The Mumbs

By H.B. Wilding

Children shouldn't know about the Mumbs (the Monsters Under My Bed), but they want to know us. These enchanted guardians are tasked to protect children from an ancient, caged evil—desiring freedom and conquering all worlds.

 

Bea, Zea, Ravi and Tumi were four different potential-heroes from three different worlds. All but one had problems. One had no friends, but not from a lack of trying. Another had many but they were all horrible bullies and the last was the classic, awkward nerd. Tumi though had little experience of problems but was going to learn the hard way that they are an unfortunate part of being human. 

 

After they break the rules of the Inbetween (the magical enforcement agency) they have to go rescue their Mumbs, but it's not as simple as that. They also have to go to the Everblight to save Tumi's parents and own Mumb who had been kidnapped by the Shadowed Man, a servant of the Old Evil. 

 

They are given their mission by the brilliant but batty Granny Wild—the mysterious & magical destiny-shaper. Nothing goes to plan though—it never does. So they are forced to improvise along the way to reach their goals. Unfortunately they also find out that victory can be bittersweet. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.B. Wilding
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223986447

Book preview

The Eyes

Oh, you're here! Wait , oh dear me you're here and look at the state of this place. I haven't touched a broom in years—not really sure where it is. Had it during the Black Death, I believe. Came in handy back then, but I didn't keep it after I stopped clearing the cobwebs and started naming their owners. You should see little Fang, she's quite the fly catcher. What can I say? It gets a bit lonely out here, but one does one's duty. Anyway, I'm sure I can find you a seat soon and we can get started with the tale—how excited you must be. I saw it about a week ago, it was somewhere over by that enormous hole up there. Can you believe it? It fell right through the floor. Luckily, this giant heap of old Daily Outcasts was here to catch it—oh right! Found it!

Sit, sit please. The hole must've been the work of those pesky termites. I just don't have the heart to end them. I need something, anything, to talk to, but also Fang and her scurrying family do enjoy them awfully. Properly ensconced then, eh? I'll get the kettle on. Now what am I going to do about this mountain of dishes? Could just hide it behind the mountain of clothes, I suppose. Oh well, mountains don't shift themselves in the Rest do they? Best to simply get on with it. Give me a sec. If I move this furry sandwich—at least I think it was—and maybe put it under this rag? No, that won't do. It's more holed than Swiss cheese and you can still see fuzzy green bits. Oh my! Is it moving?

Wait! Something's off. You didn't know any of that did you? About me living a little too comfortably with my own filth? You can't see me! This is why I shouldn't ramble. I get too excited and suddenly I tell people all my foibles—even start writing them down. Well I'm not changing it now. You'll just have to make peace with the fact that your narrator is a bit of a nutter. Can't help it you see, I have to talk. I need the sounds, even my incessant and stupidly-honest droning. It keeps me sane, well sort of anyway. Well no point in pretending then. I might've forgotten a bit, you know, that you're not actually here. The dottiness seems to be catching up with me. It's not easy being ten thousand four hundred and thirty three years old.

Oh well, embarrassment is a part of life. I'm just happy you're here, or, you know, not exactly anyway. Just remind me of that every so often would you? Still, you spoil me. It is such a gift, a treat really. How you warm this aged heart. Can I offer you an adventure? I know you're quite fond of those. Please, before we start make sure to get a fierce hug from anyone special. You know, a mum or dad, a sibling, maybe even a favourite animal—both real or stuffed would do—or even hug yourself if all else fails. I would do it myself but it's difficult being just words and all.

Time to start before my addled mind wanders again. We'll do that at the beginning and it begins with twins. This would make them the same age (thirteen to be sure) but being a boy and girl, well let's just say they were not identical. Still Beatrix and Zachariah had some similarities. For instance how both despised the biblical, and impossible to pronounce, family names they'd been given. So much so they found Bea and Zea, the nicknames from their cousins, a blessing. They lived in the same town, Turkey Neck in Colorado, and in the same house and with the same parents. They even went to the same school and you won't believe this, their heights also matched: about thigh high with their mother but only knee high with their very tall father. Of course they were also unique: Zea had strawberry blond hair which shone brilliantly in any sunlight and his sister a manifold of jet black locks which curled naturally about her pleasant face. At heart though, the younglings were two very different children. That's where they were truly curious as you'll soon see.

