Two Bold Little Boys Page 2

they ran through the doorway and into the house, and then slammed the door shut behind them.”Do you think it will go away,” Fred asked George hopefully.

  George, however, did not answer him, because the sound of someone suddenly rapping loudly on the door stopped him from trying.

  “Go away!” Fred whimpered. “Leave us alone.”

  The person outside, however, did not go away; he kept on knocking, rapping and banging the door as if his life depended on it.

  Many minutes later, with no sign of the rapping and banging and knocking on the door finishing, Fred was at the end of his tether. “Answer it!” he whimpered. “Just answer it. I can’t take it anymore!”

  “But it will get us, then!” George protested.

  “I don’t care!” Fred snivelled. “Let it in! Anything is better than this banging, rapping and knocking!” With that, he pushed his brother aside, took hold of the latch and yanked the door open.

  Strangely, there was no one outside the door. “Where is he?” he asked, agog.

  “I don’t know,” George answered. “That is what happened before, so it is.”

  Suddenly, a gust of icy cold wind blew into the house, carrying thousands of dead leaves along with them. Peculiarly, the leaves began swirling around the startled boys. After swirling around and around in ever decreasing circles, the leaves finally came to a halt in two piles around the boys’ feet.

  “That was weird,” Fred said to his brother.

  “Really weird,” he brother agreed.

  Stepping out from the leaves, George and Fred noticed the boy – Livid – standing at the bottom of the door step, looking in at them. Proudly holding his prized football, he smiled happily, and then waved to them.

  “I don’t want to sound dumb,” Fred whispered to George, “but where did he come from?”

  “What worries me,” his brother answered, “is where that tall fella got himself to?”

  Coughing discreetly, to regain their attention, Livid said, “I would like to thank you for allowing me to retrieve my ball.”

  “You got it?” George asked, confused by what he had just said.

  “You retrieved it?” Fred gasped quite in surprise, for he knew the tall, shadowy figure had secured it.

  Nodding, Livid replied, “Yes. I am so happy to have my ball once again.”

  “B, but?” Fred spluttered.

  “B, but?” George stammered.

  Throwing his ball high into the air, Livid laughed happily, playing with his ball. Then, catching hold of it, he turned around and set off away from the house.

  “Hey,” George called out, “whatever happened to the other fella?”

  Turning around, Livid said, “What other fella?”

  “The tall, thin one,” he explained.

  What happened next was the subject of conversation between the two brothers for many a long year after that eventful night. You see, right there before their very eyes, Livid suddenly changed, transformed into the tall, thin figure that had caused them such fright.

  Growling, hissing, spitting his disquiet, he made a mad lunge for the two brothers. Whimpering, yelping, shrieking with fear, George and Fred slammed the door shut, barring his way into their house.

  A note:

  What REALLY happened that night? All that I can tell you, that I know, is this: There are some things in life and death we should never know.

  An extra note:

  Did you work out that Livid spelt backwards is divil? That is quite similar to devil, is it not?

  THE END.

  Bonus Feature

  Alice in Wonderland Christmas

  It was many years later when Alice had her next adventure, and whilst she was quite surprised to be having one at all, after the passing of so many years, she was even more surprised to see that she was a child again, no older than when she had first entered Wonderland and slipped through that fascinating Looking Glass.

  “How curious,” she whispered, trying to recall the child she had once been.

  “You took your time getting here,” said the White Rabbit who suddenly appeared in front of her.

  “I beg your pardon?” Alice replied, remembering how rude he could be, if he felt so inclined.

  “I said you took your time getting here. You should have been here fourteen years ago,” the Rabbit huffed indignantly as he began hopping quickly away from Alice.

  “But,” Alice spluttered, running after him, “I have no idea how I arrived, let alone why I am so late!”

  “We accept no ifs or buts, here – you should know that by now,” said the Rabbit, as he opened a door which had appeared as suddenly as he. Stepping through, he said, “Hurry up, please don’t dawdle.”

  As she followed him through the doorway, trying her to keep up with the fast-hopping Rabbit, Alice surmised that he must have got out his bed on the wrong side, this morning, to be so grumpy on so wonderful a day. And it really was a wonderful day, with a warm sun shining brightly upon them.

