《A Spoonfull of Sugar》 Prologue A young woman wandered through Ludgate park. The wind was blowing nicely, but some unscrupulous clouds were wandering in. Thinking better of it, she took the way back early. She strolled through the quaint lanes in that area. Everyone knew it was a fine way to take advantage of the rest of a cloudy day. It was the second Tuesday of the month and so she stumbled upon the friendly Matchbox Man. She did not want to buy a rasher of matches, although that day he did have them for sale. And he would be happy to sell them to anyone. But this woman was quite lucky, because she could have found him singing, or fiddling, or painting if the day was fine. But instead he was doing all three with his cheery fiddle and his baritone voice. ¡°The lamplight flickers on cobbled stone, Through streets where shadows walk alone. The fog rolls in, thick as a sigh, Hiding dreams that long passed by. I whistle tunes that no one hears, Dancing through a world of fears. Oh, the night holds secrets tight, As I chase the stars, out of sight.¡± The cheerful man danced on the sidewalk singing a sad song. He was busking for spare change on his fiddle and a fair number of passers by had stopped to listen to him sing, play his forlorn fiddle, and they had watched him paint. For he was a screever. He had already painted three landscapes with golden ornate frames within a couple hours. The young woman stared blatantly at them, as if she might see someone walk by a window in the English countryside. ¡°Through fog and cobblestones I roam, A city lost, but still my home. Magic whispers in the air, But darkness lingers everywhere. The streets may glow with mystery, But the night, it don¡¯t sing back to me. No, the night, it don¡¯t sing back to me.¡± He paused in his playing to dabble a little more on his painting. He was using the bow, with a small attachment he had designed himself to hold the oil pastel. It was a sunny day in the painting and flowers practically jumped for joy in the blue sky. It was a shockingly happy picture, rebelling against the gray gloomy weather on the lane. The lookers on gossiped that he must have traveled the world. They called him a vagabond. For how else could he have found such a magical place without leaving London? ¡°I sweep the streets of memories, Of joy and pain, of long-lost dreams. The city hums a mournful tune, Underneath a ghostly moon. Beneath the bridges, whispers call, The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. In alleyways where shadows fall. Yet I stand, a lonely soul, Where the midnight winds do blow.¡± He paused before the chorus to change out the oil pastel on his clip to a brilliant green. Gently placing the blue he had been using back into a canvas case where all its brothers were resting soundly. ¡°Through fog and cobblestones I roam, A city lost, but still my home. Magic whispers in the air, But darkness lingers everywhere. The streets may glow with mystery, But the night, it don¡¯t sing back to me. No, the night, it don¡¯t sing back to me.¡± The wind began to blow harder and the paintings waited patiently as the man was carried away by his song and fiddle. ¡°There¡¯s beauty in the broken skies, In every tear the city cries. But even magic¡¯s wearin¡¯ thin, When the cold starts creepin¡¯ in.¡± The weather was threatening to sour and an older couple looked up at the clouds darkening. They tossed a couple coins into the man¡¯s hat before hurrying off under their umbrellas. The rain fell in a couple tentative drops. The painter nodded as the last people left, rain falling in light pixie kisses and chasing them away. Looks like we¡¯ve made up our mind eh? Don¡¯t cry for my sad song you silly sky! He packed up his oil-pastels and stowed them in his sack before going back to his song. He hummed the tune to himself quietly as he put away the fiddle. His hand brushed against something sharp in the bag and he reflexively snatched his hand back. ¡°Now do you go acting up again.¡± He chided, suddenly very stern. He ignored the smudges on his hand and sucked on his finger to draw some blood. ¡°I don¡¯t need any more trouble from you.¡± He glared around but caught himself. Now Bert, ye can¡¯t let things like that get ye down or ye¡¯d be sad all day. Smiling, he picked up his sketchbook and secured it in his bag. ¡°Safe from the rain ye all are.¡± He says warmly to his belongings. Then he sang the rest of the song. ¡°Through fog and cobblestones I roam, A city lost, but still my home. Magic whispers in the air, But darkness lingers everywhere.