George's 12th Strand, Day Numbur 15
Now Playing: George's Christmas Story - Part II
Topic: Da Lore
Hawthorn was eating hay beside the clear little stream that cut through the middle of The Meadow.
“Hey you. I need twigs. Appul twigs.” Said Belinda Bunny.
Hawthorn looked up at her and blinked his bright blue eyes. His little loppy ears stood out horizontally from his head. Hearing was a new experience for him, since he had been deaf in the Life Below.
“Uh huh.” He said, and chewed his mouthful of hay thoughtfully.
“Go gedd’em.” Belinda urged, pushing him gently in the shoulder with her anvil-shaped head. “Cos dere’s udder bunnies comin’ an’ I fink dere hasta be sumplace good for dem to arribe at. And dere currently issn’t.”
Hawthorn resisted her push by planting his tiny Holland-lop feet four-square on the lush grass.
“Don’t’cha fink dat if dere was s’sposed to be a place to arribe at, it wuld hab, sort ob, well, you know,” he said, continuing to chewing carefully. “Alreddy been put dere? I mean, dis IS The Rainbow Bridge and The Meadow and it’s alreddy perfckt.”
And Belinda thought for a moment, with her black ears pricked forward as they always were when she was thinking.
“Well, they let me in to make it more perfeckt.” She said at last, with a certain amount of English Spot conviction. “Cos dat’s whut I do – I make fings bedder. Now go gedda twigs, hokay?”
And Hawthorn frowned, but he toddled off towards the grove of apple trees that grows in the midst of the Meadow.
And while he was there, gathering twigs in his little mouth, he met a number of the other Bridge Bunnies who were there browsing for chew-twigs. And in his sincere, Holland Lop way, he convinced them that it would be a good idea to also bring twigs to Belinda at the Rock At the End of The Bridge. It was always easier, he said (and the other Bridge Bunnies agreed), to do what Belinda wanted, because with or without help, she was pretty much going to do whatever it was that she had in mind anyway.
“Hunny’s comin’.” Belinda said when Hawthorn returned.
Hawthorn stopped in his tracks, dropped the twigs he was carrying and stared at her in loppy perplexity.
“How’d you werk dat wun out?”
But Belinda just nodded and blinked her dark, penetrating eyes and continued: “Hunny’s comin’. And he’s runnin’. An’ alla bunnies wif him are runnin’ just wike we did.” And with English Spot directness, she added, “I gotta hurry.”
And in her energetic, focused English Spot way, Belinda began arranging apple twigs into a sharp, peaky pile.
Before long, there was a respectable-looking pile of twigs beside the Rock At the End of The Rainbow Bridge.
“Hurry.” Urged Belinda. “Cos da past is chasin’ dem and dey are runnin’, ebbery bun ob dem.”
Inside her anvil-shaped head, Belinda knew what she wanted the collection of apple twigs to look like – a little twiggy house, with a round window beside the hole-shaped front door, with a little pointed roof over all. And she also wanted a pathway of nice, white stones that led from the End of The Rainbow Bridge, around the edge of the Rock, right to the little hole-shaped front door. And she most of all wanted a sign - a big, brightly lit sign - that said something nice, like maybe “WELCOME”, but whatever it said, it had to say it in huge, brilliant letters.
With her teeth, she stripped the bark off some twigs until she had a pile of small squares. Then she then put the squares of bark out on the grass to let them get wet in one of the small, delightful passing showers that rolled across the Meadow with reassuring regularity. And then she took the wet pieces of bark, straightened them all out and carefully piled them up and sat on them until they were flat.
Then she picked up the pile of flattened squares of twig-bark in her mouth and carried them off to a section of the Meadow where her indefatigable curiosity had once led her to visit.
This part of the Meadow was humid and hot. There were huge trees and vines hanging everywhere, and the ground was covered with a deep litter of leaves and strange plants the like of which she did not recognise. The creatures who lived here were very different too, to those she had previously encountered. Some of the creatures looked very like the hoomins she had come to know and love.
She took her little collection of flattened bark and raced through the hot, dripping trees where there was little sunshine. She went quickly and surely, confident that there were no predators in the Meadows here at The Rainbow Bridge.
And she was right.
Presently, she came upon one of the human-shaped creatures and in the Common Language of those who live in the extensive Meadows at The Rainbow Bridge, she communicated what she needed the human-shaped animal to do to help her. And the human-shaped animal, who knew about the cold, precise and deadly laboratories in the Life Below and knew about the great-hearted white bunnies who were also prisoners there, helped her, with a twig held dexterously between long fingers, using some “stuff” in pots. It took a little while, but the human-shaped animal understood exactly what Belinda needed and why she was in such great haste.
