The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 12)

Part 11 is here.

Goldberg wasn't used to driving at night, and the country roads weren't particularly well-lit, so the journey home was slower and more cautious than usual.

Sarah watched the forest's shadow gliding past, looked up at the dark trees as they stretched their eerie fingers into the murky sky, and thought back on the day's events. It had been frightening at times, true, but it was also the most excitement she'd ever had. Goats, she decided, must take whatever excitement they can get.

Pete wondered what to do next. Should he forget the whole ordeal, go back to being a goat and live out the remainder of his fifteen to eighteen year life expectancy wondering what could have been? Or should he continue to secretly betray his friends in the hope of a reward that may never come? It was a good question. He didn't want to be a goat for the rest of his life.

Cliffey fell asleep the moment they got in the van, and stayed that way right up until they encountered the troll from under the bridge.

Nobody saw it coming. One moment the road ahead had been clear and peaceful; the next, it was being blocked by half a tonne of repulsive, angry troll.

Goldberg had slammed on the brakes in time to avoid hitting it, but instantly decided that this was the wrong thing to do because running it over would have at least bought them some time.

But now the troll was charging at them, head down, roaring his insane roar.

The impact made a mighty WHUMP and sent the van spinning back down the track. Goldberg mashed the accelerator with under his foot in an attempt to flee, but this just caused the van to stall.

The engine sputtered pathetically, then went horribly silent.

"Damn!" cried Goldberg. "Damn damn damn!" Desperately, he wiggled the key in the ignition, trying to get going again.

WHAM! The troll once more collided with the van, nearly knocking the vehicle clear off its wheels.

The goats were terrified. The engine seemed to have given up completely. Goldberg, in a last effort to scare the thing away, honked the horn loudly.

No reaction. The troll bowed its ugly head, preparing to deal the final blow.

Goldberg and the two goats braced for impact.

Wait a minute.

Two goats?

* * *

Peikko and T'pon had been searching the forest for what felt like hours now, and they had found no clue as to where their colleague might be.

"What I don't understand," grumbled T'pon, "is why everyone voted for Jo-Tunn to be League president. He was lazy and worthless back then and he's the same way now. Except he's fatter."

Peikko cocked a warty eyebrow in bemusement. "You didn't vote for Jo-Tunn?"

"Absolutely not," T'pon retorted. "I voted for Karl."

Up went Peikko's other eyebrow. "Karl?!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You must have been the only one."

"I don't see why. I guess all the other trolls couldn't see past his stupid human name. Close-minded idiots. I should have run for the presidency myself, rather than let everyone get behind Jo-Tunn just because he's got a nice, traditonal troll name."

"But surely you'll admit that Jo-Tunn is good at keeping things organised?"

"I'll admit no such thing. We both know that you're the brains of the operaton, Peikko. Jo-Tunn's just a-"

T'pon's political ranting was cut short by an unhinged and rather trolly roar coming from the road behind them.

The two trolls looked at each other in dismay, then started running towards the noise's source.

"Karl? Was that you?!"

* * *

Goldberg looked around the van.

Cliffey was strapped in his seat, wide awake and paralysed with fear.

As was Pete.

Very slowly, Goldberg turned his gaze back to the road.

The troll was not charging at the van. Instead, his attention had turned to the small goat running in circles around him.

"Hey TROLL!" shouted Sarah, her voice quavering ever so slightly. "You want the goat who demolished your marshmallow wall? Come and GET me!"


Of course, Cliffey was the one who had devoured the marshmallow wall, but trolls are notorious for being unable to tell the difference between one goat and another, so Karl chased after Sarah as if she had stolen his soul.

"RAAAAAAAWARGH!"

Sarah was terrified, naturally. But she was quick, and her brave little diversion gave Goldberg time to get the van going again. With engine roaring and headlights on full beam, he stepped on the accelerator and sped towards the troll that was menacing his goat.

Karl may have been mad with fury, but he wasn't stupid. As soon as he noticed that dented behemoth roaring towards him, he wasted no time in getting out of its way.


Sarah kept running, just as Goldberg had hoped. He drove up alongside her as she ran, leant out of his window, reached out his arm, and...


...failed to pick her up. Oh no.

Goldberg hit the brakes and began a three-point turn to try again.

"Hurry up Goldberg!" cried Pete, leaning out of the passenger side window. "The troll's right behind her!"

Indeed he was, and Goldberg did his best to turn the van around as quickly as possible. But Goldberg was no stunt driver, and as fast as Sarah ran towards the van, Karl had no trouble catching up to her.

Sarah collapsed, exhausted and petrified. Gasping for breath, she could only screw her eyes tightly shut as the troll's ghastly stench got nearer and nearer and nearer...

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 11)

Part 10 is here.

Pete was dreaming again.

He dreamed he was lying on a table as a huge goat, standing on its hind legs and at least as tall as the average human, painted him red.

