Archive for children’s books

An Embarrassment of Witches

Posted in Books, Children, Children's Books, Children's Literature, Children's Stories, creative writing, Fantasy, Fiction, vampires with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 1, 2013 by mariathermann

Willow pic twoI promised the real Willow, the little girl who is the inspiration for my Willow the Vampire stories, her very own New Year’s story, so here it is and hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it!

An Embarrassment of Witches

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Darren’s brown eyes widened at the sight of his best friend’s costume. “You’re going to the New Year’s party dressed in THAT?”

Willow sighed. “That’s all they had left at the costume hire shop. Mum took one look at me and burst out laughing…as for Dad, he almost had a fit. I wished I could check what it looks like in the mirror. Is it really that hideous?”

“You’d be better off going as yourself…unless THIS is your real self,” Darren dropped into a comfortable rocking chair by the fire and studied the pink vision in front of him.

“Very funny, Darren Taylor! What am I going to do? There’s no time to make a different outfit by tonight. The invitation says people not in costume will be turned away. It’s my party; I can’t break my own rules!”

“You know Felicity will never let you forget this?”

Flopping into a worn leather sofa Willow buried her face into furry paws. “Don’t remind me! Botheration, I so wanted tonight to be a success.”

A grin spread across Darren’s face. Sounding remarkably like their headmaster’s daughter, he said in a squeaky voice: “Oh my, Willow Band, we have discovered a new species! Our village will be in every newspaper!”

Willow pulled a face. “All my old friends from vampire infant school have been invited. Compared to the things they’re going to say about my sudden fluffiness, Felicity’s comments will be positively refreshing.” Willow groaned, when she saw the expression on Darren’s face. “You’re right; she’ll never let me forget it. I’m doomed!”

“Oh come on, you’ve got to see the funny side. Besides, it’s only one night out of your life; it’s not the end of the world. By the way, isn’t it rather uncomfortable sitting on that…erm…thing on your back? You might want to take it off until later.”

Willow reached behind her and extracted her tail. “Oh, I squashed it. It was a lot fluffier when I put on the suit,” she wailed. “Can’t I get anything right? I’m a failure as a vampire AND I suck at being a carrot-nibbler. Just look at me, I’m a great fat, fluffy joke!”

“Hey, don’t give up before you have explored all your options. Perhaps we could make you look a little more…uh…dangerous?”

“Exactly how many Barbie-pink, blood-sucking bunnies have you met in your life, Darren?”

There was really no answer to that. Darren got up and began to prowl the room, absentmindedly fingering the ornaments on the little table by the window, pulling out books from the shelf by the fireplace and upsetting the cat by treading on its bowl of biscuits. Willow watched her pet Bartholomeaow inspect the carpet in disgust, his favourite fish-flavoured dinner now spread out all over Willow’s floor. A heavy sigh escaped Willow, temporarily halting Darren’s pacing.

“I could wear my beasty face and show my fangs…that would make me look more…grrrrr,” the large pink bunny on the sofa said wretchedly. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck 4 o’clock, only two more hours before the first guests were expected to arrive! Willow pulled off her furry paw gloves and sank deeper into the sofa cushions in an effort to disappear.

“Maybe…if I put on some bear claws instead of these things?” She said without much enthusiasm and looked pleadingly at her friend. “I’m a vampire, a blood-thirsty fiend; I can’t go out there dressed like this!”

Darren stopped his prowling abruptly. He turned the book he held in his hands with an air of surprise and puzzlement, until he realised he had picked it up during his travels around the room. His eyebrows rose when he read the title. It was a children’s book called The little Witch by Willow’s favourite writer Ottfried Preussler.

“I think I may have an idea but we’ll need our friend Rita’s help. There’s nothing like a little witchcraft to spice up a party!” An expression of mischief mingled with determination to help his friend stole across Darren’s face and for the first time that afternoon Willow felt more hopeful, her party might still be a success.

Two hours later the first guests arrived and Darren showed them into the living room, where a table groaning with yummy food and lots of lemonade awaited them. Decorated with left-over glitter from Christmas and a few shrunken heads from the novelty shop in the village, the white table cloth showed off nicely most of Willow’s favourite things to eat. Her mum had done her proud, for nobody could possibly feel left out.

There were pumpkin pies, cheese cake and chocolate muffins for Willow’s human friends, a tray with slices of fried black pudding, barbequed fingers and boiled eyeballs just right for vampires, and for her cat Bartholomeaow there was a large plate of tuna. Next to a jug of home-made lemonade Willow spotted a decanter of spiced blood wine, her absolute favourite drink. Naturally, this wasn’t real wine but cranberry juice, since her mum had prepared it for a children’s party and not for grown-ups, but the other ingredients were just the same, a dash of blood from those nasty bankers in the High Street spiced up with plenty of cinnamon, ginger and cloves from old Mrs Edward’s market stall.

Darren, dressed as a blood-thirsty pirate, waited by the front door and greeted every new friend on Willow’s behalf, directing them to the living room, where Willow waited on a small pedestal behind a red velvet curtain. She felt rather silly, standing there like a statue on a market square about to be unveiled to an astonished public, or a supermarket gimmick or juggler in a shopping mall but having mulled over Darren’s plan from every angle, she felt there was little choice but to go through with it.

Verruca and Maximilian Snaggletooth, two vampire cousins from London, entered the hallway with a flourish and much noise. They were both dressed as noblemen from Venice, with lace collars, stockings and breeches, embroidered silk coats and wide-brimmed hats to which they had affixed ostrich feathers. They felt their rich clothes made it right and proper for them to inspect Willow’s country cottage with their noses high up in the air. Their high-pitched voices discussed the threadbare carpet and medieval hall mirror of questionable origin, when the next wave of guests arrived. Willow sighed, bracing herself for more nasty comments. Her cousins had only been invited because Willow’s dad had insisted on it.

Willow’s cottage couldn’t compete with the grand houses her city cousins lived in, but it was her home and at least she didn’t have to put up with the constant noise of wailing police sirens and passers-by throwing rubbish into their garden. The day her parents had packed their belongings into a removal van and decided from now on they’d be living in the village of Stinkforth-upon-Avon had been the happiest day of Willow’s life. While Verruca discussed the lack of bathrooms in the cottage and Maximilian moaned about the faded wallpaper in the living room, Willow reminded herself that rural Stinkforthshire County had many advantages, especially its great distance from London, making visits by her cousins a rare treat.

Unable to resist the temptation of a mysterious curtain at the far end of the living room, Verruca and Maximilian peeped through a gap in the heavy fabric. When they spotted their country cousin, they howled with laughter. Impatient as ever, Willow’s cousins pulled back the curtain with an amusing cry of Tallyho.

“I annoyed a passing witch. A powerful spell, I’m afraid.” Willow said confidentially, ignoring her cousins’ toothy grins. She raised her paws in a mock gesture of attack. “Grrrruesome claws, I tell you.”

“You look about as scary as my grandmother’s bed socks.” Verruca sniffed. “Mind you, the whiff coming from your feet’s just as gruesome, I grant you that.”

Maximilian tried to pull one of Willow’s long ears but she slapped his wrist. “On the stroke of midnight things will really kick off. I’ll turn into this horrible – “ Willow raised her paws dramatically, “this horrible, grrrrrrrreat big beasty. And after that things will just go from bad to worse. What am I going to do, if I can’t break the spell? Spring’s just around the corner. Warmer weather, bumble bees, primroses and tulips, the usual dangers to our kind.” Willow sighed deeply and smoothed out her fur.

Baffled, Verruca and Maximilian said in one voice. “But we’re vampires – we don’t feel heat or cold…why should you be worried about spring time, insects and a few flowers?”

Willow shook her head, allowing her ears to flop around her chin. She gestured for her cousins to come closer and whispered: “Shshsh, not so loud…somebody might hear you…it simply won’t do upsetting the Easter Bunny. He’s the Black Hare’s best friend.” She twitched her whiskers knowingly and straightened her shoulders. “The Vampire Council of 1837 could tell you a tale that would make your blood curdle and your fangs fall out.”

Maximillian shrank back, but Verruca was not easily impressed. She snorted dismissively: “Upsetting the Easter Bunny, are you mad? We’re blood-sucking fiends; we’re not scared of anybody!”

