The Honey Elephant Read online

  “That's not an oasis.” The headless sharks shook their heads from side-to-side.

  “Looks like an oasis to us,” said Sister Dor.

  “It's a mirage,” said the headless sharks.

  “Looks like a very real mirage to us. A very real, solid mirage of an oasis.”

  “Yes,” hissed the headless sharks, “It does look real, it even smells real. It draws you in then...well, this one is an experimental, hybrid mirage; it even feels solid! Very dangerous, though. Stay here with us; we could sing sea shanty's together.”

  Sister Dor ignored the offer of a singsong. “If the oasis isn't real, we can just walk through it.”

  “Oh no, you don't want to do that. It is a very unsafe area over there. Suppose the mirage is hiding a cliff; a very high cliff with very hungry crocodiles at the bottom? No, stay here, listen to our songs. Friday night is ukulele night!” The headless sharks all nodded their heads.

  “Will you let us pass?” asked Sister Dor.

  “Only if you come with us,” replied the headless sharks shuffling even closer.

  “That is not passing,” remarked Sister Dor.

  “Yes it is,” replied the headless sharks, “it is if you pass along with us!”

  Slowly as the sun began to tire and slip down to the horizon, trying as best it could to cast butterfly shadows on the sand dunes, the headless sharks and the Sisters of the Sacred Brethren continued arguing. Until...in the cooling evening air, the sun sneezed, lost its balance and fell below the horizon plunging everything into darkness...

  Meanwhile in the Lost Forest...nothing much happened...animals slept, snored, tossed and turned. The moon, feeling tired and fed up with having to constantly work nights, slipped behind a cloud and fell asleep.

  In a tree something stirred...

  “I'M AN ALLIGATOR!” A voice boomed out into the night, shattering the silence.

  Something stirred again and then some more. The first tree monkey yawned and continued to stir his cocoa. The second tree monkey rubbed his eyes; “I wish we'd never taught that crocodile to climb trees.”

  The first tree monkey took a sip of cocoa then passed the cup to the second tree monkey. He yawned again, held up a finger and said, “wait for it...”

  “I'M THE SPACE INVADER!” boomed the crocodile.

  “Well, he certainly invaded our space,” continued the first tree monkey, “you know, he actually called me a pink monkey bird the other day!”

  The second tree monkey passed back the cup of cocoa and called out, “you're a crocodile not an alligator or a space alien!”

  The first tree monkey finished the cocoa. “I suppose he'll need to eat at some point. Then he'll have to climb out of the tree and slink off back to some riverbank somewhere. But who knows when that might be. He's been in that tree for months”

  “Shh,” said the second tree monkey pointing down. “There, moving down there. It's here.”

  The two tree monkeys stared as a shadow glided through the trees and across the clearing. As it moved it made a quiet humming-buzzing noise. Its shape was hazy but looked like that of an elephant with its trunk stretched up in the air. A light scent of honey wafted up from it. Then suddenly...

  SNAP!

  The space-invader-alligator-crocodile leaned out of its tree and tried to bite off the hazy-shadowy elephant's trunk! The two tree monkeys gripped hold of each other, not daring to breathe. What would happen next? They looked at each other and then over at the space-invader-alligator-crocodile. The seconds ticked away; tick, tick, tick...

  “Sit on that ticking clock,” whispered the first tree monkey, “it's far too loud.”

  But before the second tree monkey could move, the space-invader-alligator-crocodile lost its balance and fell out of the tree. “Ooh, that is going to hurt,” said the first tree monkey as the

  space-invader-alligator-crocodile belly-flopped to the ground. The hazy-shadowy elephant disappeared into the darkness...

  The two tree monkeys let out long, slow breaths and watched the space-invader-alligator-crocodile crawl slowly away in the opposite direction to the elephant...” That was it!” said the second tree monkey whispering. “It does exist. I can still smell it and that quiet humming buzz...”

