1 Tales Of The Neworld - Written By Stephanie Poppins

Tales of the Neworld is a fantasy series written by English author Stephanie Poppins. In this episode, the Meadow Masters desperately try to find one of the Meadow folk who has been missing in the treacherous Far Lands since dawn.

Tales of the Neworld are heartwarming short stories set in a natural haven and are suitable for all ages.

Transcript

Tales of the New World by S.

D.

Hudson This audiobook is read by the author.

Held to Ransom Chapter 1 Jeremiah was having a bad morning.

The twenty-first day of the summer setting had begun just like any other.

The trees were still green,

The grass was still soft,

And the meadow folk were still busy.

But the pigtailed hopsi was missing.

She should have been weaving silk ribbons outside her home,

But she was nowhere to be seen.

He'd asked the cockatrice,

But she'd seen nothing.

He'd asked the trufflepog,

But he'd smelt nothing.

So what exactly had happened?

He scratched his nose and tugged at his long whiskers.

The hopsi was so small and the farland so perilous.

She wouldn't have gone there,

Would she?

His pocket watch was getting warmer.

Before long it would be glowing.

There was nothing else for it.

He'd have to ask the golden-haired sassny.

Being the biggest gossip of all,

She was bound to have heard something.

But to Jeremiah's amazement,

The golden-haired sassny had heard nothing at all.

Oh,

Jeremiah,

She chuckled.

It's been so long since I clapped eyes on her.

I wouldn't recognise her if she fell on me.

But Jeremiah was far from convinced.

And that's all you've got to say on the matter?

I mean,

You being neighbours and all?

Well,

I can't be watching everything she does.

I'm hardly her blooming keeper now,

Am I?

The sassny bustled about with the washing,

And every one of her thick curls bounced in agreement.

I suppose not,

Jeremiah replied.

Only,

I would usually be of the mind to be thinking otherwise.

You had a falling out,

I suppose.

That's the last thing we've had.

I just haven't had much time lately,

What with the summer setting and all.

It's all just got a bit on top of me.

The sassny pushed her two front clothes across her weather-worn face,

And as her china-blue eyes met his,

Jeremiah was surprised to see they were filled with watery regret.

She had spent far too much time gossiping to notice her friend was gone.

You will find her,

Though,

Won't you?

She pleaded.

She wouldn't leave for anything else but silk,

Of that I'm certain.

Fear not,

Jeremiah soothed.

She'll be back with us by sundown.

Relieved,

The sassny gushed.

Oh,

Jeremiah,

You're a gentleman and a scholar,

No doubt,

And it won't go unnoticed,

Either,

With the wise one.

But being a humble fellow,

Jeremiah considered this one step too far.

If everything I did was because of that,

I'd be doing it for the wrong reasons now,

Wouldn't I?

He turned to leave,

But his frustration was water off a duck's back to the golden-haired sassny.

Hmm,

Suppose you're right,

She replied.

I'll be seeing you later,

Then.

You can depend upon it,

Jeremiah answered.

He checked his fault watch,

Then tucked it back into the breast pocket of his leather armour.

He must go to the land of spring.

There was nothing else for it.

Chapter Two As quickly as he could,

Jeremiah headed to the Grand Orb.

He knew exactly where he was going,

And he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

He hated going to the Far Lands.

Those sandy tunnels always irritated his sensitive skin.

But he had no choice.

The Hopsi was alone,

And she wasn't safe.

He entered,

Pleased to see Daisy waiting for him.

Good,

She'd heard.

And she'd brought the key.

Excellent.

He couldn't get very far without that.

It had been forged specifically for the protection of the meadow,

And was the only thing that could get him into the spring tunnel.

She placed the key in the lock,

And all at once the studded frame lit up.

Thank you kindly,

Said Jeremiah,

As the heavy door swung open.

He dashed down the illuminated tunnel as fast as his heavy clues could carry him,

His long leather cloak billowing in his wake.

It would be a long journey,

But he was land folk,

So he had no choice but to walk.

As the pastel sun hit its highest point in the sky,

Jeremiah arrived.

He headed straight for the silk fields in the Thregna Moors.

They had been combed into straight lines for silk production.

This was where the gastrumite worms did their best work.

There was no finer silk than that made upon the Thregna Moors.

He scanned the silk acreage,

Then quite by chance he spotted a hollow above.

It had been sculpted out of the scrubland,

And covered with old branches.