“Oh, but you should be! I guess your parents thought you were too young to hear such a grizzly tale. Ah well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh look…more guests!”

Willow turned away quickly before Verruca could think of a suitable reply; new guests had arrived in the hallway. Willow craned her neck and caught a glimpse of Felicity, dressed as a witch! By the look on Darren’s face, Willow could tell he was as surprised by this latest development as she was. Felicity stood in front of the hall mirror, straightening out her long blond hair before finally adjusting her high hat, made from black felt and sheets of thin cardboard that had once held quantities of their headmaster’s favourite breakfast cereal. The wide brim partially shaded her face, so Willow couldn’t tell Felicity’s reaction to the sight of the living room table laden with some of Felicity’s favourite cakes.

Felicity was accompanied by a tall dark-haired boy, who was dressed as a warlock in purple robes. From the way she abruptly turned her back on the boy and now hovered by the mirror far longer than was necessary, Willow guessed Milo had tried to impress Felicity with the choice of his costume but Felicity did not like what she saw. She was clearly trying to avoid entering the living room on her own, as this would give Milo a fresh opportunity to talk to her. Undeterred, Milo tried to catch her attention by waving a golden wand at every new arrival entering the hall. A bunch of spring flowers shot out from the wand’s business end whenever Milo cried the words “sim sala bim”.

Darren, who was handing out glasses of lemonade to the new arrivals, could barely keep a straight face, when two of the guests, Romanticus Spitfire and Evangeline Eagleye from Dartford, responded with a heartfelt “Gesundheit” and hurried into the living room before another bout of Milo’s floral magic could block their way.

Felicity remained in the hallway, apparently admiring her witch’s costume in the medieval mirror, leaving Milo no choice but to enter the living room on his own. Willow decided to take pity on her. Now that Willow’s curtain disguise was blown, she might as well step down from her pedestal and join her party guests. She hopped down on the Turkish carpet and waved a furry pink arm at Felicity, who turned and stared open mouthed at the vampire-turned-fluffy-bunny.

“I annoyed a passing witch. A powerful enchantment, I’m afraid.” Willow explained in response to Felicity’s wide eyed wonder. Willow strolled into the hall and linked her furry arm through Felicity’s, not forgetting to express admiration for the silver threaded cross stitching on the blonde witch’s dress, before Felicity had a chance to make a cutting remark about Willow’s fluffy white tail.

Willow was starting to enjoy Felicity’s polite refusal to comment on her costume, but the sight of Milo’s purple warlock costume and Willow’s plush generosity when they reached the living room table finally got the better of Felicity. She cocked her head to one side and studied Willow’s pink fur.

“Before Daddy dropped me off outside your house, we saw Farmer Edward’s son heading this way. He was dressed as a forester with a gun to frighten the living daylights out of Little Red Riding Hood’s wolf. I seem to remember a great big knife dangling off his belt, just right for skinning bunnies. Aren’t rabbit collars terribly fashionable this winter? You might want to change into something less…uh…tempting?”

“Don’t be deceived by my pink appearance. I assure you, a blood-thirsty monster lives within this fur.” Ignoring Felicity’s snort, Willow planted her furry feet firmly in front of her and picked up a plate. “Just wait until midnight. Then the second part of the spell kicks in. Ah…I’d better have some cake before I’m tempted to eat one of my guests.”

Willow heaped enormous slices of cheese cake onto two plates and held one out to Felicity. “A magical remedy. Apparently eating cheese cake stops killer rabbits from turning really nasty. Speaking of sorcery, I see you chose your costume to match Milo’s magical theme.  I bet he’s thrilled. What legendary people are you meant to be…Merlin and Melinda Hogroast? I heard they were a delightful couple.”

Before Felicity’s growl could transform into a cry of protest, a helpful Willow recalled a few more magical characters: “No wait, I’ve got it! You’re Magwitch the Mad and he’s Houdini’s sidekick whatshisname…Bertie the Hopeless, that’s the one! Or perhaps you’re the German witch famous for her terrible warts…no? Then you’re Hekate and Milo is Taliesin, the Welsh wizard with a taste for leaks and a wand full of daffodils!”

“I’m Demdike and Milo’s dressed as James Device. We’re characters from the Pendle witch trials, which you’d know if you paid attention in history class,” Felicity snapped. She snatched the plate of cheese cake and turned on her heels, darting off towards the velvet curtain and the little pedestal, where Willow had planned to hide until the party’s great surprise was ready to be sprung on her guests.

Darren and Farmer Edward’s son entered the living room; to her dismay Willow saw he really had dressed up as a fierce forest ranger. They were joined by Romanticus Spitfire and Evangeline Eagleye; the former was dressed like a knight, while the latter was regrettably also dressed as a witch. Before Darren had a chance to talk to them, both vampires drifted towards the table where the platter with barbequed fingers occupied their attention.

“Nice to see you again, Willow.” Georgie, Farmer Edward’s son, was far too polite to notice the colour rising on Willow’s cheeks matched her fur. He reached into a satchel on his back and produced a glass of home-made jam. “Mum sends you this. She said you like this stuff.”

“Strawberries! I adore them. Thank you very much.” Willow beamed at him. “Look, Georgie drew a picture of his parent’s farm for the label. Cool. I like the way you’ve caught the light on the barn and fields.”

Acknowledging Georgie’s drawing with a polite growl, Darren turned his attention to the latest newcomers’ costumes. Romanticus wore real armour that looked incredibly heavy and shiny. Evangeline’s costume consisted of a long black robe over a dark red skirt and shirt. Just like Felicity she wore a tall black hat with a wide brim. She carried a broom on her back, which she had attached to a leather strap and slung over her shoulder. A dead bat dangled from a silver necklace around her neck and she’d attached a fake wart to her chin. Darren sidled over to the table and stood next to her.

“So Willow’s rather fond of strawberries? Is that a fruit humans use to calm bunny-monsters?” Evangeline dug her bony elbow playfully into Darren’s ribs and grinned, the wart wobbling dangerously on her chin.

“Sometimes, but more often than not we use chocolate.” Darren tugged at Evangeline’s broom. “Good job you brought this. We may need it at midnight, when the second part of Willow’s spell sets in.”

“Don’t be silly, Willow’s not enchanted, she’s wearing this stupid pink outfit because she’s gone soft on humans. I have no doubt when the Vampire Council hears of this, she’ll be expelled or something. De-fanged probably. Ridiculous lie, who’s ever heard of witches casting spells in parts?”

“But that’s where you wrong; this particular witch does things quite differently. Compared to her you look positively cuddly, if you don’t mind me saying so. You should have seen her out there in the forest…it was terrifying. We were out for a stroll, when we stumbled into her lair.” Darren drew closer, his brows drawn together in an effort to remember every detail of his ordeal. “The forest witch wore robes made from squashed human skulls, her hat was made from a hundred live snakes and her boots were snarling wolves’ heads.”

Darren paused for effect. Other children began to gather around them. He noticed Romanticus hung on his every word, but detected a flicker of doubt in Evangeline’s eyes and so hurried to complete his tale. “The witch rode a black stallion, a brute of a horse with fiery nostrils and stinky breath that would stop a stampeding herd of buffalo in their tracks, but Willow mocked the witch, saying she wasn’t scary at all. To prove she wasn’t frightened, Willow offered breath mints to the witch’s horse. At this the witch got very angry and drew her wand; she yelled: Be cursed for your impudence, child! On the stroke of five o’clock you shall turn into the feeble bunny that you are at heart, but at midnight…I’ll turn you into the meanest, ugliest, most brutal creature this world has ever known.”

Romanticus eyed him nervously. “W-Wha-what’s that?”

“The Black Hare!” Willow and Darren whispered as one.

“The B-B-Black Hare?”

“His razor-sharp claws are so long, he can slice a boy in half with one swipe of his paw.” At the sound of Willow’s voice the room fell silent. “When the Black Hare doesn’t get his favourite food, he gets very angry…and he stops time! Just think…no more Easter…no more Christmas…no birthdays and no New Year’s Eve…EVER! Just you and the Black Hare for all eternity.”

“Wha-what’s his favourite food?” Felicity breathed.

“Children!”