¡± The rain was coming down with purpose now, and Bert cut through Ludgate park with his bag over his head to fend off the rain. My clothes needed a rinse anyways. Saved me a penny this weather has. He stoped in a gazebo and watched a few folks run by, caught out in the rain. One of them, a young woman with a perambulator hurried past the gazebo. ¡°Miss, ye mig¡¯t wait out the wet in ¡®ere-¡° he offered as she flew past without stopping. Bert counted the coins in his hat. Came up short on a short day. More coins than the patches in my shoes. Nothing too bad about that. Insert a scene where an adult Bert is talking to children while painting with pastels on an easel in the park. Two young boys storm into the gazebo from the south, laughing and gasping. ¡°Phil you are positively soaked. Mistress will be furious with you!¡± One boy shouted. ¡°You are just as wet as I am, dear brother!¡± Phillip retorted, yet his smile never left his eyes. Good kids. This city can make good kids nowadays. Phillip spotted Bert standing there across from them in the gloom. ¡°Cuthbert! It¡¯s the Matchbox Man.¡± He said, his eyes as big as saucers. Cuthbert squeaked and jumped when he saw the soggy rough figure standing there. ¡°Evenin¡¯ gents, pay me no mind. I¡¯ve enoug¡¯ coin today I won¡¯t be selling any matchboxes, no¡¯ in t¡¯is rain.¡± Bert said turning. ¡°I woul¡¯ give ya a story if ya¡¯s care to listen?¡± Bert said and waggled his eyebrows. ¡°It¡¯s a story abou¡¯ magic and darker days. When I was a lad, ¡®bou t¡¯yer age I¡¯d wager, and when the Matchbox Man was as dangerous as anyone you¡¯d fin¡¯ on these fa¡¯r London streets.¡± The two boys were set to run, and that¡¯s appropriate when you are alone with a matchbox man. But Burt won them over with a smile. ¡°The story t¡¯is free o¡¯charge. And it¡¯s better¡¯n a finga¡¯ in e¡¯ eye. Only you¡¯ ll need to listen until the end.¡± Bert said. ¡°How long will this story be?¡± Cuthbert asked. ¡°Our mistress is expecting us for supper.¡± ¡°Ye will make it back. The story will last as long as this rain. If you want a promise I¡¯d give it to you. Believe you me.¡± Bert said. They are good lads and will hear the story. The two boys sat down out of the rain and Bert brought out a little pine pitch lantern in a tin and lit a match to it. ¡°It was a windy day, like today, but without the rain. That was the first time I saw something magic. I¡¯d thought I¡¯d cracked my loaf, ¡®cept my friends Tim and Jimmy saw it too. We was all there when we met Marry Poppins, and we was all there when we met the Matchbox Man.¡± Bert said, his face took on sharp angles in the flickering light of his tin lamp. They will hear the story to the end. They are good lads. Chapter 1 - Ludgate Park - Chapter 1 - Ludgate Park, London. 1881 Being an orphan, in London wasn¡¯t nice. It was a loud, cold, moldy, muddy city covered with filth. It was Dangerous to walk about in poor shoes on a good day. Homeless people lived in every alley, they begged for change, or got day work in work yards. They all huddled together for warmth at night. And there were rats. Big rats from deep in the sewers. Smart rats that would stare at you until you got up and ran away. They were a constant menace to restaurateurs, and warehouses. They were known to gnaw on you in your sleep up there in the alleys. London was a beast, and it still is, but nowadays it¡¯s more civilized. There are fewer dark corners for the monsters and magic to hide. But there were places to go, safe places for orphan boys of a certain age. Ludgate Park looked the same then as it did now. A group of boys could shoot marbles or throw jacks on fine days¡­ - Albert, Tim, and Jimmy were playing in the park. They were shooting marbles because it was a fine day. They only had 5 marbles but that was a fortune to them. Jimmy was winning but he was known to cheat, and Albert and Tim let him win since he was a poor loser. ¡°Hah ha!¡± Jimmy cheered. ¡°I win again!¡± ¡°Yeah yeah. Set them up again.¡± Bert said coolly. The three boys played in the shade of the park¡¯s central square. Near one of the statues the park was home to. ¡°Oh how wonderful.¡± A portly boy cheered as he and his governess passed close to the game. The boy was dressed like a private school kid, that went to live in a boarding house. He had stark black hair parted down the middle like an old man. He practically marched in front of the stern looking governess. He was carrying a basket with a loaf of bread, a fist of cheese and some apples. And he was carrying three large schoolbooks. Here to have a picnic eh? ¡°Free lunch walking boys.¡± Jimmy said quietly. ¡°Look Look! They are playing Marbles! Oh might we stop and enjoy a game madam?¡± The boy asked. Why¡¯s he asking her? They are our marbles? ¡°You most certainly may not Master Banks.¡± She barked at him and tugged him closer to keep him away from the three boys and their game.