He dreamed he was repeatedly jumping off the edge of a cliff, only to land on the same cliff over and over again.

He dreamed he was a bird in flight, being chased by a much larger bird, and as he looked over his shoulder the big bird gave a great shriek and exploded into a mass of feathers.

He could not understand why he wasn't dreaming anything useful. Surely the monster would have something important to say now? Heck, even if it was something as simple as, "I don't like your owner, he keeps yelling at me and shining his torch in my eyes" then at least Pete would know he was still on the right track.

But now he was beginning to worry. Maybe the monster wasn't communicating to him psychically through his dreams. Maybe they were just dreams.

He was dreaming about being sat at a dining table, eating squid with a Japanese family except he didn't have any cutlery so he had to ask the father for a knife and fork and everyone was glowering at him when the little daughter of the family ordered him, in a surprisingly masculine voice, to wake up.

And just like that, he was staring into the irritated eyes of his friend Cliffey.

"Come on. We're leaving before you run off again."

"Uff...wait," mumbled Pete sleepily. "Uh...where's Goldberg?"

"He's still shouting at the monster," said Sarah, nodding back towards the room they had just come from.

"Nah, I've finished now," said Goldberg quietly as he emerged, shutting the door behind him. "Are you okay, Pete? Shall we head off?"

Pete tried to think of a reason to keep them there, but he couldn't come up with anything, and he could sense that they were getting tired of his stalling antics.

"Okay, yeah. Let's go."

And so they went. They filed out of the cavern, and Goldberg helped them to scramble up out of the hole.

"So what did you say to him?" asked Pete as Goldberg pulled himself out.

"Just a few firm words," said Goldberg, smiling faintly.

* * *

The trolls strode through the forest, with the great crow walking at their side.

"So his name is Karl?"

"Karl, yes." Jo-Tunn gazed, glassy-eyed, into the middle distance. "He always complained about having such a human name. Some of our less...distinguished members would make fun of him for it, and that would always get on his wick rather."

"So maybe that's why he's snapped? Was he much of an outcast?"

Jo-Tunn sniffed. "All trolls are outcasts, friend. I suppose Karl was something of an outcast among outcasts, yes, but I don't see that that could have caused this."

"Well then what did?"

"It's anyone's guess."

They walked on in silence for a minute.

"Righto, everyone!" shouted Jo-Tunn, suddenly stopping to address the whole group. "It's clear to me that we've a much larger chance of finding Karl if we split up and fan out."

Jo-Tunn organised his trolls into five search parties. One team would head north, one south, one east and one west. The remaining team - consisting merely of Jo-Tunn and the crow - would stay put, on the off-chance that Karl wondered by this spot.

The other four parties shuffled off, and the crow heard some mumblings about leadership laziness. Jo-Tunn seemed not to hear, or otherwise just to ignore them.

Once the two of them were left alone, Jo-Tunn spoke up once more.

"I've just realised that you haven't even told us your name yet, friend. What shall we call you?"

The crow looked away for a minute. Jo-Tunn thought he saw a smile.

"You'll have to try and guess. It starts with a J."

"Hmph. If you're going to play games, I shall just call you crow."

And that was that.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 10)

Part 9 is here.

It was much darker behind that door. Goldberg was glad he had brought the torch, or they probably wouldn't have seen the horrible slobbering monster right in front of them.

He was huge.

He was toothy.

He was, fortunately, chained to the wall.

But he still scared the bejesus out of everyone present. Cliffey was amazed at how accurate Goldberg's description had been: teeth like carving knives, eyes like cannonballs...

Ugh. Breath like the month-old eggs of the dead.

And he looked hungry. His angry, black stare was flitting ravenously between each of three goats, and Cliffey suddenly felt uncomfortably delicious.

Goldberg stepped forward. "Are you the one who turned Joel Fields into the nightmarish postcard from Hell it is today?"

The monster made no sound. He ignored Goldberg completely, and went right on eyeballing the goats. Sarah was concerned that he seemed a little more interested in her than in the other two. She hoped that, if he did eat her, he would swallow her whole. That way she wouldn't have to deal with those gargantuan teeth.

"I asked you a question," said Golberg firmly, pointing his flashlight directly into the monster's eyes. "Was it you? Did you eat all those innocent goats?"

The monster squealed and turned its head away so as to avoid the light.

Pete, who wasn't as scared as his friends but considering he'd already seen the monster was still pretty scared, wondered why the monster didn't say anything. He wondered how the monster was going to eat Sarah and Cliffey, what with being chained to the wall and everything.

And he wondered where the Human-ator was. This cave did look a little different to the one in his dream, and he was sure it was around here somewhere, but it didn't look like there were many places to hide something like that.

He was about to ask the monster where he kept it before he remembered that the others didn't know anything about their little agreement and, well, it was probably best to keep it that way.

