HAVING taken leave of the angel only moments ago, Murmur and Gribon darted quickly along the hall towards the stairs.
'By all the humans on earth, I'll get at that angel! I'll get back at him for treating me like that!'
This demon screech sounded from the door. Accompanying it was the clatter of two pairs of cloven hooves.
'Quick,' hissed Gribon, 'it's Beball and Behemoth!'
The little demon's hooves scrabbled and slid as he started in fright.
'Hey, there's the runt responsible for all this!' screeched a voice that belonged to Beball.
Murmur and Gribon bolted. But Beball and Behemoth bolted faster. The smallest pair of demons barely had reached the top of the stairs when the bigger overtook them.
'You broke my pitchfork!' shrieked Beball, pointing his talon fiercely at Murmur.
'You broke my horn,' growled Behemoth, with a look of black thunder, pointing a talon twice as accusing and thrice as threatening.
'It was not me who blew up the laboratory,' squeaked the little demon, backing up against the wall. 'That scientist was a dangerous fool; you should have known to steer clear of him!'
'He built that apparatus under our instruction!' snarled Behemoth.
Beball jabbed his talon into Murmur's chest. 'Yes, angel-eyes, without us whispering into his ear that scientist would have been nothing! We taught him everything he knows.'
'Well, there you have it,' Murmur gibbered hopefully, 'the explosion was all your fault!'
'You tempered with it,' snarled Behemoth, seizing Murmur by the collar. 'We know you did!'
'And now our powers have been reduced by half!'
'That frosty imp-wretch, Jack Frost, dared to nip my nose!'
'And that student saw us-saw us as plainly as he might a saintly stone!'
Snarling and steaming, the two demons began to shove, pinch and jostle their little brother. Murmur shuffled along the wall until he was at the top of the stairs, then made a dash for it. His hooves almost flew out from under him as he bolted down the wooden stairs. Beball and Behemoth were at his heels, shrieking and fuming and steaming. But in the hall, Beball caught up with the little demon and got hold of his coat.
'You are going to pay for putting us in this state!' he shrieked, throwing Murmur back against the wall.
'Vengeance is ours!' snarled Behemoth, and seized hold of Murmur's horn with the intention of banging his head against the wall.
But the horn came away in his hand. The demon's snarling and smoking paused abruptly. He blinked his beady red eyes disbelievingly down at the horn in his hand.
'That is a trick!' screeched Beball. 'Murmur has knocked that horn off somewhere and glued it back on!'
Letting out a snarl of rage and a snort of steam, Behemoth seized Murmur's other horn. 'Yes, no horn breaks away that easily-this one will not and your trick will be exposed!'
The horn came away in Behemoth's hand just as easily as the first had. While the demon blinked down in shock a second time, little Murmur saw his chance to escape. He dashed past his brothers and, with a final bound, leapt out the door.
With a shriek, Behemoth and Beball charged after the escapee, determined to catch him and deliver a hiding. Murmur landed in a deep snowdrift. He worked hard to drag himself up, but just as he was on his knees and about to spring away, a sound stopped him. It was the sounding of a horn from above, a rough, blaring blast that cut through the icy dawn air. Both pursued and pursuers stopped to look skywards.
There, flying towards them, was a black demon dressed in armour and riding upon a vulture, and going before him were two of his ministers sounding hellish horns.
'Forneus!' squeaked Murmur, in great fear and trembling, as he shrunk down low to the ground in the hope of escaping the Great Duke and Earl of Hell's notice.
But it did no good. Whipped on by his fearsome rider, the horrible giant vulture swooped down towards the little demon.
'Ah, here the little worm crawls!' shrieked the great demon, as his mount alighted. His voice was like the shriek of a raven or bird of prey, and his nose as fearsomely beaked.
Murmur was so terror-struck that his teeth did not chatter at all. He could only stare. Great Earls and Dukes of Hell did not pay lowly demons personal visits unless they had done something that was either very good or very bad. Murmur had never done anything that was even moderately bad, so that left only the former reason.
'Traitor! Judas!' shrieked the demon, pointing a bony, bony finger straight at Murmur.
'O mightiest, vilest, most profane, lowest Forneus, a thousand pardons!' gibbered the little demon, prostrating himself before the terrible black demon.