¡°You will get dirty. We are here to practice your letters." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Yes Madam." Young Mr. Banks said solemnly. She slapped his hand. ¡°Watch your tone young Master." She growled. "They are dirty and unrefined, lazy, sluggish gutter boys. You are a Banks, act like one.¡± Well what¡¯s up her butt? Tim and Jimmy scowled at the governess but she turned up her nose at them and they marched on. ¡°See if she can turn up her nose with a black eye.¡± Jimmy grumbled and cast about for a stone to throw a her. ¡°Nope, nope, nope. Just sit and play some more Jimmy.¡± Bert said before the hot headed boy got up to find a stone. ¡°I¡¯m done with this game, you guys suck at marbles.¡± Jimmy said and stood up to stretch. Tim nodded in agreement and picked up the marbles. He placed his treasure in a patched pouch and stuffed it into his pocket. Jimmy punched Bert in the shoulder and took off running in the other direction. ¡°Tag, Bert¡¯s it, like a sour tit!¡± He cackled as he jumped over a hedge. ¡°That does it!¡± Bert shouted. I ain¡¯t no sour tit! The three boys tumbled and fell through the flowers in the park. Bert got a couple good wallops in on Jimmy but he wouldn¡¯t take back his words. It was all good fun until a constable blew his whistle and they scattered. They met up behind the gazebo where a large bush made a natural hideout. ¡°Ha! That old constable couldn¡¯t catch a cold in a snow storm.¡± Bert wheezed. Tim and Jimmy laughed. ¡°¡­tuppence a bag?¡± A voice was heard in the distance. ¡°She¡¯s back!¡± Jimmy whispered. The old bird woman. ¡°I¡¯ll distract her and you two grab her coins!¡± Jimmy said and dashed off. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t steal from her!¡± Bert called after his friend. He never listens. - ¡°Feed this to your birds you old git!¡± Jimmy shouted. He had over turned a waste bin and was throwing trash at the ancient woman. She was sitting in her usual spot, minding her own business with a rock pigeon on her head and one on each shoulder. She had a small tin can on a blanket set out in front of her. With rows of paper bags full of breadcrumbs for sale. Now he¡¯s really done it. ¡°Feed the birds!¡± She shouted at Jimmy, imploring him to stop. She covered her head with her arms and her birds huddled closer to protect her. ¡°Get her boys!¡± Jimmy hissed, throwing a balled up newspaper at her. Bert ran forward to grab the trash and start to apologize. Tim was a moment behind moving fast. Is he going for the breadcrumbs? A yelp came from behind him as Jimmy was picked up by a firm hand on his ear. ¡°Now now! This simply won¡¯t do!¡± A woman¡¯s voice sang sternly. Before Bert knew what happened, the woman swooped down on him and Tim and pretty as can be. She snatched them up my their ears too. How can she grab all three of us? And her hands are so strong! ¡°Jane. Are these boys yours?¡± She asked. ¡°Tuppence a bag.¡± She replied with a shrug. ¡°Put me down!¡± Shouted Jimmy, but she only twisted his ear harder. Bert watched her glare at Jimmy but her perfect face couldn''t crease. Her hair and hat were framed against storm-clouds miles high about to gust and gale. ¡°Quiet. I¡¯ll ask you to speak later.¡± She said firmly. She pushed a carpet bag in front of the bird woman and turned to Bert, relinquishing his ear. ¡°Young man, if you would be so kind.¡± She said and offered Bert Tim¡¯s ear to hold. ¡°Of course.¡± Bert said taking firm hold of Tim¡¯s ear. The two boys stared at the strange woman as she swept the trash off of the bird woman. Jimmy groaned and wailed in her grip. She reached down with one hand holding Jimmy¡¯s ear and opened the carpet bag with her other. Her arm disappeared up to her shoulder into the bag. She rooted around for a few seconds mumbling to herself them produced a long French Baguette from the bag. ¡°There.¡± She said smugly as she offered the loaf of bread to Jimmy. ¡°You now. Hand this to Jane and apologize.¡± She said. ¡°Spit spot.¡± Jimmy refused and she twisted his ear again until he relented. ¡°Hop to it now.¡± She said in her singsong voice that meant business. ¡°Here, Ma¡¯am.¡± Jimmy said quickly and dropped the bread in the old bird woman¡¯s lap. ¡°Thank you Mary Poppins.¡± She said. Chapter 2 - The Stone Boy - Chapter 2 - Ludgate Park, London. 1881 ¡°Right,¡± Mary Poppins said certainly. ¡°Step to it children.¡± She took up Jimmy¡¯s ear again before he could run away. ¡°Will you two behave?¡± She asked Bert and Tim, they both nodded quickly. ¡°Good. Now you,¡± she said to Bert. ¡°Pick up my carpet bag. Spit spot!¡± Bert picked up the bag, but could not cart it very far. It¡¯s so heavy! ¡°Oy Tim! Lend me a hand with this bag, it¡¯s a brick and a half!