We'll start with Zea. He had a caring heart so big and noble I'm surprised it fitted into his tiny frame. He couldn't even hurt a mosquito and we all agree those are creatures just asking to be squashed. Taking my blood without asking, who does that? It's just rude, but Zea would let them sit and drink deeply. This made his choice of friends all the more surprising. He was a part of a gang of bullies—the worst at school. You see, even the best of hearts can be ignored. Would you like to know how that happened? Well it's my story so tough luck if you don't.

Now where was I? Oh yes, Zea was walking and eating and I mean really, truly eating. Chicken mayo, I love you, he told the sandwich a little too passionately. Zea took a bite and actually started crying tears of joy (what can I tell you, the child liked chicken). If I was old enough, I'd marry you. He kneeled like he'd seen many times on TV, then said: but I'm afraid you're not going to survive that long. Zea placed his fist to his mouth and started sobbing again. These, though, were only farcical, crocodile tears now. Did I mention Zea was one of the quirky kind? You know the type only us readers could truly appreciate. The point being that the boy was totally engrossed in his food so when a voice asked him, no it actually told him, hold this, he just did.  Sure, he said pleasantly. Zea held the shirt collar in one hand and ate with the other. He didn't really wonder why whatever he was holding was pleading, please stop! Please, not on picture day. Zea swallowed his final bite and licked his fingers. Delicious, he sighed. Only then did he notice what he was holding up. What happened to him? Zea asked in surprise. He fell into my fist a couple of times, a troll of a boy replied with a smirk. Say, nice job with that holding, the thug named Roundhouse added. Thanks, I guess, Zea replied while scratching his head. How would you like to join my gang? Roundhouse half asked and half threatened. So, Zea did.

Look he didn't have much to do after he finished his sandwich and the boy was a really nice kid who struggled to say no to anyone, before that day anyway. He was a good boy, a bit of a conformer really, who didn't have much of an opinion, or at least he didn't often speak his mind. Zea didn't see the point really. He got by quite well without having to take a stand. That's why what happened next really shook the boy. You see, meanness is like a disease. Once you have it, no matter how tiny an amount, it inevitably spreads. Mrs. Hornspruce's sweet boy was no longer as sweet. It became worse and worse until one day he made his mother cry. Can you believe it? An outrage! A travesty!

Would you please take out the trash? she politely asked. This made his reply all the more galling. Why don't you do it? You need exercise. The little menace actually poked her tummy and made a, boop! Mrs. Hornspruce knew she'd picked up a few pounds but between juggling work, her marriage and her children there wasn't much time to think about her weight. She didn't say anything. She simply stood at the sink and started whimpering. Is she crying? Zea anxiously asked himself. He wasn't sure but the awkward silence really annoyed his heart. Happy now? it asked him sarcastically. Zea felt terrible, because a good heart can't ever be silenced no matter how hard the meanness tries.

Now, Bea was naturally confident. It surged through her entire body. I don't think there was any tree she hadn't climbed or any path her bicycle hadn't been down. She wasn't afraid to raise her hand in class and she played all kinds of solo sports like tennis and running. This made her problem all the more surprising: Bea was terrified of talking to people, any people. Well, strangers really—and all people are strangers until you meet them. Any strangers, even strange cousins, but not grandmothers. Thank the sages she didn't miss out on that kind of love. As a consequence she didn't have any friends. Not from a lack of trying. I told you she was very confident, but unfortunately she always messed it up when she did.

Let's look at an example shall we? It was the first day of school after the long summer break. Bea was very excited because here was the perfect opportunity to make a friend. In class she scanned her schoolmates to decide who might be the easiest to befriend. She chose two studious looking girls with the glasses to prove it (she'd learnt the hard way you don't go for the popular kids immediately). Come break time she made her move. She walked over with her shoulders stiff and her gait determined. Unfortunately her face confused determination with anger—not a useful look when trying to make friends—but that didn't matter anyway. You can do this Bea! she told herself as she neared the girls. She stopped in front of them and then realised: no, you can't. Bea heaved and vomited all over their shoes. Even after that she kept going and tried time after time. The only problem was the more she failed, the stranger she became. Inherent bravery doesn't go well with self-created doubt. Sadly, Bea was her own worst enemy now.