"You are the worst thing in the world." Goldberg was addressing the monster again, still aiming the torch at him with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at him with the other. He spoke in a whisper, but it had all the fury of a scream. "I don't know how you got here, but I'm glad that whoever's responsible chained you up in a cave instead of killing you there and then. This way you suffer more."

The goats had never seen Goldberg this angry, and they might have been scared of him were it not for the gigantic goat-eating horror using up most of their fear at that point.

"I suppose you're hungry?" Goldberg continued, and on the word hungry he thrust the torch at the monster as if it were a sword. More agonised squealing. "I suppose you'd like to eat one of them?" He motioned towards the two goats with his pointing hand. "As if you haven't eaten enough goats already. Well these are my goats, and if you want them then you'll have to answer to me! Is that clear? You won't-"

Wait a minute.

Two goats?

Goldberg checked again.

Goldberg took a deep breath.

"Okay," said Goldberg. "Where's he gone now?"

* * *

"Right then. I call this two-thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-fourth monthly meeting of the Troll's League to order. Peikko will now take attendance, please answer your names."

"Thank you, Jo-Tunn. I shan't read your name out, we can all see that you're here."

"Thank you Peikko. Proceed."

"Righto. T'pon?"

"Present, Peikko."

"Thank you, T'pon. I'll just mark you down. Okay. There we are. Now, who's next? Umm...Lesni? Lesni, are you here?"

"Present, Peikko."

"Thank you, Lesni. Let me just put you down. Theeeere we go. Right. Peikko? Oh, silly me. Of course I'm here. Haha!"

The giant crow stood in the corner of the room watched this scene with disbelief.

"I'm sorry, perhaps I didn't make myself clear. One of your number has gone insane. He's a clear and present threat to himself and others. Mostly others. We need to get out and find him!"

"Well quite!" exclaimed Peikko enthusiastically. "Let me just finish the register, and then we'll get right down to business. Now, where were we? Ahm. Lesni?"

"You've already done me, Peikko."

"Oh. Oh! Have I? Well, what a scatterbrain I am. Um...Peikko?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Don't you care that one of your men is out there, ruining the good name the Troll's League has made for itself?"

"Indubitably," murmured Jo-Tunn. "But the Troll's League has taken record of attendance at every one of its monthly meetings since we were founded two hundred and forty-seven years ago. Besides, my dear fellow...how are we to know which of our number is missing if we don't take the register?"

"Just look! There's only one empty chair - who usually sits there?"

All the trolls turned to look at the sole unoccupied leather seat. There was a moment of silence before an excited chatter arose from those assembled. The crow couldn't quite hear what any one of them was saying, but he though he heard the name 'Karl' one more than one pair of lips.

Then, suddenly, there was silence again, and the trolls stood up from their chairs.

"Right then. It has been decided that immediate action must be taken. Peikko?"

"Yes, Jo-Tunn?"

"...Bring the register with you. We'll finish it on the way."

* * *

Cliffey and Sarah wandered back out into the passage to look for Pete while Goldberg told the monster off some more. They agreed that they had each done far more looking for Pete today than they had intended to do in their lives, and decided that next time, it was Pete's turn to look for Pete.

It didn't take long to find him - there weren't many hiding places down here, and Pete would have had trouble climbing back to the surface on his own.

But neither of them were sure why, now of all moments, he had decided to take a nap.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 9)

Part 8 is here.

As the humongous crow left Joel Fields once more, there was still no indication that the goats would be back in the Meadows anytime soon.

Goldberg sighed.

"We really need to get back, Pete," he said forcefully. "Why would you want to stick around here anyway? There's nothing."

Pete's plan may have been slightly flawed as far as location was concerned, but this was one part he had put some thought into. He looked away for a moment and, calling upon all the acting prowess he had garnered in his somewhat limited experience, shed a single tear.

Then he looked back to the group and said:

"I just don't believe it. Joel Fields."

Goldberg sighed again.

"I know, Pete."

"I mean, I know it's a wasteland but...it's Joel Fields, y'know? I can almost smell the dandelions."

"I know, Pete." Tears were now forming in the eyes of the other two goats.

"I mean look at it! No grass, no life.."

He trotted over to the sign.

"Even the sign..."

He bowed his head, stuck out his horns.

"Even the sign is rotten!"

And on that last word, he gave the decrepit thing an almighty wallop.

* * *

Pete wasn't sure what he thought was going to happen when he headbutted that sign. The only clue he had was what the monster had told him when he had fallen asleep in the forest:

"The 'Welcome to Joel Fields' sign. That's the key."

But he reasoned that his attack would provoke some hint as to the sign's role in uncovering the cave and, even if it didn't, he could at least disguise the attempt as an emotional outburst while he thought of something else.

Fortunately, something did happen. The monster had not been being overly cryptic; an evil goat-harvesting horror he may be but, to his credit, the sign was the key.

And once Pete had turned the key, it opened the lock, and once the lock had opened, so did the trapdoor beneath Pete's hooves.