¡± ¡°No dawdling now!¡± Mary Poppins said as she marched across the park with Jimmy¡¯s ear and him attached. They crossed from the plaza into a courtyard surrounded by roses. The fantastic Mary Poppins stopped then and looked about. She must have been quite satisfied since she nodded once to her self then turned her gaze on Jimmy. ¡°I have something that I think you want child.¡± She said crossly. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± Jimmy asked, earning himself a tweak of his ear. ¡°Why it¡¯s obvious I¡¯ve got your ear.¡± She said and neatly popped it off The boy¡¯s head. ¡°Oh!¡± Jimmy cried, more shocked than in pain. She took it right off his head! It¡¯s as smooth as a baby¡¯s bottom. As if there never was an ear there at all! ¡°Ha! Serves you right Jimmy!¡± Tim laughed. Mary Poppins dangled the tiny ear, perfectly intact, infront of Jimmy¡¯s shocked face. ¡°Your ear is clean off.¡± Bert said after he laughed for a few seconds. ¡°You never listen to half the things anyone says anyways.¡± ¡°Give it back!¡± Jimmy said, tears were coming to his eyes and he was getting angry. ¡°Now now, children.¡± Mary Poppins said with all seriousness. ¡°Let¡¯s not make fun of people just because they¡¯ve lost an ear.¡± Beet and Timmy simmered down but their laughter was struggling to fill them up again. ¡°Give it back you witch!¡± Jimmy cried. ¡°Now stop that. I¡¯m not a witch, not anymore than you are a fresh baby.¡± Mary Poppins said. ¡°Now, I have found your ear and am trying to return it to you, but you are not making this any easier, are you?¡± ¡°He¡¯s sorry Mrs. Mary Poppins.¡± Bert said. ¡°Well he should say that himself then. I mean really. Who loses an ear?¡± She said disdainfully. Bert shuffled over to Jimmy and whispered in his remaining ear. ¡°You better apologize right. She¡¯s going to ruin your day in a minute.¡± Bert whispered. ¡°I won¡¯t! She stole my-¡° ¡°Now! See here! Such crass accusations. And a sour attitude.¡± Mary Poppins chided. ¡°Careful now boy. You may end up as solid as stone if you cannot learn to bend a Little.¡± She pointed over the boy¡¯s heads, back to the old fountain they had left behind. It was one of a little boy, a rich kid by the looks of his clothes. He was standing solemnly with his head looking down and shoulders slumped. The water from the fountain landed on his head from four directions. ¡°Why he could not apologize and he was turned to stone.¡± She said. ¡°That¡¯s a lie.¡± Jimmy said. ¡°Oh it¡¯s true. I should know. I was there.¡± She said. ¡°And I never tell lies.¡± ¡°Adults are all liars.¡± Jimmy said. ¡°Yes they are, but I¡¯m not your usual adult.¡± She replied. ¡°She¡¯s a witch¡­¡± Tim said then covered his mouth with his hand. ¡°She¡¯s beautiful.¡± Bert said at the same time. ¡°Hush now children.¡± She said. ¡°That¡¯s what the little boy over there thought. Now his penance is to be a statue for a hundred years.¡± ¡°Kids can¡¯t turn to stone!¡± Said Jimmy. ¡°Come back tonight and ask the statue boy yourselves, if you so choose.¡± ¡°Yeah right! This is baby fantasy stuff. I need something to eat!¡± Jimmy said. ¡°Call out his name three times and he will wake up. His name is Arthur.¡± She said. ¡°But do not play his game. And under no circumstances should you touch him, or take anything from him.¡± ¡°Yeah right!¡± Jimmy huffed. ¡°Give me my ear back already.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°No I think I will keep it until you learn to listen.¡± She said. ¡°Now you two.¡± She said turning to Bert and Tim. ¡°No don¡¯t take our ears, miss!¡± Tim said. Jimmy¡¯s hand went to his smooth head unconsciously. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t take our ears Tim.¡± Bert said. ¡°We listen real good.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, young man. What is your name?¡± She said. ¡°My name is Bert Mrs. Marry Poppins. Ma¡¯am.¡± Bert said awkwardly. ¡°You are beautiful milady.¡± ¡°Now Bert, compliments will only get you so far.¡± She said. Marry poppins checked that her hat was on squarely and pressed down the lapel of her coat. ¡°You two tried your best to help the bird woman. Despite other influences.¡± She gave Jimmy a look. ¡°That¡¯s right ma¡¯am.¡± Bert said. ¡°She needs the coins for the birds, she does.¡± ¡°So what!¡± Says Jimmy, ¡°she should keep the money and feed herself.¡± ¡°She has enough to eat, the birds need the bread to feed their young. To be happy and fly.¡± Mary Poppins replied. ¡°Hear this and learn a secret of the world. Or I will turn you to stone.¡± She turned towards Bert and looked into his eyes. ¡°Sharing and spreading Joy, even a small happiness is the greatest kind of magic you can do.