Consequences Read Free Page B

spent the most time here. The grass once again came up to his chest the way it used to.
    He made his way deeper into the lot, pushing the tall weeds aside, trying not to trip over odd bits of trash.
    â€œReally, Tim, if you must go wandering into fairy tales, why not try for something a bit nicer?” he scolded himself. He stepped over a pile of soggy and shredding newspapers. “Or at least something where you know the outcome in advance and are guaranteed a happy ending. Something with talking bears and porridge, say.” He sighed. “Almost anything would beat slogging through a place you made up when you were four, trying to find out what killed your imaginary pal.”
    He arrived at the base of the enormous tree, and stared at its complex root system, its peeling bark. He squinted at the little head again.
    â€œLet’s see,” he addressed the head. “You were the Narl who threw acorns at people I didn’t like.” Tim remembered the times he sat hiding in the tree, wishing he were brave enough to hurl acorns at the kids who picked on him. Sometimes, an acorn actually fell on its own and beaned one ofthe bullies, and Tim always attributed it to the Narl named Tibby. He’d imagine Tibby beside him on the tree branch, blending in with the bark. He’d picture Tibby shimmying to the very end of the branch and tossing down the acorns.
    Tim shook his head, feeling a slight blush rise in his cheeks as he remembered all his childhood pretendings. “How embarrassing. What’s the point of growing up if you can’t leave behind all that kid stuff?”
    He gently laid the little head to rest at the base of the tree. “There used to be a lot of my imaginary Narls down here,” he remembered. “One used to hide my glasses for me when I didn’t want to wear them. One used to turn me invisible when I knew Mum was serving deviled Spam for lunch.” He got on his hands and knees and peered into the hole in the base of the tree. “And one—Hey!”
    Suddenly Tim was knocked over by tiny hands. He sat back up and saw two little creatures glaring at him. They looked like they were made from bits of tree and grass—little pointy twigs stuck out of their heads, their limbs were spiky and splintery, and their skin…could it be bark ? They were only about six inches high, but they looked as if they could prick a person like a porcupine. These were more of the Narls he had imagined, like Tibby.
    Wondering what the little creatures would do, Tim sat up slowly and cautiously. After all, a bloke never knew what magical creatures were capable of, no matter how small and cute they looked.
    â€œStand clear, Tanger,” one of them ordered. He held a branch over one shoulder like a baseball bat. “Ooh, I’ll give him such a whack!”
    â€œEr, pardon me, Crimple?” the one called Tanger said. He pushed his little spectacles farther up the bridge of his long pointy nose. He was a few inches shorter than plump Crimple. Both had moss and grass covering their bodies like fur. “Hang on a second.”
    Crimple ignored him. He took a few tiny steps toward Tim. “I’ll teach him to go peering and prying in decent folk’s trees. The worm.”
    â€œCrimple!” Tanger said more forcefully. This time Crimple looked at Tanger. The wee woody creature sidled up to Crimple and whispered hoarsely behind a splintery hand. “That’s the Opener himself you’re calling a worm. Or I’m a saucepan!” He stared down at the ground, rocking back and forth on his tiny feet.
    â€œThe Opener?” Crimple lowered his twig weapon. His little eyes went wide. “Oh, my brittle spittle spattle. Mercy me!”
    He gaped at Tim, while Tanger smiled sheepishly. Tim took a long look at the woody creatures,hiding a smile. For such cute little critters, they were awfully feisty and fierce. He admired that.
    â€œI know you,”