Ironic

The snow was drifting down like white feathers on a white blanket, smothering everything that was within its reach. It lay over the town like icing on a cake, and draped the trees with beautiful cloaks of pure white. The sky was just plain grey, smooth and unending, as if someone had just painted it with a huge paintbrush and left it to dry. There was one thing in the scene though: a small black figure stood in the middle of all the swirling snow, almost oblivious to the cold and wet. The figure itself stood perfectly still, only it’s scarf and coat fluttered about it. The wind threatened to pick the whole child up in its grasp, but it was stood so firmly on the ground. Nothing would ever move it.

The child was Glubberdine Iggleboni. Anyone looking at her from a distance would have thought she was a statue. But as you moved closer, you could see her cheeks were red with cold and her eyes still and concentrating as she looked at the ground. Yet nothing about her moved, apart from her hair whipping around her face and her clothes.

She was looking at a worm. It was so fascinating, the way it moved. It sort of sent a ripple down its body, starting from the head (at least Glubberdine thought that was its head; at least, that was the direction in which it was moving), which made it move a centimetre or two forward. It appeared to be trying to get somewhere, but Glubberdine wasn’t sure where. There was a hole about the size of a pea about a foot away from the worm, but she couldn’t see why the worm would want to get to the hole. It must be cold down there, she thought. And dark. She shuddered. She hated the dark. It was so lonely, so enclosed. How often did worms feel alone? She thought of this poor worm. How often did it feel lonely?

The worm was only about five centimetres away from the hole when a terrible thought struck Glubberdine. What if it fell down? Or accidentally mistook it for something else? She had to save it before it got trapped in the inky blackness. Kneeling down, the first sign of movement she had shown in the last hour of watching the worm, she gently picked it up and stood up. Turning, she walked until she couldn’t see the tiny hole anymore. She had to get the worm as far away from the danger as possible. When she had walked about twenty feet, she put the worm down again and smiled as once again it began wriggling about in the snow.

“Glubberdine! Time for school!” her mum’s voice was carried with the snow to Glubberdine’s ears. She gave the worm one last glance, and with that, turned and ran in the direction of her home. Behind her back and unknown to Glubberdine, the worm once again turned and began walking in the direction of the hole again.

Two weeks later

“And the two little worms lived happily ever after!” Mrs Worm concluded. Her two children, Worm One and Worm Two stared at her with wide eyes. One of them, their mother wasn’t sure which, wiggled its tail around under the quilt. The other one opened its mouth to say something.

“Where’s daddy? I wish we could live happily ever after, but we can’t if daddy keeps disappearing.” Mrs Worm stared at this child. Probably Worm Two.

“Honey, he probably just got lost. Remember like he did last time?”

“But he’s been gone for two weeks, mum!” Yes, that one was Worm One. She’d painted a ‘1’ inside its mouth while he was asleep, so she could tell the difference when they opened their mouths.

“I know. But we’ll just have to wait, OK?”

At that moment the underground tunnel suddenly grew darker, as if something was blocking out the light. Worm Two let out a cry, but Mrs Worm glanced at her. It was probably Mr Worm finally back. For a moment the tunnel was a lot warmer as the cold air stopped blasting through, then the outline of Mr Worm could be seen as he made his way along the tunnel towards his family. Then the light and wind flooded back in and his kind face was shown to his wife and kids.

“Mr Worm! Where on earth have you been?” cried Mrs Worm as she ran to greet her husband, “We’ve all been scared. Any bird could have come along and snatched us up!”

“Well, you know! I think I was a bit more vulnerable than you though. I was just getting some water, you see. I was thirsty and there was plenty of wet stuff up there! Then I was just getting back to the hole when a shadow passed over me. I thought it was a cloud, but I swear it didn’t move! It just stayed there. So anyway, I was nearly at the hole when this giant kid picked me up. Stupid thing. Carried me all the way over to The Fence. You know, that huge wall a few miles down there? Then it just left me. Left me to find my own way back here. Stupid unintelligent giants.”

And Mr Worm went to bed to get some rest.

It was only when Mrs Worm joined him that he realised he’s used up all the water he’d drunk on the long journey home. He’d have to go and get some more tomorrow.

The moral of this story is: next time you feel like having a bit of fun with a worm, like picking it up and showing it to your friends, please remember that even 20 feet is a great distance for a worm to travel.

Always put them back where they came from.

The End