¡± She said with all seriousness. ¡°So many people in this day and age will try to buy your happiness, or tell you it¡¯s worth less than it is and steal it away.¡± ¡°But ma¡¯am? We barely eat on our own as it is. We have no money to give away.¡± Bert said, and Tim nodded his agreement. ¡°Bert, that¡¯s neither here nor there. Now what do you dream of being when you grow up? What¡¯s something you could do everyday that would make you happy?¡± She asked opening her carpet bag. ¡°I would be happy to paint pictures of you milady. She really is lovely. Perfect in every way. She gave him a stern look and Bert knew not to flatter her any more today. ¡°Now children. It¡¯s not about money, although that can help quite a bit. There are free ways to spread joy and wonder, you just have to find them.¡± ¡°How?¡± Tim asked. ¡°Do you believe this nonsense?¡± Jimmy scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s all a trick.¡± ¡°Can you not see your ear is off idiot?¡± Tim said to Jimmy. ¡°If you believe in me, believe in the secret magical world beyond what you see. Then promise to spread joy and wonder in my name.¡± She said. She is amazing. ¡°I promise.¡± Bert said. Tim stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided her eyes. ¡°No way!¡± Jimmy said. Mary Poppins smiled at Bert. She reached down inside her carpet bag and produced an oil pastel set for Bert. ¡°As long as you believe in me and keep you your oath that set of chalk will never run out.¡± ¡°I promise too!¡± Tim said hurriedly. ¡°Better late than never I guess.¡± She said and reached down into her carpet back and produced a simple pair of shoes for Tim. ¡°You made a fine promise, uphold it and these shoes will weather any damage and never need repairs.¡± She said handing them to the boy. ¡°No go. You cheeky children have taken up my spare time. And on my precious day off!¡± She said hotly. ¡°Good day.¡± And before the boys knew it, she had walked briskly away through the crowd and out of sight. - The park was quiet. Bert and Jimmy sprinted across the lawns under the moonlight. Here and there they spotted a homeless person wrapped in rags, or a sometimes a drunk sleeping on the benches or lawns. If we get caught out here a patrolman will tan our backsides. Jimmy sat down behind a bush and fidgeted with some dirt under his nails. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you Jimmy?¡± Bert asked. Jimmy punched him in the arm. ¡°Shut up.¡± He said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you turned on me and joined that witch.¡± ¡°You should have sworn a promise to her Jimmy. She would have given you your ear back I think.¡± The boy punched Bert again. ¡°I said shut up! And don¡¯t talk about my ear!¡± Bert rubbed his arm silently. ¡°I¡¯m going to prove to you she¡¯s a liar.¡± Jimmy said. ¡°An ear stealing liar.¡± Jimmy crouched and peeked over the bush. Before them was the court and fountain with the little boy. ¡°If you didn¡¯t believe her then why did we come back here?¡± Bert asked. ¡°I told you. To prove to you that she¡¯s a liar. That statue is not gonna come alive. It ain¡¯t never was a little boy.¡± Seems like a lot of work if you didn¡¯t believe. ¡°I heard her, same as you. She said it was dangerous.¡± Bert said. ¡°This kid Arthur ain¡¯t gonna grab me.¡± Jimmy said. Jimmy scoffed and stood up tall. Bert grabbed his arm and held him back. ¡°Jimmy we shouldn¡¯t be here. It feels wrong.¡± Bert said. ¡°You big baby! Go play with your magic crayons. That witch is a liar, all adults are liars.¡± Jimmy said. He¡¯s still not listening. Can¡¯t he feel how wrong this is? ¡°I¡¯m going to put her words to the test. Are you going to hide like a baby?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mess with that kid.¡± Bert said. ¡°I won¡¯t go with you. It¡¯s a stupid thing.¡± ¡°Then shut up and watch. Nothing is going to happen.¡± Jimmy said as he slipped Bert¡¯s grip. Jimmy walked out onto the paved stone court. The moon shone right overhead, casting his shadow in a blob on the cobblestones under the boy¡¯s feet. Maybe he¡¯s right? Nothing will happen. Jimmy crossed the court and hesitated beside the fountain. He made up his mind and stepped up onto the rim. He stood there for a minute, still as a statue. Bert nearly called out to him but the silence was thick and impenetrable. Even the wind held its breath. ¡°Arthur¡­¡± No Jimmy don¡¯t! ¡°Arthur¡­¡± A pile of rags and blankets at the edge of the court groaned and turned over in its sleep. Jimmy stared at the pile of rags intently and chuckled nervously. The statue moved, stone grinding as it turned its head to look at Jimmy. ¡°Hello Jimmy. Have you come to play a game with me?¡± The stone boy said. He already knows Jimmy''s name! ¡°No. No-no!