“His fangs are so fearsome, they give sharks nightmares and tigers roll over like kittens at the mere sight of them.” Darren peered over his shoulders, first left, then right, before slowly turning to the curtains at the rear of the room. He raised his hand and pointed with trembling fingers to the small pedestal. “That’s the exact spot where the Black Hare will appear.”

In the hall the grandfather clock struck the eleventh hour. Evangeline and Romanticus gasped. How could this be, they’d only just arrived? Verruca and Maximilian shifted nervously in their lace collars and tiptoed away from the table to get some distance between them and the ill-fated pedestal. Milo, Felicity and Georgie, who had drawn near, repeated the terrible words to all who would listen and within moments everyone at the party knew, at the stroke of midnight the Black Hare would seal their fate!

More guests arrived. A gaggle of children dressed as witches arrived from Telegraph Hill, a favourite South East London district for vampires with an artistic streak. There were short and fat witches, tall and skinny ones, bulky, muscular witches Willow vaguely recalled from her vampire infant school days and one brown-haired teenage witch in a shabby dress whom nobody remembered at all. Ignoring the hushed whispers of her party guests Willow handed a welcoming glass of blood wine to each new arrival and wondered if Darren’s plan was really going to work.

If only she’d been able to explain about her ridiculous outfit, how she’d been so busy sorting out her mother’s birthday present and surprise party, which was to be held in January, she’d forgotten to telephone the hire shop and reserve a New Year’s Eve party costume for herself. When Willow had finally remembered, the pink bunny suit with the long ears and the white fluffy tail was the only costume the shopkeeper had left. Naturally, Willow couldn’t explain this to her guests – her mum was flitting through the room, refilling glasses, heaping more food on the platters on the table; she would most certainly catch her daughter’s words. A surprise party with all her mum’s friends! How could Willow possibly spoil that? It had taken her weeks to write all the invitations in secret!

Willow swallowed her pride and endured the mean comments every new arrival made at the sight of her silly costume. Some pulled at her ears and some took the liberty of tugging her tail. Her response to every single guest remained the same: “Just wait until midnight. That’s when the second part of the spell kicks in.”

The new arrivals would soon hear the rest of the sinister tale…and wherever Willow looked guests were huddling together, looking worried as soon as the Black Hare was mentioned.

“I think that went rather better than expected,” Darren said quietly beside her. He rubbed his hands together and chuckled. “Now for the rest of my cunning plan.”

“Except your plan didn’t involve dozens of witches turning up! How am I going to find the right one, when the lights go out?”

Darren acted surprised. “And there’s me thinking vampires have super night vision. I forgot…you’re really a fluffy bunny at heart.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start! I’ve been enduring comments about my cuddliness all evening. It’s enough to make my grandmother Vampira the Ferocious turn in her grave.”

Darren shuddered. “From the tone of your voice I’m guessing she’s revolving in her coffin as we speak.” He took a look around the room. “You’re right; we do suffer from an embarrassment of witches this evening. I hadn’t counted on so many people choosing the same costume.” He twirled the ends of his fake moustache thoughtfully. “Never mind, I’ll think of something. It’s time you sneaked back to your place behind the curtain.”

While Willow tiptoed into hiding behind the backs of her party guests, Darren put the second part of his plan into action. He drew the sword dangling from a broad belt around his waist and challenged the noble knight Romanticus to a duel. The sound of clashing wooden swords and the cries of the fighting boys caught everyone’s attention. The Black Hare was forgotten, and a small crowd circled the boys. The vampires cheered for Romanticus and the village children rooted for Darren to win.

Unbeknown to her friends, Willow took up position on the pedestal once more. Darren had previously arranged the curtains in such a fashion that neither the left nor the right side of the alcove in which the pedestal stood could be seen. Two large mirrors would reflect back whatever scary pictures Rita’s film projector would show on the wall behind. Willow chuckled. In the hall the grandfather clock struck the midnight hour. All lights went out. A united gasp from her guests told Willow the scene was set for her great performance. She wondered briefly how well Darren and Rita’s plan would work, since there’d been no time to try the trick before the party, but she guessed finding out was just part of the fun. Darren’s idea to put the clock forward was brilliant, Willow thought with a final snigger.

At the last stroke of the clock an eerie howl rose in the chimney and filled the house. The party guests shrieked and tried to find cover. Some crawled under the table, others climbed into the closet under the stairs. Caught in the middle of flight by a dark mass that seemed to drip from the fireplace and spread across the floor like a pool of blood, Verruca and Maximilian froze on the spot and threw their arms around each other.

“Please don’t eat us! We’re vampires and wouldn’t taste nice at all. Why not try a few of the humans, they look quite tasty?” Verruca tried to joke but the wobble in her voice gave her away.

The sinister dark thing grew in size and rose up in front of the hearth. The ghostly shadow turned into tall witch. White skulls were grinning at them from her robes; flame red hair framed a pale green face that seemed to glow in the dark. Maximilian shuddered, when her hat began to hiss and spit fiery sparks. He clung closer to his sister and hoped her broad hat would shield him from the witch’s stare.

The witch raised her arms and said in a booming voice: “I beseech you dark spirits! Bring forth the Black Hare so that he may feast on these idle children!”

Everyone screamed. Thunder and lightning followed. Ringlets of smoke began to rise from the witch’s hat, her voice still ringing in everyone’s ears. “Show yourself, oh mighty Black Hare!”

A flash of lightning illuminated Willow who, standing straight as an arrow on her pedestal, began to grow taller and taller; now she towered over her friends and her fur appeared longer, shaggier and darker. Willow raised her arms into the air and another flash of lightning revealed to her guests the unmistakable, horrible truth that long claws were sprouting from her paws.

“Blimey, Rita wasn’t kidding. That’s amazing.” Darren gasped. In his wildest dreams he hadn’t expected Willow’s friend to pull off such a fantastic magic trick! Mirrors and smoke can work wonders, Rita had said.

Judging by the screaming and shouting, he felt Willow’s party guests had probably had enough of a good thing. Darren decided to switch the lights back on, but he discovered the switch no longer worked. He flipped the switch up and down but the old fashioned chandelier dangling from the ceiling remained dark and distinctly “un-glowy”. The fireplace was the only light source in the room. Over by the curtain the Willow-monster had nearly grown to twice its size. It stepped down from the pedestal and walked with wobbly steps towards the screaming party guests.

“Make it stop!” Felicity begged and dived behind the sofa.

“I’m too young to die!” Maximillian echoed his sister Verruca’s cry.

“Don’t be silly. You’re vampires. You cannot die!” Evangeline hissed, clearly determined to show good sense. She somewhat spoiled the effect by climbing on a chair and lifting her robes to reveal two plump ankles and a hole in her socks.

“It’s the Black Hare, you fool, not a mouse!” Georgie raised his gun and aimed it at the Willow-monster, temporarily forgetting his weapon would spout nothing more life-threatening than water. “You’re not feasting on me, Black Bunny! Go back to where you came from.” He squirted water at the ghostly creature, but it simply ignored Georgie’s gun.

The Black Hare chased him around the table instead. After the second sprint around the table, a breathless Georgie reached into his satchel and produced another glass of his mother’s jam. He held it out with shaking hands. “There’s a good little bunny; you like strawberries, remember? Please don’t eat me. Take the jam!”

Grunting and growling the Black Hare ignored the jam and stumbled about the living room, upsetting chairs and knocking over the table lamp. The Willow-monster chased after her guests one by one, driving them here and there, finally cornering them in the hall. The terrified party guests tried to open the front door, but it was locked. Over the din of growling, shouts and shrieks, Darren heard the grandfather clock strike the hour. On the last stroke of one o’clock the lights came back.

Darren tried to calm everyone down. Some were crying, others were too upset to speak and simply sank onto the sofa by the hearth, where no trace of the sinister witch remained. Darren looked around – where on earth was the Black Hare?

At the far end of the room, a pink and rather dazed bunny sat on the pedestal with her face buried in her paws. Darren hurried over to her.

“Just look at it, my party is ruined! How could Rita go so far?” Willow sniffed.

“But I didn’t! This mess –“ Rita stepped out from behind the curtains and gestured around the room with her broom stick, “is not my doing!”

