A Gurumapa In The Wood Read online

A

  GURUMAPA

  IN

  THE

  WOOD

  A short story

  by

  A.G.R. Moore

  A GURUMAPA IN THE WOOD

  By A.G.R. Moore

  Kindle Edition | Copyright 2013 A.G.R. Moore. Cover illustration copyright © Carl Rothwell

  Edited and proofread by Heather McGarrigle

  All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than that which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold however it can be given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work put into the creation of this story.

  https://agrmoore.blogspot.com

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  Contact: [email protected]

  Other books by A.G.R. Moore

  The Unseen Chronicles of Amelia Black

  Available on Paperback & Kindle

  A Boy Named Hogg

  Available on Paperback & Kindle

  For a little boy named Oliver...

  Dear reader,

  It is so lovely to see you. If you have stumbled upon this tale after wandering the worlds of Amelia Black and Sebastian Hogg then I welcome you back with open arms and thank you a thousand times for the continued support. I hope you enjoy this story about A Gurumapa In The Wood, with the same love and affection as the two stories that have came before it.

  If we are meeting for the first time, then I thank you for taking a chance with this short story and I hope it will inspire you to seek out my other work in future.

  Either way, I thank you for giving me your time.

  Sincerely,

  A.G.R. Moore.

  FAR OUT IN THE OPEN COUNTRYSIDE, miles away from the confusion of city life, there was a wood. At the edge of this wood there was a house, perhaps these days it might even be your house. However, a long time ago in that house lived a little boy called Oliver with his mother and father.

  To Oliver this was a boring life. He craved adventure, excitement and occasional bit of danger. He missed his old city life. He missed his friends.

  “Dad,” he said. “Can we play?”

  Dad’s response would often be, while working furiously away on his typewriter, “No, Oliver. I’m busy.”

  And so Oliver tried to amuse himself without the company of another. He would read his books, fly a kite, kick a football and cycle his bike. Through the summer, this would go on and on. Sadly, with his parents busy and with seemingly no other child around for miles, Oliver’s patience was worn to the thinnest of thin.

  That is until one day, a particular sunny afternoon, a strange occurrence befell the boy. He was playing at the bottom of his garden, at the edge of the wood, then looked up and saw a stranger staring at him.

  A fox, no less.

  “Hello?” asked Oliver.

  “Hello,” said the fox. The woodland animal unceremoniously turned and went back into the wood. Oliver just couldn’t help himself and followed. Never mind that the fox could talk, but the fox was the first soul, besides his mother and father, to say hello to him in weeks.

  That was worth something.

  Wasn’t it?

  Deeper and deeper Oliver followed the fox into the wood. The boy struggled to keep up, tripping over branches and falling face first into mud.

  “Excuse me!” cried Oliver, after the fox. “Where are you going?”

  “Why, I am going back to my den, dear boy, and you should go home. It’ll be dark soon and that’s when he comes out to play.”

  “Who?” the boy asked.

  “The Gurumapa,” whispered the fox, in an ominous tone.

  “What’s a Gurumapa?”

  “Something very wicked. He’s a horrid, twisted giant with a terrifying face and decayed, protruding fangs. Have you noticed there are no children around these parts? That’s because he stalks the wood and gobbles them all up and crunches their bones.”

  “He...gobbles children up?” The boy shuddered.

  “...and crunches their bones,” concluded Fox. “That’s right.”

  “Well ...well he won’t crunch my bones or gobble me up,” Oliver said with defiance. Twilight passed and darkness fell heavily upon the wood. The trees grew taller, shadows more twisted and sounds more chilling. While Fox just continued on his way.

  “Wait, how do I get back?”

  “It’s too late now. Can’t you hear it?” The boy and the fox fell silent and heard a droning sound in the background. “That’s its stomach. It’s hungry. Hurry, this way!” And through the hedgerow and bushes Fox and Oliver stormed on at brisk pace to find a tiny hole beside a gigantic chestnut tree.

  The fox’s den.

  “I’m not sure I can fit down there,” said Oliver, catching his breath.