Bea and Zea never knew it they had one problem in common though: they were both paralytically afraid of the dark. Now don't judge. Who likes the dark? I mean I'm still a little scared of the night. Wait, did I just confess that? Not again! Would you be so kind and just keep that between us? Let's set aside my many embarrassments and talk about our heroes. As per the usual the children were wide awake in their respective beds with the blankets pulled up to the very tips of their noses. It wasn't just because they were afraid of the dark. Yes, that definitely didn't help, but they were awake because of their problems. Mums, dads and adults in general I think you can relate, but Little Magicks I truly hope you won't have to for many years to come, if ever.

Now, Zea kept his eyes tightly shut, only peeking slowly with a single, slitted eye to see if the man with the nightmarishly long arms was still watching him from the closet. Did you enjoy hitting that boy today? he imagined the man asking him. Leave me alone!

But you're supposed to be a good lad. Good lads don't bully their mothers, he heard the ghoulish voice in his head. Zea shuddered as he felt the man's long, claw-like fingers scratching against his blankets. I am good! he whispered in protest. Tell that to your victim's bloody nose, the 'man' replied with a sneer, or your mother's tears. Ha, ha, ha!

Bea was unaware of her brother's issues but she herself was listening and hoping that scary claw she heard would stop scratching against the window. You'll never make a friend, she imagined the 'ghoul' saying. She concentrated so hard on listening for the scratching, there it is. No, wait there, that she scared herself wide awake again when another scary rasp did come.

The eyes were their biggest problem though. Only briefly they were seen. Sometimes under their beds, sometimes hovering just above their sheets, intently staring at the children. Bea and Zea pretended very hard that the white orbs weren't real, but I'll let you decide how successful that was with their eyes firmly shut and heads tucked under their blankets. But what really puzzled them was that the eyes didn't seem to be harmful. That is to say they weren't exactly evil-looking, not like the man or the ghoulish claw. No, the eyes somehow seemed to care, to be concerned, but they were not going to get out of bed to ask them.

For weeks now the children hadn't slept well and it showed. The less they slept the more the eyes showed up. The more the eyes showed up the less they slept—it was a vicious cycle, really. As a consequence the eyes were losing weight (nightmares just weren't as nourishing as dreams). This wasn't good, they always needed to be in tip-top shape to protect their wards. That wasn't the main reason though. They'd watched the children since birth, since they themselves came into existence. They loved the children just as much as their parents. In fact they saw them as their family, the only one they've ever had.

Curious then? I would be. Who are these mysterious eyes? Well, I'll tell you: they belonged to Nobleheart and Doggedpaw. These were Mumbs, or the Monsters Under My Bed but they were no monsters at all. Very well they did look curious but on the inside they were all cotton candy with hints of butterscotch. Deep down though all Mumbs struggled with their looks. Somehow they came to believe that Babs (keep reading to find out who that is, she's quite magical) made a mistake. That she did a bit of a slapdash job when putting them together. Awfully offensive in my opinion, not only to themselves but also to Babsy (she's just the best). The only time they would feel comfortable was at night where the darkness would hide them. Then they would finally feel quite comfortable in their own skins. It wasn't all bad though, the best way not to be seen was to be camouflaged and Mumbs don't need the attention, ever! You see you're not supposed to know about Mumbs or any Magicals at all.

So why did they think themselves unappealing? Well, they thought their heads were oversized (a little larger than their short bodies). Then they didn't like their two pairs of legs which according to them looked like fat little stumps. Of course I told them, many times, that it didn't matter when you're magical and that it made them look adorable, but that only incensed them for some reason. Why wouldn't you like to be cute? I always thought my fat rolls made me far more endearing. Moving on to their ears, the Mumbs despised these as they tended to droop in front of their eyes when not in use. They were quite useful though. The Mumbs turned them this way and that listening for danger, (very apt in their line of work) but again the cuddliness just seemed to vex them. To us, of course, it means many of those, aww moments we all love so much.

