Prologue
One bright and hot day when the sun
shined over the mountains of Arkansas like a puddle of gold, in an abandoned
and broken old school bus, a tattered and capricious young woman sat with her
mascara-covered eyes fixed on a giant pearl ball. It sat, protected, in a stout
golden vase with drops of dew sprinkled on it like shiny sprinkles on cupcake
frosting.
The young woman
was about thirty-one, never tasted corn chowder before and was sometimes called
crazy. She wore delicate and tranquil orange scarves around her body and she
liked to sing opera in the shower. Her name was Ms. Penelope Eucalyptus and
right now she was seeing the future.
The giant pearl
wasn’t your regular crystal ball. It was purple tinted and it was made for
sorceresses only, so it never told when, what, why, where, who or how. Most
people think sorceress’s crystal balls show an image of something in the past,
present or future. They think the image shows what some ones doing, who the
some one is, when it’s happening and where, why it’s happening and how. But no,
in real sorceress’s crystal balls it just sends a message to your mind that’s
always in the future and never says what, when, who, why, where or how. For
instance, right now in the old tattered school bus, Ms. Penelope Eucalyptus was
getting a worrying message in her mind.
Her bruised
fingers wiggled like a spider above the pearl. Her lipstick-covered mouth
whispered majestic words that she dare not speak in public. They held the
secret to what Ms. Penelope Eucalyptus was about to take in, to know. Ms.
Penelope’s voice sounded like a butterfly whisper on the first of May or like a
daffodil’s laugh, which sounded quite delightful. But even though the young
woman’s voice was so incredibly precious, the woman in general was the most
ugly rat in probably all of Arkansas.
“Come, my crystal
ball. Show me what you have and tell me what you know. My anxious ears would
like to know. What do you have to tell me so? Come, my purple pearl. You are
welcome to whisper into my ear. Come on, I would like to hear. Tell me all your
secrets, oh I must know! What do you have to tell me so?” Ms. Penelope
whispered to her reflection in the crystal ball. The pearl seemed to nod in
response, twisting and turning in the golden vase. Ms. Penelope closed her eyes
and sat stiff and still as it turned. Then a sharp, piercing wind shook the old
school bus and just as Ms. Penelope got the message in her mind, the wind
stopped and she opened her eyelids. She listened hard as the giant pearl
whispered into her mind.
“Oh no! Oh
gracious, me! I’ve never gotten such a terrible message since I was thirteen
and Grandma Ruby got pneumonia! All I had to do was get penicillin, not try to
stop all this jazz! And, oh! I won’t be able to do this myself!” Ms. Penelope
quietly shrieked, not doing her daffodil laugh voice. Ms. Penelope found a
silver vial hanging on a hook on the ceiling of the bus. She poured half of the
orange liquid into a brass pot. Then she put half of a guava into the pot, too.
She also poured a cup of chipmunk bile and stirred it crazily. Now she only
needed to catch four doves. Ms. Penelope stepped out the emergency exit of the
school bus, for the door had rusted shut. Then she pulled her scarves around
her face, not about to reveal her charming appearance and walked to her
favorite tree. Nestled upon the great roots of the oak, she found a great big
golden cage with a delicate heart shaped keyhole. She mysteriously reached into
her velvet pocket and pulled out a golden key with roses carved on each end. It
fit perfectly into the cage and the door flew open. Then she reached into her
other pocket and pulled out a wooden whistle. She dropped the cage and leaned
against the oak, pulling the whistle to her lips. She blew a light and tranquil
blow and even the wind stopped to listen. As she closed her eyes and played the
whistle, two doves came and perched on the lowest branch to listen. Ms.
Penelope opened one of her eyes and saw the doves. Then she quick shut it. As
she started playing a graceful waltz, two more doves came and perched next to
the other two and rocked back and forth to the mesmerizing melody. She opened
her eye, saw it and slowly and smoothly picked up the cage. Then she quickly
plunked it over the doves and locked it.
“Ha, ha! Got you,
you dumb birds!” Ms. Penelope laughed, stuffing the key and whistle into her
pocket and walking home with the doves. When she got to the old bus she set the
cage on a seat and got out a pen and paper.
“I’ve got to make
it sound mysterious and intriguing. But, remember, they’ll just be kids.” Ms.
Penelope licked the pen and begun to write her letter. She made five copies.
When she was done, she set them each in an envelope and licked it shut. She
addressed each one to a different place.
“I hope this
works.” Ms. Penelope said, dipping a ladle into her concoction she made
earlier.