There was a large oaken door wedged into it.

The culprit would be in there,

He was sure of it,

So he dashed over,

His clues barely touching the ground,

And burst through the door unannounced.

Old Mother Cramel glared at him through veiled eyes,

Her grey feathers protruding playfully around her hard grey beak.

Good day to you,

Mother,

Jeremiah began.

It'd be a long journey I had,

And I'd be welcoming a little sustenance if it ain't too much trouble now.

As the daylight shrank back behind his huge frame,

The Cramel made to rise.

Then,

Thinking better of it,

She removed her clues from the arms of her chair,

And returned them to her lap.

Tamiel,

She screeched,

In you come.

The line had been drawn,

But this meant nothing to Jeremiah.

He was the master at arms after all,

And lines drawn by other folks didn't apply to him.

So,

In a stalemate they remained,

Until Tamiel floated in with an old wooden tray.

But instead of handing it to Jeremiah,

She stopped dead in her tracks.

She'd caught him on his best side and was overcome.

You OK?

He soothed in his deep husky voice.

But this was all too much for Tamiel.

She dropped the tray and fled,

Her cheeks stained with embarrassment.

Jeremiah picked up the hot sandwich and looked around.

The room was comfortably furnished in what we in the old world called a Victorian style,

With heavy drapes and thick flocked cushions.

In the far wall,

A curved staircase branched off to a place you could sleep.

It was very grand for such a humble neighbourhood,

And Jeremiah began to wonder how a lazy Craymore had managed such good fortune,

For everybody knows good fortune sits hand in hand with hard work.

This be a comfortable set-up you've got here,

Mother,

He quipped.

You've done well for yourself,

I expect.

You'd be expecting right,

Mother Craymore replied.

She was not in the mood for interrogation,

And the presence of a master was making her far less comfortable than she usually was in her high,

Winged back chair.

Well now,

I'm in these parts to find the Hopsi,

Jeremiah continued.

We'll be needing her back for nightfall,

And I've a feeling you'll be knowing something about this,

Am I right?

He lifted his chin to dust the crumbs settling on his waistcoat,

And the light from the kitchen caught the sharp tips of his long ivory tusks,

But Mother Craymore was much more interested in her roasted truffles and cinnamon wine.

I've heard no such word,

Jeremiah,

And quite frankly,

I resent the implication.

If this was a test,

She was determined to pass,

But her thin cloth cap was doing little to disguise the defiance dancing in her eyes.

I see.

Jeremiah opened his large black nostrils and inhaled deeply.

Then he exhaled,

And a pale blue glow infused every strand of his thick brown fur.

I'll be seeing you later,

Then.

Thank you kindly for the sustenance.

And to Mother Craymore's complete surprise,

He turned on his heel and left,

Taking any remnants of good humour with him.

Chapter Three I knew he was bluffing,

Were the first words out of Tamiel's beak once the coast was clear,

But old Mother Craymore was a wiry sort,

And she knew nothing could be as simple as all that.

Lock the door.

She jumped up and dragged the curtains across the small window behind her.

The last thing she wanted was for Jeremiah to get any ideas.

Then,

Checking this way and that,

She watched as Tamiel dragged the large red rug away from a metal ring set deep into the timber boards beneath them.

Make sure you cover it back up when I've left,

She snapped.

I don't want that busybody seeing anything.

But old Mother Craymore had underestimated Jeremiah's heightened sense of touch.

It is so powerful,

He would easily have felt the ridge of the trapdoor when he stood heavy on the thick burgundy wall.

Outside,

Jeremiah made his way through the tussocks of pink heather,

Growing thick and high on the hills around.

He had to find the perfect spot to spy on her.

Satisfied at last,

He settled down to think.

He couldn't understand it.

Why was the Hopsi wasting her precious time here?

She was supposed to be back at the meadow weaving healing ribbons,

So what was she doing?

The silk threads had only just been delivered,

So it couldn't be that.

And why was old Mother Craymore preventing her from coming home?

The Hopsi would never do anything to compromise the well-being of the meadow.

He was sure of that.

Old Mother Craymore was up to something,

And he was about to find out just what.

He looked around.

His position was perfect.

He had a clear view of the end of the tunnel that ran from the Craymore's house down to the silk fields.

That Mother will be fixing to move real soon,

He said to himself.

And when she does,

I'll be ready to catch her red-handed.

