The Salt Krasnals

by Richard Monte

  “Strange, we’ve never come across him before. Harmless sort of fellow though. Quite friendly really. I wish he could have come a bit further with us. I did feel more relaxed in his company,” said Gappek, thinking of the large stick that Mossypot kept about him.

  “His wife’s biscuits were good,” mused Bulbek.

  “It’s such a shame Hrapek did not come with us. I wonder what he’s up to now,” said Gappek.

  “Probably asleep!” laughed Bulbek.

  In a strange way it felt good to be free of the noisy mine and to stroll through the unending open countryside. When they stopped to play catch using the salt globe which Skarbnik had given them, Gappek began to worry at the prospect of dropping it.

  “Steady on Bulbek! Don’t throw it so high. If I don’t catch it and it falls to the ground so the salt cracks, how on earth do you propose that we stick it together again?” he warned.

  But Bulbek liked this game and he was throwing the globe higher and higher. So high in fact that once or twice it disappeared into the leaves of a yew tree making Gappek’s chances of catching it even more unlikely.

  “Whoa!” roared Bulbek, slinging the globe up again. This time disaster struck. They waited and waited, but the globe did not come down.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it!” moaned Gappek.

  “It’s got to be up there somewhere! Give me a leg up,” said Bulbek desperately.

  By balancing with one foot on his brother’s hand and the other on a knot, Bulbek managed to hoist himself into the lower branches. He stuck his little head through the leaves and looked around.

  “I’m going to climb up a bit further,” he called down.

  Once Bulbek was in the tree he was surprised to find a path leading up through the branches. Soon he was passing doors concealed in the bark, but they were all firmly locked. Then a bit higher up he came to a house where the window was open and through it came the sound of voices. It was the language of squirrels and Bulbek although not fluent, understood snippets of the conversation.

  “Bounced along the floor and landed in an acorn bowl… ”

  “Is it big?”

  “Like a giant hail stone… ”

  “It fell out of the sky… ”

  Bulbek heard shuffling, then two red squirrels with bushy tails emerged and scampered off up the path.

  There was no time to lose. He followed them to a house built beneath an overhanging branch. While the squirrels stopped outside and discussed what to do, Bulbek found a window open around the back and nipped inside. Judging by the neatness of the furniture it was definitely a squirrel’s house. The little krasnal spotted the precious salt globe lying in an acorn bowl on the floor. He stuck it in his pocket and was preparing to make his escape through the bedroom window, when he heard the front door opening.

  The unfortunate krasnal was caught red-handed and the squirrels wanted to know just what he thought he was doing, breaking into their house like this!

  “I’m terribly sorry. I mean I lost something. You see—”

  “Stop jabbering and tell us straight,” said the squirrels irritably.

  Then another intruder entered the room.

  Gappek had made his way into the tree because his brother had been so long and now they were both in a fine mess!

  It took a long time to calm the squirrels down, but eventually they sat and listened to the krasnals’ story.

  “Well, I suppose we’d better do the polite thing and offer you tea and a bed for the night,” they said after listening to Bulbek’s account of the journey. The squirrels had also lost loved ones in the White Forest and when they heard the two adventurers were on their way to this place, they became hopeful that their friends might be free again one day.

  “You shouldn’t be so careless with that globe. It must be important if Skarbnik gave it to you,” said one of the squirrels as they played draughts with some dry acorns.

  The two krasnals had supper and got to bed early that night realising how lucky they had been and how easily they could have lost the peculiar little salt globe. As they lay in bed and gazed out of the squirrel’s window over the open countryside, Gappek began to wonder about the queen who lived in the great city.

  “What do you think she looks like?” he pondered.

  Bulbek closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine the queen in her castle. Her long fair hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back, and her blue eyes as dazzling as the sky.

  “I have no idea, but I bet she’s lovelier than a buttercup on a spring day.”