  “You don’t have time to find out, boy,” said the fox. Though it was a definite squeeze, Oliver just about squeezed down the tiny hole. The rumbles and stomps of the mysterious Gurumapa faded for the time being, as the boy came to the end of the tunnel to find a warm den, most peculiarly fitted with a couple of leather seats, a whiskey cabinet and a fireplace.

  The little boy collected his thoughts and fell down on the floor in a daze. “What...where...why was that thing chasing after us?”

  “Not us; just you, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh.”

  “Care for some tea?” asked the fox, politely. “I think you’re going to have to stay here for a little while longer.” The Fox propped himself up on his hind legs and sauntered over to the kettle, on a counter, to mix himself some herbal tea. He gave Oliver some. Oliver spat it out.

  “That’s disgusting!” exclaimed the boy.

  “Well, green caterpillar tea isn’t for everyone I suppose.” Oliver’s face went a little green at the thought.

  “I have to go home. Mum and dad will be worried.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, not yet anyway. He smells you; to him you’re like a Killmoulis after it hasn’t bathed for a day and I assure you dear fellow, an unwashed Killmoulis is not something to be smelt, even after it’s bathed.”

  “Well, there’s no way he’ll find me,” said Oliver. “I’ll be very careful, I promise.”

  “Suit yourself. It’s your skin, not mine.”

  Oliver clambered through the dirt of the tunnel and, from beyond, a gargantuan rumble brought him tumbling all the way back down.

  “No!”

  Fox dragged Oliver into the corner as a hairy, warty foot came crashing through the ceiling of the den.

  The Gurumapa.

  “Up the back way, we’ll escape through there.” Fox despaired as he saw all his timely possessions stomped into oblivion by the feet of the creature. Oliver pulled at the vines and clambered out of the hole and into the dark of the night. When he looked back to see if his companion the fox was there, he was not.

  “Help!” cried the fox. He was struggling to get out of the hole - Oliver slipped in the mud before crawling over to grab his new friend.

  They ran and ran until the noises faded and they could run no more. Oliver tried to catch his breath again. He didn’t know where he was; all he could see were foreboding trees and haunting shadows.

  “I knew this was a mistake,” said the fox, out loud, to himself. “I should have just left you there, now look, my whiskey cabinet is destroyed, I’ve got no home and the Gurumapa is going to eat me too. I’m doomed! Doomed by association!”

  Oliver felt terrible after the fox’s rant. It was his fault; he should have just stayed at home, away from the wood. Perhaps boredom did have its merits, he wondered.
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  “I’m sorry,” said Oliver. The fox swallowed his frustration and relaxed.

  “It’s not your fault, m’boy. That sick creature has been terrorising our wood for a long time now.”

  “Has no one ever tried to stop it?”

  “How can we?” sighed the fox. “It’s so big and strong. It would crush me and all my friends in the wood like we were insects. It rules the wood and we’re powerless to stop it.”

  Without thinking, Oliver said something quite bold, “I’ll stop it!”

  The fox laughed.

  “I mean it,” said Oliver. “It’s not right.”

  “Okay little boy, humour me. How do you propose we stop the Gurumapa?”

  Oliver tried to form some sort of explanation or a plan of attack, but he had none. “I...I don’t know.”

  The fox had heard enough and was compelled to leave the boy for dead. That is, until a strange notion crept into his mind. If Oliver somehow managed to vanquish the beast, he and all his friends of the woodland would be rid of the Gurumapa forever. And if he loses, the boy gets eaten and things remain the same until another muttonhead has a go at banishing the giant from the land. And upon reaching this conclusion, he decided to help the boy instead. He was a dead fox either way.

  It was a dark thought, but this was a dark night.

  “Come along, I have an associate who helps in these situations.”

  The fox moved slowly through the bushes, making sure Oliver was able to keep up this time, and carefully keeping an ear or two out for the Gurumapa. Everything had gone very quiet throughout the wood.

  Very quiet indeed.

  They crept towards a noticeably decrepit tree, surrounded by a horde of bushes - hiding in plain sight. The fox gestured the boy in. Oliver obeyed, hesitantly at first, and walked into the hollowed out trunk. He shivered as the darkness consumed him