Moon and the Imp

Copyright © Jo Kemrich in 2021

Published by Odemevol Publishing

Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-7398791-1-2

Hardback ISBN-13: 978-1-7398791-0-5

eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-7398791-2-9

Printed in the United Kingdom

All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author and/or publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The views expressed by the characters in this book are not the views of the author.

Cover design by Jacqueline Abromeit

For Jackie

Itinerary:

So it begins

An introduction

Summer morning

Chapter 1: Moon has a bad night

Chapter 2: Sun misses a friend and several meals

Chapter 3: More trouble for Moon

Chapter 4: Earth sleeps on and on and on…

Chapter 5: Advice from far away

Chapter 6: Sun at home

Chapter 7: Martian dream

Chapter 8: Adventures and friendship

Chapter 9: Friends, food and familiar things

Chapter 10: Bowls and practical jokes

Chapter 11: Partings

Summer afternoon

About the author

So it begins

Trouble; Ah! How it spreads, sticking to all it touches.

Its immediate family were gathered to see it leave, or more accurately, to make sure it was really going and not playing another painful practical joke. Unknown to it, a special Celebration Leaving party was being arranged for later that evening with just a few relatives and friends attending, a fine spread of food and plenty of bubbly drink.

Following established etiquette on these occasions, the father made an attempt at the usual farewell speech. He didn’t find this easy - there wasn’t much that was nice to say - and he stumbled awkwardly through his few formal words of parting:

"Well, my dear firstborn, it’s my pleasure … No, I should say, my solemn duty, to send you on your way and wish you well through the next few years wherever fate takes you and whoever you may meet.

Remember, if you can: be kind to others; kinder than you’ve been to your family. Value those who offer friendship. (At this point he might have added Sadly you haven’t valued any of us but he had no wish to be unkind).

"As to your return, you are well aware of our Rules. We look forward to seeing you once you mature into a responsible being. When (and if) you achieve this, I shall be pleased to invite you home. Do not return before then.

On behalf of us all, I wish you farewell."

The rest of the family drifted away expecting nothing more to interest them - and there was a feast to prepare.

It had stayed silent while its father made this rather cold speech. Whether or not it had taken any notice is uncertain – probably not - but now, with head on one side and a slight quivering of anticipation, it was listening for some new sound.

And that sound came. A loud scream from the family kitchen, then a great crash, more voices screaming and a strong smell of burning food.

Its mother, jostled by the two identical sisters, appeared, choking, at the kitchen doorway followed by clouds of smoke and steam. All three were red-faced but otherwise covered entirely in something that looked like hot, white custard, two were in tears, the mother furiously shaking a fist.

Just visible through the half open door, some thick substance was dripping slowly from the kitchen ceiling.

It giggled, tried to change this into a cough, failed and burst into uncontrollable squeaky laughter.

If that’s your doing, whatever it is, and another of your disgraceful pranks at your poor mother’s expense, then we shall all be glad to see you leave! Even one more night under my roof would be …

But its father’s words were wasted. The young trouble maker had vanished as is the magical way of its kind. Where had it gone? Don’t ask, just be grateful it hasn’t called at your house while you were out!

Or perhaps it has.

By way of footnote, you may like to know that the Celebration Leaving party went very well. The family’s relief at not having to worry about any more tricks being played on them quite made up for having to eat out and the father gave a warm and friendly speech that pleased and cheered everyone present, including himself.

It was, however, some long time before the kitchen was usable again and the decorators’ bills were substantial.

An Introduction

All great deeds start from little thoughts. So must we dream or adventures could never be.

Some time ago, I can’t recall quite when, there came into existence beings that, for convenience, we shall refer to as imps.

This was not their proper name which was a good deal longer and quite difficult to spell even in the language used in those times. But it will serve for the purposes of this (nearly true) little story in which one imp played a leading part, and on the way both taught and learned some valuable lessons on such varied subjects as the importance of being kind to others, looking where you are going when you travel and how to play a game of Bowls.

We think of imps today (if we think of them at all in these selfish times) as small troublesome creatures that are best avoided for fear of what they might do to us, like knotting our shoelaces together or pouring hot water on the cat.

This is only partly true; in their early lives they tend to be spiteful and fond of practical jokes of the meanest sort, choosing to attach themselves to individuals and to make their lives as miserable as possible.

In these cases, the individual is said to be imp ridden. The only cure being patience and the hourly application of a strong sense of humour.