  The first tree monkey nodded; “The Honey Elephant! More than just a myth.” He breathed in deeply. “Isn't that just the best honey scent you have ever smelled? Mmm...”

  “Quick,” said the second tree monkey, “we should follow it...track it to its lair. There might even be a Honey Elephant's honey-yard!”

  Before anyone knew anything else, the sun arrived and began beating down like an endless drumbeat on the ground... However, it soon developed a headache and turned itself down, first to Overburn then feeling a little tired, settled for a Gently Warming Chilli setting.

  ~~~~~~

  The Sisters of the Sacred Brethren, having got fed up arguing with the headless sharks, had stole away in the night to the oasis. This caused all manner of trouble for it was strictly prohibited to steal the night, particularly as the sun was using the night as a shower curtain at the time!

  However, once at the oasis, which is a completely different story involving an iceberg and is not set in an oasis at all, the Sisters bumped into a camel who, it being midnight, was being put to bed...

  At this point everything became a little confused. Especially when the oasis turned out to be nothing more than a giant billboard advertising;

  Oasis: Coming Here Soon!

  a pond with a palm tree – basic model

  a large, deep pool surrounded by palm trees – luxury model

  a very large and deep pool surround by imported, golden sand and decorated with Hawaiian palms – deluxe model

  Behind the billboard though was a full sized display model of what the luxury oasis would look like...

  There was a rumour that this actually was the real oasis and someone had just forgotten to take down the billboard. Others said it was all – the billboard, the planned oasis, the model oasis – even and particularly, the headless sharks, a mirage...Although the date palm wine turned out to be quite real...

  ~~~~~

  Several days later but not as long as week, back in the Lost Forest...the stork was flipping through the notes on his clipboard. “Are you sure?” he asked for the umpteenth time. “Really sure?”

  The Sisters of the Sacred Brethren nodded. “Yes, we were coming here on a pilgrimage anyway but while we were on our way, a request came into our call centre.”

  “You have a call centre?” asked the stork in disbelief.

  Sister Dor nodded. “But to be fair it is only one cockatoo. She takes everything down in parrot fashion... Calling it a call centre might just be making it sound a little grander than what it actually is...”

  “And you are here to...apart from the pilgrimage thing,” the stork paused, “fix the leaves...fix the tree leaves..?”

  “Mmm, yes,” said Sister Dora. “Listen, what do you hear?”

  The stork was getting a little annoyed by now and was sure all this was some sort of joke.

  Not waiting for an answer Sister Dora continued, “Listen...nothing. No leaf rustling. No tree-swaying, nothing. When the leaves rustle it means the trees are talking to each-other. No rustling, no talking. No talking, no passing of vital information. The whole forest will grind to a halt!”

  And indeed it did...To fill in the time, the results of the annual 'Do you look like you may have fallen from the sky' contest were given out.

  The contest was won by the second tree monkey, following his recent tree fall. However, when he didn't come forward to collect his prize, and to stop everyone being eaten; the organisers, a pair of lesser known and wholly undiscovered by science, meaning they couldn't possibly exist anywhere apart from a Lost Forest, species of Rajastan Dodo's, gave the award to the space-invader-alligator-crocodile.

  The space-invader-alligator-crocodile, egged on by the crowd it has to be admitted, (not wanti
ng to be eaten themselves, they had begun throwing Rajastan Dodo eggs) promptly and without so much as an excuse me, snapped up in one terrifying, jaw opening bite, the last two remaining Rajastan Dodo's!

  This naturally upset a botanist who, hiding behind a near-by tree, thought he would at last get his name mentioned in a wildlife documentary as the discoverer of the until now, unknown and never encountered, Rajastan Dodo. Not wanting to see a grown scientist crying his eyes out, the

  space-invader-alligator-crocodile ate him up too!

  At that precise moment...the sun was eclipsed by the moon and the forest was plunged into darkness...Birds fell from the sky...animals buried their heads...shadows disappeared...a chill wind blew in from the north and a lost horse ran backwards into a stable door...

