The Home

Not far from Wanton Moor was the home of homes, a star realm where wreaths of lights twinkled in a balmy summer sky. Each light was a lantern that hung beside the door of a planet-sized nest, their globes tightly woven from birch-white branches. Each had little cathedral windows and a chimney that let little puffs of white smoke drift away with the breeze. The Shield actualized from a plume of mist, tiny as an insect, and flew through the nest’s open gate. Inside was a loft-shaped expanse beneath an ivory ceiling sky. White prairies carpeted the continental floors. Daylight rays shone on the horizon walls. There were mountain-sized cushions behind plateau tables that held tower candles and potted forests. The Shield landed behind a table leg. The hatch popped open and the constable stepped out. The floor was warm under his feet. The fireplace on the horizon roared and crackled. A zephyr carrying the smell of dried flowers kissed him on both cheeks.

The carpet was a vast herd of furry white homebodies that began to stir as they woke up. The constable picked up a scrap of fur and stuck it in his breast pocket. His coat sprouted white fur, giving him a native appearance, with his smile the only thing that gave away his disguise.

“Good morning, neighbor.”

The constable turned to find a homebody standing behind him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hello,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lulliah. Who are you?”

“Just a visitor.”

“Well, welcome home.”

A breeze rushed over the herd.

“Do you always leave your front door open?” the constable said.

“We like it a little cooler in here.”

“Aren’t you afraid of intruders?”

“No,” Lulliah giggled. “Nobody remembers the last time something bad happened in our nest. It must have been over a thousand years ago.”

A giant homebody caught the constable’s eye.

“He’s quite unusual, isn’t he?” the constable said.

“How do you mean?”

“He must be six cubits taller than everyone else.”

“Here,” Lulliah said, pulling a folded bundle from her belly pouch.

“You’re giving me a blanket?”

“Bend down.”

The constable knelt, and she draped the blanket over his shoulders.

“That’s better,” she said. “No more chills.”

The herd congregated into small groups, embracing and sharing smiles. One group worked together, lifting an enormous floorboard. Beneath the floorboard was a river. A long-handled spoon was brought out. They lowered the spoon into the hole, drawing bowls of steaming coffee from the river beneath. Each took their turn sipping from the spoon. Lulliah picked up a little dust bunny that was squeaking at her feet. She stroked its long ears, picked the little ingots of gold from its coat and stuck them in her belly pouch. With the critter lulled to sleep, she pulled it apart like a loaf of steaming bread marbled with stringy cheese and offered a leg to the constable.

“I’m not hungry,” he said. “But I am curious. Your community is rich, but I don’t see any children around.”

A puzzled look overcame Lulliah’s contented face.

“Come to think about it, you’re right. It’s been a while since I’ve heard little laughter. I wonder where they went.”

“Quiet children are never a good thing, in my experience.”

Lulliah laughed.

“He is the watcher over the little ones,” she said, pointing at the giant. “He would never allow anything bad to happen to them. I’m sure they’re off playing in one of the rooms, free and happy.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual?” the constable said. “Has it been more than a fortnight since you heard the laughter or crying of little ones?”

“Crying? I’ve never heard that sound. But I have noticed a stink. A random whiff carried on a draft occasionally as though something was rotting under a floor. It’s probably just a dead cockrat.”

“Or it could be the Minutore,” someone said.

“What Minutore?” the constable said.

“He lives under the floorboard in the creepy corner of the guest room,” Lulliah said. “But that’s many leagues from here, and nobody has ever mentioned any foul smells coming from that room.”

“Are you sure?” the constable said.

“I would know. It’s my room.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” a homebody said, wrapping her arms around Lulliah. “And your poor father. That vandal wrecks every hobby he sets his mind to. Cobwebs and dust are the only things that take shape in that room anymore. You cannot blame him for giving up.”

“He’s been sad since I can remember,” Lulliah said.

“Strange about the children, now that you mention it … I’ve not seen a child in quite some time either.”

Chatter coursed through the crowd as word spread through the community. Several homebodies scratched their furry white heads, trying to recall the last time they saw any children. Many smiles turned to looks of concern.

“Where did that giant go?” the constable said, looking around. “How could he have disappeared?”

“He’s quite good at disappearing,” Lulliah said. “But there’s no cause for concern. Worry is a waste of time. Let’s begin the day’s hobbies.”

Concern returned to happy chatter.

“Hobbies?” the constable said.

“Homebodies desire a great deal, same as anyone in any realm. We chose to focus our wants on hobbies. Cooking, cleaning, collecting gold ingots, weaving blankets, and giving gifts.”

“I would like to see this guest room you spoke of,” the constable said.

“Okay. I’m due to visit my father.”

* * *

Odd Creature Stories

Indianapolis, Indiana

The Home/An Irreproachable Thing, Copyright © 2019, L.B. McGrimm

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