Baby

All was peaceful at the farm. The spring lambs had merrily skipped their way into the barn at sunset and were snuggled with their woolly parents sleeping peacefully. The dogs were bedded down in soft hay next to the door, resting after a long day. In the little house past the little garden, Father was dozing by the fire while Mother finished her mending. Baby slept in her cradle.

Over the cradle was a little net of muslin from which hung a bell and a tiny sachet of pepper. Pepper was expensive here so far from the shipping lanes, but still a small price. Mother and Father had hoped and prayed and tried for many years before going to the witch.

Though they'd approached her with apprehension, the witch had been kind and welcoming. She had listened and advised with sympathy and in due course, along came Baby. But everyone knew that a baby born of magic would attract... things. The bell and pepper were no guarantee, but the witch said they could help. So there they were, despite the neighbor's teasing.

Baby slept like an angel. She never fussed, only sighing contentedly by the crackling fireplace. The clock that had come from the Old Country with Mother's grandmother peacefully wound down, quietly ticking down the seconds. Lulling the parents into a deep and restful sleep in their armchairs.

Deep in the woods in a small thatched cabin the witch sat up suddenly in her bed. "Well, that won't do at all." She said to no one in particular. She opened the loft window overlooking the herb garden. She sat on the sill, slowly swinging her arthritic legs outside.

In the little house past the little garden the fire burned low. Father's pipe and Mother's sewing dangled from their sleeping fingers. There was a quiet rustling from the lock. A clicking of tumblers as they were pushed out of the way by impatient hands. With some struggle, chubby Peaseblossom emerged from the keyhole with a grunt and a shower of pixie dust. Immediately after came the purple-haired Cowbell.

The pixies fluttered through the kitchen. Peaseblossom flew over the butter, feet dragging swirling patterns across the smooth, oily surface. Cowbell twirled in the curtains and tipped the fruit bowl onto the table.

Kitchen mischief achieved, they flitted and dove their way to the parlor. Peaseblossom tilted the pictures on the wall, debating knocking off the family portrait behind expensive glass before getting distracted and flying away. Cowbell lit on the mantle, turning around the little wooden bird Father had carved for Mother in the days when they were just Matthew and Flora.

Peaseblossom followed and the little invaders examined themselves in the precious mirror that had traveled by wagon all the way from the coast. They peeked around the edges at themselves, pulling faces and dancing joyously, laughing at their own antics. Caught up in the moment, they failed to mind the edge and both went tumbling into the ash-pail, too surprised to use their wings.

Cowbell laughed and threw a tiny handful of ashes at Peaseblossom, who responded in kind. Ash flew and littered the hearth until the pixies got bored. Flicking their wings, they shook themselves clean and ventured from the hearth.

Cowbell tousled Father's hair, tying knots in the thick curls. Peaseblossom diligently picked stitches out of Mother's mending.

There was a shifting in the cradle, followed by a contented little sigh. The pixies' heads snapped around. They sniffed the air and caught one another's eyes with their lips peeled back to reveal sharp-toothed grins.

The pixies crept theatrically from their perches and over to the cradle. They hovered on silent wings to peek over the edge.

"Ooh!" said Peaseblossom.

"Aah!" said Cowbell.

The purple-haired pixie, entranced, stretched a clawed hand toward Baby. Peaseblossom snatched it by the wrist just before it touched the muslin. "Tsk!"

Father stirred and Cowbell hissed. "Shh!"

The pixies darted under the cradle while Father settled back in his chair. After a tense moment, they peered cautiously at the parents before once again hovering next to the sleeping infant.

They looked at Baby. They looked at Mother. They looked at Father. They looked at each other and nodded.

Peaseblossom extended a single clawed finger and stuck the tip into the muslin mesh. Slowly, carefully, the claw was pulled down, cutting the fabric in a line. After interminable seconds, the bottom of the net was reached.

Cowbell gently pulled the edges of the slit apart and the pixies slipped inside. They stood on either side, watching the slow rise and fall of Baby's chest, gazing hungrily at her little face. Cowbell extended a hand again, reaching toward the little angel.

There was a tap on wood and the pixie's hand stopped, hovering claw just touching the silky eyelash. The pixies turned to see a barn owl watching them around the greased paper covering the window. It clicked its beak at them as it struggled to get through the covering without breaking it.

They should leave. They knew they should leave. But, the Baby.

It would only take a moment. They reached again, eyes wide and drool dripping from their pointed teeth. This time, the owl shrieked. Peaseblossom jumped, hitting the bell and showering Baby with pepper.

Mother and Father began to wake, but the pixies didn't move. They were frozen in horror as the sleeping face scrunched and contorted.

Baby sneezed.

Cowbell and Peaseblossom went flying back through the hole in the muslin, tumbling across the rough plank floor. They barely had time to collect themselves before Mother and Father rose to check on Baby, squeezing through the keyhole and into the waiting talons of the barn owl who first ate chubby Peaseblossom and then purple-haired Cowbell before flying away.

The next day, while Father tended the sheep, Mother took Baby to visit the witch with a bucket of early peas. She was sitting in a rocking chair on her porch, looking a bit poorly, but reaching for Baby. Child safely deposited in the old lady's lap; Mother went to the tiny kitchen for two big bowls. She sat on the porch step and shelled peas while the witch cooed at the little one, occasionally pressing her fist to her own chest.

Concerned, Mother put down the pea she was working on and stood next to the woman. "Are you alright?"

The witch tapped her chest with her fist again and burped hugely. She smiled. "Yes dear. It's only indigestion. Something I ate last night disagreed with me."