Nosy Rosie’s Splodgit
The Uninvited Visitor
The Easter holidays had only just begun but already Rosie was bored.
‘C’mon Muffin,’ she said to her little dog. ‘Let’s play dress-up, I’ll be a fairy and you can be a dragon.’
Muffin looked at Rosie and pricked his pointy ears up. He wagged his stubby tail in agreement but he certainly didn’t LOOK like a dragon.
Rosie leafed through her fairy-tale book until she found a picture of a real fire-breathing dragon.
‘Hmm,’ she mumbled as she rummaged in the dressing-up box. ‘This will have to do.’
She dressed Muffin in a little, green t-shirt, which was adorned with spiky leaves.
‘There Muffin! Those leaves look a little bit like scales! I’ll just put this leafy crown on your head and you’ll be all ready to breathe fire!’
Muffin sighed loudly but he sat patiently by Rosie’s side as she put on her own fairy costume. Finally, she pulled on the elastic loops of the wings.
Suddenly, Rosie’s nostrils began to twitch.
‘Follow me Muffin,’ she whispered. ‘Something’s going on in the kitchen.’ Muffin, in all his green glory, trotted at her heels all the way down the thickly carpeted stairs.
‘Perhaps Mum is baking a cake, let’s go and investigate.’
Now between you and me, Rosie has the twitchiest nose you have ever seen. If something exciting or unusual is going on, her nostrils begin to twitch and flare - they NEVER let her down.
As they got closer to the kitchen Rosie’s nostrils began to do a little dance. ‘I just KNOW that something REALLY exciting is happening in here!’ she told Muffin as she opened the door a fraction and peered around it.
There on the kitchen table stood a ......
Rosie’s eyes grew round as she stared at the sight before her. She couldn’t see his face, because he was looking at the rocking chair in Mum’s needlework corner. But athough he was no taller than one of Rosie’s fashion dolls he looked very scary. Wild, red hair stuck out from his head and he shook his tiny, yellow fists.
Rosie heard him mutter in an out of breath voice. ‘This Fairy Queen’s palace is fit for a giant, so it is . . . but that there is comfilicious! And it’s exactly where I wants to be.’’
With one eye on the uninvited visitor Rosie inched backwards towards the hallway. Muffin whined and hid behind the coat-stand.
‘Please don’t go . . . are ye the Fairy Queen?’ The little man’s croaky voice made Rosie jump and she scuttled behind the door.
‘How did he know we were here?’ she whispered to Muffin, who just whined again and skulked further behind the coat-stand.
The little man turned around slowly and Rosie almost gasped out loud. Just like his hands, his face was yellow and his amber and blue eyes twinkled like jewels behind the strangest glasses she had ever seen.
‘I have the treasure to give ye,’ he continued in a pleading voice.
Now most little girls would have run away.... but Rosie’s nose twitched again. She wanted to know who he was, where he had come from and – most important of all – what he was doing on her kitchen table.
The little man dropped down onto his knees and clasped his hands together.
‘Did ye no hear me - oh Fairy Queen? I really need yer help. Have ye got tattie-bogles in yer luggins?’ he asked.
Rosie swallowed and stared at him, she took a deep breath and gulped.
‘Wh-what are you doing in my h-house?’ she asked him - her voice coming out all squeaky. She swallowed once more and continued bravely, ‘And wh-what have you d-done with my Mum?’
‘Mum?’ croaked the little man. ‘What’s a Mum? I haven’t seen anyone but yerself and yer timid, wee creature friend - oh Fairy Queen. Has this Mum got wings like yers?’
He got to his feet again and spun around, taking in every corner of the kitchen. His purple waist-coat strained across his belly and Rosie saw a leather pouch hanging under his grimy, grey jacket. Tiny yellow feet stuck out from the hems of his brown trousers and green slime dripped off them. Rosie shuddered as she noticed slimy footprints all the way across the table top. She knew her Mum wouldn’t be pleased.
‘That’s disgusting!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mum will be very angry when she sees that, you know!’
‘Aw-oh - I don’t think I’m wishing to meet this Mum,’ said the little man. ‘Oh Jings! It’s humbly sorry that I am - oh Fairy Queen, have ye got something I can clean it up with?’
He began to dance on the table and pull at his red hair. ‘The Mum’s going to get me! The Mum’s going to get me!’ he ranted, squeezing his eyes shut.
‘Calm down,’ whispered Rosie, edging slowly into the room. Muffin cowered behind her legs and growled softly. ‘Mum won’t hurt you, she’ll just be angry about the mess.’
‘Don’t like angry! Don’t like angry!’ he said, dancing ever faster and spreading more slime along the table-top.
‘Stop that!’ ordered Rosie, walking towards the kitchen window. As she stretched out to grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser she saw her Mum outside in the garden. She was pegging the washing onto the line.
‘Okay!’ she said, thrusting a wad of paper towels at the little man. ‘Let’s get this mess cleaned up before Mum comes back in. Use this to clean your feet and I’ll wipe up the table.’
The little man did as he was told and hopped down onto the chair, then down again onto the tiled floor. As Rosie wiped the table, she looked down at him, he didn’t look nearly so frightening anymore.
Once the table was clean she shoved the slimy paper towels into the bin. Muffin whimpered and slunk over to his basket where he tried to burrow under the blankets.
‘Okay!’ she said, turning round with her hands on her hips. ‘Who are you, where did you come from and what are you doing here?’
‘Ye’re very nosy for a Fairy Queen – that ye are,’ said the little man, slime still dripping from his trouser legs. He ran towards the rocking chair in Mum’s sewing corner, ‘It is me destiny to sit in this splendiferous chair - so it is.’
‘Oh no you don’t!’ said Rosie stepping in front of him. ‘You’re NOT putting your slimy feet on Mum’s pretty cushions.’
‘Rosie!’ Mum’s voice echoed in through the back door making them both jump. ‘Who are you chatting to?’
‘Erm . . . just Muffin and my dolls Mum,’ Rosie called back.
‘Okay!’ replied Mum. ‘We’ll have some lunch once I’ve finished pegging out the washing.’
‘Quick,’ whispered Rosie, ushering the little man towards the stairs. ‘Go upstairs, you’d better hide – at least until we can get you cleaned up properly - Mum doesn’t like dirty things.’
‘She called ye Rosie. A-are y-ye not the Fairy Queen?’ he stuttered. ‘Is this not the palace at the top of the hill?’
Rosie ignored him and pointed towards the stairs.
‘UPSTAIRS! NOW!’ she ordered.

Keep Reading

Chapter 2

Rosie finds out all about the strange little man.

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