  “Stop! Stop right now!” The stork stamped his foot. “Come down from that tree at once! There has not been an eclipse. Birds have not fallen from the sky and animals have certainly not hidden their heads, well except for the ostriches...but they only do that because they're always looking for buried treasure.”

  A dark figure slipped down from the tree and walked up to the stork. The stork looked it over, “Give me that megaphone and take off that mask.”

  The animal handed over the mask and megaphone. The stork looked at the mask. “You are not a howler monkey. Howlers are loud enough not to need megaphones nor do they provide a narration...that tends to be a tree monkey thing. What are you? Who are you?”

  “Tree badger?” said the unmasked figure somewhat unconvincingly.

  The stork sighed, “re-branded yourself, eh? Mmm, perhaps you need to disguise your moustache a bit better.” He bent down and rubbed the white stripe off the animal's nose, “thought so. Hairy-nosed Wombat! Disguised as a badger, disguised as a howler monkey...”

  The unmasked Hairy-nosed Wombat smiled and winked at the stork, “hey, don't blame me, sport. I was just trying to diversify! I'm endangered you know!”

  The stork pulled out his map and handed it to the hairy-nosed wombat. “Use this map upside down. It will take you south. You may find an opening for an Arctic Wombat.” The stork waved the wombat off then turned to the condors; “Arctic badgers, wombats pretending to be tree badgers...who knows what next...but it does seem that things have become rather quiet...”

  Sister Dora agreed and said it must all be down to the leaves. And now it was indeed time to make like them and leave! They needed to venture into the deepest, darkest, oldest part of the forest...the heart of the Lost Forest.

  ~~~~~

  Day passed night and night passed day and day passed once more and was about to repeat the whole thing over again when, high above the dense canopy of the Lost Forest, a group of clouds smudged the sky into a strange mix of dawning twilight. However, deep below the trees...

  The stork squinted into the murky darkness of the deepest, darkest, oldest part of the Lost Forest. “What is that...there...that shadow...moving?”

  Sister Dor stared and stared then shouted, “Stand back Sisters! It's an eagle!”

  “Oh...no, no. That's Bob the Bald Eagle!” said the stork, as the eagle got closer. “He's fine, completely harmless. But he is running rather fast...”

  The Sisters stood back and clapped politely as Bob the Bald Eagle rushed past, his wings fully out-stretched and madly flapping up and down in unsynchronised confusion. He shouted as loud as he could, “I can fly! Look at me, everyone, I'm flying! Mom, I can see dots and spots, dots and spots everywhere! I'm coming home, Mom. I'm bringing the spots home!”

  The Stork and Sister Dor and the Sisters watched Bob the Bald Eagle disappear off into the darkness. “Interesting,” said Sister Dor. “Very unusual.”

  “Oh, he's hopeless at flying,” explained the Stork. “Keeps on forgetting to flap his wings. More of a soarer really...at least that is what he says. I suspect he's been licking Iboga roots.”

  “Do Iboga roots make you see spots?” asked Sister Dor.

  “No idea”, said the stork, “never tried them myself. But anything is possible, especially in the Lost Forest. His step mother is a spotless leopard, you know...”

  Sister Dor nodded then suggested they carry on. Less than a dozen steps later she tripped and fell...

  “Ah, you've found the pipeline,” the Stork smiled, glad it had not been he who had tripped.

  The Sisters picked up Sister Dor and dusted her off and after a brief discussion they set to work. The Stork looked on as Sister Dor explained what many in the Lost Forest had always wondered, just really what was the pipeline?

  “It's a metaphor, isn't it.” said the Stork before quickly adding, “a literary conceit, a fossilised snake, a giant inner tube, a homonym, a homograph...no, erm...hominy grits? Oh, a pole..?”

  Sister Dor smiled patiently; “the pipeline, as you call it, is a paradox, a contradiction... It is the one and the many at the same time... But for the trees, it is a communication channel. It helps them talk to each-other without being overheard.”

  The stork groaned, disappointed the pipeline was not some strange magical thing.

  “You see,” continued Sister Dor, “the trees needed a way to talk among themselves. First they wrote messages on leaves but that only worked for a time. Then there was the sailor and the albatross – he got stuck in the trees too often though. Graffiti didn't work either nor did the vegetarian vultures. In the end they settled for entwining their roots and making a plaited-root communication channel or pipeline as you call it.”

  The stork yawned. He was losing interest and beginning to find Sister Dor a touch boring and wondered if she had an array of anorak-style cassocks in assorted weavings at home.

  “Not long now,” said Sister Dor, sensing the Stork's boredom, as the Sisters stood up and stepped back from the pipeline. “You should be quite impressed by this.”

  Sister Dor clapped her wings together and the pipeline lit up! Not a bright light, more of a gentle, calming, purple glow. She smiled, “photo luminescence... Well, not really. It is actually the glow from luminous snail-ants. A very unusual and particular species bred only in the ancient port of Tyre – home of Tyrian purple dye. We train them especially for this type of work. They move along leaving a glowing trail of slime and wherever the glow stops, that is where the blockage or break is.”

  The stork scratched his head. “But how do the leaves fit in? I thought that was how you said the forest talked to itself.”

  Sister Dor smiled. “I did say that, didn't I...well, if the root pipeline is blocked it causes Leaf Strangulation Imbalance.”

  The stork shook his head in disbelief, “Its all rot!”

  “Quite right,” said Sister Dor. “If we can't get it sorted, everything will indeed rot! Now, let us follow the pipeline until we find a break.”

