Not So Scary
                             by Fiona Seckari
                       ...who, or what, is, or are, 
                      Pedwicks and Pedweenas?...

    Pedwick sighed deeply as he curled up beneath the old Oak
tree on a comfy tufet of grass. Today had not been good day
for him, not good at all. A horse had stomped on his tail,
the milk-maid had thrown  her pail on him, and a little boy
had screamed and cried “Help, Goblin!” when he had tried
to make friends with him. Pedwick wasn’t exactly sure
what a “Goblin,” was, but he was quite sure that he was not
one of them. Pedwick was friendly, and Goblins must be
scary because the little boy had screamed when he thought
that Pedwick was one. No, Pedwick was not a goblin at all.
	But then what was Pedwick? He knew he wasn’t
something for horses to walk on, or for milk pails to land
on, and he was positive he wasn’t a Goblin. So what was
poor little Pedwick? With an even deeper and heavier sigh
than before, Pedwick dutifully lifted himself off of his
comfy nesting spot beneath the great old Oak.
 	Trudging wearily through the forest away from the
town and all the two-leggers in it, Pedwick spoke wearily to
himself. “What is Pedwick? Pedwick know me no Goblin.
What is Pedwick?” After a time Pedwick came to a clear
and glistening pool, and for the first time in weeks he
caught his reflection glinting up at him. 
	He had greenish colored skin, and a small round face
with a nose like a cat and a wide mouth that usually smiled,
but was now dropping low in a frown. Inside his mouth
were assorted sizes and shapes of teeth, the tips of two 
sharp fangs poked out slightly over his lower lip. Above his
nose and mouth perched two eyes that were to big and to
close together, and his ears were long and pointed and
stuck straight out to the sides. He was short of stature and
stood on two legs but very easily walked on all fours, as he
had just been doing, and his hands and feet were large as if
he should have continued growing. From his lower back
sprouted a long thin tail with a sphere on the end.
    	Pedwick blinked at his reflection, “Is you a Pedwick?”
he asked the clear pool. “Is you another Pedwick?” 
	His reflection blinked back.
	Hope sprang into the small creatures heart, perhaps
this was another Pedwick, one he could be friends with!
The horse did not want to be friends, he wanted to clip-clop
right on poor Pedwick, the pretty milk lady did not want to
be friends, she had thrown her pail at poor Pedwick, and
the little boy definitely did not want to be friends, he cried
and screamed at the sight of poor Pedwick, but maybe this
was another Pedwick. A Pedwick who wanted to be friends
and romp through the forest on all fours, a Pedwick who
liked to eat slugs and leaves and yummy mushrooms for
dessert, a friend for Pedwick. 
	Pedwick’s little heart skipped a beat, he was so
excited. Without another thought Pedwick jumped headfirst
into the water, meaning to give the other Pedwick a big
hug.
	Alas, poor Pedwick could not swim. He sank,
splashing and gurgling like a drunk fish who had eaten a
boulder to the bottom of the pool. Water filled Pedwick’s
lungs, forcing out all the air. His lungs and eyes burned for
air, and he inhaled a deep and filling breath, filling his
lungs not with air, but with water. Pedwick’s long and sad
life flashed before his to large and to close together eyes.
He saw his Mommy Pedwick and his Daddy Pedwick, he
saw himself as a small Pedwick romping in the green
meadow and eating yummy laurel. Then he was not much
bigger as he hid in the brush and watched the two tall
two-leggers carry away his Mommy and Daddy Pedwicks in
cages while they howled and cried. Finally he saw himself
moments before as he had been for years, lonely and
friendless. A poor Pedwick. 
	Pedwick saw no more, as he thrashed at the bottom of
the lake he kicked up stinging sand and sharp rocks that
knocked him soundly in his eyes, and he let go of
consciousness, for what he thought was for good.
	But Pedwick was wrong, although he did see nothing
at all for quite sometime, he felt and smelt and tasted and
heard. He felt soft arms envelop him and hoist him from the
water and smelt a sweet sent of cinnamon and daisies. For
many days he tasted a bittersweet blend of honey and an
unnamable type of nut, and he heard the gentle beating of
wings and soft singing lull him to sleep. 
	Then, on the very first day of fall when all the trees
burst into the brightest hues of reds, golds, and oranges,
and wore their leaves like the finest robes of the noblest
kings, Pedwick opened his eyes and saw a sight more
beautiful to him then all the oranges and golds and reds of
the world. He saw a lady Pedwick.
	She was the very likeness of himself, accept she was
more slender and shorter even than Pedwick with a longer
tail and two gossamer wings attached to her shoulder
blades. She wiggled her cat nose and flicked her tail at
Pedwick as her even larger eyes twinkled at him. 
	She curled her smiling mouth into speech, “Pedweena
been looking for a Pedwick. Yes me has! An’ what
Pedweena find, an’ after so very long? Pedweena find a
Pedwick all to herself, a splashin’ an’ thrashin’ in a pond!”
With that she threw herself at Pedwick with a lust only
matched by her tail’s force as she wrapped it firmly around
Pedwick’s ankles making it impossible for him to escape.
	Needless to say, Pedwick was in love, and not nearly
as poor as he used to be.