Toe Rag

By Ruan Bradford Wright

In a land of Beauty lives Toe Rag. He is the most unloveable creature  ever - in his own opinion. Follow Gentle Toe Rag on his adventure to save the beautiful princess and find his destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fae Corps Publishing
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215024324

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Copyright © 2023 Ruan Bradford Wright

Publisher Fae Corps LLC

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All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Fae Corps LLC

5415 Raven Dr

Charleston WV 25306

Faecorpspublishing.org

Dedication

I want to thank the many people who encouraged me to complete this novel, which I started an embarrassingly long time ago. In particular: Paul and Anne Worrall, who were my first readers; the members of the Naperville Writers Group, especially Chad Bednar, Patrick Dunn, Marilyn Giese, Jenn Hollmeyer, and Greg Stolze for their invaluable insights and comments; Malcolm Guite for generously reading the first completed draft and giving me really useful suggestions; Lorelei Blackburn for her belief in Toe-rag and her suggestion that even just one sentence a day will result in a finished piece eventually (true); Patti Harris and Fae Corps for their willingness to publish Toe-rag and for their skillful and sensitive editing; and, last but not least, thank you my husband and rock, Andrew, and our children (now grown) James and Lucy, who are my joy and inspiration.

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CHAPTER ONE

A NEW WORLD

It is good.

They surveyed the land below them. It was green and lush with rolling hills and steadily flowing rivers.

But it needs more. Let us cause creatures to browse the hills, burrow in the ground, fly in the air, swim in the waters. And a people to appreciate it. Then it will be complete.

The creatures will cooperate and cause the land to flourish. And the people will take care that the land and its creatures are not mistreated or maligned.

Well said. Let it be.

They dreamed, and creatures sprang into being on the earth below them. Sounds burst through the quiet that had been: the thud and clatter of hoof, the plash of fin, the swish of wing, the chitter of teeth, the murmur of language, the ring of laughter, a roar, a bellow, a scream. What was that?

Elo-Namba, was that your whim?

They must strive to grow strong. It has always been so.

But this is a new world. We are trying something different. A world without violence, without usurpation, without misery.

Elo-Yana, you are sentimental. If there is no conflict there will be stagnation. The creatures and the people will become complacent and bored, not to mention boring!

In a world of absolute security they will have the leisure to develop their arts and sciences. That is not boring! The birds will perfect their song, the fish their sleekness, the hind its grace, the goat its gift for comedy, the people its capacity to love. And they will all live in harmony, creatures and people in consort helping not harming one another.

You are wrong! It will turn out badly, mark my words!

Elo-Farna says that it is my turn to decide, Elo-Namba, remove your spirit of bellicosity! Elo-Namba stewed for a moment, in the end saying, Very well. But we must at least install a dragon to give them something to fear.

That is true. A dragon is always a good safe-guard against overreach. Elo-Namba continued, We will place the dragon’s den over there. And it was done.

Once more they surveyed the land they had dreamed into being. What shall we name it?

Sub-Lime Land. We will work together to maintain a balance of night and day, sunshine and rain, life and death. And we will guide its denizens in the ways of love and co-operation, and in the eternal laws.

Then they caused diverse other lands to surround Sub-Lime Land. And thus was a new world planted within the ones we already know. And it was very good.

But Elo-Namba continued to stew.

CHAPTER TWO

MANY YEARS LATER

Poor Toe-rag! Nobody loved him. Nobody wanted him. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted himself and he certainly didn’t love himself; how could he, when he had to get up every afternoon to face his absolute unlovableness in the tiny, broken mirror, which hung in the farthest, darkest corner of his tiny, broken-down house? He didn’t need a big house, because he never had any friends to tea. It was said that he’d broken the mirror (which are very sensitive in Sub-Lime Land) by looking into it too hard when it was given to him as a child. But the truth is he broke it himself because he hated what he saw in it.

He’d lost all hope of ever needing his smile, so he kept it safe in a little box all covered with pearly shells, so that at least he could look at it once in a while and prevent it from gathering dust and cobwebs in another dark corner of his tiny, broken-down house.