Now that you've got the basic structure let's focus on some detail: attached to their heads was an unappealing snout—their words, not mine—but strangely there were no teeth inside which, again, they thought a deal breaker. As to their eyes, they thought them too luminous which wasn't good for sneaking they explained. Lastly, we need to discuss their tails. These were unimaginably long, and oddly, the only part any Mumb admired about themselves and I'll tell you why: MAGIC! The tail never seemed to end, like a lonely old man's stories. This appendage was important when conjuring but otherwise it was just a nuisance really (and yet no Mumb ever thought this). It always got caught or looped around furniture and inevitably it would be stepped on which brought shudders of pain throughout the poor thing's body. To solve this some Mumbs would weave it into a carpet to float on and others would wrap it around their bodies. Most, though, just turned themselves into something else to solve the problem altogether. These were the things all Mumbs had, which made them the same, but what made them different from their kin was their colours and souls. They were all covered in smooth-as-silk fur which came in a variety of colours.

Nobleheart was pure white, to match her heart, with a stripe of black running along each flank (probably to prove she wasn't as pure as she thought). Doggedpaw in contrast was nearly completely brown with only a few broken patches of white fluff around in his eye and left front paw. So what do you think? Wonderful creatures really and quite pretty because of all the fuzz (I do love a bit of plush).

As to their characters, Nobleheart believed in what was right. She was Zea's Mumb and justice was her constant compass, although in reality she was less rigid than she thought. This Mumb refused to do anything wrong. I remember watching her trying to find the owner of a wallet at the children's school. She couldn't just leave it there on the ground but she also couldn't exactly walk up to everyone and say, never mind my appearance, did you lose this? So she turned herself into a school bag to get about the classes unseen. Not so easy because bags don't usually float all by themselves. A chair didn't work much better and she was getting really frustrated, but she didn't give up. It took her a while to realise the very nice leather wallet probably didn't belong to a student so she became a tea trolley instead. This was a great idea as it had wheels and wouldn't look strange in the offices. Turns out it was the principal's wallet and she discovered this by just looking at the ID inside. I know, I laughed as well. She could've saved herself a lot of trouble had she just checked the wallet right from the start.

Doggedpaw was very tenacious and a bit temperamental. He once built a puzzle but when finished he found one piece was missing. He searched and searched but could not find it, his temper rising with every unsuccessful attempt. In the end he turned himself into the missing piece and it was done. How proud he was but, sadly, he could never enjoy his finished work. Every time he turned back the empty hole smirked at him. This made him throw the unfinished puzzle back into 999 pieces. He was ashamed (he was really working hard on his anger issues) and as he was picking up the pieces noticed the missing one tangled in his fur. That really nettled him but he just sat down and hummed awhile like those cross-legged people at the park.

Now with our very necessary introductions over let's get back to our story. At that moment the Mumbs were discussing their biggest problem. One which they've had for quite some time and it was getting worse. We have to help them, Doggedpaw said. His words were firm, resolute and unyielding. I know, but we're not allowed to talk to them. His sister wanted to help but her sense of right made it difficult to break the rules. We need to show them they have nothing to fear.

Yes, but there are real things to fear in the dark and that's why we don't intervene, Nobleheart reminded him.

And that's why we need to help. How can we protect them if they are not resting? They don't sleep, I don't eat.

Don't pretend like it's all about your stomach, you care about them. Nobleheart liked to remind her brother he had feelings. No, I don't! he defended, before going on briskly, they need their sleep and we need their dreams. Where do you think our magic comes from? Nobleheart was well aware that children's dreams kept them magic, but rules were rules. The Inbetween doesn't want them to know about our existence. You know what will happen, she warned.

And what will happen if they don't get any rest? We can't protect them from the Cronies if we're not here.

It was a difficult situation: if they did nothing something bad would happen and if they did help there might be even worse consequences. We can help from the shadows—

We've tried that, Doggedpaw interrupted, you put away his clothes and closed the closet doors, pretending his mother had done it. Nobleheart sighed. I know, it only worked for a week. He got some extra ice cream though. His mother thought he finally cleaned the room. And now he's afraid of the monstrous jumper and his hellhound shoes—

And don't forget 'the Eyes.'

Yes, they are afraid of us! Us? Doesn't that just leave a bad taste. No, sis we can't help from the shadows anymore. It's time.

Doggedpaw's words were determined and his tone quite convincing. Nobleheart was very nearly persuaded, nearly. So we're just going to appear to them?

