Max Downstairs: Episode 4

Mom, Dad, Keisha and Arty stared at Mrs. Patterson’s wizened face and the coarse hair sprouting from her neck. She looked ferocious, but had kind blue eyes.

“Who? What? What are you?” Dad sputtered. He stretched out his arms as if to protect his family.

Keisha and Arty glanced at each other. They thought of the times Mrs. Patterson babysat them. How she always invited Max upstairs for story time and a pocketful of slugs. How she knitted him a pom-pom hat in purple, his favorite color. 

Suddenly, they knew.

“Mrs. Patterson is Max’s mother,” Keisha explained.

“My only son.” Mrs. Patterson placed a hand over her heart. 

Mom and Dad looked dazed. 

“Don't feel bad you didn't figure it out,” Arty said to his parents.

“Yeah,” Keisha said. “Grownups can’t recognize magic like kids can. It’s a fact.”

Mrs. Patterson pulled her grandmother mask back over her face. She patted her moon-white bun into place, settled her huge glasses on her nose and tucked a few stray neck hairs under her shirt collar. “Better?” she said to Mr. and Mrs. Wachter. Then she tilted her head, listening. “We have at most seventeen and three-quarter minutes before Edward King and his bloodhound arrive. We need to call Max from the forest and get him to safety in the Underside as quickly as possible.”

“Tell us what to do,” the Wachter family said together.

Mrs. Patterson wrapped several cookies in her tea towel and slid a couple more onto her palm. She left the rest on the plate. “We’ll spread the cookie smell inside and outside the house to hide the scent of Max and his slop. If we do a thorough job, even the bloodhound will be tricked.”

She passed the plate to Dad and the tea towel to Mom. “Watch me,” she said holding out her palm. She sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips and slowly, gently blew over the tops of the cookies in her hand. A dusty breeze wafted up, swirling the dank, earthy smell through the hallway. 

“I’ll take the front yard,” Dad said, opening the door. “And I get it. These aren’t chocolate chip cookies.”

“And I’ll spread the cookie smell in the kitchen,” Mom said, heading down the hall.

“Keisha and Arty, go to Max’s stone garden,” Mrs. Patterson instructed. “Retrieve the top stone from the third mound of the third ring of stones. Hold that stone high in the air for three seconds. That will call Max here pronto.” 

“We’re on it,” Keisha said.

“Do not disturb any other stones. We do not want to unleash any of the Underside’s power,” Mrs. Patterson said. “And remember, time is of the essence.”

“No worries,” Arty said.

Keisha bounded down the long, long cellar stairs, Arty right behind. She stopped abruptly at the bottom. Arty bumped into her.

Crouched by Max’s stone garden was Tilley Tartmore. She was clicking photos with her phone camera. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Keisha demanded. 

“I have every right to gather evidence.” Tilley Tartmore stuck her pointy nose in the air. “For the safety of the neighborhood.”

“This is private property.” Arty pushed past Keisha. “Get out of here.” 

Tilley Tartmore stepped back. Right into the stone garden. Right into a mound of stones.

Clatter! Clatter!

Stones scattered on the cellar floor. A low rumble shook the basement. The ground in the middle of the stone garden split open. Smoke poured out. Along with a sickening, rotting stench. And the sound of growling.

 —Barrie (with help from story ingredients provided by Parker, Malcom, Fiona, Alexander, Jonathon, and a couple of very creative Anonymous helpers.... thank you!)

Ingredients needed for the next scene: What comes out of the Underside? What happens to Tilley Tartmore? What do Keisha and Arty do next? 

The Recipe: In the comments to THIS EPISODE, give us your best ideas to answer our questions. We’ll collect your answers Saturday at 12 noon. (Eastern Daylight Time) and will use as many as we can to write the next scene. If you want to, sign your first name to your idea so we can give you credit.

Come back Monday to see what we wrote!

If we don’t take your suggestion this time, be sure to keep playing—we need your help to cook up a good story!