how they got separated (an excerpt from my novella-poem in progress, "Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons")

the forest, rolling in myopic vapors

was carpeted with a cruising occlusion

compelling its denizens to forage

in a cocoon of claustrophobic confusion.

condensing droplets fell from spectral elms

smudging skewed wrinkles on the surfaces of creeks,

etching the windows of the spookhouse in the woods

with scrawny, stretched signs in cascading streaks.

Sleazy was slumped on the kitchen table,

dozing and dribbling a drooling stream of twaddle.

Rashful stood muttering, his hands on his hips,

irately eying the upended bottle.

he shrugged his shoulders and stumbled to the stove,

starting in on the breakfast preparations.

Sleazy awoke and snatched up his clutter,

a tidy avoiding of recriminations.

when Weepy and the otter came down the steps

Rashful was humming an out of tune ditty.

exchanging in glances their stunned disbelief,

the otter expressed an ear-flattened pity.

Weepy's twin Gropey plied his old vocation,

slinging laden dishes with dexterous hands

which paved the pair's passage with the pirates

menacing the shores of their plundered latin lands.

with the grace of a mime and a dash of panache

he shuffled muffins and plated pork pie,

stacking up crumpets and glittering fritters,

cramming the table in the blink of an eye.

the princess came in as Sleazy brewed coffee,

encumbered with flowers that filled up the sink.

she wrought a rose wreath to wear in her hair,

transfixing the otter with another sly wink.

then everyone ducked from pelting cutlery,

caroming with a cacophonous clatter,

after an accelerating butter knife

unnerved the salad forks, making them scatter.

upstairs, urgent tapping was rousing Nate,

while his wits untangled from a feeling of doom,

stemming from the visceral conviction

that something quite sinister had just left his room.

"come in" he croaked, comprehending he was alone.

Mock entered at once, as white as a sheet.

Nate tried to rise, but clung to Pally's essence,

still sensing his warmth and the press of his feet.

Mock said "i can't find Gramps.  i think somethin's wrong.

he's not in the cottage.  i've looked everywhere.

the only odd lead that's turned up so far

is a broken candle on the edge of a stair."

Nate threw off the covers, looking for his cape.

"what about Pally.  did you bump into him?"

Mock's jaw flew open.  "no, i never did.

i ought to have caught that.  sometimes i'm awfully dim."

"stuff and nonsense.  you're as sharp as they come.

but time's wasting, Br'er Mock.  let's alert the others."

"that fell fog's reinfested the forest.

i'd fain it rained brimstone, if i had me druthers!"

with the slippery knife safely apprehended

the serving spoons plunged back in their platters.

but though the splattered flatware had settled down

the tablecloth and napkins were in tatters.

it was clear from Nate's conduct something was wrong

when he prodded a possum out of his chair.

"Pally and Gramps have gone missing." he said.

"our sole clue's a candle, discarded on a stair."

searching looks scurried in concentric circles

while adding up the agitated faces.

a timid rabbit hopped out of the glare

that ominously clustered in vacant spaces.

the door sprung open and Sappy tumbled in,

a frantic, flopping fish shuddering for breath.

"something's in that fog.  and it followed me.

and i'd swear it intended to scare me to death!"

this second disquieting revelation

coming as it did in the wake of the first,

left the company in a shell-shocked state

their composure crumpled and their bonhomie burst.

the final whimper asked after Lumpy

radiating panic as it bathed them in gloom.

it trickled out of Weepy, frail as a whisper

and hung in the air like death in a tomb.

the birds outside were caroling chatter

embroidering dissonance from lyrical trill,

bantering with brethren from Pasty's bay window

fresh from their huddle, bunched up on her sill.

they strung out their perches on fanned out branches

despite the dingy, diminished perspective.

for though they loathed the malevolent mist,

they were fond of Sludge White, and fiercely protective.

with rapt attention they watched the six Curmudgeons

accompany Nate through the makeshift door,

with their hurricane lanterns and flaming pitch,

divvied up in parties, each composed of four.

Rashful's retinue included the twins,

with the spectacled otter draped on Weepy's neck.

he rallied their valor by warbling his ditty,

afflicting those in earshot all to heck.

Sleazy spun diversions for Nate and Mock

with his unrivalled flair for flinging dirty words,

ferried by echoes that twined through the trees

in varying directions, confounding the birds.

they vanished from sight as the writhing sallow swirls

swallowed the light that seeped from Sappy's torch.

then a deeply disturbing silhouette

darted from the shadows and sidled off the porch.
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- Evan Hawthorn, the 7^th of July, 2016