And sure enough,

It wasn't long before Old Mother Craymore emerged from the tunnel's end,

Carrying what looked like an old sack.

She checked this way and that as to who could be a listening and who could be a watching.

Then she hobbled clumsily along,

Making sure to hitch up her skirts so her thick grey plumage had the space to swish side to side and not get caught under her soft rubbery clothes.

This made her so flustered,

She didn't see the bunny lying in wait.

And what might you be rightly doing?

Jeremiah's deep bellow made her jump out of her skin.

Nothing?

Mother Craymore lied.

But in her haste,

She lost grip of the sack she was carrying.

What in the far lands?

Jeremiah screamed as the hopsy rolled onto the ground in front of him.

How dare you!

Well,

I don't see what business it is of yours,

Mother Craymore snapped back.

This is the land of spring,

Is it not?

And you are but a master of the land of summer.

Jeremiah couldn't believe it.

Even now the Craymore was arguing the toss.

Wee master's been concerned with all that's happening in the meadow,

He spat.

And this here problem,

Well,

That belongs to the meadow now,

Don't it?

Well,

If the hopsy's such a problem,

Spat Mother Craymore back,

I'll be happy to take her off your hands.

Jeremiah did his best to withdraw the sharp blue sparks piercing the back of his eyes.

He had to control his rage,

But it was building up and it needed to be released.

The one true word,

Jeremiah,

Always be remembering the one true word.

He could just hear the wise one's words now,

But this was easier said than done.

He turned away sharply.

As long as he didn't look at the hopsy,

He'd remain in control.

But she's so weak,

And what little energy she has left is being drained by the gastromite worms.

No,

He must focus.

What do you want him with a hopsy,

Anyhow?

He asked.

I think you'll find she's the one I'm wanting,

Mother Craymore insisted.

Jeremiah couldn't believe the arrogance of it.

Something tells me that ain't quite the case now,

Mother,

And I ain't come all this way for a pack of lies.

He took a huge step forwards,

And the pale feathers on the Craymore's neck turned paler still.

It's the silk,

Jeremiah,

The silk.

She wants more of it.

Well,

If she wants more of it,

She has to trade for it,

Doesn't she?

Trade for it,

How?

With herself?

Are you playing?

Lightning sparks shot from the bunyip's claws,

And his eyes began to glow.

Now,

Now,

Insisted Mother Craymore.

It's not like that.

Then you just tell me what it is like,

Jeremiah hissed.

The hopsy's small,

She's vulnerable,

And you are taking advantage.

Well,

She agreed,

And we have a deal,

Said the Craymore.

Agreed what?

To donate her energy.

She needs more silk,

And the gastromite worms are happy to provide it.

While she sleeps,

Her energy will help them work.

Then she can have as much silk as she wants,

And weave her precious ribbons to her heart's content.

Donate?

No,

This ain't no donation,

Jeremiah insisted.

The hopsy's been hoodwinked good and proper.

You've made her do this more than once.

She ain't become this weak for nothing.

There be something wrong with that silk you gave her in the first place,

And that's on you.

You're obviously not looking after the worms like you're supposed to.

He stepped in,

Closer still.

This is a bad business,

Mother,

And something I would have thought was beneath you.

If you need metal magic to make the crops grow faster,

There be something wrong with the crops and you as being the one who needs to fix it.

Well,

She was happy to help,

So who was I to say no?

Mother Craymore replied.

Jeremiah looked back at the hopsy.

She was fast asleep,

And her thin wings were limp and lifeless.

Then he realised.

She had been given a sleeping draught,

So she couldn't object even if she wanted to.

Outrageous!

He screamed,

Fighting all temptation to launch the Craymore across the field.

He would have to get the hopsy back to the meadow as soon as possible,

But even then it might take many days for her to recover.

What on earth were you thinking?

It's just greed,

Plain and simple.

My greed or hers?

At this,

Jeremiah laughed,

A huge belly laugh that shook the ground they stood upon.

Then,

Leaving a pregnant pause to be assured of as huge an impact as possible,

He replied.

Try as you might,

Mother,

You won't be riling me.

Now step aside,

Afore I do something you'll regret.

But old Mother Craymore had spent far too much time away from the company of others,

Consumed with her own selfish thoughts and desires.

According to her,

It was perfectly acceptable to put her wants first,

No matter what the sacrifice.

