Three Eggs: A Samhain Story

“Tell us a story, Grandmother Pine!” 

“Very well.  You all know about the Three Worlds, yes?”

“Of course,” sighed little Raccoon. “Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t,” squeaked little Mouse, who was younger than the others. “What three worlds?”

“THE Three Worlds,” explained Bear Cub. “It’s the first thing you learn.  Three Worlds we live in, you and I…”

“The World of Thought, where Ideas are real” sang little Blue Jay.

“The World of Spirit, where Love is real,” added Hedgehog.

“And Middle World, where Time is real.  Our bodies are in that one,” said Otter Kit.  “Also all our thinking happens in one world and all our feelings happen in the other one.  Also we came from the Thought World.  Also we’ll go to the Spirit World.  And all our ancestors are there already.”

“Forever separate, forever insep’rable, like eggs in the nest of all creation.  What about it?  It’s just the way things are.  It’s not a story,” scoffed little Raccoon.

“It is a story,” said Grandmother Pine, “if the eggs break…”

Once upon a time (said Grandmother Pine, as the little creatures gathered closer), for no reason that anyone could discover, the walls between the worlds broke. At first it seemed wonderful that all of creation was in the same place.  The animals soon became used to it, and ignored the memory that it had ever been different.  If a creature imagined something, it would pop! Into existence.  And when someone died, they would merely put aside their body and float around without it, weightless and transparent but here.  It soon became customary to use this time for travel, since flight was effortless; and it was common to see a flock of ancestors soaring overhead on their way to see new things.

“But, gramma, I don’t want you to go!” little Hedgehog snuffled into his grandmother’s lap. “I want you to stay and hibernate with us!”

                “My old bones can’t take another winter,” his grandmother replied, stroking his quills. 

                “So take off your bones and hibernate with us!”

                “Silly, you know spirits don’t hibernate.  You sleep, and I’ll see you in spring.  It’ll be here before you know it.”

                Hedgehog lifted his tearstained face. “What if I need you before then?”

                “You won’t.  But just in case, little one…I’ll give you a signal to use.  If you do a certain thing, I’ll know it and I’ll come to you, no matter where I am.”  And grandmother hedgehog whispered in her grandson’s ear, because saying things out loud is dangerous when manifesting is as easy as winking.

(“What did she say?  What did she say?” squeaked little squirrel.  “Hush!  You’ll be told when it’s time.  Don’t interrupt,” said Grandmother Pine.) 

                “Promise you’ll remember?” she said.  Little hedgehog nodded, and his grandmother smiled and left him, to go put her skin away.

Many of the grandparents were choosing this time to set their bones aside, because it was much easier to continue as a spirit than to try to imagine aches away.  Somehow, that never seemed to work.  Away they all went one day in late October, flying south with the wind behind them.  Their families saw them off, then hurried back to their caves and burrows and setts and lodges.  The wind smelled sharp and snowish.  Everyone had plenty of food, some gathered and some conjured; but no creature, big or small, could use their thoughts to change the weather. So they filled their bellies, snuggled into heaps and shut their eyes.  The first snow fell that night.

A few days later, Little Hedgehog woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  After rolling over and grunting for a while, he finally gave up and shuffled out of his nest and into the sunlight.

And, what a surprise!  It was lovely out there.  The leaves were all gold and red, the wind was a gentle breeze and the sun was smiling down on him.  And he wasn’t the only one!  All over the woods, the young ones were crawling out and stretching.

                “Hey down there!” called young Squirrel. “Let’s go play in the meadow!”

                “Yay!” called small Rabbit, and off they all ran, the children of the woodland creatures.  The Meadow was a lovely place to play, surrounded by squash vines and open to the sky.  They imagined a swingset, some snacks and a merry-go-round, and played together all day, rabbit and squirrel and beaver and bear and all the rest of them.  There is something especially fun in playing when you know you should be sleeping…And so it was.

When the sun went down, the weather seemed to remember that it was meant to be nasty.  A mist rose and the wind got bitter.  All the little animals stopped imagining a playground and headed, shivering, to their various homes. 

Hedgehog hadn’t realized how dark it was until he was on his own.  Now, he’d always been a nervous little animal, but he’d never been frightened before.  But, waddling along in the deepening gloom, he started to imagine he heard footsteps in the rattling of the leaves behind him.  He started to imagine panting breath in the sighing of the wind.  And what could be creaking like that?