"Pete!" he heard his comrades cry as he tumbled. It was not a very far fall, perhaps a little over ten feet, but it had taken him by surprise. When he got to his feet, his legs were shaking.

"Are you okay?" called Cliffey, peering down at him from above.

"I think so, yeah." His cover remained unblown. "Guys, I know you're all aching to go home but..."

"But what?" came the cry from above after a moment.

"...There's, like, a passageway down here. Goldberg, do you have a torch?"

Another moment passed before a beam of light confirmed that yes, he did. Goldberg carefully clambered down.

"Isn't this exciting? Get Cliffey and Sarah too!"

"Pete, I'm not sure about this. I'm as curious as you are to find out what's underneath Joel Fields, but I can't guarantee it won't be dangerous. And even if could, I couldn't guarantee it won't be boring. The three of you should probably hang back while I check it out."

"And let you have all the fun?" chimed Sarah, for whom the promise of new ground seemed to have erased the trauma of seeing the state of the Fields. She had quietly joined her friends in the rabbit-hole, and was now grinning expectantly.

Goldberg sighed, not for the first time. "Okay. Well. Just...keep your wits about you, okay? And stay close. Are you coming, Cliffey?" he shouted up.

"Sure..." said Cliffey uncertainly. He had personally had enough adventure for one day, but what can one do when swimming against the tide? Especially when one is a goat, a species not known for their strong swimming.

As he prepared to descend the trapdoor's shaft, he looked up. The crow was still there, and it looked like he was just flying around in circles over the Fields.

That's odd, thought Cliffey. He's free to go home. Why doesn't he leave?

He realised that he hadn't been polite enough to ask the crow's name yet, and resolved to do so if they met again.

* * *

Goldberg, naturally, led the way through the darkness, with Pete, Sarah and Cliffey - in that order - close behind.

The passage wasn't too long; it wasn't particularly twisty, and it wasn't at all turny. Goldberg hardly even needed his flashlight - the dim light filtering through the trapdoor would probably have been enough.

It wasn't long before they came to a thick metal door, fitted neatly into the walls of the cave.

"There's a padlock," muttered Goldberg, mostly to himself, "but it looks old. I can probably just bash it off with the end of the torch. Are you guys ready to see what lies beyond?"

A small voice cut through the suspense.

"Goldberg?"

"Yes, Pete?"

"I'm scared."

"That's understandable. But don't be. It's something new. Life - real life, not goat life where you lie around all day and eat and do nothing - life is made up of new things."

Until you find the one that kills you, thought Cliffey.

True to his word, Goldberg dispatched the padlock with ease. He gripped the door handle.

"Here we go, folks."

And in they went.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 8)

Part 7 is here.

"You'll be going home now then?"

The crow seemed eager to leave, and who could blame him? This wasn't the kind of place that made you want to stick around.

But no-one was going anywhere yet. Not until they'd found Pete.

"You're welcome to leave," said Goldberg, addressing the crow. "We have to find Pete."

"You can find your own way back, then?"
Goldberg nodded. "I think everyone will fit in the van."

The crow nodded, and said nothing. He simply turned, flapped his giant wings, and flew away.

Goldberg watched the huge bird until he had crossed the horizon. Then, blinking, he asked Sarah if she knew who the crow was or where he had came from.

Sarah didn't know.

* * *

All Pete had to do was find the cave.

But that could be harder than it sounded. Joel Fields was so barren that, even when stood on the very edge, you could see right across it. And Pete could see straight away that there were no caves in Joel Fields.

So he headed back into the forest.

Which was silly. He had just come out of the forest, and were it not for the crow he'd probably still be in there, hopelessly wandering around in circles.

Actually, scratch that. Were it not for the crow, he'd have beeen eaten by a troll.

But he had a plan, and for some reason that made him forget this. True, he knew his way around the forest about as well as he knew how to play the tuba. Yes, he could well be on the inside of some vicious monster faster than he could say "comeuppance".

But he had a plan, and so he was confident. Everything would be wrapped up within the hour, and he could go off and be human and live the good life.

It was so close he could taste it...

* * *

"I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I mean, I told you the whole big backstory, formulated a plan for you, convinced you it was a good idea, and I didn't even tell you where I was!"

Pete was back in the cave.

That's odd, he thought. I don't remember getting here.

"What a scatterbrain I am."

The monster was here too, but he wasn't chained up like he'd said he would be. He was pacing around, chuckling to himself.

"It's a good thing you fell asleep or you never would have found me."

Oh, thought Pete. That explains it.

"But anyway. How's it all going? Are you nearby?"

"I think so," Pete replied. "Last thing I remember I was in the forest, trying to find your cave."

"The forest?" the monster laughed again. "No no no. I know I wasn't too informative, but I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I was in Joel Fields."

"But there aren't any caves in Joel Fields!" protested Pete. "Not that I could see."

"Exactly."

