This is the first chapter to one of my books for young readers set in the magical land of Buntonia

Gretchen and Her Super Soup

Chapter 1

Buntonia is a magical land. A place where dreams can come true if you love enough and nightmares do if you don’t. Some say it is safest not to dream at all, that way, nothing will happen to you. Gretchen didn’t approve of that. It was her opinion that in this hard and sometimes lonely life, it was your dreams that kept you going. After all if you do not have a reason for doing something, then there is no point in doing anything at all.

‘Gretchen, Gretchen, where’s my soup Gretchen?’ Her father was calling for her from the kitchen downstairs. Gretchen made her way down the old rickety staircase, which led down into a round room off which all the other rooms, such as they were, led. The kitchen door was open and Gretchen could see the skinny, twisted old frame of her father sat at the wooden table eating his soup. ‘Gretchen’, he slurped, ‘where’s my soup’,

‘You’re eating it father’, Gretchen informed him as she entered the kitchen.

‘But I’m still hungry Gretchen, I’m still hungry girl, I’m withering away’. The old man declared whilst he shovelled spoonful after spoonful of Gretchen’s pumpkin soup down his wrinkled throat.

‘Why not have some bread father?’ Gretchen suggested moving the bowl of bread that was already on the table a bit nearer to him.

‘Some bread girl?’, her father questioned her with a look of horror on his face yet still keeping up the rhythm of his soup guzzling.

‘Yes father have some bread.’ Her father could not believe his cauliflower ears.

‘Some bread with my soup do you say, are you mad?’

Calmly Gretchen answered ‘No father I am not mad, try some bread with your soup.’ The old codger moved his large knobbly old hand over to the bread, shaking his almost entirely bald head and pulling a face that showed he was expecting to taste the worst medicine in the world. He picked up a piece of bread and sniffed it with his bulbous nose. Gretchen held her breath as he dipped the bread into the soup and raised it out again. Soup dripped off the bread and fell back into the bowl and her father looked at Gretchen like a child wanting encouragement from his mother to take the nasty medicine. ‘Go on father, eat It.’ said Gretchen nodding her head. The old man raised his hands above his head and held the soup sodden bread high up in the air. The soup dripping down on to his face. Then he pushed his head back, opened his mouth, his eyes as big as dinner plates. Staring at it as though it was an axe about to chop his head off. Then in one movement, he forced the hunk of bread into his open mouth and sat there waiting for something to happen. His mouth was so full of bread he could not talk. So he gave a little groan instead. ‘Chew it father’, said Gretchen, ‘chew it’. The old man gave another little groan and began the task of chewing. Finally, when all the bread was swallowed he declared, ‘Oh Gretchen, that was the loveliest thing I have ever eaten.’

‘Thank you father’, replied Gretchen and made her way back upstairs to her bedroom.

She looked out of her small window down into the valley, across the river and over to the hills. They were covered in trees and by day she could see not one house. But at night when the moon shone and the stars came out, the hills were ablaze with hundreds of tiny lights that lit the homes of the people who lived there. The Grobbly-Boblins, the Shoodoos, the Crickalicks and even the Humans, Gretchen had never met a human before, even though she was one herself. Her father was a Grobbly-Boblin. He wasn’t her real father; he’d looked after her ever since she could remember. She didn’t even know why. All she knew was that this kind, lovely Grobbly-Boblin had always been there for her. So now that she was older, she would return the kindness and always be there for him. Besides, she loved him and he loved her. He was not as clever as Gretchen was. He could not read or write, but he made sure Gretchen could by sending her to Mrs Mickle for lessons every day when she was young.

Mrs Mickle lived in a sort of cave that her husband had dug out of the side of the hill. It had lots of rooms and was lovely and warm. It was the nicest home Gretchen had ever been in. Mr and Mrs Mickle were not Grobbly-Boblins, nor were they Humans. They were Shoodoos, and Gretchen liked them very much. They had six children of their own so Gretchen loved going there for her lessons because although she did not much like to do her school work, she loved playing with the other children when Mrs Mickle said it was break time.