The armour plate-encased Forneus rattled like a sack of empty cans as he dismounted his vulture. 'I have not told you what you've done!' shrieked he, in a screech so harsh that Murmur's eyes watered from the hearing of it.
'Whatever it is, I am entirely remorseful,' squeaked the little demon.
'How dare you be remorseful! A demon has no business with remorse!'
Murmur made to bow and scrape, but when his head only pressed further into the snow he was reminded that he already was as low as he could be. Shaking and jittering, he kept silent. Every time he opened his mouth it only seemed to make things worse.
'We have received a complaint about you and a certain freak named Gribon!' screeched Forneus. 'The great Astaroth alleges that you did deliberately spear his mount with your pitchfork causing grievous bodily harm to it, and that the freak Gribon did deliberately and without regard prevent the attack of his serpent, therein causing grievous bodily harm. Out here, freak!' shrieked the demon, pointing his bony, bony finger straight at Gribon, who he glimpsed trying to dash back up the hall.
Trembling and shaking, the fair one very reluctantly crept out to stand before Forneus.
'This matter was raised at the great Council of Hell,' the soldier-demon continued in his horrid screech, 'and Astaroth demanded that you two be made to pay for turning on your own in such a manner. He asked that the most severe punishment possible be meted out. This request was granted by the great Council.'
'W-what punishment is that?' asked Murmur, in a tiny squeak and with much trembling.
'Armmm?' The demon frowned and scratched his head. 'Armmmm?' Then he snapped his bony, bony fingers and cried 'Baal-berith!'
A dusty, musty, hunched-over demon appeared. Murmur recognised him. He was the Chief Secretary of Hell and head of its public archives.
'You called?' croaked he, bowing stiffly.
'Read out the punishment Astaroth demanded be inflicted upon these here demons!' ordered Forneus.
Hell's chief pen-pusher squinted down at the yellowed page in his hand. 'Ahem, he asked that they be expelled from Hell and officially declared outcasts, that they be no longer recognised as belonging to the ranks of demons?'
'There,' screeched Forneus, 'you are herewith no longer a member of the ranks of demons. Gribon and Murmur, be gone!'
Shaking and jittering, the two condemned demons prostrated themselves before the great Duke and Earl. Little Murmur, fearful that the great demon might do him harm, tried to utter grovelling words. But all that came out were muffled 'oh's and 'hm's. His mouth was filled with snow, and he could not speak.
'Are you not grateful for the leniency and mercy shown to you, Gribon?' demanded the great demon, in his croaky screech, prodding the fair one with an armoured foot.
'Yes, vilest, most evil and degraded one!' gibbered Gribon, shaking hard, as much from the cold of the snow as from fear.
With a contemptuous 'harrumph!' the demon soldier mounted his vulture, clanking and clattering loudly as he did. Little Murmur dared to lift his head, and saw the demon whip his hell-bird on and take flight. Quickly vulture and demon rider rose into the sky and passed up into the clouds, his ministers' hellish trumpeting fading with him.
Little Murmur looked at Gribon, and Gribon, lying beside him in the snow, looked back. His pale eyes were afraid a
nd uncertain.
'What are we going to do, Murmur?' he whispered.
'I don't know,' squeaked the little demon.
'You can start by clearing out of here!' came Behemoth's shriek from behind.
'Yes, be gone!' added Beball. 'We don't want you two useless freaks around here!'
Two sharp points poked Murmur in the rear. He leapt up with a shrill squeak.
'Out, go on!' Behemoth poked him with his broken pitchfork again. 'Be off with you, freak!'
Gribon was getting the same treatment, only the pitchfork that poked him was as twisted as a corkscrew. Letting out squeaks and shrieks, the two young demons were chased down to the bottom of the garden and over the wall, which Murmur cleared with a goat-like bound. But the wall was Gribon's undoing-he failed to clear it cleanly with his un goat-like bound, landing in a heap on the other side and tumbling into the thickets of hazel and dog rose.
'Murmur, Murmur, I smell angel!' came his panicked squeak from amid the tangle.
'Get out of there, Gribon, out!' shrieked Murmur, as his heart skipped with panic. But suddenly a second wave of fear flooded him. Demons did not have hearts! Their hearts could not therefore skip.