"What?"
"You won't be able to see the cave," explained the monster. "Of course not. It's underground."
"Underground," repeated Pete. "How do I get underground?"

"Well. Those awful trolls used to send a man down every so often to check on me, make sure I hadn't broken free. They stopped after a while; I suppose they decided that it was never going to happen, so why bother? But anyway, it was the sign."

"What sign?"

"The 'Welcome to Joel Fields' sign. That's the key."

"Okay," said Pete, nodding. "So what do I do?"

"Your friends are looking for you," boomed the monster in a voice quite different to the one he'd been using so far.

"...I beg your pardon?"

Pete awoke to find the biggest crow he'd ever seen staring him in the face.

"I know you've had a long day," said the crow. "But this is a dangerous place to fall asleep. Come on, everyone's worried about you."

Pete sighed. Oh well. At least he had a clue.

Once more he hopped on the crow's back, relieved that, once again, he wouldn't have to find his own way to Joel Fields.

* * *

As they flew, Pete felt a pang of guilt. Cliffey and Sarah had been his friends since he was just a kid. And now he was going to sell them to a monster who was quite open about his intentions to eat them.

Didn't he care at all?

...

No, he decided. Humans don't really care about goats.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 7)

Part 6 is here.

ONE MONTH EARLIER

Nighttime in Gemma Meadows, and everyone is asleep. Sarah, Cliffey, Pete, Goldberg, the birds, the grass, the trees, all snoozing.

Sarah is dreaming of Joel Fields. She dreams of the clean air, the dandy dandelions, and enough lush green grass to give you a tummyache.

Cliffey is dreaming of Joel Fields. He dreams of the peace and quiet (it's much further from the road than the Meadows) and the wide open spaces to run around in.

Pete is dreaming of Joel Fields too, but he hasn't realised it yet. As far as he's aware, he's just having a nightmare about meeting a horrible monster in some dead, dry desert.

"Peter?" growls the monster.

"Y-yes?" he replies.

"Peter The Goat?"

"Yes?"

Pete isn't sure he should be giving his name to this thing, even if it is just a dream. Each individual tooth in its mouth is big enough to carve a turkey. And the eyes! They're huge, evil-looking, and blacker than the night Pete is sleeping through.

But suddenly that awful mouth is smiling happily, and those eyes have a certain look of generosity about them.

"What do you wish for?" asks the monster, still growling, but in a much friendlier way, Pete thinks.

"What?"

Another toothy grin. "I can grant you anything. Speak."

Pete acts like he is mulling it over, but he knows what he wants. It's what he's always wanted. Being a goat is fantastic - very few responsibilities, lots of food and free time - but you just eat and frolic and sleep and repeat and that's pretty much all there is to it. Very little scope for anything particularly interesting.

But humans...the things Pete would be able to do as a human. He could start a business empire and become rich and famous. He could record a hit single and top the charts and become rich and famous. He could play football for Manchester United and score a hat-trick and become rich and famous. He could write books, paint portraits, climb mountains, fall in love, and when he died people would get together in a big room and cry and say nice things about him and afterwards important people would put a picture of him in a book and everyone would see it and say "Gosh, didn't he achieve a lot?"

So what Pete really wants, more than green grass, more than dandelions, more than anything, is to be human. And this is what he tells the monster in his dreams.

The monster grins wider and sharper than ever. "Well what a coincidence!" he chuckles in a gravelly sort of way. "I happen to have a machine for that sort of thing right here."

And he does. Pete hadn't noticed until now, but at some point the backdrop for this conversation has gone from that depressing wasteland to an equally depressing (but at least not as dusty) cave. It's damp, it's horrible, and there are probably bats around here somewhere, but to the monster's credit, there is a big shiny piece of machinery in the corner.

Pete smirks a little. "A Human-ator?"

"Right you are. All I need is for you to bring your two friends to Joel Fields, and I'll let you have a go in the machine."

Pete's smile vanishes, for two reasons. "Joel Fields? Is this Joel Fields?...And what do you want with Sarah and Cliffey? Are you going to eat them?"

And somehow the monster's smile just keeps growing. "Yes, this is Joel Fields. I know it's not what you were expecting, but believe me, if you come you won't be disappointed."

Pete nods. "And my friends?"

"Yes, I'm going to eat them. But I swear on my life that no harm will befall you. And I shall of course keep up my side of the bargain."

The monster motions towards the machine. Pete looks away for a moment, and when he turns back he is wearing a frown.

"I don't understand. Who are you? Why is Joel Fields so...well it's not even a field, is it? What's going on?"

[At this point the monster tells Pete everything we already know about Joel Fields and the horrible massacre he brought upon it, but as we've already heard this story at least once we'll skip on a bit.]

Pete isn't wholly convinced. "This is just a dream," he points out. "Why should I act on any of this?"

The monster is about to say something when Pete realises that there is a bat biting into his back, sucking his blood.

"Ugh! Agh! Get it off!"

