Kristina got up and slammed the door behind Davina. Then she picked up the hatbox and tried to open it, but it was no use; the clasps wouldn’t budge. “Figures! Why did you have to give me this thing, Miss Hensley? It’s caused me nothing but trouble, and to top it off, it’s so darn old that it won’t open anyway.” Frustrated, she shoved the hat box back under her bed.
3
It was in the middle of the night, when most people were fast asleep that an irritating buzzing noise woke Kristina. She tossed and turned as the sound of it seemed to go deep inside her ears. Thinking it must be an insect that had crawled inside her ears, she dug her fingers inside them, but nothing was in them. She cupped her hands over her ears to dull the sound; it became a little softer, but as soon as she took her hands off her ears, the noise grew louder once again. Where the heck is it coming from? Weren’t all the troubles from the day before enough? Now she had to deal with this. The moonlight spilled through the window and lit up the room, but she still couldn’t see where the noise was coming from.
Kristina got out of bed and walked over to the window to see if it might be coming from outside. Nothing seemed unusual—all the other houses on her street were dark, and the snow was falling hard, at least that was something good; she could go sledding the next day.
Suddenly, the noise grew louder, and she realized that it was coming from inside her room. She spun around to see if she might catch sight of whatever was making the noise, but when she did so, there was nothing to be found. A piece of paper lay on her dresser; she grabbed it and quickly rolled it up. If it was some sort of annoying insect, she would use the paper to swat it. “Come on out, wherever you are,” she coaxed, now standing in the middle of the room, tapping her foot. She slapped the paper onto her other hand. Hmm? She started back toward her bed and noticed that the closer she got to it, the louder the weird noise became.
Raymond had woken up and was standing in his cage, looking at the floor near her bed. “What is it, Raymond? Where do you think the noise is coming from?” Raymond just kept staring down at the floor with his eyes wide and his whiskers twitching. “So, you’re hiding under my bed, are you?” She reached for her bedspread, pulled it up and threw it to the other side of the bed. The buzzing noise grew louder. This is creepy. She went down on her hands and knees to look under the bed. It was dark, and there was no sign of any strange insect. She got up and scratched her head. Really weird. She remembered that she had shoved the hatbox under the bed. She looked under it again. The buzzing seemed to definitely be coming from the hatbox Miss Hensley had given her. What in the world could be in there?
Raymond stood on all fours, staring at the bottom of the bed, as though being drawn to the strange sound. Kristina quickly touched the hatbox with her rolled-up paper. There was no zap of electricity or anything of that sort, so she pulled it out from under the bed and picked it up. It didn’t feel weird, so she shook it. Then she remembered that it wouldn’t open. Frustrated, she tossed it on the floor, where it slid across the room and bumped into her dresser. She crawled back into bed and stuck her head under her pillow, but that didn’t help—the buzzing just grew louder, and then it suddenly changed into what sounded like one continuous melodic, quavering note being sung. “Would you shut up!” She grabbed hold of her pillow, ready to throw it at the hatbox. But just before she did so, the lid slowly opened. Her eyes popped wide open and she jumped out of bed.
Inside the box was a little, leather sack, the kind one would put a marble collection in. It had a golden tassel tied around the top of it—and the strange noise was coming from inside it. She quickly untied the tassel and peeked inside the sack, hoping to find something spectacular. But instead, what she found was not spectacular at all. Sitting in the bottom of the sack was a tarnished silver ball, about the size of a tennis ball. Frustrated, her lips pursed. “This is what I got myself so worked up about?” She looked up at Raymond. “It’s just a crummy silver ball with an electronic buzzer inside it.” Disappointed, she closed the sack and placed it back in the hatbox. The moonlight shone directly on the hatbox, giving it a soft glow, and the tarnished ball inside kept right on singing its strange quavering note.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so ungrateful. After all, it’s the thought that counts, not the gift itself. Miss Hensley really didn’t have to give me anything at all, and besides, the ball could have some sentimental meaning to her. I was the only student who got to stay after school and get a gift from her. “What the heck? I may as well play with it,” she said to Raymond.
