Soul Searching: Chapter 10
When the weekend came Bobby and Cedric had three souls in the baby-food jar. They decided it was enough, and with the jar tied to his back Cedric departed for the Groundskeeper’s cottage.
Upon his arrival he was met by a terrifying sight. There had been a fire. Ashes and some smoldering timbers were all that was left of the cottage, and there was no sign of the Groundskeeper or the other inhabitants. Cedric threw himself on the ground and wept.
“Look who is back,” a voice said.
Cedric looked up and saw Tulip and the squirrel standing next to what was left of the cottage.
“You’re alive!” Cedric exclaimed.
“Crick-crick, crick-crick,” the squirrel said, meaning “Not all of us were so lucky. The Groundskeeper died in the fire, and so did all your pine-cone friends.”
“Our poor, poor companions,” Tulip said and wiped away a tear. “The squirrel and I are truly fortunate to have escaped the inferno. Hard as I tried I wasn’t able so save anybody.”
“Crick-crick, crick-crick,” the squirrel said, meaning “You, I, Shakespeare, Dante and Ariosto.”
“You saved your books but not our friends?” Cedric stammered.
“I only grabbed what I could carry. Those three, yes, and Dickens, Faulkner, Marcus Aurelius and...”
“Crick-crick, crick-crick,” the squirrel said, meaning “Tulip was running in and out of the burning cottage at least a dozen times trying to save some books.”
“Many of them are first editions!” Tulip protested. “And I wasn’t able to save my tin soldiers. All that is left is a lump of molten lead. Now I have to start all over. What a disaster!”
“How can you worry about tin soldiers when the Groundskeeper and my siblings are dead?” Cedric cried. “How can you stomach violence after what happened?”
“Now, now Mister High Horses,” Tulip said, sounding miffed. “Where were you when the fire raged? What were you doing to save anyone? Flitting about like a butterfly catching fluffy little souls, I imagine? If my interest in tin soldiers offends your oh-so cultured sensibilities, I promise that henceforth I will only cast little tin pacifists. Are you feeling better now?”
“Crick-crick, crick-crick,” the squirrel said, meaning “Please calm down, the two of you. We are all grieving our losses in our own ways, and getting on each other’s cases isn’t helpful. Let’s go home and get some rest. By the way, Cedric, we live in an abandoned ice-cream truck now.”
“It doesn’t have running water or electricity,” Tulip muttered.