The monster chuckles heartily, plucks the devilish little creature from Pete's back, and smushes between his humongous yellow palms.

"I live in this cave," explains the monster, wiping the bat goo off his hands. "After my little feast in the Fields, I was chained up here by a gang of trolls." His smile fades for a second. "I don't know why they took it upon themselves to stop me, you'd think they'd have other concerns...anyhow, I'm chained up in a cave under what used to be Joel Fields, and, well, all this time alone has given me a little while to think. A long while, actually. I've spent the years honing my brainpower, and I've just worked out how to project myself into other people's dreams." The monster laughs. "You're the first person I've managed it on, as a matter of fact. You're a very lucky goat."

Pete just stares, googly-eyed.

"So...do we have a deal? You bring those other two goats to me, and I'll turn you into a human. It's been a long time since my last meal, and I'm getting mighty hungry."

No. Surely not.

"Well?"

Pete looks the monster dead in the eye. "You really, truly have a machine that can do this?"
"You have my word."

"Okay."

* * *

And with that, Pete wakes up. Looking around the darkened Meadows, he assures himself that it was all a dream.

He stretches, yawns, prepares to go back to sleep.

He feels a sharp pain in his back.

He looks.

There's a bitemark.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 6)

Part 5 is here.

Cliffey was aghast. This was not the magical, dreamlike Joel Fields he had always imagined.

Nor was it the overgrown, abandoned Joel Fields that Goldberg had suggested.

This was a desolate wasteland. No life at all. Just dry, dusty, decrepit, doomed desolation as far as the eye could see.

No grass.

No dandelions.

But thankfully, no monster either.

Really, the only thing there at all was a decaying wooden sign that probably once said 'Welcome to Joel Fields!' but now just said "We come t   o l  ie  s!"

"They should be here by now," said Goldberg, thinking aloud and sounding rather concerned. "I mean they've been walking all afternoon, right?"

Cliffey nodded, his mouth still hanging open.

Just then, a huge shadow fell upon them. There was a flutter of giant wings.

They looked up, and the biggest crow they'd ever seen swooped down to greet them.

And on its back were Sarah and Pete.

"You're okay!" cried Cliffey as he hugged them tightly. "I was so worried!"

But as relieved as Sarah was to see Cliffey again, she simply could not contain her disappointment.

"I thought you were taking us to Joel Fields?" she said, wrestling free of Cliffey's embrace and turning on the crow.

"And so I have."

Sarah went on looking at him, waiting for the punchline.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

"Sarah," interrupted Goldberg, "This is it. This is all that's left of Joel Fields now."

No, thought Sarah. This couldn't be Joel Fields! Where were the green grass and dandy dandelions? Where were the dreams and visions she'd had for as long as she could remember?

Where was Heaven?

"This...isn't it. We're not there yet."

Cliffey and Goldberg explained everything. They took it in turns. The history, the monster, his teeth, the hundreds of goats that were eaten, the fact that nobody knew where he was now. The lot.

And when they were finished, nobody said anything for a long time. Sarah was silent, trying as best she could to take this all in. Cliffey and Goldberg were silent, wondering if they could go home now. The great crow stood, silent, surveying this whole saddening scene. Pete-

Where was Pete?

* * *

Pete was pleased to see Cliffey too. He had both of his goat friends together again. But he didn't care to hear the story that Cliffey and Goldberg were telling.

He already knew it all.

So while they were filling Sarah in, he wandered off. In search of a monster.

Pete allowed himself a little smirk. Everything was suddenly going according to plan.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 5)

Part 4 is here.

The forest between Gemma Meadows and Joel Fields was hard enough to navigate in broad daylight, but at night it was practically impossible. Sarah and Pete were still trying to forge ahead, but it was so dark that they could well have been going in circles since teatime.

"Pete," Sarah said finally. "I'm getting too tired to walk, and we're never going to get anywhere in the dark anyway. Let's find a place to sleep."

"And where might that be?" Pete snapped. "Did you see a bed and breakfast just through that last clump of trees? Or perhaps some sort of goat hostel?"

"Oh, shut up, Pete."

"I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. I always thought that Joel Fields was just a stone's throw away."

There was a rustling in the leaves ahead. The two goats whirled around to see two fiery red eyes staring down at them from a nearby tree.

"You shouldn't throw stones...when you're in a glass house..."

* * *

Goldberg and Cliffey were both well aware of the troll bridge.

For Goldberg, it was a nuisance. Whenever he wanted to make a trip into town, he had to time his journey so that the troll was asleep when he went over the bridge.

For Cliffey, of course, it was much more terrifying. It was only an afternoon since he had narrowly escaped death by the troll's terrible claws.

But either way, they knew that there should be something under that bridge.

"...Perhaps he just...left?" said Goldberg, hopefully.

"Perhaps," said Cliffey. But he didn't sound like he really thought so.