Once again she opened the hatbox, took out the leather sack, and untied its gold tassel. Then she dropped the ball onto her palm. “You sure are tarnished, and very unusual, with your bizarre sound.” She stared keenly at it. “I bet that you used to be beautiful, shiny silver.” While rolling it around on her palm, she noticed that it was perfectly smooth and seamless. “How strange; I wonder how that annoying sound got inside of you.” The ball suddenly began to get very warm. She swirled it around a few times, and then clasped her hand tightly shut around it. It suddenly turned scorching hot. “Ouch!” She dropped it, shaking her hand to relieve the pain. The ball bounced once and then a second time, right into her clothes closet. She hurried over to the closet, thinking she’d find it on the floor, but when she couldn’t see it anywhere, she realized that it must have gone down the laundry chute.
The laundry chute was connected to a steel tunnel, which ran down into a large canvas sack on the basement floor. She poked her head into the opening of the chute, but it was too dark to see anything. She crawled down into the tunnel until she was up to about her waist. She listened again for the strange noise, but she couldn’t hear anything, so she crawled in a little farther until she was hanging from her ankles. Suddenly, her right ankle slipped off the corner of the opening of the chute, and then her left ankle slipped as well. She went sliding, headfirst, down the dark tunnel into the large sack on the basement floor. Luckily, there was a pile of laundry at the bottom of the sack to soften her landing. Wow! That was really fun! I should of thought of doing this a long time ago.
It was dark in the sack, and as Kristina sat quietly, she could hear the noise once again. It was a faint sound, coming from the bottom of the pile of laundry. She dug her hand down into the dirty clothes and noticed that what she was feeling was not clothes. It was dry and crisp, almost like paper. Her hand suddenly felt the ball. It was no longer hot but just a little warm. She pulled it out from the bottom of the pile, and the melodic tone became louder once again. Suddenly, she heard someone whistling, and she felt the laundry sack lift off the ground—with her inside it. The ball suddenly stopped singing and she felt herself being dumped out of the laundry sack. Something weird was definitely happening to her.
4
Afraid to make a move, Kristina lay curled up in the place where she had been dumped out. The laundry sack was gone. The pile of laundry had been replaced by a pile of leaves, and instead of the basement floor, it seemed to be grass beneath her. She cautiously sat up, poked her head out the pile of leaves, and saw a lovely manicured garden. In the middle of it sat a small cottage made of stones with a thatched roof. The garden itself was circular and along its perimeter was a dense forest. The weather was slightly cold and the sky was overcast. A cold breeze blew at her making her shiver. She felt strange being in the garden and wondered if she was simply dreaming. If this is a dream, I sure hope it’s more exciting than yesterday.
She heard the sound of whistling again, and when she poked her head out of the pile of leaves, she saw a man—or at least she thought it might be a man—coming around the corner of the cottage. He looked old, and he seemed to be even shorter than her. He had a stout stature, distinctly sharp facial features, ice-blue eyes, pointy ears, a long white beard, and silver hair. Upon his left shoulder he carried a large sack, and in his right hand he held a rake. He walked toward the pile of leaves, and Kristina ducked back down so he wouldn’t see her. He dumped out the large sack onto the pil
e of leaves, which brought another pile of leaves upon her head. Kristina tried not to move or make a sound.
The little man struck a match and was about to throw it on the pile of leaves, right where Kristina was hiding, but she jumped out in the nick of time. “Wait! Please don’t throw that match!” she said.
The little man almost fell backwards. “What in our lady’s name is this?” He steadied himself.
“I didn’t mean to end up in your leaf pile.” Kristina nervously backed away. “And, I have no idea how I got here.”
The little man walked closer to her, leaning forward slightly and holding the rake in front of him as if to protect himself. He stared at Kristina as though he’d never seen anyone like her before.