The sun shone down on to the countryside and Gretchen day dreamed as she often did, about her real parents. Maybe she had a brother or sister and her family were rich and one day they would come for her and take her to live in their huge castle and have servants. Gretchen would not have to make soup any more. How lovely. ‘Gretchen, Gretchen, there’s no more soup Gretchen.’ Came the old man’s voice. And so as she always did, Gretchen went down the stairs into the kitchen, picked up her basket and said, ‘Don’t worry father I’ll get some things to make more soup for you.’

‘Oh Gretchen you are good to me, what would I do without you?’ said her father getting up from the table and shuffling his way through the doorway in the way that all Grobbly-Boblins shuffled their thin bodies along, as if they were polishing the floor with the soles of their slippers. ‘What would I have done without you father’, replied Gretchen.

‘Indeed Gretchen, we must belong together you and I.’ The old man said smiling back at her.

‘Yes father,’ she agreed, ‘I think we probably do.’ And with that she left the house through the kitchen door that led outside down the garden path and into the valley. Carrying her basket and thinking how lucky she was to have that lumpy old faced Grobbly-Boblin to make soup for. For if it was not for him who knows what would have become of her.

Gretchen liked to surprise her father with her soup. She could make it out of almost anything. Her father’s favourite was her sweet nutty soup, but she did not like that one much herself. Today she decided to try something new, though what exactly she did not know. She had made soup with so many things she wasn’t sure that there was anything left that she had not already used. But she would know what to use when she saw it, and so off she went in search of her new and exciting ingredients.

She took the path to the left that led into the part of the forest where no one lived, except of course for the animals and birds. Most people lived on the other side of the valley, but that was too expensive for Gretchen and her father, still she liked their little house. It was old and sometimes draughty but it was also very cosy and it was home. Other people may have bigger and better houses but Gretchen knew that you should never be ashamed of where you live. For every home is just as special to the people who live there, no matter how big, no matter how small, it is the people inside that count. Gretchen was not jealous of those folks who were richer than her and her father. He had always, very wisely told her, that some people are so poor that all they have is money.

Sitting on a branch of a tree was a yellow and turquoise bird. Gretchen had not seen one of these birds before. She stopped still in her tracks and watched the bird for a few seconds, ‘How beautiful it is’; she thought gazing at it. Presently the bird began to sing and the most beautiful tune that Gretchen had ever heard entered her delicate ears and filled her head and heart with happiness. As she listened she walked forward, stepping on a twig that lay on the forest floor. It gave a crack as she passed over it. The bird was startled by this and looking round saw Gretchen and flew off. Gretchen followed as fast as she could. Through the forest she followed the bird, hoping it would rest a while and sing once more. But after ten minutes of trying, she could not keep up and the mysterious yellow and turquoise bird vanished deep into the forest.

Gretchen decided to sit down on a nearby fallen tree and catch her breath. It was only then that she realised, she did not know where she was. She had been so busy trying to keep up with the bird, that she had not noticed which direction she had come from. She looked around her hoping to recognise something. But nothing looked familiar at all. The only thing to do was to try and make her way back home as best she could. It could not be too far after all, she’d only been running a few minutes. So off she went carrying her basket and trying to retrace her steps through the forest. As she did so she sang the lovely tune she had heard the bird singing. She walked and walked for half an hour and still could not find her way. Every twist and turn brought new places into view. She ought to have been worried and upset at being so lost, but somehow, as long as she sang the birds song, she was quite, quite happy. Rabbits and squirrels kept hoping and running in front of her and she even saw a badger watching her from a bunch of ferns. Birds were lining tree branches and butterflies and bees perched on the small delicate blooms of the forest flowers. Gretchen kept walking and singing. Smiling all the time at the creatures of the forest that came out from their secret places to see her. She had never known the animals to be so bold before, and despite being lost, was having a truly lovely time.

