goldish-green fog was laying over
the water, but through this mist, it was easy
to see the round balls of light shining underneath.
Maybe these were the Marshmallows, thought
Granma. Blue cattails were sticking up everywhere.
Some were broken open with pink and white fluff
oozing out of them and floating in the air. "Wonder
what kind of creatures live there," shivered
J to G. It was still about a mile off before
they got down to the water’s edge. "Well,
we better be going and find out," said G.
The "it" in the canoe was getting
closer. They could see now that "it" had
long hair to it’s knees, very long arms, and
wore a grass skirt. It sorta looked like a scarecrow.
It had marsh flowers of silver and dull gray
in it’s hair behind it’s ears, if that’s what
you could call them, pointed as they were.
Going down the rocky crags was a little slippery
and scarry, rocks flying as the horses picked
their way slowly. Then they reached flat land
and the stone bridge. Black water lapped at
the shores of lichen, weeds and shells. Some
flowers that looked like birds of paradise
grew in the water's edge. As they got nearer,
frogs began jumping in. That was a good sign;
there was life in the marsh. (If only they
knew) Muff just went on out into the water
and started lapping. She didn’t keel over so
they saw that the water didn’t seem to be poison.
The closer G & J got to the water, the
bigger & brighter the round balls of light
became. They were of all sizes; small ones,
medium ones, large and very large ones. They
sorta looked like pearls underwater, or maybe
… marshmallows … but with an inner light of
their own. The place was kinda eerie. "I
wonder how far down they are," said Julio
out loud to himself. "I wonder if I can
reach down and get one."
G was thinking the same thing. A light like
that might come in handy. "Ahoy there!" came
a cry across the water. A skinny little bark
canoe was being shoved off the far bank by
a someone or a something that spoke English.
Neither G nor J wanted to dismount. The Chips
all crawled back into their baskets. It was
only about two thirty and the sun was out bright
There was absolutely no sound of the canoe
upon the water; it glided like it was skimming
over glass. There was no sound of the oar that "it" paddled
with. Indeedy, there was no sound of birds
or anything. The air hung, if you know what
I mean. Take the air and hang it out on a line
and that’s the way it was. Where was that tropical
breeze when you needed it?
Two big bulging eyes peeped through the hair
as it pulled up to the shore, got out of the
canoe, and waded in the water to the shore.
Once on shore, they saw that it had webbed
feet, like a frog. Why’s it’s skin was even
the color of a frog, greenish-brown-gray.