Kristina felt her heart race. “You may find this hard to believe but I was only trying to find a silver ball.”
The little man’s eyes grew wide. “A silver ball?”
“Yes, Sir I…”
The little man was impatient. “Well, go on. Go on, spit it out.”
“My teacher, Miss Hensley, gave it to me on the last day of school. It was a Christmas gift.”
The little man twirled his beard around one finger while he thought for a moment. Then he looked up at Kristina “Why, yes, of course!” He dropped his rake on the ground.
“What do you mean, ‘yes of course’?”
“No worries! Come with me to my cottage, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.” He patted her gently on the back. “I could use a little break anyway. My back’s about killin’ me.” He stretched backwards. Then he picked up his rake, and tossed it into a wheelbarrow that was nearby. He motioned for Kristina to follow him.
Kristina wasn’t sure if she should trust him, but he seemed friendly enough, so she walked after him. When they arrived at the cottage, he pushed open the small, wooden door and they went inside. He took a lantern down from a hook on the wall and led the way into the front room. There was a fire burning in a fireplace, and it made the room—probably the living room—cozy and warm. Kristina noticed that everything in the room was smaller than normal.
“Come, child, sit down.” The little man pointed to a small couch. “Now, how about that cup of tea?”
“Yes; thank you.” Kristina felt her stomach grumble.
The little man picked up a basket filled with tiny, red flowers. Then he took a big handful of them and dropped them into a black kettle that was sitting on top of the fire. As the flowers fell in, the water in the kettle spat out the top. “Now, then, let’s discuss matters while we wait on our tea.” He sat down in an armchair across from Kristina and lit a pipe. “This silver ball… do you have it with you?”
Kristina reached inside her pants pocket. “Yes―I have it right here. Want to see it?”
“Yes, but let me get the tea for us first.” He got up and poured the bright red tea into two cups and handed one to her.
Kristina stared at the tea. “I love the color of it.” She took a sip of it. “Yum, this is good. It tastes like…” she paused for a moment and then continued, “I can’t describe it at all, but it’s very tasty.”
“It’s fairy blossom−very hard to come by nowadays.” The little man sat back down and took a bunch of short puffs from his pipe. Then he stuck out his knuckle-swollen hand, blew the smoke out and said, “The name’s Rumalock.”
Trying not to cough, Kristina took hold of his hand, shook it, and looked curiously at Rumalock.
“What’s the matter?” Rumalock dragged hard on his pipe.
Kristina gulped down a mouthful of tea. “Are you a human?” she asked timidly.
Rumalock chuckled. “No, I am what you would call a dwarf.”
“Oh,” Kristina said quickly and her pale-blue eyes quickly gravitated toward her cup.
Rumalock chuckled again. “No need to feel bashful, my dear. I’m sure you don’t run into many dwarfs where you come from, and for that matter, I guess, I could say that I don’t get the chance to meet many of your type either.”
She took another sip of her tea. “My name is Kristina.”
Rumalock’s ice-blue eyes tuned into half-moons as he smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Kristina.”
Kristina stared at Rumalock.
Rumalock’s eyes turned serious. “Now, should we take a look at the little ball?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Kristina snapped out of her daze, took the silver ball out of her pocket, and dropped it onto Rumalock’s open palm. He held his eyeglasses with his other hand and peered down at it. He rolled it around and then clasped his hand tightly shut around it.
“Yup! It is the one. This, my dear, is a very special day, to say the least,” Rumalock said.
“Why’s that?” Kristina looked confused.
“This ball is called the Warble. It is what everyone in our land has been waiting for, for many years,” Rumalock said excitedly. Then, looking very serious, he narrowed his eyes. “After it was given to you, did anyone else come into contact with it or even with anything that it was stored in?”
Kristina had to think for a moment. “Yes, three people, to be exact. Wait a minute, four, if you include my pet rat, Raymond.” She started to count on her fingers. “So it would be Graham Kepler, Hester Crumeful, Davina Pavey, Raymond, and, of course, me.”