Yes, Doggedpaw declared without flinching. I can't let you do that. Nobleheart blocked his way. His inspiring words had not been enough for this goodie-goodie. You can't stop me. Her brother was bubbling on the inside now. Doggedpaw floated off arrogantly. He would not be stopped, but he was wrong. Nobleheart wrapped her tail around him and held him in place. She regretted it instantly—she'd picked the wrong opponent. He was called Doggedpaw for a reason. This Mumb would never ever, in a billion times a gazillion years, just sit there. Doggedpaw smirked arrogantly at Nobleheart as if to say: you want to dance sis? Then let's go.

They tumbled together, the one trying to pin the other. Soon they were no longer under the bed but rolling over the floor, the walls and then onto the beds. The two children who were already afraid because nothing really strange had happened were now shouting at the top of their lungs because something frightening had just happened. Bea and Zea got roped into the tussle, well tailed anyway. As the two Mumbs wrestled the children got entangled, screaming as they rolled until Bea and Doggedpaw, and other two, ended up in exactly the same position: ensnared completely and pressed together nose to snout. Needless to say, this was rather awkward.

Oh right, Doggedpaw muttered with a chuckle as he noticed the situation. He half raised a wrapped stump. Hi! he said with his best smile. I would've liked to introduce myself as something less ugly, maybe a chair, but please— Bea didn't allow him to finish, she widened her eyes followed by her mouth and then answered with an ear-splitting scream. No, no, no, he tried to stop her, but it was too late. Impressive pipes though, he thought.

On the opposite side, the tail-wrapped Nobleheart initially had some better luck. She too gave her best and friendliest, hi. She really wished she could have turned herself into something more appealing, possibly a lion, but considering the circumstances the real her was the best she could manage. Zea gave a hesitant, hello, in return, followed by a stuttering question: are you, g-g-going to eat me? Obviously she was going to say no but at that moment Bea decided to stop screaming and start biting instead. Nobleheart opened her jaws wide and roared in pain. The boy roared back, well it was really a very pitchy yelp but his mouth was just as big as hers.

I think you can suspect what happened next. When children scream adults come running, especially their parents. Probably because they love you so much. The Mumbs heard footfalls in the corridor. Not good, not good, Nobleheart said. Very good, very good! Zea thought as he knew he'd be rescued. This really wasn't good at all. Adults don't understand things which are different or strange. In fact most fear it and that fear attracts other bad and even worse things. This couldn't be allowed, they couldn't see the Mumbs. The Inbetween would find out and take them away. Doggedpaw and Nobleheart loved their friends. They didn't want to go (and Doggedpaw really didn't want to starve in the Inbetween).

The Mumbs tried calming the kids: please be quiet, we're not going to hurt you. I'm Nobleheart, I've been watching you since you were a baby, she said in a soothing tone. You've been doing what? Bea couldn't believe the creepy confession. Help! Mum! Dad! The children kept screaming, attracting the steps which were just outside the door now. Quick! Doggedpaw blurted. He tried to unwrap himself from the others. Get off me.

You get off me, his sister protested. She wriggled and twisted, but couldn't move either. They were stuck. The door knob turned. Nobleheart and Doggedpaw looked at each other. What are we going to do? they communicated via their huge eyes.

Nobleheart had a brainwave. She was quick on her—well, paws I guess—and used what was left of her tail (I told you they are amazingly long) and formed the outline of a boy and girl in the beds. The tail made feet, hands and even hair and then POOF! two dummies, exact copies of the children, appeared in their respective beds. The puppets looked very convincing as they 'slept' serenely. They even seemed to breathe. This simply rattled Zea and Bea even more. Now there were these things attacking them and doppelgangers in their beds. Doggedpaw's ears twitched. He heard the hinges screech, he shoved his tail into each little screaming mouth and then sneezed. A cloud of confetti filled the room and just before the door opened entirely they were out of sight and under the bed. The screaming was muffled now but the children's eyes were so wide another shock might make them pop out all together.