                “Perhaps it is a big beast…a big, scary beast…with teeth and claws and glittering eyes…” Hedgehog looked over his shoulder, his paws all sweaty.  And there.  It.  Was. 

                The hideous creature was right behind him!

                Hedgehog ran.  He stumbled through dead bracken, he tripped and fell into cold streams, he wondered frantically what he would do if he got lost!  And then, because he’d imagined it, he was!  Never was a little creature so terrified in all the world.  He was weeping with fright, the animal was snorting right behind him and he had no idea where his home was.

                Suddenly he felt the ground drop away from his paws.  He was too out of breath to scream as he was hoisted into the air by an invisible rope, and he gasped in relief as he saw the hideous beast shamble past below him.

                “What on earth was that?” asked a startled voice.  Hedgehog looked up, and saw Old Spider sitting on a branch just above him.  It was her thread that had saved him.  She stretched out two of her legs and pulled him gently up onto the branch beside her, where he sobbed out his story.

                “Oh dear,” she sighed when he was finished. “So it begins.”

                “What do you mean?” he whispered.

                “Once a monster has been brought to a world, its brethren are certain to follow.  And you say ALL the children were out today?”

                He nodded, speechless.

                “Tut, tut.  Well, climb on my back and I’ll take you home.  We’ll see if your parents can help in this matter.  It’s too much for me.  I’m supposed to be dying.”

                But when they reached the burrow, nothing they did could wake up Hedgehog’s parents.  They were deep in their dreamless winter sleep, and even shouting had no effect. 

(“What about banging on pots and pans? Did they try that?”

“Yes, young squirrel.  They tried everything.  Now hush.”)

Meanwhile, Small Rabbit was in trouble.  She had caught a glimpse of a big, shambling animal she’d never seen before, and it made her think of things that made her blood run cold… something not huge, but sneaky, slithery, scaley…ready to pounce…

                And then there were two monsters in the woods.

                Old Spider and Little Hedgehog heard her call out, and ran to help.  Screaming and crying began breaking out all over the Whispery Woods, yet none of it was sufficient to wake a single mother or father.  Finally, in desperation, Old Spider gathered the children up and took them to her own home in the hollow oak.  And there they stayed for a night and a day, while Old Spider watched over them and thought about worlds, and monsters…and eggs.

In the afternoon she led them all to The Meadow.  They huddled up together in the grass, sniffling.          

“What shall we do?” asked Muskrat. “Can’t we just imagine them not existing anymore?”

                “Try it,” said Old Spider.  They tried.  They couldn’t.

                “Well, what can we do?” cried field mouse.  Old Spider shrugged (which is very expressive when a spider does it) and said, “I will help you as I can, but it’s your family you need.”

                “That’s it!” yelled Hedgehog. “Grandmother!  I’ll call my grandmother.”

                “Me too!” squeaked squirrel.  “Mine told me I must make a hollow gourd and call into it, and she’ll hear me.”

                “Grandfather said, if I carve a picture of a face with my teeth, he’ll know I need him,” piped up Beaver.

                “Light a candle, my gramma said,” added Hedgehog. 

                “Light a candle, IN a hollow gourd, WITH a face!” stated Baby Bear triumphantly.  “Then they’ll all come!”

                “You do have lots of pumpkins here,” Old Spider pointed out.

                Working together, it took no time at all to cut open several pumpkins and empty them out.  The sharp-toothed little animals set to carving faces, while the tree-climbers went from one to the other, calling into them, followed by Hedgehog, who lit a candle in each one.

                They did not have long to wait.

                Over the trees flew the grandparents, landing in the grass without a sound.  All the small animals rushed to hug them.

                “Now,” said grandfather Beaver, “Why do there seem to be so many new and scary things stalking through our woods tonight?”

                The children told the story, and their elders pursed their lips. When they were finished, there was a long silence.

                “I heard a prophecy when I was a kit,” spoke the soft voice of grandmother Muskrat.  “My mother used to sing it to me. It was, ‘when the monsters come to pass…frighten them into the grass.  There we’ll spin the veils strong…keep them prisoned all year long…Bid goodbye to kith and kin…guard they the borders, keep them in…

                “’Til the wheel turns round again.”  All the old ones finished the verse, looking thoughtful.

