There it was - my camera. Taller than I was, bigger than I was. I approached it dragging along the bulky twig ladder I had just made.
Last night, and the night before - why many nights now - had been filled with strange noises. Sleep had eluded me as strange, high pitched dialogues, originating from my garden, jolted me into wakefulness. I couldn’t make much sense of what was being said, but now a week since they had started, I was determined to investigate.
I woke up this morning determined to discover mysteries of my garden. I was slightly concerned that there was something sinister taking place in my backyard. Armed with a vague plan and an indifferent mien I walked into my backyard, my cereal and toast, a notebook, pencil, some string for measurements, and a camera in tow. I simply looked like I was going about my routine - taking photos and documenting them. I was hoping my real purpose would be well masked.
I sat down on the bench, set down my camera, and rummaged through my book as I ate. Something bit my leg. Instinct told me to wait before moving into action. A voice quipped up, “Well, talk about a bad bite.” A shrill bout of giggling followed. I moved my foot a little, slightly perturbed that something that was speaking had taken a bite at my leg. I heard some bickering, a rustle. I stealthily moved my hand towards my leg, and just as it was about to take another bad bite, I nabbed it.
“You leave me alone, you ol’ goon!” Nip. Nip.
I thought to myself, I should have brought gloves.
“What do you mean by capturing me, you ol’ ninny. Just you let me go” Nip. Nip.
Annoyed at being bitten and equally peeved at being called an old ninny, I held onto the little fellow around his rotund waist. Slightly shaken, I set him down on the tabletop, next to my camera, still gripping him around his waist. A delightful, whimsical figure gazed up at me with big, round, hazel eyes. His pointed ears had flattened out on either side of his heart shaped face pointing to the East and West. His nose resembled a swollen toothpick protruding in between chubby, rosy brown cheeks. His tiny, berry stained mouth was turned up at one end as he smirked at me. It was startling to see such a small being, and I was rather flummoxed.
After a few moments of silence, I decided to take the initiative and tentatively spoke to the little creature, “Hello… erm Mr?”
“Pixie. The name’s Pixie. And that’s no way to greet a fellow - nabbing him like that unawares!”
No nip. I thought that was a good sign.
“I’m sorry ...erm Mr Pixie, but I wasn’t sure what was biting me. And you said I didn’t taste good.”
Giggles, followed by more giggles, and a lifted eyebrow accompanied his response, “Well, a fellow likes a little mud with his foot, you know? All that clean skin does no ‘ne any good. Now, let me go!”
“Erm.. Mr. Pixie. Who are you? Why are you in my backyard, and why are you so noisy?” I suppose in hindsight I could have been less direct with my questions.
“You let me go, I tell you.” A frustrated struggle between my hands ensued as I firmed my grip around him, hoping that my fingers would be spared deeper bites. A minute later he seized his wriggling and was answering me in an offended voice, “That there fellow, Ragtag, came in here and won’t leave. I got to have my space you see? I’ve been telling him to go find some other garden, you see...but he won’t listen, he won’t!”
“Is Mr. Ragtag a pixie too?” I was beginning to wonder if I had drugged myself, or was in the midst of a strange dream. Was I really holding a pixie in my hand and speaking to him about garden invasions?
“A pixie like me?! Nooo sirrreeee, I would ne’er have invaded another’s garden.” Surely, so much offense could hardly be communicated in so few words? I wondered if I should remind the little guy that he had in fact invaded my garden. I decided to keep mum. This little fellow was full of drama. His voice changed again,polite and quizzical, “Why, Oh why, Mr, ol’ ninny, will you help me get rid of Mr. Ragtag?”
I had eased my hold on the little creature by now, and as I relaxed further, he promptly sat down, cross-legged, on my open palm as I pondered his strange request. Before a minute had passed he burst into tears - it was like watching a sprinkler come to life accompanied by a cacophonous group of violinists.
“Okay, Okay, Mr. Pixie, stop bawling. How can I help?” I spoke in a loud whisper
The silence and consequent smile was so immediate, I was quietly inclined to believe the whole crying show was exaggerated. But I couldn’t help liking the fellow as he impulsively gave my little finger a tight hug.
“Oh, thank you, Mr ol’ ninny. I really do love my garden, you see...and Ragtag has no business being here. You need to meet him and tell him so, you see? He can’t go against your wishes, you see?”
I didn’t see of course, and said so. I was also a bit offended at being called an ol’ ninny. Actually, I was starting to get curious about Ragtag and why Mr. Pixie was disinclined to share his space with him - I had a fairly large garden. It also occurred to me that it was certainly rare, even a bit exciting, to have two seemingly real pixies living in my garden. Maybe I had to go get my head checked, but for now, I was sure the little fellow in my hand was real.