  “I have heard she lives in a shimmering salt castle, much bigger than Skarbnik’s lofty palace,” said Gappek.

  “I just wish Hrapek had come with us. He’s going to miss so much,” said Bulbek dreamily.

  The Gingerbread Cottage

  A candle flickered in the bedroom of the salt house. Hrapek sat up with a start and peered into the gloom. He was sure he’d blown that light out before climbing into bed.

  “Who’s there?” he mumbled, then scolded himself for being so silly.

  He was just about to get out of bed to extinguish the flame, when a low voice echoed around the room,

  “Deep in a dark forest…”

  Hrapek clutched his blanket and drew it up to his neck. He put his hands over his ears to try and block out the sound. Something moved in the corner. A shadow slid through the wall and seated itself on a little chair by the lamp. The frightened krasnal tried to speak, but no words came from his mouth. His eyelids felt heavy and his head was falling backwards onto his pillow. Strange words filled the air…

  “Deep in a dark forest, a creature with little red curls hanging upon her shoulders, woke from an intoxicating sleep. She opened her eyes and stretched her arms as the witch’s spell wore off. Scratched upon the wall of a gingerbread cottage was a list of her daily duties: brushing, polishing, feeding, washing and tidying. Everything had to be completed before Baba Jaga returned or the poor servant would face some cruel punishment. How much she hated it in there and wished she was snug and safe at home.

  A black broomstick was brushing the old cottage walls, clearing the silver cobwebs away, so that the gingerbread beneath started to show through in all its glorious green, red and yellow. It was possible to be fooled that this was a pretty little home, good enough to eat.

  ‘Sweep the floor lazy bones!’ shouted the broom.

  The little red-haired creature jumped again for she still could not get used to the fact that everything in this cottage told her what to do.

  ‘Get scrubbing!’ yelled a pan hanging above a bucket of water.

  ‘Polish me now!’ cried a mirror.

  ‘Tidy my drawers!’ demanded a cupboard.

  The unhappy servant could only obey their commands, for in the centre of the cottage sat a crystal ball. If she did anything wrong the witch would know about it and return to punish her.

  She picked up a broom and began to sweep, removing dust and crumbs from the floor, but taking care not to disturb the spiders hanging from their cobwebs in the corners. She swept everything out of the door, making sure she didn’t cross the step. The crystal ball perched like an evil eye, spying and waiting for the old witch to return from her poisonous herb garden.

  The poor creature ticked off the jobs as she completed them, giving the black cat her milk and stopping only to nibble the stale bread the witch had left in one of the cupboards, before making a start on the pots and seeds. On a table she found some purple, yellow, pink and red pips. It was her task to plant them in pots, then add soil and water. In a few days little shoots would start poking out of the earth and when these were strong enough Baba Jaga would take them into the herb garden and order a spade to start digging the holes to plant them in.

  She could see the mature leaves from a window at the back of the cottage. They looked good enough to eat, but she had witnessed a rabbit turn to stone when it had nibbled a corner of a purple cabbage and a squirrel pass into a deep sleep after sn
iffing a red flower. Beyond the garden she could see swirling snowflakes spiralling in little circles towards the earth and settling silently on the floor of a forest already covered with an icy carpet. The soporific trees stooped like old giants with white hair and beards, shivering in the cold.

  It was getting dark by the time she had finished all her jobs. The crystal ball, the brooms, pans and cupboards were starting to fall asleep. A key turned in the bone gate at the bottom of the front garden. Tap, tap, tap. The witch hobbled up the path with her stick in one hand. A tall spindly old woman with straggly black hair, piercing ebony coloured eyes, a hooked nose and pointed bony chin. She wore red and black striped stockings and a scarlet scarf was tied around her head. The little creature watched as the old crone picked up a wand from her collection near the door – the one with the crystal tip, then with a cackling laugh the witch glanced around the cottage to make sure every task had been completed.

  ‘Well, my little one I expect you are tired after all that work. To sleep with you!’