  ~~~~~~

  a brief interlude

  A Short History of the Honey Elephant

  Throughout history – mostly the unwritten kind – stories have been told of the Honey Elephant. However, these mostly concern elephants that liked to eat honey. Stories of actual Honey Elephants, that is elephants who actually make honey, are few and far between. So, just what is a Honey Elephant?

  It is 'covered with thick scales...has short legs...almost invulnerable. It has a strong pointed horn on the tip of its nose, which it sharpens on stones...charges with its head between its front legs...well-armed...fast, impetuous and cunning...'

  Sadly this early European description turned out to be about a rhinoceros. Honey Elephants are a rare and special thing. They are the unicorns of the Lost Forest. However, the Pan African Trade Union of Single-Horned Ungulates is attempting to secure use of the name Unicorn for the sole and exclusive use of rhinos. No doubt this will be contested –as indeed it should. For while most animals would be happy to be compared with a uni-horned horse (the unicorn of mythic legend) not all wish to discover they are being compared to a sweaty, knee-less, grumpy single-horned giant, over-sized, armadillo...aka the rhinoceros.

&nb
sp; In short then and to paraphrase, Honey Elephants are a rare and special thing and the subject of unwritten history...they also have knees...

  end of brief interlude

  ~~~~~

  Back in the deepest, darkest, oldest part of the Lost Forest, the Stork, Sister Dor and the Sisters of the Sacred Brethren came to a halt. “There,” said Sister Dor, “see, the purple glow has stopped...Sisters, gather round; a short meditation before we begin our work. You too, Stork.”

  “Are you sure it is safe here,” asked the stork. “This ground does feel quite, rather, a little, erm...springy...bouncy...”

  Argh!

  The stork, Sister Dor and the Sisters fell through the forest floor into a hole.

  “Unsafe, did I say unsafe?” asked the Stork.

  Sister Dor looked around. “We all seem to be fine. But this hole is quite deep. Unlikely we will be able to climb out. But I think we have visitors,” she said, looking up at the edge of the hole.

  A group of animals, their faces daubed with earth and clay, peered down. One wore a diving mask with a cracked lens; the others had bandannas made from plaited leaves on their heads. Almost in a single voice they muttered, “Beasts!” and pointed down at the stork and condors.