                “But what does that mean?” asked Small Rabbit.

                “It means we have work to do!” said gramma Squirrel, suddenly cheerful.  “We need to give these beasts a fright, and gather them all up in this meadow, and trap them!”

                “Scare them?!” squeaked Mouse.  “How?!”

                “Creatures like that have a simple weakness,” put in Grandfather Bear. “They are imagined beings themselves, so real things have no effect on them…But imagination scares them silly.”

                “How do you know?” said Squirrel.

                “Another prophecy,” he said calmly.  “Now, think!  Get yourselves some armor of the mind.  Imagine something you can wear, because we need you little ones to herd the creatures to this place.”

                As they reentered the woods, on their way to face down the monsters of their imaginings, each small creature was wearing something to make it feel mighty and fearless.  Squirrel was a knight, Hedgehog was a wizard; Beaver was a cowboy, Bear was a princess…Rabbit, for some reason, was an eggplant.  Every one of them was quaking with fear, but they stepped bravely into the darkness, and it cannot be denied that when the monsters got a good look at them, and bellowed with fright and started running in circles, that certainly helped to boost the confidence of the young ones.  Shouting and whooping, clashing sticks together, they chased the horrible creatures into the meadow one by one, where the ancestors bound them with pumpkin vines. 

When the last monster was trussed up, the children gathered again.

                “Now what?” panted Hedgehog, a bit out-of-breath.

                “Now comes the hard part,” admitted his grandmother.  “We must put back the walls between the worlds.”

                “So…We won’t be able to imagine things real anymore?” said Little Mouse sadly.

                Little Hedgehog looked round-eyed into his grandmother’s face.  “We won’t be able to be together anymore?” he whispered.  She gathered him into a hug.

                “Sweet child, I will always be with you,” she said.  “I will just be invisible.  Someone must guard the borders, keep the monsters in their proper place.  That will be us.”

                “I, for one, will enjoy it!” boomed Grandfather Bear.  “It will be nice to have a purpose.  And the spirit world, once it’s whole again, will be a nice change!”

                “How can that happen?” asked young Rabbit. “Can broke worlds get fixed?”

                “I know a way,” said a tired voice.  It was Old Spider.

                “My people have a secret we have never shared, but we whisper it to our egg sacs so that our children are born knowing this thing:  We spiders have always been able to move between the worlds.  I can spin the shells together with my web.  But…”

                “But you are already so tired,” gently said little Muskrat.  “Can we help?”

                “Yes,” said Old Spider.  “If you put your thoughts and feelings and motions into this web, it will be strong enough to mend the eggs of creation.  But there is one last thing:  It will weaken.  Every year.  Every year on this day, the monsters will be real, the shells will be thinner.  You will need to put on your costumes again, little ones, and chase the scary creatures back where they belong.  Can you do that?”

                “Yes!” shouted all the young animals.  Hedgehog tucked his paw into his grandmother’s.  “And will you be closer then, too?” he asked.  “On this day, will you come visit?  Just for a little while?”

                “Of course, my dear one.  Especially if you carve the gourds and light the candles inside.  They call to us,” said Grandmother Hedgehog.  Then Old Spider began to spin, and all the creatures were quiet, concentrating on the great invisible shells…being pulled into place…and held there.  Healed.

“How did it feel?  When it was healing?  Was it like an earthquake?”

“Not nearly so dramatic, little otter.  It was like when the weather changes and your ears pop.”

The ancestors softly vanished. 

The monsters evaporated. 

The costumes melted away. 

The children found themselves sitting in a circle in the meadow, with a round yellow moon shining down on them, and the chill silence of an ordinary night about them. Without a word, they each went home.  Hedgehog was last, and he opened up the pumpkins and blew out the candles.  “Goodbye until next year, dear grandma,” he whispered.

There was a short silence around Grandmother Pine.

“Is that the end of the story?” asked Raccoon.

“It’s never the end of the story,” answered Grandmother Pine.  “We strengthen the web every year.  Did you think you put on costumes, and carve pumpkins, and decorate with spiderwebs, and put a plate out for the ancestors all for nothing?  Did you think monsters aren’t real?  Speaking of which, isn’t it time you all got dressed up?  The sun’s going down.”  She watched the young animals scatter, and sighed to herself.

                “'Til the Wheel turns ‘round again…”