Willow studied her friend’s face and realised she spoke the truth. The Christmas sparklers in Rita’s hat were still smouldering but the green glitter Darren had painted on her face earlier had started to peel off. She looked just as scared as everybody else.

“Then who did this? It really looked as if you were turning into the Black Hare!”

“Darren, there’s no such thing as the Black Hare, we made him up, remember?”

Darren sank onto the pedestal next to Willow and scratched his head. “But if Rita didn’t conjure him up, then who did? There’s a whole room full of witches, anyone of them could be the culprit.

Willow stared at the assortment of witches before her and asked herself the same question. Which one of these harmless looking girls had terrified her guests and why? She studied every pointy hat and pale face in turn, but apart from ticking clueless Felicity off her list of wrong-doers Willow couldn’t think how she could possibly unmask a magical being.

At that moment Willow’s mum Alice entered the room, casually picking up a chair here and there and smoothing quite a few ruffled feathers among the guests with the promise of ice cream and pizza. Helping her clear up the mess was none other than the teenage witch with the brown hair and the shabby dress. The girl winked at Willow and Darren. Willow’s mum joined her daughter at the far end of the room.

“My New Year’s present to you, Willow. Thanks for inviting Miriam and her family to my surprise birthday party in January. They are some of my oldest friends. Miriam’s so looking forward to it…in fact, she was so excited she rang me and thanked me before she remembered it was supposed to be a secret.” Willow’s mum said quietly.

Alice ran her fingers through Willow’s brown hair. “Miriam is the finest witch in her class and I’m very fond of her. Miriam doesn’t get out much, what with her mum being ill and her twin brothers still in nappies, she has too many chores. Most people just forget about Miriam and her family, because they’re poor. But not you.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “She told you about the surprise party? And I was so careful, hiding the invitations under the stairs until they were ready to be sent and telephoning people when you were out! All my hard work wasted.” Willow frowned. “How did you find out about our magic trick tonight? Are you a mind-reader? You seem to know simply everything.”

“It’s my job to know everything, I’m your mum!” Alice said, a smile stealing across a face. “Besides, the man from the novelty shop rang and said if you didn’t reserve a costume by the 29th December, he could only give you a bunny costume that nobody else wanted to hire.”

Willow digested this news. “So…you arranged for Miriam the wonder-witch to come here tonight?”

“All part of the service. Mums-R-Us were happy to oblige.”

“But Mum…your birthday surprise is spoiled!”

Alice planted a kiss on Willow’s nose. “Don’t fret. Since I don’t know who else you’ve invited, it’s still going to be a surprise and besides, I regard this little magic trick of Darren and Rita’s as part of my birthday treat. It was very entertaining the way everybody ran for their lives.”

Willow sighed. “I wished all my party guests would see it that way, but I guess it’s a vampire thing.”

Darren grinned. “Nonsense! A little exercise is good for humans; now there’s more room for pizza and ice cream. They deserved a little scare; they were all guilty of making fun of you.” He got up and strolled over to the guests, who were each blaming the other for the mess in the living room. Darren stopped and bowed before Miriam, before introducing her to everyone, praising her for her fine magical performance that night. The young witch beamed, when a round of applause greeted her.

When Willow’s guests heard the appearance of the Black Hare had been part of the evening’s entertainment, they took it much better than expected; in fact, Verruca and Maximilian went to bed a few hours later, claiming it had been the best party they’d ever been to in their lives. As always, Felicity was the last guest to leave.

“I knew right away it was some kind of party trick,” Felicity said, when she put on her coat. Her father was already waiting in the car outside. “I mean…there’s no such thing as real witchcraft and it’s all done with mirrors and smoke.”

Willow merely grinned and handed her guest her gloves and scarf.

“Anyway, who’s ever heard of the Black Hare? It was just a ruse to stop us from making fun of your silly costume, wasn’t it, Willow Band?”

“Absolutely!” Willow said and extended one furry paw. Felicity eyed it suspiciously but shook it when it showed no sign of ferocious claws.

“Only the Easter Bunny knows the real identity of the Black Hare, but so far he’s not given it away.” Willow added with a toothy grin that showed both her fangs.

Felicity squeaked and shot through the front door with her witch’s robes billowing behind her, her wide-brimmed hat barely clinging on to her long tresses as she ran down the garden path and scrambled into her father’s car. Willow gave her a cheerful wave and turned to find Darren eating his final chocolate muffin of the day.

“You can stop making your beasty face now,” Darren said with his mouth full as he headed up the stairs. “The show’s over, Bunnikins, and I’m going to bed. Thank your mum again for letting me stay over. Maximilian had better not snore.”

“If he does, just whisper in his ear Bring forth the Black Hare so that he may feast on these idle children and I guarantee you, Maximilian will stop.”

She watched her friend climb the stairs and locked the front door, before switching off the lights in the hall. Only the dying embers of the fireplace lit her path up the stairs. Willow smiled to herself when the grandfather clock struck midnight, this time genuinely. She was looking forward to her bed and couldn’t wait to take off her silly costume. Willow reached the upstairs landing with a big yawn and stretched her tired arms above her head. At the end of the long passage her mum had left a candle burning, so Darren and the other kids sleeping over would find their way. Willow smiled. Her mum really thought of everything. Willow had just decided she’d buy her mum a big bunch of flowers to thank her for helping with the New Year’s party that day, when a loud crack startled her and she turned on her heel.

It had come from the hallway below. Willow peered over the balustrade and stared into the darkness below. Nothing!

“How silly of me, probably just the embers in the hearth,” Willow mumbled, suppressing another yawn. She turned back towards her room but what she saw rearing up in front of her froze her on the spot and made her knees shake with fear.

The Black Hare!

Shadowy and sinister it loomed to her right, its monstrous ears sticking up in the air, its gigantic paws raised as if to pounce. Willow could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising; a chill ran up and down her spine. She took a careful step back; perhaps if she retreated slowly the monster wouldn’t spot her? But the Black Hare had clearly no intention of letting her go and took a step towards her. Willow took another step back and another, now almost reaching the top of the stairs at full speed, but the Black Hare kept following her at the same pace. What should she do?

Willow peered over her shoulder and formed a daring plan. If she jumped on the banister she could slide down and reach the front door before the Black Hare had a chance to catch up with her. She’d lead it down into the garden, away from her friends and family, keeping everyone safe. After that…well, she’d often wondered what eternity would be like, so she’d probably find out tonight!

Willow cautiously swung one leg over the banister and was about to launch, when she saw the Black Hare lift one shaggy leg and copy her. Botheration!

What a fool she had been! Willow tugged her long ears and laughed. The Black Hare did exactly the same!

It was about time she went to bed, if she saw her own shadow as a threat!

heks_in_maan witch flying against moonGood night and Happy New Year to Everyone!

The End

 

Being a Witch is never easy

Posted in Children, Children's Books, Children's Literature, Children's Stories, creative writing, Fantasy, Fiction, vampires with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 6, 2012 by mariathermann
Examination of a Witch by T. H. Matteson, insp...

Examination of a Witch by T. H. Matteson, inspired by the Salem witch trials (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my second novel, Willow the Vampire and the Würzburg Ghosts, I’m using several real historical events as the starting point for my plot. One is the recent discovery of a “witch’s cottage” near Pendle in Lancashire, where in 1612 the infamous Pendle Witch Trials took place. Two men and eight women were hanged as witches after extensive trials.

 

The other main historical event I’m using as background for my latest vampire lore is the even more infamous series of witch trials that took place in the city of Würzburg in Germany between 1626 and 1631.

 

The Würzburg witch trials are regarded as one of the largest peace-time mass trials, which were followed by mass executions on an unprecedented scale.

 

Responsible for the persecution of innocent men, women and lots of children was Bishop Philip Adolf, on whose orders an estimated six to nine hundred people were burnt alive at the stake or hanged.

 

heks_in_maan witch flying against moonMy premise is that with such unjust killings there must be a lot of angry spirits about seeking revenge. As my previous posts have shown, ghosts have all manner of motives for clinging to the place where they lived or died. Revenge is always a good subject for a mystery or, in this case, a vampire story suitable for children aged 8 to 12 that discusses the subject of “evil” – what is evil, how do we stand up to it and who gets away with doing bad stuff?