* * *

Sarah and Pete were too scared to run. Those evil ruby eyes went on staring at them, seeing into their souls.

"Silence is golden," croaked the voice from the tree again. "But my eyes still see!"

And with that, the biggest crow they'd ever seen swooped down to greet them.

They still couldn't move.

It landed just a few feet in front of them. It stood there on the path, still staring at them.

They said nothing.

Suddenly, the great crow spoke, much louder than before.

"Speak!" he boomed. "And I shall listen."

It was Sarah who finally stepped forward, full of fear.

"We...we're going to Joel Fields." She waited for a reply, but the crow just stared at her. She nodded, and went on, a little more confidently this time. "We're going to Joel Fields, where the grass is twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy but we're lost. Can you help?"

The crow didn't say anything for a long time. Sarah was wondering if he'd heard when she suddenly realised that he was whispering something. All she heard was something about good intentions.

"I beg your pardon?" she trembled, now more nervous again.

The crow sighed and shook his head. "Hop on," he said, sticking out his mighty wings.

The goats hesitated.

"Do we trust him?" Pete wondered aloud.

Sarah was about to set about weighing up the pros and cons of hitching a ride on this gigantic bird, coming to a logical decision, but before she could open her mouth they heard the roar of the troll behind them. So instead of a logical decision, all that came out of her mouth was a scream.

Quick as a flash, they scrambled onto the crow's back, and as soon as they were on, he took flight. Below them, they saw the troll emerge into the clearing, looking angrier and more grotesque than ever.

Both Sarah and Pete breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good thing we didn't stop for a nap," said Pete.

"Shut up, Pete."

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 4)

Part 3 is here.

Goldberg's story was not a pleasant one.

"Joel Fields," he said as he drove, "is not a good place."

Cliffey was confused. Joel Fields was supposed to be like heaven. Every goat knew that. For as long as he could remember, Pete, Sarah and he had dreamed of living there.

But then, if he had wanted to live there for so long...why had he turned back?

"Joel Fields used to be just like everywhere else. Gemma Meadows, Joel Fields, Sophie Springs, Alex Marsh, they all had their goods and bads, but nowhere was particularly better than anywhere else."

"So what happened?" asked Cliffey as they drove over a bridge.

Goldberg shook his head. "A monster."

"A monster?!"

"A goat-eating monster. Teeth like carving knives, eyes like cannonballs, breath like the month-old eggs of the dead. If you believe the stories, he arrived in the Fields one Monday, and started eating that afternoon. By nightfall, he'd eaten every goat there. Not one was left."

Cliffey shivered.

"Nobody's set foot in Joel Fields ever since," said Goldberg. "Why on Earth would Sarah and Pete want to go there?"

Cliffey wasn't sure what to say. "I guess they heard differently," he mumbled uncertainly.

Goldberg's van sped on.

* * *

Meanwhile, Pete and Sarah's progress had come to a halt.

"You don't know the way, do you?" asked Sarah.

"Hm."

"I thought we'd be there by now, Pete. It's getting dark."

"Hm."

"Well, you'd better pick a direction quickly. That troll could be right behind us."
"Hm."

"Come on, Pete!" Sarah yelled. "We didn't come all this way to let a fork in the road defeat us! Which way are we going?"

"I...I'm not sure. It's not like I have a map or anything."

"Well, should we split up then? You can go left, and I can go-"

"No, no!"

"...Okay, I'll go left, and you can go right."

Pete rolled his eyes. "No, I mean we can't split up. What if one of us gets to Joel Fields, and the other one ends up wondering endlessly in the forest alone? We have to stay together."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Fine. So which way shall we go?"

Just then, they heard a familiar roar coming down the path towards them. The troll was right behind them, alright. And he was gaining fast.

And Pete still didn't know which way to go.

So Sarah took charge. "We're going left. Come on! Quick!"

And into the forest they ran.

* * *

There was one thing Cliffey didn't quite understand.

"So...how come the monster stopped at Joel Fields? Why didn't he come to the Meadows?"

"No one knows for sure," said Goldberg. "Some say he was so full after his feast at Joel Fields that he just went home. Some think that he got lost on the way to his next feast, and he's been wondering endlessly in the forest ever since. And some..." Goldberg paused. "Some say he's still there."

Cliffey shivered again. He told himself that it was simply because the sun had gone down, and night was settling in. The nights had been very cold recently.

"For what it's worth," Goldberg continued, "I think the monster's long gone. I reckon that, if those two do get to Joel Fields, all they'll find is a few acres of overgrown grass. But, you know, better safe than-"

Goldberg stopped abruptly.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Cliffey.

"That bridge we went over a couple of miles ago," said Goldberg, thinking. "Didn't there used to be a troll under it?"

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 3)

Part 2 is here.

Cliffey arrived back at Gemma Meadows and sulked. He sulked hard and he sulked deep. He had lost his two best friends in all the world so he sulked. His stomach was aching from all the marshmallow so he sulked.

