“Oh, I don’t know. Whatever song comes to mind.” Caught up in the moment Robert couldn’t think of a single song as his brain had decided to betray him and turn to mush when he needed his wits about him the most. The only song that came to mind was “Piggy Piggy” and he’d rather die than have to sing it. “I’m waiting.” Said Marigold

  “I can’t think of anything…” he lied

  “Then I guess I’ll just leave you here.”

  “No! Wait….“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh My piggy, my piggy is fat and round, he rolls in the mud all on the ground, he weighs so much it does astound, my piggy is a fat little pig!” and after the line he paused.

  “What a fun little song!” marigold said with delight. “Is there any more?”

  “Yes, there is.” he grumbled

  “Well? go on then.”

  “Do I have to?” he asked

  “Oh, most certainly. I think it’s a delightful ditty!”

  *SIGH* “Fine…He doesn’t cuddle but he doesn’t bite, he eats up everything in sight, but touch his slop and he just might fight, my piggy is a fat little pig!

  Mighty fine, smelly swine, cleaning him takes most of my time! Mighty fine, hungry swine, my piggy is a fat little pig! The end!” By this point Marigold was practically in hysterics.

  “It’s a great song!” she said in between fits of laughter that echoed off the bottom of the stone bridge. “That’s the funniest song I’ve ever heard in my life!” Robert was less than enthusiastic about her joy from a song that had cursed him for years. But for her enjoyment, he was glad that he’d shared it. “Go on, sing another one! If they’re anything like that one, then I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  “I don’t feel like signing anymore.” He admitted. “Perhaps you could sing a song for me.”

  “I’m not sure you’d know any of the songs I know.” Marigold told him with her lips close enough to his right ear that he could almost feel her breath.

  “That doesn’t matter.” he said “How about your favorite song? I’d like to hear that.”

  “I imagine I could since you were nice enough to share. Let me see. Ah, I know just the one. But before I do, why don’t we make you more comfortable?” before Robert could protest, she tipped his hat forward to cover his eyes and grabbed him by the armpits.

  “Hey!” delicately but swiftly she lowered him, his body still stiff a board, to recline on his back atop the stone embankment of the creek. To his amazement, once he was horizontal, all his limbs relaxed and he went flat and limp. Try as he might, he couldn’t see a thing with his hat forward. He tried his best to shake the hat loose and catch a glimpse but it was no use. He was as a good as blind. While his eyes didn’t work his ears painted the picture of what was happening. Marigold sat down next to him. and there, next to a stream under a bridge in a time unknown, the strange unseen girl lifted her golden voice to sing:

  

  Marigold’s song: (the outcasts)

  We are….

  the shadows that are cast out in the daaaaaytime, the ones better suited for night.

  The “misunderstandled”, foul-upping mishandled, unwanted ones left out of sight.

  There are unfortunates left by the waaaayside, the ones always left in the wings.

  The less-thans, the awkwards, the usually not thought of’s, those who enjoy stranger things.

  We are the less coordinaaaated, the wobbly kind who can’t dance,

  The clumsy, forgetful, the nervous and fretful, those who don’t get a second chance.

  We’re the fumbling bundles of throwaways, those always picked to join the fun last,

  Sorrows sad little inventions, the seldomly mentioned, the ones that luck always passed.

  But it’s not so bad to be and outcast, the kind that seldom behaaaaaaaave,

  Because whether you’re spooky or popular, a king or a pauper, our bones rot the same in the grave!

  Oh!

  We are the ones constantly unsure of ourselves, the crooked, the sickly and blind!

  Forever uninvited, the subtly slighted, the backs that are snickered behind.

  We are the hungry and bashful, the slobbering wrathful, the peculiar left out in the snow,

  the seldomly alluded, the often excluded, the ones you don’t mention to know

  But, it’s not so bad to be and outcasssst, the kind that won’t behaaaaaaaave,

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Because whether you’re a weirdo or popular, a king or a pauper, our bones rot the same in the grave!

