Another thingy I doodled out. Tee hee, I are a naughty person.
*****
Inspiration
By Kim McFarland
It was a warm summer day in Fraggle Rock. The weather was not remarkable, as there was no weather to speak of in caves, but if there had been it would have been mild and sunny. It was the kind of day when one could swim, play, run around, frolic, eat, and nap at random and have a great time.
That was just what Red Fraggle had been doing. Her job was to splash around in the swimming hole in the Great Hall to keep the water circulating, and occasionally to clean out plants when they started clogging the water flow. Today she had been running around, playing games, and cannonballing into the water hard enough to splash everyone nearby. As Fraggles did not mind being wet, this was considered amusing rather than antisocial.
Gobo and Boober were another matter. Boober had spent all day washing and scrubbing everyone else's laundry. He was an odd guy; he considered such drudgery fun. Well, to each his own, Red thought, and refrained from splashing too much when he was crossing the hall. He took pride in delivering clean laundry, and getting it wet would only rile him. Gobo was spending quality time with his maps, probably planning another exploration. She'd hear all about it soon enough.
Mokey had gone off to search for artistic inspiration, and Wembley had gone to help her look. Wembley did not share Mokey's talents, but he was always an appreciative audience. If Mokey needed a sounding board, Wembley was the Fraggle for the job.
**
Red finished her underwater inspection of the pool, counting the time she stayed underwater—twelve rockbeetles!—and swam to the side. Mokey was there, notebook in hand. Wembley was with her. Red said as she climbed out, "Hi, Mokey! Did you find your inspiration?"
"Oh, yes," Mokey gushed. "I wrote a new poem."
"Let's hear it! Lemme get Gobo and Boober," Red said. They hadn't been gone that long, so she couldn't have penned one of her epic poems, the ones that only Boober would actually ask to hear a second time. Mokey's short poems, on the other hand, were really good. She hustled first to Gobo and Wembley's room, then to Boober's cave. When she came back Mokey was perched on a rock arch, notebook pen in her lap, ready for her recitation. Wembley was sitting beside her, reading what she had written, his lips moving silently.
Gobo said, "What's your poem about, Mokey?"
"It's not too exciting, is it?" Boober asked uneasily.
"It's nothing you can't handle, Boober," Mokey said with a smile. "I call it The Rush."
Red wondered if it was about a race. That would be great! "Go on, Mokey."
Mokey cleared her throat and sat up straight. "The Rush, by Mokey Fraggle.
"Through the cave we walk,
Together, hands touching,
Water wetting our feet.
The stream deepens, calls to us, carries us with it."
Ah, a philosophical poem, Boober thought, listening raptly.
"We run with the water,
Together, hands touching.
We flow with the water,
As it deepens and speeds,
Splashing and eddying, wetting our hands."
Gobo thought, Ah, they must have gone swimming.
"We swim in the water,
The current carrying us, buoying us, tumbling us,
Together, hands touching.
We reach the waterfall and fly over the edge into space,
Together, hands touching,
Into the air, floating for a shining moment."
Red grinned. This sounded like one of her dives!
"We plunge into the water,
Surrounding us, warm and cool,
Soothing and exhilarating, life giving.
The water cradles us as we float
Together, hands touching."
She finished and looked around with a smile, clearly pleased with herself. Red said, "That was great, Mokey!"
Wembley said, "Yeah, it was. She wrote that all at once, too."
"It just came to me," Mokey said, and giggled. Wembley giggled too.
"Sounds like you had a great swim," Gobo said.
Mokey smiled and said, "I'm going to go get a snack. All that poetry worked up an appetite."
"Yeah, me too."
Mokey put her notebook in the pocket of her robelike sweater and went off toward the pantry. Red said, "Wow, I can't believe that Mokey finally wrote a poem about swimming!"
"Did she?" Boober asked.
Gobo said, "What do you mean? Weren't you paying attention?"
Boober lifted his laundry basket. "Did you notice that they're both dry?" he said with a hint of amusement.
*****
Fraggle Rock and all characters therein is copyright © The Jim Henson Company, and is used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
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