Suddenly Gretchen heard a soft fanfare of flutes and a golden light beamed out from a huge oak tree. All the animals, birds and insects that had been following her stood still and each one bowed his or her head. Gretchen herself stopped singing and stared at the illuminated tree. Now she was frightened. The branches of the tree shook and then out from the light stepped a beautiful woman with long flowing hair. She was not like any creature Gretchen could have imagined never mind actually seen before. For she was made entirely of the beautiful golden light that shone from every branch of the oak tree. Her dress sparkled as though it was made from gold coloured diamonds. Her hair was shining and went right down her back, so if she wished, she could sit on it. It was so perfect it looked like liquid gold. She smiled at Gretchen, but Gretchen being so nervous and scared, could not smile back. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes as big as big could be. ‘Hello young lady, my name is Oakleen’, said the soft-spoken woman as she approached. ‘And who might you be?’

‘Gr., Gretchen ma’am’, replied Gretchen in complete wonder at the lady before her.

‘Tell me Gretchen, where did you hear the tune you were singing?’

‘I heard a bird singing it, as I walked through the forest, a most beautiful bird.’ Oakleens’ eyes sparkled,

‘You saw this you say?’

‘Yes Ma’am it was truly beautiful, yellow and blue, a turquoise blue really, I’ve never seen one before.’

‘And now you have both seen and heard it. Well Gretchen you are a very fortunate young lady indeed. How did you feel when you heard this bird?’ Gretchen feeling a little easier said ‘Oh happy, it was strange but as soon as the bird began to sing I felt my heart lift and my spirits soar. I couldn’t help but feel the world was wonderful.’

‘It is true Gretchen’, Oakleen proclaimed ‘You are a very, very fortunate girl. For not everyone that sees and hears the Terbert bird feels like that. Only truly good people are so uplifted. Bad people can feel very unhappy and miserable, for the Terbert bird is the most magical creature in all creation. He can bring great joy and great sorrow by reflecting that which is in your soul. If you are good, he will make you happy, if you are bad; he will make you sad. But all are better for knowing him. Although very few do so. It is a great privilege that you have encountered him.’

‘I was a trying to follow him, but I couldn’t and now I’m lost.’ Said Gretchen hoping to show the way home. Oakleen laughed, ‘Everybody tries to follow the Terbert bird my dear, but it is impossible. He will allow you to see him only for as long as he wants to and once he has made up his mind that it is time to go, he simply vanishes. Some people are too sad to try to find him again; others look for a while but soon tire and are distracted by another of the forest creatures. But you Gretchen, you have kept his song alive in your voice and in your heart longer than any other has. What will you do with his song Gretchen?’ Asked Oakleen.

‘Do with it?’ Enquired Gretchen, ‘Why I won’t do anything, except sing it to myself and remember how beautiful the Terbert bird was, and how happy he made me feel.’

The light began to shine from the oak tree once again and Oakleen said, ‘Then Gretchen, you have found the new ingredient you need. When you make your soup, sing the song of the Terbert bird, and the love and happiness within you will go into your soup and touch all those who eat it. And one day, if you keep his song in your voice and love in your heart, you may know the Terbert bird once more. The rabbits will show you the way home. Goodbye Gretchen, you are a very special young lady.’ And with that Oakleen stepped back into the golden light, the glowing branches shook once more and the light faded and died. Gretchen felt strange. She knew she should be frightened still, but instead she was calm and peaceful. She followed the rabbits as they hopped along the forest floor, looking back towards her occasionally to check that she was still there. After a while they came to a path that Gretchen knew and the rabbits hopped off into the undergrowth of the forest.

Gretchen picked some mushrooms and edible berries and made her way back home to the little house to make some more soup for her father. This soup was going to be the best yet, for it had a new and magical ingredient, the song of the Terbert bird and her love.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Gretchen arrived home, and the hillside across the valley was being lit up by hundreds of tiny lights inside hundreds of homes. From Gretchen’s bedroom window the hillside looked beautiful and magical. ‘Ah Gretchen you’re home girl’, said her father as she entered the kitchen door. ‘Will you make some soup for your poor old father? I’m starving you know.’ Grobbly-Boblins despite always being very skinny ate almost constantly. ‘Yes father’, Gretchen replied putting her basket down on the kitchen side, ‘I’m going to make you some very special soup indeed this evening.’ ‘That’s a good girl, very special soup aye, well I can’t wait to try it, with some bread aye Gretchen, with some bread.’ The old Grobbly-Boblin said excitedly. Gretchen began making her wild mushroom and very berry soup, with her new magical ingredient.