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A loving tribute to Roald Dahl |
| [Introduction]
As a kid in elementary school, Roald Dahl was one of my favorite authors. He's written so many wonderful and memorable children's stories, that it's hard to count them all. At least in my mind, it was. lol I've been in a somewhat lighter and more whimsical mood as of late, and decided to try writing something different from my usual fare. If nothing else, just to prove to myself that I can. I also decided why not have my friends join in on the fun as well? Set in an alternate Earth, humanoid animals dominate most of the world, with only a handful of countries where humans are in charge. We follow Alice, a young orphan taken from her parents at birth, and sold to a fox couple as a slave. Alice's owners, the Morton's, are a cruel and neglectful pair, forcing Alice to do the household chores and making her sleep in the basement of their farmhouse. But Alice is no ordinary girl. For one, she is remarkably intelligent for her age, and sometimes sets up small pranks to teach the Morton's a lesson. Secondly, she seems to be subconsciously developing a sort of inner power. Often times she is able to make things happen simply by thinking about them. In the back of the Morton's farm, there lies a shriveled and decrepit old apple tree, which hasn't bore fruit in many years. That is where our story begins, as we find Alice resting beneath it, having just finished the yardwork of the day... |
| Alice sat beneath the derrlict apple tree, having only just finished the yard work but a few minutes ago. It was just past noon, and she'd already raked the fallen leaves across the property, mowed the grass, and pulled the weeds growing from the garden. Dirt stained her tattered clothes, and stray leaves and twigs clung to her otherwise shining red hair. At only seven years old, she was doing the kind of work normally reserved for grown-ups. Not that she really had a choice in the matter. Her owners, a miserable old couple of foxes, Mr. and Mrs. Morton, pretty much worked her to the point of exhaustion on a daily basis. She learned the hard way early on that if she refused to do exactly as ordered, she faced harsh punishments like being locked in a broom closet that smelled of a most horrific stench for hours on end. Or worse, physical punishments like having her bottom paddled with a large wooden plank with holes drilled into it. But despite her meek and disheveled appearance, Alice was no ordinary little girl. She was incredibly intelligent for one so young, having taught herself to read and count before she had turned five. Other than that, she knew she had some sort of strange gift. She couldn't explain it, but sometimes, whenever she imagined a specific event happening, it would actually happen! It did seem to have limits, however. She couldn't just make things appear out of thin air, for instance. It also seemed to become more powerful with use, like exercising a muscle. Granted, it didn't work all the time, and she didn't necessarily have complete control over it. But when it worked, at the very least, it would be to Alice's amusement or benefit. As she sat beneath the tree, panting from the work she had completed so far, she saw Mrs. Morton approaching with a sour look on her face. She always seemed to have that look, Alice thought. "Alice! What are you doing, you miserable welp!? I told you to weed the garden!" "I did, mistress. I yanked every last weed from your rosebush. As well as raked the leaves and cut the grass." "Then you can get started chapping wood for the fireplace! I expect a whole winter's worth of wood to be cut by dinner time, understand?" Alice could only sigh in defeat. "Yes, mistress. Right away." "And don't you dare let me or my husband catch you slacking off! Or it's the plank for you!" With that, Mrs. Morton turned and stormed off back towards the farmhouse. What an old crab, Alice thought. She wished that Mrs. Morton would trip on her way back to the house. Maybe the impact would knock some of the crabiness out of her. Just then, as she was about fifteen yards away from Alice, that's exactly what Mrs. Morton did! She tripped over the hem of her skirt and fell face-first to the ground. Alice had to stifle a giggle as Mrs. Morton recovered, dusted herself off, and went back inside the house. Alice got up and fetched the woodaxe, preparing to split the firewood as ordered. If only I could control this ability of mine fully, she thought as she did so. Then I could really teach those miserable old foxes a lesson, and maybe even be gone from this wretched farm forever. Little did Alice realize, her dreams of escape would soon come true. And sooner than she thinks... |
| She was preparing to split a block of wood with a heavy axe, when the weight, and a patch of mud, caused her to lose her balance. She would have been injured, if someone hadn't grabbed her, and the axe. She looked, and saw that it was an adult male fox. However, unlike the Mortons, there was a kindness in his eyes. "Is this the Mortons' home?" they asked. Alice nodded. "Good to know," the fox said. "Now, how old are you, what is your connection to the Mortons and why are you splitting wood?" "I'm seven years old, the Mortons are my masters, and I was told to split wood by them, enough for the whole winter before suppertime," said Alice. "Just you?" the fox asked. Alice nodded. "That's too much for one person, much less a child," the fox said, looking her over. "You got a name?" "Alice." "Well Alice, I'm William Redears, and your one master owes me a small fortune due to gambling debts, and I've taken the liberty of reclaiming what I'm owed, legally of course," said William. "The land and house don't look to be worth much, but I can rent it out, and perhaps the right crop will be worth more as an addition, and then, there's you." "Me?" Alice asked. "I have a daughter about your age - the apple of my eye," said William. "Problem is, two years ago, she and my wife were in a boating accident. She was hurt bad - she lost the ability to walk. As for my wife, she took a blow to the head, and never woke up." "So, what am I supposed to do?" Alice asked. "My daughter could use a companion, and perhaps a friend, as she grows up," said William. "I'm certain that you'll enjoy being at my place anyways - we actually have a decent orchard with many kinds of fruit trees." He looked at the old tree. "A shame about that old apple tree - heard it was planted by someone powerful many years ago. But, for now, time to claim what I'm owed." William offered Alice his hand. "You're not going to just take me?" Alice asked. "You're not going to pick me up and carry me away?" "Call it practicality," said William. "You taking my hand and following after me willingly is better for your mental health, less resentment that way compared to me just picking you up and carrying you, unless you want me to. Besides, I want you to watch as the Mortons are left with nothing but the clothes on their back. The Sherriff is just waiting for me to give him the signal, and soon, well, the Mortons will be evicted. They really shouldn't have been gambling in my establishment." |
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