 

This year marks the anniversary of two famous witch trials in the United Kingdom, by the way. Not just the Pendle trials but also the last conviction for sorcery, which took place in Hertfordshire in March 1712, is being commemorated this year. Fortunately, this trial had a kind of happy ending, when Queen Anne pardoned the accused sorceress Jane Wensham and thus saved her from the hangman’s noose.

 

"The witch no. 1" lithograph

“The witch no. 1″ lithograph (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Pretty much anyone could be accused of sorcery – if you were overhead talking to your cat or pet pig you could be accused of being in league with the devil – and the methods used for getting confessions out of alleged warlocks and witches were utterly horrendous…thanks to the oh so Christian torturers in charge of interrogations.

 

Over on http://www.mariathermann.wordpress.com I’m discussing my home town Lübeck’s walled fortifications, in particular the famous Holsten Gate, which was once part of the city’s fortifications. Until 2002, the Holsten Gate housed a gruesome torture chamber and “dungeon” exhibition in the museum, which I remember only too well from various school trips and visits with my grandparents.

 

If I recall correctly, it boasted a rack and thumb screws, branding irons and various other torture paraphernalia among its exhibits. It seems utterly impossible anyone should be so devoid of compassion and feeling that they should use such instruments on anyone, let alone small children, but this is what happened quite frequently under the Christian motto of “love thy neighbour”.

 

Persecution of witches

Persecution of witches (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Willow the Vampire, champion for defenceless children and animals which get a rough deal at the hands of those who should care for them and protect them from harm, is having rather a busy time of it, what with saving the world from Ragnarög, saving best friend Darren AND dealing with an army of vengeful ghosts.

 

Burning at the stake. An illustration from an ...

Burning at the stake. An illustration from an mid 19th century book. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Vampires, as a rule, like to mind their own business, so getting involved with human and supernatural beings that have their own agenda, is always going to contradict a bloodsucker’s inner beliefs. Vengeance, on the other hand, is a subject vampires can relate to whole-heartedly. Will our Willow be tempted to go over to the dark side?

 

English: J.K. Rowling reads from Harry Potter ...

One thing’s for sure, Willow the Vampire will remain a champion for children and this writer won’t ever make light of their plight at the hands of adults. Unlike perhaps the writer who brought us Harry Potter. Am I the only one who finds the announcement that J K Rowling’s adult novel The Casual Vacancy will become a BBC drama incredibly ill-timed and utterly distasteful?

 

As if the BBC wasn’t in enough trouble over the Savill enquiry into paedophilia and rape allegations, namely sex crimes against children and young adults that allegedly happened under the very noses of former BBC bosses over a period of some 40 years! Now our licence fee is being used for this, a book that has not received much critical acclaim and is only being shifted thanks to the J K Rowling name?

 

One day I may write a Willow the Vampire novel that will deal with the ultimate evil creature of the night, the Jimmy Savills and Gary Glitters of this world. Naturally, I shan’t use the subject of children or young adults being threatened by rape as a subject for satire and parody, which most of J K Rowling’s readers found distinctly unfunny, when I last looked on Amazon’s reviews.

Willow in black dressNo, I ‘m far more likely to use the subject of BBC bosses in terror and utter distress, as vampire Willow and her friends barbeque them over a moderate flame, while basting them with home-made marinade provided by grateful licence fee payers.

 

Don’t be a Boar!

Posted in Animals, Children's Literature, Fantasy, Fiction, vampires, Wildlife with tags , , , , , , , on July 26, 2012 by mariathermann

Having finally re-discovered my wild boar research in one of my client’s files, I’ve decided to make this a two part blog. The first part deals with the real animal, while part two will explore the mythological beasty.

Growing up in rural Germany, I often came across wild boar, when walking in the woods or when visiting nature reserves. It was always thrilling to meet this shy, but potentially lethal creature. Most of them take to their heels and run off, but some stand their ground and challenge the astonished hiker, particularly when their chocolate and cream striped and utterly adorable piglets are accompanying them on their foraging trips.

Snowi, a young wild boar (Sus scrofa) in the W...

The wild boar (Sus scrofa), or wild pig, is a species belonging to the pig genus Sus, which forms part of the family Suidae. Wild boars are the ancestors of our domestic pigs and typically live in groups of 20 to 50 animals. Northern and Central Europe was once their main stomping ground, but their geographical spread also includes the North African Atlas Mountains, large parts of Asia and the Mediterranean, too. Their average weight is around 44 to 50 kilos, but some male boars can reach enormous sizes: 320 kg boars were allegedly strutting around in Russia, but 100 kilo specimen are not uncommon in Italy either. Fancy coming across that on a walk!

While in Germany the wild boar is still common and indeed, is now invading cities to forage for food (e.g. March 2012, Hamburg, where a wild boar fell into a river, when a group of wild pigs where chased from people’s gardens), the relentless hunting caused the wild boar to disappear completely from British forests and fields during the Middle Ages. Today, wild boar – its own worst enemy, thanks to its delicious meat – is being commercially farmed in the UK, but a few small colonies exist in the wild, mainly where wild boar managed to escape from farms and wildlife parks. One small herd established itself in Dorset; the other exists in East Sussex/Kent.

English: A baby Wild Boar (Sus scrofa) in a wi...

Throughout the centuries wild boar was prized not just for its wonderful meat but also for its bristles, which were used for brushes and for its ivory tusks, which can be cut into all manner of things and be decorated with carvings. Famous for its bravery, the wild boar is a formidable opponent. Hunting for boar and stag became particularly popular among the European aristocracy in the 14th century, when knights and their kings owned vast estates. They established their own game parks to allow them total control over their hunting grounds and prey. The aristocracy put very strict laws into place to protect their animals throughout the seasons, ensuring there’d always be enough meat on their princely banqueting tables. Hunting was a pastime for the elite, leaving foxhunting to peasants.

English: Gaston III of Foix-Béarn (Gaston Phoe...

English: Gaston III of Foix-Béarn (Gaston Phoebus) as depicted in Livre de chasse (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The nobleman Gaston Phoebus published a whole series of hunting scenes in Burgundy, which show how the rich elite hunted with lots of underlings doing the chasing and flushing out of prey as well as packs of hounds, nets and snares to kill wild animals.

To give Gaston his proper titles, he was Gaston III/X of Foix-Béarn, also known as Gaston Fébus or Gaston Phoebus (April 30, 1331–1391). For his sins he was the 11th count of Foix as well as viscount of Béarn (1343–1391). Officially, he was known as Gaston III of Foix and Gaston X of Béarn.

His book Livre de chasse (Book of the Hunt) was written between 1387 and 1388 and dedicated to Philip the Bold, who was the Duke of Burgundy at the time. As one of the greatest huntsmen of his day, Gaston III/X knew what he was talking about. He describes the various stages of hunting and how to hunt for different animals. As a self-appointed expert on animal behaviour Gaston also offers advice to the less well-off aristocracy, who often bankrupted themselves by keeping game parks and inviting vast numbers of their mates to hunt with them – they all had to be accommodated, fed and watered!

Gaston’s hunting scenes were also reflected in the rich tapestries of the time, which served as wall hangings in castles to keep out the draft and to boast to visitors of the riches the castle owner had at his disposal, not to mention his prowess as a hunter. One of Master Phoebus’ paintings shows a boar hunt, where the rich overlord is sitting safely on a horse, piercing the wild boar with his broad sword, while his underlings are armed with lances and spears, risking their own lives by confronting the boar on foot. Together the collection of paintings appeared in what was to become one of the most famous hunting books of the time.

If this blog was about cooking for humans, I’d now present you with a yummy wild boar recipe, but just like Willow the Vampire’s attitude in these matters, my own allegiance is with the boar, I’m afraid! I do confess to having eaten wild boar stew on a number of occasions when I was young and out for a meal with my parents and well…it was very delicious indeed.

Wild Boar

The next blog will deal with the boar as a mythical creature, both hunted and revered for millennia by Phoenicians, ancient Romans and 6th century Celts, or should I say Brits, like King Arthur and Merlin.

