, leaving him behind.

  He caught up with her and started to talk again. Talking to boys had never been of any interest to her, and it certainly wasn’t now. She had other things to think about.

  “I’m in Mr Dunstan’s grade, 2B.”

  “Oh,” Darla said, conscious of the crumpled note in her hand.

  “Um... you’re in Mrs Pearson’s...”

  “Yes,” Darla crumpled the note even more.

  “You find something?”

  “What?” Darla said, too loudly.

  “Oh, nothing. I just... wondered, that’s all.”

  Darla walked into her room, leaving James in the hall by himself

  James wondered about this quiet girl and why she seemed to have no friends. He had always found it easy to make friends wherever he moved to. H
e moved about a lot.

  * * *

  All day, Darla wondered what was going to happen after school. What did the person in the pipe want her to do? How could she help anyone fight monsters and things? She was only eight.

  Once or twice, as she sat in her corner of the playground, the new boy, James, looked over towards her. What did he want? she wondered.

  Whenever Calvin and Phillip looked her way, they started laughing and turned away. James didn’t laugh. If anything, he looked sad.

  Darla told herself that she didn’t care.

  When afternoon recess finished, and Darla headed inside, James called her.

  “Darla.”

  “Yes,” she said, turning.

  He looked down at his feet. “Oh, nothing.”

  * * *

  When school ended, it took around fifteen minutes before most of the kids had left the playground. The more Darla thought about what might happen, the more nervous she became. As she walked slowly towards the pipe, she became a little frightened.

  Another thing had occurred to her, late this afternoon. There were other things underground. The sewers. The sewers were where all the pipes led to. When you emptied the bathtub, kitchen sink and even flushed the toilet, that’s where it went: the sewers. She’d heard there were rats in the sewers.

  Rats and spiders.

  But rats and spiders didn’t write notes to people asking for help. No, rats and spiders couldn’t write because, outside of stories and nursery rhymes, rats and spiders couldn’t even speak.

  Darla put her schoolbag down and stood in front of the pipe. Not too close. Just close enough to listen. She didn’t want to think about what she would do if a hand poked up and someone started climbing out. But she knew that was silly.

  Still, Darla tried to imagine what she would do if that happened. Then, when she reached down for her schoolbag, finally deciding that she’d go home and forget the person down the pipe, she noticed another note.

  She took a few tentative steps forward, snatched up the note, then unfolded it:

  NOW YOU’RE IN LOTS OF TROUBLE!!!

  LOOK OVER YOUR SHOULDER

  BOOOOO!!!!!!

  Darla screamed and turned to run. She didn’t get far. She ran right into Phillip Smith. Next to him, doubled over with laughter, was Calvin Murchison.

  “Oh boy . . . dumb, dumb, dumb Darla from the parlour!”

  Darla stood there sobbing; so frightened and so embarrassed.

  Phillip imitated Darla’s squeal and began to laugh again. Then the two boys began to chant:

  “Dumb Darla from the Parlour... dumb Darla from the parlour... dumb Darla from th –”

  “Stop it, you guys!”

  It was the James.

  “Leave her alone,” he said and walked towards them.

  “What’s your problem?” Calvin sneered.

  “I said leave her alone. It was a dumb joke. What did she do to you, anyhow?”

  “She’s a nit-wit, New Boy. That’s what!” Phillip said.

  New Boy. How many times had James heard that?

  “Why is she?” James asked, picking up Darla’s schoolbag.

  “Because she fell for it. She’s dumb and that’s all there is to it. Who would believe that someone could live in a stupid pipe?”

  “Why not?” James said, standing next to Darla.

  “What?” Calvin sneered.

  “What I mean is, how do you know that someone really doesn’t?”

  “You’re nuts,” Phillip said.

  “Prove no one lives there,” James answered.

  Phillip and Calvin looked at each other and nodded.

  “How do you want us to prove it, New Boy?” Calvin asked.

  James looked towards the pipe. “Put your hand in there.”

  “Aw, you’re as dumb as Darla!” Calvin said, then tapped Phillip’s shoulder. “Let’s go home. I’m getting real bored with New Boy and Dumb Darla...”

  “Chicken,” James said.

  Phillip sneered. “Okay, how about you put your –”

  Before the words were out of his mouth, James pushed his arm down the pipe. Phillip and Calvin looked on, then pushed James aside.

  “Me first,” Calvin said.

  Before his hand reached the concrete pipe, there was a haunting, gurgling sound. Suddenly, a long, slimy tentacle snaked from its opening and flailed the air.

  Calvin fell backwards, taking Phillip with him. Both boys landed in a tangle on the ground.

  “NO, NO... run for it! Run for it!”