¡± Jimmy said and he stumbled backwards falling off the fountain¡¯s edge. The statue coughed up dust and rolled its shoulders. It took a shakey step down from its pedestal in the middle of the fountain. ¡°That¡¯s why you came. To play a game.¡± Arthur said. ¡°My favorite game is tag.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t real.¡± Jimmy said. He¡¯s got to get out of there! ¡°But I am real. I¡¯ve been here forever. It¡¯s so lonely without anyone to play with.¡± Arthur¡¯s said. The statue took another step through the water of the fountain. The water came up to above his knees and stained his clothes where they got wet. ¡°No! I won¡¯t play with you.¡± Jimmy shouted. ¡°Get back on your fountain, you can¡¯t do this.¡± I have to help him! I can¡¯t just leave him out there alone! Arthur reached the edge of the fountain and climbed up over the edge. His body creaked and cracks formed on his smooth stone body. Bert was frozen in place, unable to help his friend. ¡°I get to play one game. That¡¯s the rule.¡± Arthur said. ¡°The moon is out and you spoke my name thrice. The game has already begun.¡± ¡°Stop!¡± A voice called out. The pile of rags stood up then. The old bird woman stared down her nose at Arthur. ¡°Stay out of this!¡± Arthur said. The cursed statue lunged and reached for Jimmy¡¯s leg. Jimmy was forced to scramble back. He rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled as fast as he could, unable to gain his feet and run. ¡°I said stop!¡± The old bird woman shouted. ¡°Return to your pedestal at once.¡± The statue snarled at her. It spat and clawed at its face. But it stood still. "You have rules, your penance is not fulfilled." She commanded. ¡°I am allowed to steal my freedom witch!¡± Arthur shrieked. ¡°Not in my presence. Such disrespect is what landed you in this punishment in the first place.¡± She commanded. She spoke a word that Bert could not hear and did not understand. The statue was dragged back to the pedestal by invisible forces. His stone hands scraped the pavement as he cried and scrambled for purchase. Bert was able to breathe again once the boy was back on his pedestal. ¡°You, boy. I know you.¡± She said. ¡°Are you okay? Did he touch you? Jimmy oushed her away and ran off. Bert chased after him. Chapter 3 - The Matchbox Man - Chapter 3 - The Matchstick Man Bert scooped up his pastel case from behind the bush as he ran out of the park. Can¡¯t forgot this. Jimmy was nearly to the Cherry Tree lane gate leaving the park. Bert took off trying to catch up to his friend. That idiot! He¡¯s going to get picked up by a constable in a respectable neighborhood like that! Bert stopped as he left the park. He looked both ways. Jimmy was barely to the next corner off to the right. ¡°He was always the faster one of us.¡± Bert grumbled. ¡°Jimmy! Wait up!¡± Jimmy did not slow down. He sped across the street and turned left towards the harbor. Bert picked up his feet and ran after his friend, crossing the street before the corner and not slowing down when he turned. The pastel case had sharp corners and it was grinding into his ribs as he ran. He was careful not to drop it, lest it get damaged. I¡¯ll have to get a bag for my treasure. Will the magic of the pastels drain away if the case breaks? Bert reached the end of the block and could see Jimmy starting to flag as the ran down the next block. I let him down, but I won¡¯t give up on him. The boy leaned against a lamppost on the next block until he heard Bert gaining on him. ¡°Jimmy!¡± Bert wheezed. ¡°Slow down idiot!¡± Jimmy turned back to yell. ¡°Leave me alone traitor!¡± He cried. ¡°Shut up! We are friends! I ain¡¯t no traitor!¡± Bert yelled back. He should have listened to Marry Poppins, her magic is wonderful and good. Not like that stone boy. Jimmy was jogging backwards picking up speed again. Bert was confident he¡¯d catch him on the next block. A man pushed a small rundown barrow cart around the corner. He paused in surprise at the two yelling boys. ¡°Now now. A fox hunt is it?¡± He chuckled to himself. The man made a circle with the thumb and middle finger on his right hand, stretching his fingers as wide as they could go. He peered through the circle at Jimmy and Bert. A wicked smile crept across his face. His teeth were perfectly milky white like graveyard bones. ¡°Watch out!¡± Bert cried. Jimmy turned around to run flat out again and barely had time to see the cart before the man lunged forwards and snatched up the boy. He held Jimmy by the arm and the neck, his iron like claws shackling him fast. ¡°Let me go!¡± Jimmy squirmed and kicked at the man. ¡°No, you have no command over me. Now, do not struggle.¡± He said and squeezed Jimmy tighter. Bert stopped in time to stay out of the man¡¯s reach. ¡°Jimmy!