Max Downstairs: Episode 8

One of the dogs, the most ferocious one, pushed its pointy head through the gap between the large boulder and the wall. Saliva drooled from its snapping jaws. Its sharp teeth gleamed. The ropey muscles in its neck strained as it growled and tried to lunge through the opening.

The boulder shifted. Just a fraction. 

Keisha and Arty sucked in a scared breath and stepped closer to each other. 

“That bloodhound is going to break through,” Keisha said in a shaky voice.

“And get us,” Arty finished in a shakier voice. 

Rascal mewed the shakiest meow ever and buried her head in Keisha’s shoulder.

“Not on my watch.” Another boulder on his shoulder, Malvin stormed past the kids. A few feet from the gap and the ferocious bloodhound, the large troll skidded to a stop and launched the boulder into the air. 

The bloodhound yelped and pulled in its head. 

The boulder landed right in the gap, sealing the opening.

"Let's get going," Malvin said.

The group began walking. Keisha carried Rascal. 

Fluorescent white rocks lined the tunnel, lighting the way.

When they reached the last rock and the end of the tunnel, Keisha and Arty looked around and blinked. 

“I thought the tunnel led to the regular woods,” Arty said, gripping the stone in his pocket. 

“Not anymore,” Malvin said. “Now it’s all Underside.”

Thick, warm, dry smoke swirled around them and tickled their throat. It smelled like burnt toast. It was dusk and getting darker by the minute. The ground was uneven with bumpy roots. The roots moved, making it tough to balance. 

“These roots grab you and slow you down,” Malvin said, kneeling so Keisha and Arty and the kitten could climb onto his broad shoulders. “We don’t have much time before they know we’re here.”

“Who?” Keisha asked from the left shoulder, then coughed.

“Quiet,” Malvin hissed. “Everything in the Underside has ears, even the trees.”

From Malvin’s right shoulder, Arty squinted into the falling darkness. “I don’t see many trees. It’s mostly just smoke.” He coughed.

“Smoke is the worst,” Malvin whispered. “Smoke is the most dangerous.”

“But where are we going?” Keisha whispered. She coughed again.

“To the safe place.” Malvin sniffed, his large nostrils flaring. He took three big steps forward. He stopped. He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed again. He took three big steps to the left. He stopped.

“Don’t you know where it is?” Arty asked. 

“The safe place changes every day,” Marvin said. “It’ll be faster if we all sniff. The more of us sniffing, the stronger the smell.” 

“Smells don’t work like that,” Keisha said.

“They do in the Underside,” Malvin said. “Today is a lemony smell. Like lemon bars or lemon butter cookies or lemon pound cake.” He took three more steps to the left.

Keisha and Arty sniffed. The kitten clung to Malvin’s neck and wiggled its cute little nose.

“I smell lemon,” Arty said. 

“So do I,” Keisha said.

“Let’s go.” Malvin took off running. Keisha and Arty sniffed and steered by tugging the troll’s ears. He ran through the dusk and the smoke, his large feet squelching the wriggling roots. He ran so fast, wind whistled through Keisha and Arty’s hair and Rascal’s fur.

Finally, when the lemony smell was so strong, Keisha and Arty could taste it on their tongue, Malvin stopped running.

“We’re here,” he said, standing completely still.

Fireflies sparkled in the dark, clear air. The smoke had disappeared. The wriggling roots were gone. The ground was dirt. Trees stood tall in the near distance. The smell of lemon was overpowering.

“Where?” Arty asked, frowning.

“At the safe place.” The words were barely out of Malvin’s mouth when the ground yawned around his feet. The troll and the kids on his shoulders and the kitten on his neck began to sink. “This safe place is under the Underside. Hang on.”

Down, down, down.

The ground was swallowing them up. 

The stoned burned in Arty’s pocket. 

When only Malvin’s shoulders were above ground, Rascal mewed and jumped.

Keisha jumped off Malvin’s left shoulder to grab the kitten.

“Keisha!” Arty called.

In a flash, Malvin with Arty on his right shoulder sunk lower and disappeared from sight. The ground closed up.

Keisha picked up the kitten and cradled her. “Rascal, where are they? What are we going to do?” Tears pricked at her eyes.

A lonely tendril of smoke wisped along the ground. It wound around Keisha’s ankle, then up her leg and around her waist. The tendril thickened and tightened. It was as strong as rope. It tugged Keisha away from the clear air and back toward the swirling smoke and the smell of burnt toast. 

Keisha opened her mouth to scream, but could only cough.

                 --Barrie

Ingredients needed for the next scene: What happens to Keisha? What happens to Rascal? What does Arty do?? 

The Recipe: In the comments to THIS EPISODE, give us your best ideas to answer our questions. We’ll collect your answers Tuesday June 9 at 11 p.m. (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 Thursday June 11 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!