The dandelions here weren't all that dandy.

So he sulked.

He had been sulking for precisely two hours and thirteen minutes when Goldberg, the Jewish man who looked after the goats, came by for feeding time.

"I'm not hungry," said Cliffey, sulkily.

"Why not?" asked Goldberg. He was concerned; when feeding time came around, Cliffey was always first in line for the best grub.

"Too full."

"Well, I'm sure Sarah and Pete will be only too happy to-" Goldberg looked around. "Where are your friends?"

Cliffey said nothing. Goldberg looked at him sternly.

"You didn't eat them, did you?"

* * *

Pete was getting worried. He and Sarah had been trudging along this increasingly barren path for over two hours now, and Joel Fields was nowhere to be seen. Wasn't it supposed to be just over the troll bridge?

Sarah was getting tired. Her tummyache had subsided some time ago, and she was growing a little hungry too. She salivated at the thought of the lush green grass that awaited them in Joel Fields. Surely it couldn't be much farther now?

Besides being tired and hungry, Sarah was also a little panicky. She had spent the whole journey hoping that the troll from the bridge wasn't still after them, and the only reason she hadn't demanded a break from walking yet was fear, fear that the terrible thing they had confronted earlier might be just behind them. Pete had assured her that he would have given up and gone back to his bridge by now, but she wasn't totally convinced. Besides, that wasn't the only thing bothering her.

"Pete?"
"Yes?"

Sarah hesitated. "How do we know that Joel Fields even exists?"

Pete stopped walking, and this made Sarah nervous.

"It just does, okay?"

And with that, they carried on.

* * *

Cliffey explained to Goldberg that, no, he hadn't eaten Sarah and Pete, but he didn't think they'd be showing their faces around here anytime soon.

Goldberg asked why not.

Cliffey told him, with no small amount of tutting and eye-rolling, that they were going to start a new life in Joel Fields, where the grass was twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy.

Goldberg just stood there, silent and wide-eyed.

Cliffey asked, had Goldberg ever heard of Joel Fields?

Goldberg said get in the van, I'll explain on the way.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 2)

Things looked bleaked for the three goats. Sarah had a terrible tummyache from eating too much marshmallow wall, and, with Pete trying to nurse her back to health, Cliffey was the only one still eating their path to freedom.

But boy could he eat. Everyone knows that goats will eat anything, but who knew they could so much of it?

There were about four inches of marhsmallow left when suddenly...

"The troll!" gasped Sarah, who still sounded quite ill. "He's coming back to life!"

Pete turned around and, yes, clear as day, the puddle of goop that was once that evil troll had started to pull itself together. Already, the troll's horrid green legs were complete, and the bulge of his stomach was coming along nicely.

Cliffey didn't bother turning 'round. He just ate faster. Before that day, only one team of goats had managed to chew through the marshmallow wall and escape. It had taken them a good couple of hours, and there were five of them.

Cliffey was working alone, and with this newfound urgency it looked as though he would break through in a matter of minutes.

Two and a half inches to go.

The troll's disgusting chest arranged itself into place.

Two inches.

His arms began to take shape.

Inch and a half.

The troll, still headless, staggered forward. Sarah and Pete screamed for Cliffey to keep going.

Half an inch left.

As his chin came back into being, the troll's repulsive left arm took a swing at Sarah.

But too late. Cliffey had finished the marshmallow wall, and the very moment he saw daylight, Pete had grabbed Sarah and run for it.

* * *

Once they were sure they had lost the troll, the three goats stopped to plan their next move.

"We're past the troll bridge," Sarah realised aloud. "Now there's nothing standing between us and Joel Fields, where the grass is twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy as in Gemma Meadows."

"Let's go!" said Pete enthusiastically.

"No."

Sarah and Pete turned to Cliffey. He was shaking his head.

"No?" Sarah's face fell. "But why, Cliffey? We beat the troll! There's nothing stopping us! It's what we've always dreamed of!"

"NOBODY!" roared Cliffey suddenly. "NOBODY HAS EVER EATEN AS MUCH MARSHMALLOW AS I JUST HAVE. I AM RETURNING TO GEMMA MEADOWS, WHERE THE GRASS IS GREEN ENOUGH AND THE DANDELIONS JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF DANDY!"

"But Cliffey," said Pete. "We're so close!"

"Close to what, Pete?" Cliffey was quieter now. "The troll was just the beginning. Who knows what else is in Joel Fields?"

"Greener grass!"

"Dandier dandelions!"

"How do you know?" said Cliffey. And with that, he turned around and headed back towards Gemma Meadows.

A breeze blew through the trees that lined the path.

"Are we going back too?" asked Sarah.

Pete shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"No."

Sarah wasn't sure what to say.

"But Cliffey-"

"Cliffey can live his own life. We've got a new one waiting for us in Joel Fields. Come on!"

TO BE CONTINUED