When their parents came in expecting to find something horrifying they only saw their two 'children' sleeping soundly. All was quiet, there wasn't even any loud, colourful confetti. The pair moved closer. They seem fine, Mrs. Hornspruce commented. Her tone and face seemed confused. Mr. Hornspruce too seemed unconvinced by the sudden serenity in the room. He stooped to check on his 'children's' breathing. The man raised an eyebrow and looked at his wife. They're okay, he mouthed at her (like I said, these were very good dummies). He still wasn't convinced though. He'd heard the screaming, he was sure of it. Something drew his attention. The bed, is it shaking? Mr. Hornspruce checked again. Yes, it's definitely moving, he thought as he dropped to his knees. His wife saw his hesitation and placed her hand on his shoulder. Look, he whispered. She nodded, yes something odd was happening underneath. Their father readied his hand to lift the sheets. The Mumbs were very alarmed and the children wriggled about heavily to get their father's attention. Just then Bea spoke, only it wasn't Bea: Dad, is that you? The voice startled her father. Yes, are you okay? The dummy answered: I'm okay, could I please get a glass of water?

Of course darling, he stood and went to the door taking his wife with him but then remembered. He turned and asked, were you screaming?

From underneath the bed Bea noticed the creature, Doggedpaw, mouthing the dummy's reply. Screaming? No, Dad. I haven't heard a thing all night. This really disturbed the children and they screamed even harder into the tail. Ugh, it's getting wet now, Zea told himself. Tastes like wet dog. Mr. Hornspruce looked puzzled as he and his wife left the room. The Mumbs relaxed but Nobleheart still shot her brother a, I told you this was a stupid idea look. The children though saw no sarcasm, only the stuff from their nightmares happening in reality.

Oh Little Ones what follows is truly hilarious. I'm still laughing, so much so this took some time to write. During their fight the Mumb's tails had wrapped around each other and magicked them together! They were one scary Mumb now with two heads, eight legs and well, you get the picture. That's why the children were so scared they realised in hindsight. Well they might've been afraid anyway but it didn't help. Just imagine a two-headed thing babbling incoherently with waving stumps and a tail wrapped around you. To crown it all you had some of it stuck in your mouth. Their hearts beat like never before. It was quite the scene and they laughed about it many years later but in the moment they were terrified. What would you have thought? They want to eat me, seems reasonable but certainly not that they just wished to introduce themselves.

Bea kicked as hard as she could and her foot found Doggedpaw's stomach. He choked on his muffled scream and held back his tears. Curiously though he didn't get angry, but the Mumb did give her a very hurt look. Zea spat out the tail and shouted, don't eat me! I don't taste like chicken. But the tail was simply shoved back unceremoniously. Nobleheart sternly told the boy, could you stop squirming for a second so I can think of a way to help you? The boy stopped. That worked? she thought, but Zea turned his head towards her and gave her his best excuse me? look, before renewing his struggling. This is pointless, she thought as caught a glimpse of her tail—her magical tail! The clever Mumb had another moment of brilliance and she began drawing. It was a difficult enough thing to do at any rate but doing it with an uncooperative, confused boy thrashing about heavily was a near impossibility. Of course never mind that he was only doing it because she was holding him against his will (that's not important right now).

The outlines of tail hanging midair convalesced into something which immediately made Zea stop dead. There was a group of boys and Zea was among them. He was one of the gang holding up their victim, a boy named Chris. Roundhouse, their leader, was in front of them. He called himself that because he loved all things kung fu but he was quite terrible at it. To prove it he swung round awkwardly and delivered the most inelegant roundhouse kick. It barely touched Chris, but amazingly his lackeys, including Zea, cheered and high fived the boss like it was the best thing they'd ever seen. Funny thing though I think they really believed it. Roundhouse was too self-involved and his lackeys, including Zea, were too involved in him to realise they were just pathetic bullies and nothing more.

Zea stopped struggling. He was watching intently now. The boy recognized what he was seeing. Give me the bear, Roundhouse ordered. Chris had brought his favourite toy, his best friend really, to class for Show and Tell. It made him the perfect victim of the day when Chris had earlier told the class proudly, this is my best friend.

Give back Mr. Cuddlesworth, Chris demanded. Demand might be a bit strong, it was all he really managed to mutter in a tiny voice and tear-stained eyes. Oh Mr. Cuddlesworth! Poor baby wants his bear! Zea and the lackeys were drinking up Roundhouse's antics. What if I made your 'best friend' a little shorter? He pulled on the bear's leg. Please don't, the boy begged. No, go for the head, Boss. Roundhouse turned on his lackey with an angry scowl. Only he spoke and they knew that. The other bully looked away sheepishly. I have an idea why don't I rip off its head? Everyone roared with approval at the boss's very ‘original’ idea.