He didn’t bother anymore to repair his house or to sweep away the cobwebs. At least the spiders were some sort of company for him; but even they found him odd, because he had only two legs and he slept in a bed. He did resemble them, though, with his huge, far-seeing eyes, spindly arms and legs, big, round, hunched-up body, and the mass of dark, stubbly hair, which covered most of his head, face, and limbs.

Really, he was in a state, and growing more unsightly by the day to the other people of Sub- Lime Land, the Limerans. They wanted to banish him, but the Queen and the Law wouldn't let them. So, hoping he’d run away of his own accord, they gave him all the most filthy chores to do. And each week they sent him over the Hill to where, they’d heard, there lived a fearsome, fire-breathing dragon. They told him that if he took all the rubbish and dumped it for the Dragon, he would be safe, because the Dragon would eat it instead of him. In fact, they believed no such thing, and were amazed each week when Toe-rag returned unharmed.

One day, Toe-rag had just finished his chores and was piling up the rubbish ready to cart over the Hill, when he saw something shiny glinting in it. Before he he had time to investigate, a flurry of pink and white pressed in front of him and reached it first, sending bottles and papers and dust everywhere. It was Cremona, the most beautiful, gifted, adored Limeran in the Land – expected to be elected Queen one day.

Whoops! Sorry! she said, covering her mouth with an elegant hand. I do believe that’s mine. She grasped the object, a golden locket with an inscription on it: Cremona, Loveliest of the Land. She wiped it on Toe-rag’s coat and raised it up, watching it twirl on its gleaming chain.

Oh! gasped Toe-rag, wringing his hands.

Cremona eyed him sideways and wagged her finger at the locket. You naughty thing! You know you need to stay in my pocket where you’re safe. Do you want to end up being made into an ingot by that mean old Dragon? She pushed it deep into her frilly pocket. Things do go astray sometimes, don’t they?

Toe-rag blushed to the tips of his ears.

Well, goodbye! she said, pivoting on nimble, satin-slippered toes, golden curls arcing around her flower-like head.

Thanks! she called into the air.

N-n-no p-p-p-problem, stammered Toe-rag, half raising an arm. Lovely One, he whispered to himself, gazing after her.

He watched her skip down the street, waving into doors, stopping now and then to laugh with friends, and he remembered how she had been his friend once – his only Limeran friend ever, just for a while.

It had been a day much like this day. He’d finished his chores and was trudging home, carrying a parcel of broken shells someone had thrown away. Her sudden cheerful ‘hello’ startled him, and he dropped the parcel, scattering shells all over the Meadow.

Oh, how pretty! she exclaimed as she helped him pick them up. Do you have a little lidded box in your house?  If you do, you could make these into a keepsake box for your special treasures.

I-I don’t know how.

I’ll show you. It’s easy! She took his arm. Come on, take me to your house!

N-no. Y-y-you stay here. I’ll bring out the box and the paste.

Alright then, but don’t be long or I’ll get bored and it'll make me cry!

N-no. You-you must never cry!

She tugged his shaggy beard and prodded him in the stomach. You’re funny!  Funny fuzz-face! Now, hurry and get the things we need. I’ll pick some flowers while I’m waiting.

Toe-rag quickly returned and they worked on the box together.

He remembered how easy it had been with Cremona helping him. He’d never made anything before then that didn’t end up crumpled, misshapen, blemished, or broken. He winced, remembering the laughter of his people as they watched him mangle one thing after another. Oh, look at that! they'd jeer, pointing. If you want to make us laugh, all you have to do is dance on those ridiculous legs! Ha-ha-ha. Go away! Stick with your scrubbing and scrounging, leave the artwork to us.

There, it’s all done, she announced. We did a wonderful job, didn’t we? You wouldn’t think you could make something so pretty with a bunch of broken bits like this. But we did! She set the box on the grass and admired the way the shells glimmered in the sunlight. They looked like a swirling, shimmering cloud.

It’s so pretty, I’m tempted to take it home with me! Cremona said.

You should have it!  I-I’d like you to. Toe-rag pressed the little box into Cremona's hand, his face burning as his hairy fingers enveloped her silken ones.

No, it’s yours. Your special keepsake box. She pushed it back into his hand, smiling and stroking his hand. What will you keep in it?

Toe-rag blushed beneath his beard and almost dropped the box. Cremona caught it, laughing. I-I don’t have anything, stammered Toe-rag, hugging it to his chest. I had an amulet my parents left me, but I lost it.