When the human-shaped creature had finished brushing “stuff” on to the little flattened squares of twig-bark, Belinda thanked him and allowed him to satisfy his curiosity about bunnies by touching her forward-pricked ears, and her wiggling nose and her alert, puffy tail that were so unlike his own. Then she took up the squares of twig-bark and charged at speed for her own section of The Meadow.
“I got maps.” She told Hawthorn upon her arrival back at the Rock at the End of The End of The Rainbow Bridge..
But when she surveyed the pile of twigs beside the Rock beside the Rainbow Bridge, it was still a pile of twigs.
“I gotta pikchur in my hed,” said Belinda, “But I dunno how to ged it outta my hed an innu dis pile ob twigs. And Hunny’s comin’ and I gotta ged dis done. I can’t be habbin’ wif dis…”
“Mebbe you aren’t s’sposed to.” Replied Hawthorn. “You allus hab bin one to be doin’ fings you aren’t s’sposed to do. Bemember Maman shoutin’ ‘NO BELINDA!’ at’choo?”
Belinda thought for a moment.
“Dat was den and dis is now.” She said.
Then she sat down beside the Rock and looked out over the Rainbow Bridge.
The curtain between Life Below and Life After was at its very thinnest, a mere veil as thin as spiders’ silk and just as strong. Her dark, intense gaze could penetrate it easily, and through the mists, she could see bunnies – white bunnies, black bunnies, English Spots, miniLops; bunnies with Rexy toes and helicopter ears, and bunnies with butterflies on their noses and bands around their eyes; bunnies with blue eyes, brown eyes, and ruby eyes, all fleeing in terror driven by the dark cloud of their pasts rolling on behind them.
And her penetrating gaze hardened and her ears stood up straight.
“I can’t be habbin’ wif dis!”
And like lightning, she turned, and directed her eyes on the pile of apple twigs.
“Well, don’t just lie dere doin’ nuffin’
!” She commanded the pile. “Ebberybunny hassa part to play! We will work Alla Us Togedder!
- Becos Nobunny
is ebber gonna fink dey is ebber gonna be OnAlone!
And there was a bright flash, like lightning from a clear, blue sky. It didn’t come from the pile of twigs and it didn’t come from Belinda, nor from any one thing, but it came from all around, like the very air ignited with heatless fire.
And when Belinda looked again, there was the little house of her imagination, with the little hole for a door with the round little window beside it and the peaked twig roof arching over all.
Best of all, there was a huge, rectangular sign balanced on the very tippy top of the peaked roof and supported by longer twigs at either end. And picked out in tricky, brightly glowing letters, like leftovers from the brilliant flash that had built the house, were the words, “HAB SUM HAY.”
“Dat’s whut Hunny usta say.” Belinda said to Hawthorn. “’Hab sum hay and habba nap. I gots sum to share.’
” And Belinda looked around at The Meadow and at the other bunnies who were gathered there around her.
“We gots lots to share.” She said to the assembly.
Bunny murmured to bunny and soon they were off in different directions, scattered as if by the gentle breeze that blew continuously through The Meadow.
Meanwhile Belinda hopped inside the house through the hole of a door and discovered that there was a small shelf, and a little table. She laid her stack of carefully lettered maps on the desk. Hawthorn made a few trips to build a stack of selected hay and installed a fragrant pile of dill.
Then the other bunnies began to return, bringing bundles of their favourite treats. Soon the little house was almost bursting with heaps of apples, raisins, Craisins™, bananas, strawberries, blueberries, kiwi fruits, almonds, sunflower seeds, and bundles of every herb imaginable. Outside Hawthorn’s single haystack had grown into several, with the hay sorted according to kind – oaten, Lucerne, alfalfa, timothy, orchard, and mixed. Each pile was neatly labelled with a little sign staked into the ground before it.
And some bunnies with an inclination towards engineering laid a pathway of smooth, white pebbles that reached from the End of the Bridge, around the Rock and led right to the hole of a doorway.
Just as the last pebble was put into place, Belinda’s ever-alert ears detected the faint vibrations of many paws thundering over frozen ground in the distance.
And Belinda ran – a black and white streak – down the little pebbled pathway, around the Rock and came to a halt at The End of The Rainbow Bridge.
--------By GeorgeTo Be Continued
Posted by Our Warren
at 2:54 PM EST