  So! watch what you say to the strange ones, perhaps keep one eye open wide when you sleep

  Or you’ll find yourself rendered, horribly dismembered and drowned in a bag in the deep!

  But I’ll never be SAD to be and outcassssst, the kind that just won’t behaaaaaaaave,

  Because whether you’re spooky or popular, a king or a pauper, all of our bones rot just the same in the graaaaaaave!

  When the last words of the song died on the air, Robert found himself getting misty at the edges of his eyes.

  “That was a beautiful song.” He told her. “Did you write that song yourself?”

  “I did.” She replied. “I think I may have said too much.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful song, don’t you?” There was no reply. ”Marigold?”

  “You can move now if you want.” She said. Upon hearing this Robert took the first opportunity to reach up and snatch his hat from his eyes before leaping to his feet to confront her face to face. But as before, she was gone.

  “Hello?” His eyes and head shifted this way and that, even going so far as to rush to the far side of the bridge to see if she was hiding around the corner. Not a trace was left save for the muddy footprints that littered the rocks around where he’d been lying. His heart still swelled from the song and to put into words what he was feeling made his head ache so he stepped out into the sun and looked back to the shadows one last time. “I’ll be back tonight.” He said seemingly to no one. “I hope you’re here when I do.” Marigold didn’t answer him. But in all honesty, he would have been disappointed if she had.

  It was mid-afternoon when he returned to Spellvale. As normal as it seemed for everyone else, Robert felt conflicted to see such bustle and vibrance. What illusion or magic had come over him and his siblings that the ghosts of his ancestors walked so freely around him? Uncomfortable with the feelings coming from all directions, he tried to keep his distance. It might have been a different situation if he’d never walked ankle deep in these people’s bones. But try as he might, the populace of Spellvale greeted him just the same. Most smiled and waved, asking him about his day or asking him to tell his sister to bless the crops. Agitated, he pulled the brim of his hat lower and tried not to let it bother him. Robert returned to Vickiri’s home to find Siouxsie half buried in offerings.

  “Robert!” Siouxsie exclaimed, jumping from her stacks of gifts to embrace him. “Where have you been?”

  “I was out for a walk.”

  “You were out looking for Marzipan’s sister again.” She smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Did you find her?”

  “More or less. She’s always elusive. I offered some honeycomb in return for her showing herself, but she took the treat and vanished.”

  “You can’t lure a girl out with treats, Robert.” she rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to try harder and offer something more enticing.”

  “That makes sense.” he agreed. “Can I borrow your lute?”

  “As long as you bring it back in one piece.” She grinned again.

  “Where is Ignatius?”

  “He’s gone out to look for your missing friends.” offered Valeron, standing close by. “I would think that he might-

  “Help!” called a voice from outside. “Someone help!”

  “That sounds like Ignatius!” cried Siouxsie. No sooner than the words were from their lips, each of the twins had a blade in their hands and rushing outdoors. Sure enough, just as they stepped into the light, Ignatius was dropping down upon them from the sky.

  “Help!” Ignatius yelled across the crowds of witches. “Vickiri! Where are you!”

  “What’s happened?” asked Valeron

  “Yes! What’s got you alarmed?” asked Siouxsie

  “I found them!” he said with an anxious expression, looking to the twins before looking for someone else. Valeron! I need a healer! Who here is experienced with poisons and antidotes?!”

  “Marzipan!” The boy offered “She knows all of our alchemy! What’s happened?”

  “Take me to her at once!” Ignatius demanded. “Now! Quickly!” Valeron took off like a shot toward the temple with the trio right on his heels.

  “You found them?” asked Robert trying to keep up. “Who have you found?”

  “Atticus, Loxo and Morell!” Ignatius said, glancing back over his shoulder. “They’re just south of here and headed in this direction. Morell has been bitten to something venomous!” Witches scrambled to get out of their way as they ran. Valeron led them inside to the inner sanctum where candles burned over heaped desks of parchment.