  She smelt the witch’s breath on the air – a foul, putrid mix of garlic, frogs and hog wart.

  Then with one flick of the wand the witch left her standing like a statue in the corner of the room, dreaming once again of a little home so far away…”

  The voice faded until only a faint snoring sound could be heard beneath the blanket.

  Lonely Hrapek

  Hrapek woke with a start.

  “Malinka?”

  He peered out of his bed. The lamp was out and the chair empty. He looked up, hoping to see her red curls dangling over the top bunk. The witch, the gingerbread cottage? He tried to dismiss it all as a load of old nonsense, but loneliness gnawed at the poor little krasnal, poking, prodding and reminding him that no one was at home.

  “Oh go away and leave me alone!” he muttered in exasperation, but then sitting up with his legs drawn into his body and his white nightshirt covering his knobbly knees, he realised what he had said and started sobbing all over again.

  The thought that there was no one to grumble with or share a soothing cup of tea and talk about the little things in life, made Hrapek feel sad. Oh how he wished he had gone with them! Then he would not have been feeling so awful. At night the whole place was abandoned. He couldn’t bare the thought of another evening spent in the company of shadows and sinister thoughts.

  The day was no good either. The salt house had become a little prison full of memories. Everywhere Hrapek turned he bumped into reminders of his brothers and sister. Fresh clothes in wardrobes which hadn’t been worn by their owners; bright hats and scarves hanging from the coat pegs; unused chairs; empty bunk beds; old pictures and treasured ornaments of his beloved friends staring back at him from the salt walls and shelves. Sometimes he even thought he could hear their voices in the whispering draughts that blew through the house; Gappek humming as he went about his work; Bulbek whistling as he pulled on his coat; Malinka singing in the bathroom.

  Hrapek couldn’t bear it any longer. Whose words had he heard in the night? What if it was really true and Malinka was trapped in a witch’s cottage? And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Skarbnik was behind this. He must go and find the old ghost at once.

  He closed the front door, turned to make sure all the candles were out and there were no lights in the windows, straightened his crooked hat and crossed over the path which led away from the house towards the salt lake. He could hear the underground river as it splashed its way through the forest of roots – a knotted tangle of old tree roots which had pushed themselves through the earth above.

  Water dripped from the roof of the mine, rolling down the tubers and spattering the little krasnal’s nose as he walked. The passage which Bulbek had described – the one which led to Skarbnik – was just visible through the densely clustered vegetation. Taking one last glance at the salt house perched behind the pretty salt garden, the krasnal plunged into the tunnel and just kept walking.

  Like Gappek and Bulbek before him, Hrapek soon found himself standing outside the magnificent, shimmering-green gateway which led to Skarbnik’s palace.

  Gosh! he thought, this place is enormous. Just look how high those spires and minarets are!

  His eyes which had been turned upwards at first, now swung towards the surface of the mine. Something had caught his attention. A dim sobbing sound. It was coming from somewhere within the grounds of the palace. Hrapek stepped inside the crystal gate and followed a path which took him through a giant salt arch. His nose detected the most alluring aroma of fragrances – a mixture of scents which he had never encountered before. He had entered a dazzling garden, where colours mingled beneath the salt lamps that lit the palace. Here were red and yellow roses, purple peonies, white hyacinths, scarlet anemones, pink pansies… How could flowers as beautiful as these grow below the ground? Then the little krasnal noticed he was not alone. A lady, dressed in a long flowing white dress was kneeling on the floor and the sobs which Hrapek had heard, were coming from her mouth.

  “Excuse me, are you—” Hrapek began.

  He was about to enquire about her well-being, but the lady turned with a start before he could finish. She stood up and at the same time Hrapek had to rub his eyes as if he was dreaming. He couldn’t believe it, but all the radiant flowers had vanished!

  “Are you back again, so soon?” she asked, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

  “I’ve never been here before. I came to ask Skarbnik where I can find my brothers. They—”

  “They came here before you. We were expecting you then,” said the White Lady, now aware of who he was.