Naturally this behaviour has got them a well-deserved bad press. However, many (but by no means all) imps eventually grow up to become quite decent citizens of the Universe and the most dependable of friends.

As to their appearance, imps vary in size according to the degree of trouble they are making at any one time. The more trouble, the smaller, which is unfortunate as a small imp is hard to locate and, if you are trying to find the source of your annoyances, you need a clear and substantial target to aim for.

Their colour varies. It is most often black but imps can change this to match their background and, for shape and detail, I can only say they have a lot in common with ants, but without so many legs and antennae. Although of course imps are a lot larger than even the biggest ant and ants have no ears, or if they do, their ears don’t stick out, so they may as well not have them at all.

So much for facts. I can add just one further piece of information:

It is rumoured that imps have an unusual - but not unique - way of raising their young:

Apparently, parent imps send their offspring out alone into the Universe when they become the equivalent of teenagers. Effectively they are abandoned and allowed (even sometimes encouraged) to misbehave in society for the next few decades and to do whatever impish things they choose in that time.

It’s also said they are allowed to return home only after they have matured past their period of impish nuisance. Whether or not this is so, I can’t say.

Now you know all I can tell of imps in general, for the story that follows concerns one particular imp which may or may not be typical of its kind.

The rest of the characters in this fairly (or nearly) accurate historical record will be well known to you as they are always around and about.

Although often ignored by us on a day-by-day basis, they exercise a surprising amount of control over our lives and it’s as well to respect them and their considerable powers at all times, not merely when we need their help.

Summer morning

In dreams or in waking, where does truth lie?

The sun’s warmth seemed to increase strongly; its light streamed through the leaves above her; she sat, then laid back in the deep orchard grass and half closed her eyes. Sounds of some family argument drifted in and out of hearing; it was comforting to lie here alone in the orchard; away from the others for a while at least.

One voice rose above the rest, demanding dominance - Jessica, of course - she always had to win.

Well, I want to stay here for the rest of the day and I’m going to, whatever the rest of you …

The words faded as if their speaker moved further away, or perhaps the wind was rising, nature taking over, pushing the intrusive alien noises back wherever they belonged, re-establishing the proper order; natural things first, last and always; sun, the glorious cherry trees, wind in their beautiful, shapely, dark green leaves, birdsong, insects – how they buzzed in the great masses of spring blossom!

A very round moon was riding high in a bright blue sky dotted and streaked with white clouds, the highest of them thin and drawn out as if by quick brush strokes indicating a brisk wind at that high level. Lower down little cauliflowers sailed sedately along, each one a surprisingly perfect portrayal of something. - Here an aged woman in an old-fashioned bonnet, there a whale being chased by a flock of sheep …

She closed her eyes, shutting out one sense to allow full appreciation of others: the rich flowery smell, wind sweeping across the grass, ever louder insect sounds. And, very quietly at first, voices again, but this time, unfamiliar.

She couldn’t make out what was being said but it didn’t matter – this was a conversation that melted into nature’s background, comfortingly accepting her presence and her right to be there.

Then words came more clearly and just a little louder as if from strong voices spoken a long way off.

It never seems right for Moon to be out on a sunny day. The two of them ought to stick to their proper times. Except of course when they eat cherries and cauliflowers before a Planetary Bowls match.

Somewhat astonished by such rubbish, and thinking her hearing might have let her down, she struggled against sleep, turning the words around in her mind and yet making ever less sense of them.

Now a different voice, higher, almost squeaky:

I shall be writing new rules soon, there has to be an end to players setting light to each other so often. Rule number one will ban poke bonnets and whales will have to keep sheep under control if they want to stay in the First Team.

She heard no more and, if the distant conversation continued that day, she did not remember it, for sleep places most dreams beyond waking reach (and we may all be glad of that). Yet every now and again in later years, she heard or thought she heard the same voices speaking of mystifying matters as if they wanted her to hear them and to understand.

Chapter 1

Moon has a bad night

For a picnic on Summer’s green riverbank, give me friends and Sun’s bright day but I had rather by far walk the starry night alone save for Moon to show my way. Then what adventures may follow!

It was the end of a glorious day: Sun had been in fine form, leaving her daughter, Earth - and everyone else within her long reach - warm, cheered and comforted.

Having painted the evening sky in soft pinks and greens, with nothing in the Universe to worry her, she was looking forward to dinner (followed by a little extra supper or two) before peaceful and well-earned sleep.

Moon on the other hand was just getting