¡± Bert cried. ¡°So that¡¯s the young masters name. Is it?¡± The Matchstick Man said jovially. ¡°Now what are two respectable young men like yerselves doing out so late?¡± ¡°Nothin! Let me go!¡± Jimmy shouted and kicked the worry man in the gut. The man said a word to Jimmy but Bert could barely hear it. Jimmy fell asleep like a doused lamp. He has magic! ¡°Oh ho! Such fire in him.¡± The man grunted. ¡°He should not be running around in the dark hours of the night.¡± He slung Jimmy over his cart like a hunting trophy. ¡°You have a touch of magic about you.¡± He said to Bert. ¡°Come closer young master. Let me get a good look at you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll stay over here sir. Don¡¯t want no trouble.¡± The matchstick man pulled out a small knife with a round handle the size of Bert¡¯s fist. ¡°Oh ho! Words are important. Be accurate. ¡®No more trouble¡¯ is more like it.¡± He said whimsically then he paused. He stared up at the night sky wistfully. ¡°Something given. Something taken. Something lost. Something found.¡± How does he know about all that? Is he reading my thoughts? ¡°I¡¯m not reading your mind. Fix that face of yours. You are simply a young scoundrel. Without a fully developed deceitful bone in your body.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Bert clapped his mouth shut. ¡°Give me that case and its contents, you can have your pal back.¡± Bert¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Jimmy! My friend or my promise to Mary Poppins. ¡°You are going to steal it from me.¡± ¡°You are right, and you are wrong. That case is promise bound to you. I cannot steal it. As much as I wish I could. It can only be given. And only given freely.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± Bert said. ¡°Would you part with that case if it would save your life?¡± The matchstick man smiled. ¡°No I suspect you would not be able to.¡± This was a gift. But magic comes with a price. I made a promise. What will I pay to keep that promise? The man dug into his apron pocket to pull out some scrap wood. He split the scraps of wood into sticks while he spoke with Bert. ¡°Let¡¯s palaver then, kiddo. You answer my trifling questions, help me out a little, and you and your pal will be well.¡± He is a magic man, I need to be careful with my words. Bert watched as the man quickly notched two of the sticks and fit them together to make a cross. ¡°We can talk. But not for long.¡± Bert said. ¡°I want my friend back.¡± The matchstick man snapped two notched sticks on to the cross as legs. ¡°Do you know what¡¯s most valuable to a matchstick man like me?¡± He asked suddenly. ¡°Money?¡± ¡°Information. Kiddo. Information is lifeblood to all men of power. Especially tonight.¡± The matchstick man admired the little wooden figure he had made. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything valuable.¡± Bert said. ¡°You should think a little longer on that kiddo.¡± He said with a wink. ¡°Your pal here is missing an ear.¡± Recognition flashed across Bert¡¯s face before he could hide it. The matchstick man smiled. ¡°I know it was taken with magic and you know who took it.¡± He said eagerly. ¡°Tell me. What is in that case you are holding. Did you bargain away your pal¡¯s ear for it?¡± Bert hugged his case of chalks close to his chest. The matchstick man nodded. ¡°Yes. Where did you get it? Did you steal it? Was it a gift? Tell me. That¡¯s the price for you to have your little pal back.¡± ¡°Ludgate park, I didn¡¯t steal it. It was not a bargain for Jimmy¡¯s ear.¡± Bert said carefully. ¡°Oh ho! Do not lie to me.¡± The Matchstick man growled. He carefully plucked Jimmy hand up by the fingertip. Without waking the boy, he cut Jimmys hand and applied a drop of the boy¡¯s blood to the figurine. ¡°Tell me everything you think I might want to know, and tell it to me true or your friend is mine for ever.¡± ¡°We were at the park and met the stone boy.¡± Bert said. ¡°That would be Ludgate park. How did you wake him?¡± The man asked. ¡°Jimmy said his name three times.¡± ¡°A name is a powerful thing.¡± ¡°He chased us but we escaped.¡± Bert said with a grimace. ¡°You lied to me laddie.¡± He said sweetly. ¡°Jimmy tattled on you.¡± The matchstick man twisted the little wooden effigy and Jimmy groaned. ¡°You met the young master at Ludgate park. But how did you know his name to wake him? Who told you his name?¡± She did say to spread her name. Only she didn¡¯t, did she? She said to spread joy and whimsy. Her name is secret, names are powerful. ¡°A witch told Jimmy the name.¡± Bert said. ¡°It was his punishment for his disrespect.