  Hrapek felt a little shiver ripple down his spine.

  You stupid stubborn fool, he thought to himself. Why didn’t you come with Gappek and Bulbek straight away. If you had, you would be with them now.

  Determined not to show his nerves he held his hands behind his back and looked right into the White Lady’s eyes. They were eyes full of sorrow and the little krasnal thought he could see big tears like crystals, waiting to fall. He wanted desperately to ask her why she was so sad, but in a flash she turned away from him and he was looking at the back of her graceful flowing dress, no longer white but black as if she was in mourning, her voice trailing away softly as she called,

  “Follow me.”

  Hrapek walked behind obediently. The presence of this ghostly woman and her father’s palace placed a spell upon him, like it had done with the two brothers who had visited before.

  The salt arch led into the great chamber with its moving paintings on the walls. Hrapek glanced up as Gappek had before, spellbound by the size and weight of this place. His eyes caught sight of the amazing pictures: snow falling in the High Tatra mountains; the river Vistula snaking its way through hills and forests; the spires of a city hidden in marshlands…

  “So Hrapek. You too have come to my house,” a voice boomed out.

  The little krasnal swung round. Where had it come from? He had heard no doors opening and shutting. No footsteps on the salt floor. But there behind him stood Skarbnik, towering over his guest. A tobacco pipe held firmly in his right hand.

  Hrapek opened his mouth to speak, then gasped in surprise as the ghost disappeared. Skarbnik had passed through a wall and was waiting in his card room, when Hrapek came blustering up the long corridor shouting,

  “Wait! I need to speak to you!”

  The krasnal reached an open door, where he found the ghost sitting in his lavishly carved salt chair, blowing frequent puffs of smoke out through his pipe. Hrapek stood in wonder, unable to move, his little legs like the stems of some strange plant, rooted to the ground.

  “I must apologise my little chap. I keep forgetting you fellows don’t have the freedom of movement that we ghosts possess,” said Skarbnik.

  But Hrapek didn’t answer. His neck was stretched backwards and his eyes were following the smoke rings rising up from Skarbnik’s pipe towards the distant ceiling of the card room. It seemed l
ike billowing white clouds were wafting around up there and for a moment Hrapek felt as if he was looking at the open sky.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” said his host.

  Hrapek murmured something inaudible.

  “Please, come in my dear chap. Sit yourself down and tell me what the problem is.”

  Hearing Skarbnik’s voice, Hrapek came back to life. Suddenly he remembered he had plenty to say and the gigantic size of this ghost wasn’t going to scare him.

  “Well…” he started.

  “Did you?… Were you?… Last night I mean… Look, I must speak with my brothers. It is a matter of urgency. Can you tell me their whereabouts. And also I would like to know why YOU sent them away,” he blurted out, turning red in the face as he spoke.

  “Calm down my little fellow. I haven’t sent anyone anywhere. They went of their own accord – to find your sister. Is that what you intended to discuss with them?” answered Skarbnik, seemingly unruffled by the krasnal’s sudden outburst.

  “No… Yes… Yes, in a way… But maybe you could explain your reason for giving my brothers a strange globe-like object made of salt. If, of course, it is in any way connected with the subject of my sister’s disappearance—” mumbled Hrapek, getting a little muddled and biting his lip anxiously.

  “Do you know where your sister is?” asked Skarbnik.

  Hrapek tried not to think of his awful dream about the gingerbread cottage.

  “I… no… no, I don’t. She left us to find a better place to live. It was her own fault. Why couldn’t she just be happy living here in the salt mine?”

  Skarbnik puffed away on his pipe.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” added Hrapek almost in resignation.

  The ghost leaned back in his chair.

  “Your brothers wanted to know where to look for Malinka. So I told them to follow the path to the White Forest. Have you heard of it Hrapek?”

  The krasnal gulped.