One foxy new Friend

Posted in Animals, Books, Children, Children's Literature, Fiction, vampires, Wildlife with tags , , , , on April 24, 2012 by mariathermann

With squirrel spying for the antagonist, Willow the Vampire needs a creature of the night that can be her eyes and ears in the villain’s camp.

Unlike James Bond, real spies I imagine are unassuming, non-descript sort of people – let’s face it, if a chap built like Mr Daniel Craig walked into your office, you’d remember him for a VERY long time, wouldn’t you? In fact, he’d be the talk of the office for weeks!

Willow the Vampire therefore needs a nocturnal creature that’s so familiar in our landscape – rural or urban – that we don’t bat an eyelid when we see it. Budding young author Sarah Baethge (The Speed of Darkness) voted in favour of foxes the other day and I think she’s got a very good point.

Foxes have had a rough time over the centuries and have received an awful lot of bad press. To me, people who indulge in blood “sports” are nothing short of obscene, deranged monsters, but to many the hunting of foxes with hounds is a great amusement. They claim that foxes are vermin and therefore have no right to complain if they are hunted to exhaustion and then torn apart by dogs. Hm…it could be argued that this is EXACTLY what should happen to bankers, politicians and all those who indulge in blood “sports”. In fact, judging by the worldwide press and comments on the internet, there’d be millions of people in favour of making this a new Olympic discipline!

As a child I used to visit my uncle and aunt, who at that time lived in a small town at the Dutch/German border, where my uncle worked as a customs officer. He was a keen huntsman, but deplored the practice of gassing fox and badger sets and would have been disgusted at hunting animals with a pack of hounds.

One day he discovered a burrow full of dead foxes – a mum and her litter. Only one tiny fox cub was still alive. He took it home and nursed it back to health with the view of one day releasing it back into the wild.

My cousin and I used to take the fox out for walks on a leash, just like a dog. One day my cousin wanted to visit a friend (she was quite a few years older than me) and she took the fox with her on the train. As predicted, the ticket collector appeared and demanded to see a ticket for the “hound”. My cousin quickly pointed out that the rules of the railway company said nothing about paying for foxes – if the ticket collector showed her the relevant passage in the rule book, she’d certainly pay but otherwise…

After a long, drawn out battle with the might of the Deutsche Bahn (German Railways), the little fox travelled for free – and I guess we all knew at that moment my cousin would one day be joining the legal profession (she later became a judge).

Many years later, when I lived in south-east London, I had a family of foxes visiting my garden on a regular basis. One foxy mum even brought her young ones to see my shed in the early morning hours. They would climb up on the roof, from which they had a great view of the 90 foot, back-to-back gardens on Telegraph Hill. Their child-like cries would wake me up and their peculiar scent marking would terrify my cat.

Foxes are incredibly agile, being able to leap up to a meter into the air before pouncing on their unsuspecting victim with deadly accuracy (rats, voles, mice, frogs, snakes). Foxes have incredibly good hearing, as they will stand still in the high grass or undergrowth listening out for any little rustling noise, high pitched squeak or swishing mousy tail.

Fox

Fox (Photo credit: jans canon)

Their new born cubs are blind and helpless, looking very much like puppies, but after two weeks the cubs begin to change, their legs, ears and snout become longer, their coat changes colour from a non-descript brown to a rusty red. Being able to change your appearance is a great asset for a spy – in winter some foxes are able to change their red or brown coat to white (Artic fox).

Eventually, their mum takes them out and at eight weeks the fox cubs used to scamper about in my garden, as happy in the warm morning sun as any human toddler. When it was time to go to “bed”, they would snuggle up to their mum in the undergrowth that lurked at the bottom of my garden – that bit I’d never gotten round to tidying after I’d moved in.

Willow the Vampire will need a foxy friend, who’s smart, streetwise, has excellent senses of smell, hearing and sight. Willow is going to face some pretty monstrous opponents in her next adventure and needs all the help she can get!

Fox

Fox (Photo credit: Natasha Lloyd)

It also pleases me to think that the squirrel, which we all think is so harmless and cute, will be acting on the side of the villain, while an animal like the much-maligned fox will be acting on behalf of my heroine.

Little vampire

Little vampire (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

At least in fiction, there can be some poetic justice…who knows, my vampires might even hunt a banker or two…

(picture credit DK: Children’s Encyclopedia of Animals, ISBN 978-1-4053-4885-0, published in 2009)

Mustelid Magic

Posted in Animals, Books, creative writing, Fiction, Wildlife with tags , , , , on April 4, 2012 by mariathermann

We often equate people to animals, when we think of the character traits and behaviour they display. Upon meeting someone for the first time, we sometimes think he or she’s a bit like a weasel, a stoat, an otter or badger…and in some extreme cases the word skunk springs to mind!

Heubach European Otter

Heubach European Otter (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What all of the above animals have in common is that they belong to the family of mustelids.

The lovely young Polish lady, who has joined my German language group on Tuesday evenings, prompted me to think more about mustelids (in a good way!) and I shall devote several blogs to describe the members of this misunderstood, hunted and reviled family of splendid animals.

While many mustelids are being (ab-)used to describe negative qualities in humans, the otter stands for everything that’s good about a person and frankly, everything that makes life worth living!

Just as the young Polish lady believes a positive attitude will help us achieve whatever we set our hearts on in life, the otter stands for the sheer joy of living, the exuberance and agility of youth, the happiness simple pleasures in life can bring to those who look for beauty in all things.

There are 65 different species in the family of mustelids, all of which are carnivores. With the exception of Australia, some small islands and Antarctica, mustelids occupy diverse habitats across the globe. I’m not sure how otters will fit into Willow the Vampire’s next adventure, but I’m determined to have one of my favourite animals crop up at regular intervals in Willow’s second instalment!

Mustelids can live in tundras, deserts, forests, fresh and salt water; they can be arboreal, burrowing, terrestrial, semiaquatic and even fully aquatic. Most mustelids are quite small or medium sized, weighing just a few pounds, but wolverines and sea otters can weigh up to 25 kg (55 pounds) and are the largest members of the mustelid family. While most of them live solitary lives, coming together only when mating time approaches, some mustelids like badgers and giant river otters for example, live in large family groups.

Otters are playful creatures, charming and quite mysterious. Not all mustelids are strictly nocturnal, some hunt at night, some at dusk and others come out at dawn. While all otters have dextrous paws, some otters have more webbing than others and some have claws and others don’t. Most river otters, which includes the European otter, have webbed paws for swimming and long claws for digging, which are rounded, so they can walk comfortably on land.

Lontra canadensis English: North American Rive...

Lontra canadensis English: North American River Otters, Lontra canadensis (per Schreber, 1777. More commonly used, but allegedly incorrect latin name: Lutra canadensis). I took the photo in San Francisco Zoo on August 29, 2005. Français : Loutre de rivière, Lontra canadensis. Image prise au zoo de San Fransisco le 29 Août 2005. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apart from the aforementioned European otters, there are also the Giant otters, a beautiful sleek creation that could rival cats in grace, elegance and softness of fur, the Spotted-necked otter, the Neotropical otter, the Smooth-coated otter and the Cape clawless otter and various others.t

Sea otters often use stones to crack open shells of sea urchins, crabs and shellfish. They even have a special pouch or skin fold under their armpit to keep hold of their favourite flat stone, while they are swimming.

Giant river otters live along the riverbanks of slow-moving, sluggish water, or in marshes, swamps, wetlands and forests of South America, where these otters use their superb swimming skills, large feet and highly developed webbing between their toes to catch fish.

All otters love to play and, just like kids love to slide in the mud, snow or on ice, otters use their forepaw and tail power to slither down slimy riverbanks, snow-covered slopes or muddy, leaf-mulch covered embankments. They can tuck in their legs to reach maximum speed during sliding and they adore landing with a belly flop in the river or other water at the bottom of a slope. Some otters even play tag and indulge in mock fights to pass the time.

Inquisitive, intelligent and fun-seeking, otters are gradually making a come-back to European landscapes, after having been hunted almost to extinction and driven out of their natural habitats by Earth’s most evil villains, humans.

Otters are natural fishermen, something that has over the centuries brought them into conflict with humans, who believe everything on this planet belongs to them. Otters love to hunt eels, snakes, crayfish and various species of fish. Since their fur is rather luxurious with a long-haired outer layer and a thick undercoat to protect them from the cold when in water, otters were often hunted for their fur, so that stupid, vain mend and women could wear them as a collar around their scrawny, perfumed necks.