“My, my, that many, and a rat too. This could make matters very complicated.”
“How so?”
Rumalock placed the Warble back in Kristina’s hand. “After the Warble was given to you, whoever touched it or even anything it touched, like a container it may have been resting in, will be brought here.”
“Where is here?”
“The place you are in, child, is called Bernovem.” Rumalock took another long drag off his pipe and blew out a large number of perfectly round smoke rings. Seeing them, Kristina couldn’t resist poking her finger through them. Rumalock chuckled as she did so. Then he got out of his chair, walked to the fireplace, and took a dusty book off the mantel.
Kristina watched him, curiously. “What is that?”
“This, my dear, is the Book of Prophecy, and it is the only one in Bernovem.” He opened it and ran his finger along the page. “Ah ha! Here it is, just as predicted: Kristina,” he read.
“Do you mean I’m in that book?” Kristina got up off the couch and walked over to him.
Rumalock pointed his finger on the page. “Kristina,” he read again. He glanced up at her through his round glasses.
Kristina tilted her head. “I don’t get it; I’ve never heard of Bernovem?”
“Bernovem is the name of our world as well as the name of our mainland. You see, child, you have been brought here by the Warble to deliver it to its resting place.”
The color drained from Kristina’s face.
“Is something the matter?”
“Ya there is…because I have no idea where to bring it.”
“I thought you might feel that way. I must tell you that I can’t promise you that your journey will be a smooth one, but if you trust that the Warble will lead you to where it needs to go, you should be fine. And besides, you might even get some help along the way.”
Kristina looked uncertainly at Rumalock and then back at the book. “Why are so many of the pages blank?”
“Oh, that’s because the prophecies in this book will only appear on the pages a few minutes before they actually come to pass. Look here—it says, ‘Kristina’s scrape on her arm was healed.’”
“How could that be? The scrape is right here on my arm. It couldn’t possibly heal within a few minutes.” She showed him the scrape she had gotten from falling on the icy sidewalk the morning before.
“Ah! But are you sure? Give me your arm.”
Kristina stretched her arm out, and Rumalock poured a few drops of his tea onto her scrape.
“Ouch! What are you doing? That’s very hot!” She pulled her arm away from him and shook it to relieve the pain.
“Take a look at your scrape now,” Rumalock said excitedly.
<
br /> Kristina looked at her arm and her mouth fell agape. “It’s gone!”
“That’s right!”
“Very cool!” Kristina said amazed.
“Yes, yes!” Rumalock was so elated, he did a little dance. “I suppose you could say that.” He placed the Book of Prophecy back on the mantel. Then he turned around and clapped his hands together. “Now, child; you look hungry. How about a nice warm meal?”
Kristina’s face lit up. “Yes please!” She was so hungry; her stomach was beginning to hurt.
Rumalock fed Kristina a delicious meal of cheese, brown bread, boiled potatoes, and the best chocolate cake she had ever tasted. Afterward, feeling very full and sleepy, she sat by the crackling fire, still hardly believing where she was or how she had gotten there, but she was much too drowsy to figure it out. She took the Warble out of her pocket to take another look at it. She gazed down at it and her pupils suddenly grew two sizes larger. “The Warble!” she said and sat straight up. “Its color has changed.” She looked at Rumalock. “It used to be tarnished silver, but now it’s light purple.”
“Yes, of course, Kristina.” Rumalock looked serenely at her from across the room. “It’s all part of its journey.”
Kristina was dazzled by it. “All part of the journey?” she repeated in a whisper. Soon her eyes grew heavy again and she yawned. It wasn’t long before she was fast asleep. Rumalock got up, and placed a woolen blanket over her. Then he picked up his lantern, and left the room.
5
It was early morning when Kristina awoke. She sat up, stretched her arms in the air, and yawned. Then she looked around at her surroundings and remembered once again that she was not at home, and that meeting Rumalock and having tea with him had all been real.
The Warble Page 2