¡± Bert stared at the matchstick man¡¯s hands, fingers stained and callous from making paste for his match heads. Dark and red like dried blood. ¡°Come closer young master. This chachka is for you.¡± He said with a honeyed voice. ¡°You will give it to me?¡± Bert asked but he did not step closer. ¡°You have given me some of the truth freely. And I will give you this chachka of your friend.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°Smart lad, maybe you are ready to wander on witch¡¯s night.¡± He hung the chachka on his cart and stepped back. ¡°This chachka will not free your friend. He is mine.¡± ¡°I answered your questions!¡± ¡°But only to the barest of truth!¡± He growled. ¡°But I won¡¯t fault you that. You are a savvy lad.¡± The matchstick man shrugged. ¡°I am looking for this witch.¡± He said calmly. ¡°But she eludes me at every turn.¡± He is mad! Does he think he can do anything to her? ¡°Can you bring her something for me. A present.¡± He said. He pounced on something in the gutter. When he stood up he held a rat nest of sticks and trash, all twisted and woven together. He pulled a fat rat from the nest and stuffed it into a pocket on his apron. He wove the nest back into shape and tied it with a rough string of twine. ¡°Bring this to her. She will speak with me then.¡± He said. ¡°Bring this to her and you will have won back your friend. Do we have an accord?¡± What is the worst that can happen? Mary Poppins is more powerful than him. ¡°I will bring her your gift.¡± Bert promised. ¡°Fantastic!¡± The matchstick man said and clapped his hands. ¡°Your word is your bond, young master.¡± Bert stepped closer tentatively and the matchstick man kept his hands up to show he meant no harm. ¡°How do I know Jimmy will be okay ?¡± Bert asked. The matchstick man, set the rat nest on the sidewalk and then plucked up the little chachka and placed it inside. ¡°Take the chachka with you. It will let you know that your friend is alive. But he stays with me until our deal is complete.¡± Bert stared at the nest and wooden figure. It¡¯s a trap. ¡°It¡¯s not a trick for you. Take it to the witch. You have a week to find her.¡± He said and wheeled his cart around. ¡°Wait! I don¡¯t know how to find her!¡± Bert called out to the man¡¯s back. ¡°You will find a way, young master. You have to.¡± He laughed. - Bert sat on the curb with his feet in the gutter and his case of pastels resting on top of his knees. The rat nest and chachka waited impatiently just out of reach. What am I going to do? Jimmy is gone, I let that man take him away. All so I could keep this magic chalk that I can¡¯t even use. Who was I kidding? I¡¯m not an artist! He stared at the case. When he¡¯d first opened the case, Bert had spent hours smiling at the chalks. He had been unable to pick them up, too mesmerized by their magic to dare scrape them on the dirty London sidewalks. He had opened it a dozen times that day. The vibrant colors were distilled candied apples, carousel horses, English gardens, golden flowers, bright happy blue skies. Each stick as captivating and magical as ever. The night wind picked up and tousled his hair, blowing grit into his eyes and making them water. He slapped the case down beside him on the curb. I shouldn¡¯t be sitting here dreaming! The Matchstick man couldn¡¯t have gotten far. How long has it been? I can find him and trade him the chalks for Jimmy. He would take that deal. I know he would. The wind blew harder and the rat nest slid. Bert had to jump up and grab it before it blew away down the street. How can I find Mary Poppins in one day? Will she accept the matchstick man¡¯s present? Is it a trap? Bwrt focused on the nest in his hand. It did nothing. It was made of sticks and straw, fur and paper, and shredded burlap. It was itchy to hold and weighed less than you would expect. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I trade him the chalk?¡± Bert asked. Did the matchstick man tell the truth? He slammed his fist into his knee. This chalk set was a beautiful gift. They were a promise of a lifetime of spreading joy and whimsy. They now come at too high a cost. Are they worth my friend¡¯s life? With the nest and chachka in one hand, he reached down and opened the case. The vibrant colors of the chalk disregarded his personal reservations and feelings, they cared only for his promise and their own beauty. I can¡¯t stay mad at you lot. I need to fix this. I¡¯ll save Jimmy then I¡¯ll find the most perfect spot of sidewalk, untouched by anyone¡¯s filthy feet! The Bride¡¯s bell chimed 6 am over on Fleet Street. Bert watched the first hints of the summer sun struggle to break through the smog of the city. ¡°Alright Bert.¡± He said to himself. ¡°You¡¯ve got a long day ahead of you and no plan. Might as well get started.¡±