Whatever other writers might do with the vampire genre in the future, my toothy little heroine will never be adverse to biting insurance salesmen and estate agents or eating bankers and politicians (the latter are best served when marinated first in red wine and herbs, then BBQ-ed over a small flame; they tend to taste a little bitter and the acid in the wine helps to take the sliminess off).

Scientists who torture animals for the fun of finding out, if a particular mascara might give some brainless bimbo a rash, will always have a special place in the Band’s household – namely in their cauldron hanging over a fire. As for people in fur coats…

Animals will find a powerful protector in Willow and her vampy family… so watch out, Earth’s most evil villains, Willow’s on the prowl!

The Benefits of being an Omnivore

Posted in Animals, Books, Fiction, Wildlife with tags , , , , , on March 31, 2012 by mariathermann

While our friend Ratty is an omnivore with places to go and habitats to conquer, the scaly pangolin is far more specialised in its culinary preferences. Similar to the other little oddball nature’s created, the aardvark, pangolins live almost exclusively on termites and ants.

Pangolins are nocturnal, armour plated mammals that live in Africa and Asia. They protect their cuddly bodies with overlapping scales that have sharp edges and form a type of armour an ancient Roman centurion would have loved to possess.

Like our friend the hedgehog, pangolins roll up into a ball when threatened by an inquisitive predator’s paw. They hunt for termites and ants at night, which they lap up with a long tongue that’s covered in sticky saliva (just like the aardvark). Pangolins have sharp claws which allow them to dig their underground burrows, where they spend the hot, humid days and hide from predators. There are long-tailed, earth-dwelling and short-tailed, tree-dwelling pangolins living in both continents.

The Asian variety has external ears and fluffy hair at the base of their scales, but the African variety has internal ears and lack scaly covering on the underside of their tails. Pangolins haven’t got teeth, but grind up their food thanks to swallowing small pebbles. Their powerful stomach muscles do the rest to assist digestion.

Zeldzaam exemplaar Pangolin (schubdier) in Artis

Zeldzaam exemplaar Pangolin (schubdier) in Artis (Photo credit: Nationaal Archief)

The poor pangolins have, of course, one predator, who has hunted them relentlessly for their scales and tasty flesh: yep, our favourite villain, the human omnivore. While in Africa the pangolin is regarded as a yummy addition to a feast, in Asia the pangolin’s scales are used in “medicine”, following along the same rot as they come up with when grinding up elephant tusks or rhino horns to make an “aphrodisiac” elixir. It’s just a way of making lots of money out of idiots (mainly male), but sadly it hasn’t stopped “medicine men and women” from spreading this superstitious nonsense for centuries.

Just like omnivores in nature can survive and conquer new habitats without any trouble, while a highly specialised creature loses out every time, the writer who closes his or her mind to other genres and other writer’s output will neither learn nor is likely to succeed in their own writer’s habitat.

One thing all successful writers have in common is that they are ferocious omnivores when it comes to reading. They don’t disregard the humblest of genres, but cherry-pick the best ideas, writing styles and “voices” for their own work – that’s not stealing other people’s work, you understand, it’s being influenced by other writers’ good practice and learning from both their good and bad writing.

We dismiss and disregard genres that don’t correspond to our own at our peril. I cannot even begin to describe how much goodness I have soaked up over the last 46 years of reading. I’ve seen how dialogue can be used to give character to my protagonists and antagonists; I’ve discovered that too much descriptive prose makes readers want to skip the page; I’ve learned how NOT to do things and how to critically assess other writers’ work in a constructive way that hopefully benefits both them and me.

A coat of armor made of pangolin scales, an un...

A coat of armor made of pangolin scales, an unusual object presented to George III in 1820. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being a reading omnivore as a writer keeps us on our toes, inspires us to look at our own writing with fresh eyes. The highly specialised writer, who never ventures out of their own comfortable underground burrow, will soon become stale, jaded and fade away from their readers’ minds, stifling any buying impulse in their book reading public.

In that light my next post – prompted by an enquiry from a regular reader – will have at least one recipe from Mrs. Vampire’s Cook Book for the toothy Housewife (Fang press, published in 1586).

Willow take note, you’ll be tested on it later!

Sinister Village Life?

Posted in Books, creative writing, Fiction with tags , , , , , , on March 25, 2012 by mariathermann

This blog is called Creatures of the Night and some of you might ask what does village life have to do with the theme of vampires?

Well, Willow the Vampire lives in a small village in the fictional county of Stinkforthshire. Stinkforthshire-upon-Avon has just 5,000 inhabitants – unlike the village I grew up in, which has around 10,000 souls during the winter months and around 300,000 during the summer, when holidaymakers flock to the Baltic Sea coast for their beachside frolics.

A recent blog post of one of my regular readers (yes, you Loonyliterature!) dealt with the problem of indulging in creative writing outdoors when the sun is shining, but being hampered by everything and everyone a village can muster to combat such frivolous outbursts of creativity.

Michelle’s blog post prompted me to explain, why my heroine Willow and her vampire family left the safe anonymity of the Big City for a rural life. As the novel progresses, the reasons behind this move from the streets of London to the fields of Stinkforthshire become clear, but it is my own particular obsession with the negative aspects of such enclosed communities that caused me to place my vampy family in a rural setting in the first place.

Blue plaque re Dorothy L Sayers on 23 & 24 Gt....

Blue plaque re Dorothy L Sayers on 23 & 24 Gt. James Street, WC1 See 1237424. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I can’t remember, if it was Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes or Dorothy L. SayersLord Peter Wimsey who said that villages were sinister places. There are good reasons why Agatha Christie let so many of her murder mysteries play out in rural settings – Miss Marple’s village of St. Mary Mead is a micro-cosm of the evil world at large.

In towns and cities people live cheek by jowl, they notice things, they report to the police or at least to other neighbours; in villages the most heinous crimes go unreported because everybody closes their minds, eyes and ears to what is going on around them…mustn’t upset the status quo or the village won’t win the title of Best Flower Display again in the national competition!

In remote villages all manner of horrors can occur – think Salem! Bigots and ignorant people thrive in enclosed environments. While the religious fanatic might have carte blanche to pester anyone foolish enough to arrive too early at the bus stop, an outsider simply dressed in a more modern style becomes an outcast and object of ridicule for the entire village.

At night the hypocrite leaves his well maintained home, crosses his manicured lawn, throws a critical glance at his neighbours’ floral displays and slinks off to the village brothel to enjoy an enslaved young girl or two.

The curtain-twitcher, who during the day observes everybody’s comings and goings, sits down to her poison pen writing task at night to make sure her letters catch the early morning post.

The cleaner who comes to tidy up, polish and vacuum clean at dusk, has a quick rifle through the chest of drawers, the writing desk and opened letters to see what juicy blackmail material is offering the greatest earnings potential.

My first novel Willow the Vampire and the Sacred Grove served to set up the world in which Willow, her family and friends live. The follow up novel Willow the Vampire and the Würzburg Ghosts will delve deeper into what it’s like to grow up in a village environment and what eccentric or plain horrid people live in such places (in the fictional county of Stinkforthshire and beyond).

My own experience of growing up in a village is one of suffocation – and, having lived in villages later in life as an adult, I found the village world even more suffocating and detrimental to my development as a writer and human being.

Village

Village (Photo credit: johnnysam)

I love nature, observing animals in their natural habitats and hiking or cycling through the countryside, but the lack of humanity that I experienced as a child and young adult in the enclosed village world has put me off for good and I cannot envisage ever living in a village again.

What about you? City slicker versus rural pumpkin?

 

The Mouse that roared

Posted in Books, creative writing, Fiction with tags , , , , , , on March 15, 2012 by mariathermann
Deer mouse, Peromyscus maniculatus 8360 lores

Image via Wikipedia

Having posted about cats, owls, hawks and wolves, it’s about time I devoted some lines to their nocturnal prey. You’ve probably already read my blog about Willow’s hamster Mr Nibbles, but mice also feature in Willow the Vampire and the Sacred Grove and will continue to make an appearance in the follow up novel.

