Honey and The Intimidating It – Chapter 1

Once upon a time there was a charming little girl who went by the name of Honey. Honey was given her name because she always carried a honey like scent with her, and her hair was gold like honey. She also liked bees and ate honey too. She had it on toast, pancakes and even chicken. Little did she know over in the Orientals, honey on chicken was already a commonly eaten dish and was probably a little tastier than the dish her Mother made from scratch every Friday evening.

This particular Friday evening was different from the others. This Friday landed on that ominous date: the thirteenth. Honey lived in a very quaint, very poultry littered village in the middle of a place no-one cared to chart on any map you may have seen. Except, of course, the map the village leader scribed himself. There was of course other villages on this map, but they only went as far as the village leader had encountered on his travels.

He, like many of the villagers, believed home was where the heart lay and therefore decreed it illegal to travel beyond the furthest reaching village, Underwell, which had been colonized right on the edge of a very ominous and foreboding forest which was so uninviting that the villagers in Underwell decided it did not deserve a proper title. So Honey, her Mother, the village leader and every one else simply referred to it as Trees. Or ‘Don’t go in there’. Whichever was considered at the time.

As I was saying, this particular Friday was Friday the thirteenth. To those of you reading, you are undoubtedly aware this particular date on this particular day carries with it a certain amount of dis-creditability. I could delve deeper in why this is so, but then I would bore you all with an unnecessary lecture on mundane events in history. Alas, little Honey was not privy to this information; she began her day with a bounce and an optimistic outlook, poor dear. Her Mother waved her off as she skipped her way down the garden path and off to school, honey sandwich and books by literary greats in her enthusiastic hands.

This would be the last time her Mother, and the people in the village would see of the unfortunate Honey.

I hope I haven’t frightened you away. You see, although this would be the last time Honey’s Mother, and the villagers would ever see her, Honey was not lost to a terrible fate. Rather a remarkable turn of events that propelled the little girl’s ordinary existence to a place of unimaginable wonder. You see, as Honey blissfully skipped her dainty little feet off to school, there was a force surrounding her. A force so powerful and potent that even the most distinguished scholar could never unravel its mysteries.

The force went by the name of Katch, and when it wasn’t following around the ‘Destined Ones’ as it liked to call them, it loved nothing better than a roasting fire and the latest Reader’s Digest. Don’t confuse my referring to Katch as an ‘it’ to imply I think less of the entity, more-so than he’s and she’s; rather Katch refused to be put in a box like that – it liked to keep those around it guessing. Which is why, on discovering she was indeed being followed, little Honey didn’t scream, or flail, or faint dramatically. She cocked an eyebrow, lowered her books to the ground and asked innocently, ‘Are you a he, or a she?’ Katch was completely dumbfounded. He expected theatrics, tears and even a beg for mercy. After all, he was unusual looking, especially to the untrained eye of such a small girl. Katch scoffed. ‘I,’ he began. ‘I am far too otherworldly to be given such… ordinary titles.’ Honey was no stranger to sulking, she had seen this sort of behaviour many a time in the school yard and was well versed in the art of appeasing. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ she said, curtseying. Honey wasn’t too sure how to curtsey, or when it was appropriate to do so. All she knew was that it was a mark of respect, and she was in no position to get off on the wrong foot with an it. There was a moment’s pause between the two, and then Katch spoke, the curtsey seemingly sufficient for the occasionally ill-tempered sprite.

‘Don’t you find it the least bit odd,’ Katch continued dryly (and possibly with a hint of boredom) ,’that an it like me happens to be following you, of all people?’ Honey took slight offence to this. ‘Me of all people? What is that supposed to mean?!’
‘What it means is exactly what I meant it to,’ Katch sniffed. ‘Here you happen to be, a simple lass on her way to academia, not a care in the world – no expectations of sinister happenings.’ Honey was no completely confused. ‘You shouldn’t bother explaining yourself if you can’t do yourself justice,’ Honey picked her books off of the ground, ‘it’s a waste of time, and quite frankly… it, I must be on my way as the Headmaster will surely punish me if I am tardy once more.’ Honey considered her retort a job well done, and turned on her heel. Alas, there it was again, staring at her incredulously.

Honey frowned, realizing it pointless to continue on her way, and sat herself, her books and her honey sandwich down upon the low wall that encompassed the lane leading the centre of the village. ‘I suppose there must be a reason for you following me without an invitation,’ Honey began. ‘I suppose too that it would be pointless in ignoring you, as you seem to be the sort of it that would pester one to the point of madness.’ Katch puffed what you could call his chest out proudly, before quickly frowning once more. ‘You go by the name of Honey, I do believe?’ Honey bit in to her sandwich.
‘Mmmm. Who wants to know?’ Honey was unusually brash with her words on this morning. It seemed necessary, she thought, considering her new-found circumstance. It’s only natural to tread carefully and bare your ground when contending with Its and similar beings. Katch appeared behind her left ear. ‘Someone of great importance and someone who will be quite irate if you choose to deny a meeting with him.’

‘So it’s not an It, like you are – rather a he?’ Honey was quietly elated at the mystery becoming a little less mysterious. Katch, however, was kicking itself. Proverbially of course, as Katch had no legs with which to kick itself with. ‘I did NOT say he, I said them,’ Katch spat back, ‘or they, or something along that line.’ Honey leaped down from the wall, to face Katch. But it was quicker, and she again found him breathing harshly in her ear, which was as irritating as a mosquito in the Summertime. Katch spoke once more, gentler this time. ‘Honey dearest, this is no time for your childish antics and questions – I come to you now for you have been called upon by an it far greater than I. An It who tells me you are more than just a simple village child.’ Katch paused. ‘You are a ‘Destined One’.’ Once more Katch’s expectations fell short. He expectated a gasp, wide eyes and a lump in the throat.

Honey was different. She smiled, then grinned, then burst in to a silence shattering laughter that caused a murder of crows on a nearby perch to take flight. ‘Sir It, you have mistaken me for a buffoon. I have heard you out, now I simply must go.’ Honey picked up her books for a second time. I should say, tried to. Before she could react, Katch enveloped the unaware child in an ominous black cloud, blacker than even the most rain filled cloud that passed over the previous Winter. Then? There was nothing. No sign of a little girl and an It ever being there, except for the half eaten honey sandwich perched atop the stone wall.

Oh, the crow has it now. So sorry.

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