immediately felt ridiculous.
The fireball, sparking madly, hurled itself out of the window, vanishing from sight. Harold ran to the window, but couldn’t see the wretched thing anywhere. Then it reappeared again at his shoulder, seemingly out of nowhere. Harold backed off a pace or two, and watched the thing repeat its mysterious performance. He had the idea that it was attempting to communicate, perhaps by some sort of pantomime, since it obviously couldn’t speak.
“She din’t jump, did she?”
The fireball zoomed wildly back and forth, swaying like a pendulum. Harold hoped that meant ‘no’.
“Then what?”
A shadowy figure formed before him: the bulk of a man’s shape suggested in dark smoke, restless purple sparks animating finer details. Two brightly glowing orbs of magenta fire burned in the shadowy form of its head. It mimed furiously, but Harold still couldn’t tell what it was getting at. “Has somebody took her?”
The figure nodded, recollecting itself into its more compact form until it was just a small blue fireball bouncing up and down excitedly. It whizzed around and around, trailing bright pink sparks and making poor Harold positively green with dizziness. “Do you know where’d they go?”
Once more, the fireball hurled itself out of the window, plummeting down towards the sea. Harold leaned over the window ledge, to see it bobbing in agitation just above the surface of the water. Climbing carefully down, he found the thing circling around the bewildered old fisherman. This really would give the people of Springhaven something to talk about… Impatiently the fireball led Harold back to shore, and away from town.
“Wait, wait!” cried Harold, sweaty and out of breath from all the day’s exertions so far. He would be hopelessly slow on foot, and besides, he didn’t like to think what attention the strange animated fireball would garner, dancing excitedly around his head. In a flash of ingenuity, he procured a metal colander and secured it carefully to the handlebars of his brother’s bicycle.
“You can ride in that,” he told the fireball, still not sure if it understood much of what he said, if anything at all. “Here,” he said, patting the colander invitingly. With an indefinable air of reluctance, the fireball got in, and they were under way. There was really only one road out of town, so Harold needed no further direction for the time being. Unused to this new, racy mode of transportation, he wobbled down the road and out into the narrow twisting lane leading inland, away from Springhaven.
~
Tearing through the countryside on the borrowed bicycle, they missed Amelia in Lannersmeet by only a matter of hours. As they approached the small town, down the gentle slope of the hill, Harold could see the road ahead diverge, splitting off in four directions. “All right,” he said to the fireball, “where to now?” He got no intelligible answer from it, not even any esoteric miming. “Maybe somebody here’s seen her?” Suddenly the fireball leapt up out of the colander. It whizzed around and around like a firework, tracing a dizzying circle in bright sky blue sparks. “What? What? Turn around?” No, the fireball didn’t like that – it spun in the opposite direction, faster and faster until it blurred into a blue halo. With the agitated fireball blocking his view, Harold came to a halt at the crossroads, dismounting awkwardly. “I do wish you could talk some,” he muttered to the fireball, as it settled back into the colander.
Underneath a signpost bristling with the names of familiar towns, two identical gentlemen in smart coats and fancy cravats stood consulting a map. Wiping away the sweat trickling down his forehead, Harold wheeled the bicycle over to where the gentlemen stood.
“Beg pardon,” he said, “have you seen a pretty girl with long blonde braids?”
The two men stared at him as if he was a simpleton, their black eyes curiously vacant. “No,” said
The fireball, sparking madly, hurled itself out of the window, vanishing from sight. Harold ran to the window, but couldn’t see the wretched thing anywhere. Then it reappeared again at his shoulder, seemingly out of nowhere. Harold backed off a pace or two, and watched the thing repeat its mysterious performance. He had the idea that it was attempting to communicate, perhaps by some sort of pantomime, since it obviously couldn’t speak.
“She din’t jump, did she?”
The fireball zoomed wildly back and forth, swaying like a pendulum. Harold hoped that meant ‘no’.
“Then what?”
A shadowy figure formed before him: the bulk of a man’s shape suggested in dark smoke, restless purple sparks animating finer details. Two brightly glowing orbs of magenta fire burned in the shadowy form of its head. It mimed furiously, but Harold still couldn’t tell what it was getting at. “Has somebody took her?”
The figure nodded, recollecting itself into its more compact form until it was just a small blue fireball bouncing up and down excitedly. It whizzed around and around, trailing bright pink sparks and making poor Harold positively green with dizziness. “Do you know where’d they go?”
Once more, the fireball hurled itself out of the window, plummeting down towards the sea. Harold leaned over the window ledge, to see it bobbing in agitation just above the surface of the water. Climbing carefully down, he found the thing circling around the bewildered old fisherman. This really would give the people of Springhaven something to talk about… Impatiently the fireball led Harold back to shore, and away from town.
“Wait, wait!” cried Harold, sweaty and out of breath from all the day’s exertions so far. He would be hopelessly slow on foot, and besides, he didn’t like to think what attention the strange animated fireball would garner, dancing excitedly around his head. In a flash of ingenuity, he procured a metal colander and secured it carefully to the handlebars of his brother’s bicycle.
“You can ride in that,” he told the fireball, still not sure if it understood much of what he said, if anything at all. “Here,” he said, patting the colander invitingly. With an indefinable air of reluctance, the fireball got in, and they were under way. There was really only one road out of town, so Harold needed no further direction for the time being. Unused to this new, racy mode of transportation, he wobbled down the road and out into the narrow twisting lane leading inland, away from Springhaven.
~
Tearing through the countryside on the borrowed bicycle, they missed Amelia in Lannersmeet by only a matter of hours. As they approached the small town, down the gentle slope of the hill, Harold could see the road ahead diverge, splitting off in four directions. “All right,” he said to the fireball, “where to now?” He got no intelligible answer from it, not even any esoteric miming. “Maybe somebody here’s seen her?” Suddenly the fireball leapt up out of the colander. It whizzed around and around like a firework, tracing a dizzying circle in bright sky blue sparks. “What? What? Turn around?” No, the fireball didn’t like that – it spun in the opposite direction, faster and faster until it blurred into a blue halo. With the agitated fireball blocking his view, Harold came to a halt at the crossroads, dismounting awkwardly. “I do wish you could talk some,” he muttered to the fireball, as it settled back into the colander.
Underneath a signpost bristling with the names of familiar towns, two identical gentlemen in smart coats and fancy cravats stood consulting a map. Wiping away the sweat trickling down his forehead, Harold wheeled the bicycle over to where the gentlemen stood.
“Beg pardon,” he said, “have you seen a pretty girl with long blonde braids?”
The two men stared at him as if he was a simpleton, their black eyes curiously vacant. “No,” said
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