Mouse-like rodents are a relative newcomer on the evolutionary front, being only a few million years old. Collectively most of them are referred to as the Muridae family with various sub-families. Mouse-like rodents now inhabit most parts of the world – obviously not our oceans, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one day some deep-sea diver discovers a mouse with gills!

While the majority of mice live their lives as tiny, nocturnal, seed-munching ground-dwellers with a pointy nose, long whiskers and tail, others live near water or even in it, in trees or in underground tunnels. Scientists have identified more than 500 species of Old World mice and rats, from the little pests known as house mice and brown rats to adorable and endangered dormice, which go into winter hibernation and can snooze for up to 9 months of the year.

In the New World mice and rats can range from fish-eating to climbing rats, although the majority of rodents live on the ground, such as grassland or forest habitats. Rats and mice make up around 80% of the species collectively known as the Muridae family. Lemmings, hamsters, voles and gerbils are a very distinct sub-family. Hamsters in the wild are quite fearless and aggressive creatures, ready to defend their solitary habitat with all they’ve got.

Just the names of many mice are apt to make us go “aaaaaawwww”: there’s Dormouse with her bushy tail, the red-brown coloured Deer mouse, or the Bank vole reminding us of Ratty in Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, published 1908.

There’s also the cute Harvest mouse clinging on to tall grass with her paws and tail, the striped grass mouse in her harsh savannah habitat, the delightful Cairo spiny mouse with her big button eyes or the Wood mouse with her large ears or the miniscule Gray climbing mouse with her very exceptionally long tail, which she wraps around tall grasses to get purchase when she feeds.

One of my favourite rodent names is the “Meadow jumping mouse”, a little creature that moves in short hops, but can, when pushed, jump up to one meter into the air. Another favourite is the Fawn hopping mouse (I feel a theme emerging!), a nocturnal burrower with enormous feet (compared to the rest of its body) and a long tail to balance it in mid-hop, when it darts away from danger.

Their lives may be harsh and short, but whenever I’ve watched voles on a river bank or wood mice in a forest, I’ve often thought how much humans have in common with these little creatures. We also lead relatively short lives and tend to live it at break-neck speed to cram in as much adventure as possible.

Deutsch: Es ist Eine Maus. Ich weiß nicht, welche.

Image via Wikipedia

No matter what evolution or nature throws at us, we tend to adapt. Nature might be all powerful – it’s perhaps just as well we cannot control tsunamis, earthquakes or erupting volcanoes – but just like mouse-like rodents, we have always managed to roar back at misfortune: “Bring it on! ‘Cause we’ll still be standing, when the storm has passed!”

NB : The Mouse that roared (1959, directed by Jack Arnold) is a delightful comedy featuring Peter Sellers, Jean Seberg and none other than William Hartnell (a later Dr. Who incarnation).

Bloodsuckers – By popular Demand

Posted in Books, Fiction, vampires with tags , , , , , , on March 11, 2012 by mariathermann
None - This image is in the public domain and ...

Image via Wikipedia

Thank you all for responding to the previous blog by naming the creature you’d like to be transferred into by your friendly neighbourhood wizard or fairy godmother. Needless to say, this calls for further investigation into the kind of animals some of you have chosen. Starting with the lovely Dutch contingent among my blog readers, I’m taking a closer look at mosquitoes today.

Like Indiana Jones I detest bugs and other insect critters. In fact, anything that flies around the room usually gets my undivided attention, followed by hysterical screams of “buzz off and bite somebody else for a change”…

Female mosquitoes get their food by biting and sucking the blood of living beings, such as animals and humans. In that they are quite similar to vampires described in Willow the Vampire and the Sacred Grove, but that’s where the similarity ends and rest assured, no self-respecting vampire living in Stinkforth-upon-Avon would ever wish to transform into one!

Female mosquitoes use their long feeding tubes to pierce the skin of their victims and then they suck up that lovely red juice of life. Blood gives the mosquito-lady all the extra protein she needs to produce eggs from a tube at the very bottom tip of her body.

Mosquitoes belong to the group of insects called arthropods – along with spiders, crustaceans, centipedes and various other invertebrates. Together they account for ¾ of all known animal species on our planet and there remain millions more of them to be discovered by scientists.

Some arthropods are venomous and are so lethal their bite can actually kill a human or even larger animals. The mosquito bite is not fatal because of the insect’s own poison – it can kill because a mosquito bite transmits malaria and other deadly diseases, while the little critter is busy sucking human blood.

The very first arthropods appeared on Earth some 530 million years ago and scientists believe these creatures were the first ones to leave the sea (crustaceans being among the very first arthropods). Arthropods were also the very first to sprout wings and take to the sky.

Given how much longer these creatures have been on the planet than humans, they are naturally extremely well adapted and have managed to slay more of us than probably any other animal. Perhaps malaria-giving mosquitoes have taken on the task to avenge all those wonderful animals we drive to extinction on a daily basis? Maybe it’s not the mighty lion who’s leader of the animal kingdom, but this tiny buzzing thing?

Before the eco warriors among you rush out to the great outdoors to re-name a few mosquitoes affectionately “Buffy”, “Willow”, “Edward Cullen” or  even in honour of Anne Rice‘s “Lestat”, please remember that mosquitoes slay indiscriminately. Their victims include millions of women and children. There is no effective vaccine at present and so far, the little bloodsuckers have won every battle we’ve waged against them.

In 2010 some estimated 1,238,000 people died from malaria and in 2009 an estimated 225 million cases of malaria were reported. Although insect repellent, mosquito nets and the draining of standing water near human settlements have had some positive effect, once bitten the suffering inflicted is intense and 60% of the victims are children in Africa.

If we could only find a way to reprogram mosquitoes! They could spread death among murderous tyrants, thieving politicians, dishonest bankers and other corporate monsters…now that would truly be a step forward in evolution and in pest control.

Next time I’ll be looking at hawks, as chosen by one of you. Not a cuddly animal either, but certainly preferable to arthropod bloodsuckers!

What’s eating little Red Riding Hood?

Posted in Children's Stories, creative writing, vampires with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2012 by mariathermann

Gray Wolf I

Following on from my last blog, I’ve been thinking about my childhood reading experience, when coming across Little Red Riding Hood for the first time. Frankly, ever since I read the Brothers’ Grimm fairy tale about some thick-headed girl who cannot tell her grandmother from a fully grown, hungry wolf I have been pleading for the wolf and all its canine kind.

I recall that my initial reactions were outrage and disgust: why should the poor beastie suffer such a fate? Anyone as stupid as little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother deserves to be eaten, surely?

Over the centuries wolves have gotten an exceedingly bad press for no good reason. Shy and secretive, wolves are the original canines who came to live with man – to keep our ancestors company, help them hunt, assist with shepherding live stock and be generally man’s most loyal friend.

How did we repay this splendid species? We hunted them to extinction in most parts of Europe and are still cheerfully killing them in the USA and elsewhere in the world…for their skins, for their eerie howls, for their fairy tale bad press. The Ethiopian wolf has only some 500 remaining specimen living in the wild – they are among the most critically endangered animals on the planet, as are Red Wolves, where only some 200 individuals are still surviving in the wild today.

Wolves and other canines have been around for hundreds of thousands of years – but since we began to take them into our homes some 14,000 years ago, we’ve done pretty much all we can to destroy them in every way we can – from hunting them for their fur to domesticating them and turning them into overbred, often crippled and in permanent pain lapdogs with hideous shapes that no longer allow them to breed unaided, breath or walk without difficulties (go to Crufts and meet any terrier, German Shepherd or British bulldog for example).

Wolves are intelligent and beautiful animals. My fascination with them prompted me to make them a part of Willow the Vampire & the Sacred Grove. My ancient vampires can turn into all sorts of creatures of the night, including wolves. I’m intrigued by the way wolves communicate with each other through body language and long distance “phone calls”, i.e. howling.

Gray Wolf, Canis lupus

Gray Wolf, Canis lupus (Photo credit: ArranET)

I’m moved by the fact that wolves and their kin form a lifelong monogamous relationship with their partners and that both parents are actively involved in bringing up their cubs.

May their howls echo through the forests long after the despicable species “mankind” has been wiped from the face of the Earth!

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