'Murmur, help! Help!' shrieked Gribon. 'I've fallen, I've fallen! The angel is in my face!'
Murmur scarcely heard him. 'I've got a heart, Gribon, a heart! I feel it beating, I feel it pulsing!'
'I'm stuck, help, help!' screamed the fair one. 'The angel, I can't get away from him! I'm down the well, down with the angel!'
'My heart, my heart!' screamed Murmur, floundering around in the snow in a panic with his hand to his chest. 'It beats, I feel it!'
'Murmur?' Gribon's voice was calm.
The little demon stopped. 'Yes?'
'Why don't we just stop being evil? Perhaps being good is not so bad after all. This angel seems awfully nice. His feathery wings are so soft and warm, and his robe so silky and smooth. Even his smell is not so bad. I think I could endure it.'
Standing alone in the snowy churchyard, little Murmur paused to think. It was so simple. Perhaps Gribon was right. Being good was not easy if the trouble humans had with it was anything to go by, yet surely being evil was not easier. It certainly was very hard work indeed!
'Gribon,' said Murmur, 'let us do it. Let us be good.'
He pushed his way through the thicket to stand before the well. At its bottom, Gribon was helping the angel to climb up onto his shoulders. The angel then could reach the top of the well with his hands. He pulled himself out and got to his feet.
'Oh thank you, young Gribon!' he cried warmly, his face beaming with a golden radiance. 'My wings were healed by the tears of the fair Sophia, but in the well's narrow confines I could not spread them to take flight.'
Murmur knelt and reached down to pull Gribon out as the angel held his hooves to prevent him falling-no, it was his ankles, for they changed into human-like feet beneath the angel's hands.
Very relieved Gribon was to be out of the well. He thanked the angel and the demon. Then he frowned as he felt his bare feet.
'It is awfully strange, Murmur, but my feet no longer are cold,' said he, frowning and feeling some more.
Little Murmur felt Gribon's foot. It was warm. 'That really is mighty strange, Gribon. Demon-feet are cold and feel no cold. Very strange indeed?'
'Yes, it feels as though there is a sun inside of me, shining and warming me all up from within.'
Murmur turned to the angel. 'We want to be good, Sengriel.'
'Yes,' said the fair one, 'we want to be on your side.'
'Welcome!' cried the angel, beaming down with a radiance filled with joy. 'Welcome to the ranks of the angelic hosts!'
The End
Dear reader
Thank you for reading The Little Demon Who Couldn't. I really do hope you enjoyed spending time with Murmur and accompanying him on his adventures. I know I did! We authors spend a lot of time holed up alone, putting words on paper, editing said words, and getting our books into a shape suitable for you readers to (hopefully!) enjoy. That is why we always love to hear from readers. You can drop me a line at
[email protected] to tell me what you think of The Little Demon Who Couldn't, or just to say hi.
We also LOVE getting nice book reviews. If you bought your copy on Amazon, I will be thrilled if you go and write a customer review there. It is very easy. Just go on the book's product page on the Amazon website and find where it says 'write a review', and then click it.
Thank you again for reading The Little Demon Who Couldn't, and for spending time with me. I hope we'll get together again in the future sometime.
In gratitude,
Odelia Floris.
ODELIA Floris lives on the east coast of New Zealand's North Island. Her home is on a sixteen-acre farm, which she shares with her family, her two horses, and a much-loved cat. She has previously written two historical novels for adults - The Heart of Darkness and Beguile Me Not. This is her first book for children.
When she is not writing, she enjoys singing opera, gardening, horse riding, reading, listening to music, and painting. She has many more story ideas that are begging to be written down, so watch this space!
OTHER CHILDREN'S FICTION FROM ODELIA FLORIS
Rusalka: A Supernatural Czech Fairy Tale
Based on?Antonin Dvorak's opera?Rusalka, which in turn was inspired?by traditional Czech?fairytales, this novelette tells?of the water nymph?Rusalka and her love for a human prince. A haunting supernatural love story suitable for readers of all ages.
Visit Odelia Floris' website to learn more, and to view her other books:
https://www.odeliafloris.com/
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