Say goodbye to your little friend, Chrissie. Roundhouse pulled, the stitches at the neck tightened. No please, he's my friend. Don't! but pleading did nothing. Zea and the lackeys encouraged their leader, rip, rip, rip, and it did. Stuffing flew from the tear as the head and body from the beloved toy separated. Mr. Cuddlesworth no! Chris collapsed on the playground, sobbing uncontrollably. Roundhouse roared as if on some battlefield with the head raised high. His soldiers replied with gusto: great job, Boss! Even Zea joined in the praise, you were like 'bah' and he was like, 'aww' (well I never said Zea was any good at it).

Zea saw himself in the vision with the gang. He was just a mean-spirited boy, the same as the rest. That's what I really look like? You'd be amazed to know that at first he was referring to his skinny legs. Chicken legs, he thought, but he got there in the end. He saw himself punching with the same enthusiasm as the others. He flung stinging insults like wimp, geek and baby like these words had no hurt attached to them at all. It was hard to watch yourself when you realised you are not as good as you thought. Why are you showing me this? his confused eyes asked of Nobleheart. In reply she pointed with her head as if to say, keep watching.

Did you see? Did you hear him cry? He was like boo-hoo, their general demanded recognition of his childishness. Finally Roundhouse's ego was satisfied. He threw the head to the ground and stomped off still imitating Chris, no, please don't! Zea was about to turn and go with them, but the best of hearts won't be ignored. It made him stay. The big-hearted boy looked at the torn bear and then its owner. He felt something. Could it have been remorse? There was a pain in his chest. Was it guilt?

Nobleheart, who had been there that day, was watching the entire thing with revulsion. She noticed her ward's sorrow and saw an opportunity. Zea looked at the bear again and did doubletake. He rubbed his eyes but nothing had changed: the bear was mended and whole once more. He looked around to see if the world around him could explain why, but nothing or no one did. His heart stung like it was telling him to, pick it up, and so he did. Zea placed the bear next to the sobbing boy. In the distance Roundhouse called to him, I know it's fun but let's go. People don't bully themselves. In reality they do but that's neither here nor there. Zea said: I'm sorry, and he really meant it, then ran to catch up with his gang. That day he promised himself that tomorrow he would punch a little softer.

The Mumb saw that Zea understood. He looked at Nobleheart with eyes which seemed to say, you? She nodded. You fixed the bear? She nodded again. Zea smiled and Nobleheart returned the look of affection. She released him but Zea did not run. He just buried his face into her soft fur. Nobleheart closed her eyes and enjoyed a moment she'd been dreaming of all her life.

Doggedpaw and Bea who were still struggling stopped immediately when they noticed the confusing scene. What's going on? Bea asked after she spat out the tail. Doggedpaw saw what his sister had done as he watched the vision fade. A good idea is a good idea, he thought. He used the lull and started drawing.

There was a girl talking to herself. You can do this Bea! They are girls just like you, she said adamantly. No they're not, they have friends. Stop doing that, she reprimanded her mind. Come on, if you can climb that tree you can do this. She walked towards the girls with her fists firmly clenched. I'm doomed. Bea breathed deeply then started babbling. Can I play with you? Unless you're busy but I promise I won't be a bother. I'm Bea by the way, but you're in my class so you probably knew that. Did you know that? What are you doing? One of the girls wanted to answer but Bea just continued: it doesn't matter what you're doing. I'm sure it's really fun anyway. Bea jabbered faster and more incoherently. I really like your hair. I wish my hair could look like that. I'm Bea, did I mention that? Do you know me? I'm the girl who's always climbing trees. I'm really good at it. Would you like to climb a tree? The girls really didn't. I can show you all the best ones at school.

The girls started giggling and why wouldn’t they? Bea was being funny, even if she didn’t intend it. She was feeling very uncomfortable, not only in her heart but also her belly. Her alarmed eyes fell upon her rumbling tummy. All her babbling had made her swallow a lot of air. She struggled to hold it in. No, not here, not now! Anything but that. It's actually quite common and not that strange at all, but it is funny: Bea started farting. It was a short and relatively harmless one at first, but that made her gasp and she swallowed more air. The girls weren't sure they'd