She was stubborn,

And had no intention of giving in that easily.

So she decided there and then,

To make a run for it.

Usually,

Jeremiah would have found this very amusing.

After all,

Craymores aren't built for speed.

Not being able to fly more than a metre or so,

Means they end up in a heap with far fewer feathers than they started off with.

But Jeremiah was beyond joking around.

His closest friend had been taken advantage of and he was in no mood for games.

Give it up now,

Mother,

For you make a fool of yourself,

He hissed.

But old Mother Craymore had no intention of giving up.

Being as lazy as she was,

She didn't understand the training Jeremiah had gone through.

She had no idea just how powerful he,

A new world master,

Really was.

So Jeremiah waited and watched,

As she waddled and hopped,

Hopped and waddled across the field to the path on the other side.

Now it was time for action.

He closed his eyes and joined his middle digits with his thumbs.

Two,

Three,

Four.

He filled his lungs with new world air and held it for just a second before letting it go.

Four,

Three,

Two,

One.

All at once,

Bright light energy shot up from his cloves into his chest and his eyes dazzled like the diamonds in the autumn mines.

With the power of Bedji,

He declared.

Boom,

The air lit up with flames the colour of cobalt blue.

Have mercy,

The Craymore cried,

But Jeremiah had no mercy to give.

Bit late for that now,

Ain't it?

An arc of flames hung over the Craymore in a kind of voltaic barrier and she shot into the air like a cannonball.

Shring!

Make it stop,

She begged,

Please make it stop.

But Jeremiah wasn't listening.

Don't fight it,

He called,

Enjoy the ride.

He bellowed with laughter as Old Mother Craymore flapped around like a broken parachute.

Let go and accept the one true word,

He yelled.

Kindness above all else,

Remember?

But Old Mother Craymore had not the slightest intention of letting go,

Let alone practising the one true word.

So,

With a flick of his wrist,

Jeremiah spun her round and round,

Making her rise higher still.

Then all at once he let her go and she dropped like a boulder into a pile of steaming wallugus dung.

Squelch!

Ah,

She screamed in disgust,

Her fat legs shaking,

Her long neck shuddering like the tremors in the great beyond.

Tastes good,

Don't it?

Jeremiah beamed.

He shot across the field to where she lay and Mother Craymore buried her head into her wings so she could spit out the thick brown clumps of muck without him seeing.

She was trying her best not to be sick.

She didn't want to give Jeremiah the satisfaction.

There'll be no escaping what's right,

Jeremiah insisted.

Justice is now served.

Every field was drenched in his bright light energy and as the gastromite worms darted backwards and forwards,

Their cocoons burst open with the finest silk fibres they had ever produced.

Jeremiah dashed back to where the frail Hopsi lay.

It'll be okay now,

Don't you be worrying none.

We're going home now.

You're safe with me,

Little one,

He said as he lifted her slight frame from the soil.

The Hopsi opened her eyes at the sound of his voice.

It's you,

She whispered.

Her voice was as soft as her white pigtails,

Which lay like fine silk ribbons upon his sensitive arms.

And as the splashes of pink in her pale eyes lit up Jeremiah's troubled face,

He felt the grip around his chest ease a little.

Yeah,

It's me.

You can always count on me.

Each letter was coloured with expectation,

Each word with intentions unspoken.

For what business did a meadow master have with such thoughts?

Watching them through the gap in her feathers,

Old Mother Craymore now understood the well-being of the meadow wasn't Jeremiah's only driving force that day.

And so,

In the days to come,

The rotten silk was replaced by fresh silk threads and the gastromite worms were cared for as they should have been in the first place.

The Hopsi,

Meanwhile,

Was told to rest.

The healing ribbons wouldn't be the same,

Of course.

No one could weave healing ribbons like the Hopsi.

But Jeremiah had left strict instructions and no one wanted to question Jeremiah.

As for old Mother Craymore,

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

If a job is to be done,

It is to be done well,

Especially if it is for the meadow.

For when all is said and done,

The meadow keeps the whole of the New World healthy and nothing is more important than the health of the world we live in,

Now is it?

The End

Reviews

What an amazing world you've created! You are a master (mistress) story-teller. Thank you so much!

So professionally produced and narrated by a master wordweaver and weaver of worlds - deserving of a wide audience 👏👏👏bravo Steph

Magical and awesome and amazing and fun and special and spectacular! I love it!