“Erm.. Mr. Pixie, my name is…”
“Awww, come on sirrreeee we must be quicks about getting Ragtag away. How wills you find him?”
“Don’t you know where he is?” I asked tauntingly.
“'Course not, Mr Ol’ ninny. I don’t know where he is now. If I’d have known, I would’ve fought him out already, innit?”
“I think you need to call me by my name, if you want my help.” I made to leave. After all some ground rules were necessary, and everyone knows pixies would wiggle their way out of anything. I felt that I must stamp my authority.
“Awww now, don’t you go away Mr. Ol’... okay, okay, What is your name Mr. Ol’ Nin..”
“Matt. My name is Matt,” I was beginning to enjoy our dialogue. “Now, tell me, how do we find Ragtag?”
“Why?! Don’ts you knows? We walk through the grass blades, of course! Come on Mr Ol… Mr. Matt” He zealously jumped onto my lap, and then paused, made his way back to my palm, and navigated my hand to my ear and in a shrill whisper, “We’ve got to shrink you, you knows!”
I blinked.
“We gots to Mr. Matt, otherwise you’ll not be able to runs through the grass.” He must have seen my dumbstruck look
“Shrink me?” I wasn’t having any of that, “Oh no we aren’t Mr. Pixie. I can wait here. Once you find Ragtag, I will find a way to meet him.”
“Now, look yous here, Mr. Matt. By 3 O’clock, my pixie magic will reverse itself and you will be all big again. No needs to be scared.” A snicker that he tried to unsuccessfully cover up accompanied this statement.
Scared? Was I scared? What if this was all a trick? Yet, wouldn’t it be fun to have a bit of an adventure - almost exciting? “I still don’t know if it’s a good idea...but tell me, Mr Pixie, do you not like Ragtag?” I decided then and there that I should know more about the person I was going to confront
“Likes him? Oooh, I liked him well enough, I did. Ragtag’s my best friend. How we trampled the grass on Ol’ Mr Cranky’s garden. Ah” Giggles. “Then, when I said it was time to move - seeing that Mr. Cranky heard us, and had began to cut his grass too short, Ragtag said he likes to do what he wants and didn’t want to come here. You see’s Mr Ol’... Mr. Matt, I saw your garden, and knews you was a nice man who wouldn’t cut his grass. But Ragtag was a *&^%& pixie and told me he wasn’t moving, no sirreee! And I begs him, I does.”
I ignored the expletives as I listened to his tale. A sudden burst of waterworks ensued. I patted him in empathy as gently as I could and waited for the abrupt silence. It took longer than expected.
“Then, I left without Ragtag and moved in here.” Sniffles as he continued, “I’ve been on my own 14 days, and I don’t need Ragtag with me. He came here last week, he did, and he says no sorrys to me, he doesn’t. He came and wanted to carry on as if he never left. Well, Mr. Ol’ ...Mr. Matt. No sirrrreeee. This is my garden and I’m not sharing with him”
Another sprinkler attack was forming a pool in my hand. I was sure of one thing - this little pixie wanted his best friend with him, but was hurt and angry. I decided to help. Carefully, I placed him on the table top and sat next to him.
He looked up at me, hope replacing the tears in his spherical eyes, “Will yous help, me?”
A sudden desire awakened in me - it was time for an adventure. I smiled at Mr. Pixie and struck a deal, not entirely convinced I would shrink.
“1.2.3”
With no warning, and no hint of any pixie dust, I had shrunk and found myself dangling off the table. I nervously swung myself and latched onto the camera belt.Trying to quickly adjust to my new circumstances, I hauled myself up onto the bench and took in the view. Mechanically, I picked a few twigs that had fallen on the table top, tucked them masterfully with some of the string I had left near my notebook and constructed a little ladder. I wanted to have a look through my lens: I climbed the ladder precariously and took a peek. The world looked big and full of colour. The grass had never looked this green or inviting. I wondered if I could click a photo. That’s when I caught sight of him - a little creature that looked like Mr. Pixie - darker and taller, but with the same rosy cheeks and round eyes.
“Mr. Matt… Mr. Matt, We gots to go.. There’s no time…” Mr Pixie was pulling on my trousers which I was grateful to note had also shrunk with me.
I turned around and gestured to the little fellow, wending my way towards Ragtag. I was sure that I would soon have two pixie friends living in my backyard. Let the adventures begin.