  ‘I wonder where I might possibly be?’ thought Alice, as she admired the pink forget-me-nots skirting a winding path before her. “Am I in Wonderland?” she asked, just as another door, the same as the first one, appeared.

  Giving Alice a most peculiar look, the Rabbit said, “Of course we are not in Wonderland.” Opening the door, he told her, “We are on the top of the world.” Having said that, he scurried off, hopping down another winding path, also bordered by pink forget-me-nots.

  “The top of the world?” Alice cried out, quite in surprise. “Why, that’s impossible!”

  The Rabbit stopped hopping. Turning around, facing Alice, he said, “Then how can you be here, if it’s impossible?”

  Flummoxed by the Rabbit’s question, Alice found herself struggling to find a reply. The only thing she was able to come up with was, “I bet you are mad!”

  “That all depends,” the Rabbit replied quite matter-of-factly.

  “It all depends on what?”

  “On whether you mean mad or mad.”

  “That’s silly,” said Alice. “They both mean the very same thing.”

  “If you were mad number one,” said the White Rabbit, with full conviction of the soundness of his case, “and someone happened to tell you that you were mad number two, you might be very mad indeed, at so fundamental a mistake.”

  “But I’m not mad!” Alice insisted, becoming ever more frustrated at so silly a conversation.

  “How do you know that you aren’t mad,” asked the Rabbit, who appeared to be enjoying flummoxing Alice, so “when you can’t tell the difference between mad number one and mad number two, I might ask?”

  “I just know that I’m not mad!” Alice insisted, stamping her foot, displaying her annoyance at what she considered was questionable logic. Changing the subject, from her possible madness or claimed sanity, Alice informed the Rabbit that another door had appeared and was awaiting his attention.

  Turning round, the White Rabbit took hold of the handle and tried to open the door, but it remained stubbornly shut.

  “Might I try?” Alice asked, feeling very un-mad. Standing away from the door, the White Rabbit said nothing, but his pink, beady eyes watched her intently.

  The door opened easily for Alice. Feeling vindicated, she said, “Could a mad person have done that?” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped through the doorway and fell into a gaping hole on the far side.

  “No, they mightn’t,” said the Rabbit, laughing as she disappeared into the hole. “But would they have fallen down there?” Laughing again, he hopped through doorway and into the hole, following Alice…

  After a long fall in near to total darkness, a fall that reminded Alice of the time she had fallen down the rabbit hole, into Wonderland, the speed of her descent began to slow. In fact it slowed so much it stopped altogether, and she began rising again. “I don’t want to return up there, even if it is to the top of the world,” she insisted. Staring at the speck of light high above her, she said, �
��It’s far too far!”

  Hearing something passing her by (she had no idea what it could be, for it was far too dark to see properly), Alice jumped onto its back. Holding on tightly, she rode out from the well.

  Alice was surprised to see that she was riding a baby hippopotamus, whose skin was as smooth as silk. She wondered how she had been able to stay upon it for second let alone long enough to escape from the dark, dreary place. Alice had so sooner begun thinking about this, when she felt herself slipping, sliding off the baby hippopotamus. Landing with a bump on the hard, dusty ground, she moaned, “I don’t like this place I don’t like it at all.”

  “You don’t like it!” said the baby hippopotamus, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice for such an extreme animal. “How do you think I feel? There’s not a drop of water to be seen – anywhere. And we hippos need so much of it!”

  Brushing her dress, removing the dust from it, Alice said, “Mr Hippopotamus, I would like to thank you for the ride from out of that cave, or whatever it happens to be. Moreover, it was the most comfortable hippopotamus ride I have ever had (Alice omitted to tell the hippopotamus that it was the only one she had had), thank you, again.”

  “My dear child,” it answered, “you are so light I hardly noticed you there. Any time you feel the need to take a ride from out of that dark space, please feel free to jump on my back as I pass you by.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much,” she told him. “I shall keep your invitation in my invitation book, and if I don’t find a need for it, I will treasure it always.”

  After that the hippopotamus returned to the darkness, searching for some water.