  Phillip and Calvin struggled to their feet and bolted across the playground. Darla looked back at the pipe. It was still clogged with twigs and leaves. The tentacle had disappeared. She gasped and turned to James.

  “What was that thing? Where did it come from? Where did it go?”

  “What thing?” he smiled. “Nothing lives down pipes, don’t you know? It was a joke. Just a dumb joke they wanted to play on you. I wanted to tell you before. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “But, I saw that horrible thing too,” Darla said. “Didn’t you?”

  James only smiled. For some reason, Darla didn’t feel angry with him.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” she sighed. “Those two sure did get scared – didn’t they?”

  There was no sign of Phillip and Calvin anywhere.

  “Yeah,” he smiled, “they did. Which way are you going?”

  “That way,” Darla pointed.

  “Me too,” James said and they walked together towards the gate. As they talked, Darla discovered that James passed her house on the way to his.

  “Well, see you tomorrow,” he said, as she walked up her front path and turned to wave.

  As he travelled on down the street, he passed a stormwater drain and smiled.

  Darla was nice and she sure did have a good imagination, he thought.

  Imagination was good. The most important thing of all. What a dull world it would be without it.

  The tentacle slid back under the drain cover as he walked on by.

  James smiled and continued on home.

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  About the Authors

  Esinu Afele

  Are you a Mini-Goblin? I am. Mini-Goblins do naughty things sometimes, but a Cheeky Goblin does naughty things ALL the time! My name is Esinu Afele, I am a little over 21 years old. OK a lot older than 21 years old. I’m the same age as my tongue but a little older than my teeth! I love music. Whenever I get the chance to dance I do, even if it is dancing in the kitchen with my pots and pans!

  I am passionate about making up stories and reading them to children and so when I was given the chance to do both and get paid for reading them, I was chuffed. I was asked to teach non-English speaking children and wanted to develop a lesson plan which would motivate them to learn English. With little experience in teaching but a lot of enthusiasm, motivation, humour and common sense, I developed the “Easy Peasy” concept and club.

  Whilst teaching, I noticed that there were not many books which were made for children learning English as a foreign language and so I wrote the Eddy and Polly stories. After a while, I had the feeling that I needed a new character for the older children. My character Cheeky Goblin was then created. Both stories are very popular with children of all nationalities.

  What next? Wouldn’t it be great to watch a Cheeky Goblin cartoon? Well, that’s my next plan, I just need someone with the know-how and time to help me make this dream come true. This project would work well with children learning English and those who already speak it. I also plan to offer on-line tutorials. This is all very exciting.

  So, I think I´ve had my five minutes of fame. I would just like to say thanks for reading my blurb and I hope all you “Mini-Goblins” out there enjoy the Cheeky Goblin story.

  You can visit my website for more information: https://www.englishwithes.club

  Take care, Es

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  Sarah Cowan

  Sarah Cowan loves stories, music and trees. She is also very comfortable with a wheelbarrow full of cow poo or a bucket of worms: gardening. Sarah was a nice little girl, a naughty adolescent and a rebellious, runaway teenager; and now she is a writer with masses of experiences to write about. She lives in a small town on the NSW coast with her cat and her garden.

  Sarah has a Diploma of Arts in Professional Writing and Editing. She has published a music program/CD for schools (The Music Cubby), a book for grade sixes (Year 7? No Sweat!), and stories, poems, articles and haiku for older people and absolute dinosaurs. She has facilitated writing and songwriting workshops in schools and at camps and festivals. Sarah has written over 350 songs, and has made seven CDs, five of them with her band sacred cow in which she is singer and guitarist. Sarah’s CDs are available at: sacredcowsongs.com

 

  The Yellow Ukulele: Music and stories have the power to weave their own magic... DB is certainly no 'straight A' student but he has the imagination of a writer. When he takes up the opportunity to go away on Writers' Camp DB finds an unlikely ally and an ability he didn't know he had.

  Prince Yoshi and the Sea-cake Witch is Sarah’s first children’s novel. It is currently with an illustrator and Sarah hopes to see it published later in 2015

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  Faiz Kermani

  Faiz loves to write funny children’s books. Over the years, he has been lucky enough to share children’s enjoyment in his books when working with schools on literacy and reading projects. He has also received some great reviews, awards and media coverage. His books have been translated into French, Spanish, German and Russian.

  Everything in daily life provides some inspiration for the wacky characters in Faiz’s books – even his serious day job. In fact, some of the craziest and funniest ideas have popped into his head while he has been working on something completely unrelated to children's books!

  Faiz enjoys writing about what he thinks his young family and their friends would like and find funny. He hopes that his books help bring the joy of reading to life for children and their families.