That’s because you didn’t have a special box to keep it in! She dug around in her pocket. Toe- rag watched her as if she were a magician. Here’s a ribbon I just made, she said, with a flourish.  I got the green and the blue from a kingfisher feather and the red from a ruby-throated hummingbird, then I sprinkled it with dragonfly dust. It took ages to get those feathers. I had to make up a new song for each of the birds, and sing till they were drowsy enough to stay still for me. The dragonfly gave me the dust for nothing. Cremona held up the shining silken ribbon, which glowed, now emerald, now ruby, now sapphire, now amethyst. You will treasure it, won’t you? she teased, watching Toe-rag’s eyes widen.

I-i-it’s the m-most beautiful…i-it’s too much! Y-you can’t give it to me. People won’t believe it’s mine.

"Then I’ll write on it for you. Here: to Toe-rag from Cremona. She pulled out a silver pencil and wrote on the end of the ribbon. There, now you have to keep it, and you’ll always think of me when you look at it. And when the elections for Queen come up, you’ll vote for me, won’t you? Don’t forget, or you’ll make me cry. She tugged his beard again, and wove into it some of the tiny flowers she’d picked. Ha-ha, now you’re a Flowery Funny Fuzz-Face! Well, I have to go, my friends are waiting. We're working on a new dance for the fête tomorrow. Will you be there?"

Toe-rag shook his head. Oh, do come, she urged.  It's heaps of fun! Toe-rag shook his head again.

Well, some other time, perhaps.  She pecked him on the cheek, and wiggled her fingers at him.  Toodle-oo! she said.

Now, leaning on his broom watching her chatter with her friends, he wondered if she ever thought of that time. It was the best day of his life.  He looked at the ribbon every night before he went to bed, and read the flowing inscription: to Toe-rag from Cremona over and over till he imagined himself back with her on the Meadow, running and skipping and laughing like any other Limeran. He’d kept the flowers, too, though they were withered and dry by now; still, they made him smile. He shook his head:  I expect she’s forgotten all about it. I expect she wants to forget about it. He grasped the broom and told himself to be thankful for that one perfect day, then he set to sweeping up the litter she'd scattered.

He hummed snippets of his favorite tunes as he worked, gradually increasing the volume as he lost himself in his enthusiasm. He wasn’t musically gifted like the other Limerans, but he did love melodies and, in Sub-Lime Land, you can pluck them from the air like flowers.

Oi! Did someone wake up the Dragon? an irate voice yelled. Quiet out there, we’re trying to make music in here!

Y-yes, Suvinosa, at once. You are making music. Thank you.

Toe-rag leaned on his broom, drinking in the soothing sound of a new aria floating out of Suvinosa's house. Then the window slammed shut and the sound was too muted to hear. He waved a grimy hand and quietly finished his sweeping.

Cremona felt Toe-rag’s eyes on her as she skipped down the street. She did remember that day. She’d approached Toe-rag on a dare. A number of her friends had put her up to it but, when she got close to him and saw his gentle eyes, she felt bad about teasing him. When he went to get the supplies for the box, she shooed her friends away, deciding to stay and get to know him better.

Afterwards, she'd tried hard to convince her friends he wasn’t so ugly when you got up close, and that he had the softest, deep-reaching eyes, with a kindly gleam to them that made you want to laugh. But they wouldn’t listen, and teased her by saying she should go up the Hill to live with him and his spiders if she liked him so much. That had frightened her, so she pretended she’d been joking all along, and made fun of the way he’d looked with the flowers in his beard, and of his stammering. This had gone on for so long that, by now, she almost believed it. Still, she couldn't help feeling bad about ignoring him, and remembered how good she’d felt that day they decorated the box together.

CHAPTER THREE

TOE-RAG DOESN'T GO SHOPPING

Limerans loathed spiders, and the way Toe-rag allowed them to live with him in his house was another mark against him. But Cremona had tried to see spiders in a different light. She studied them at their spinning and found beauty in their works, especially after a heavy dew. She came to see their scurrying as a kind of dance. She even composed some pieces on her harp to match their movements.

One, called Spindlethrift's Mosaic, was a great favorite with the other Limerans and they requested it at all their parties. She never told them what had inspired it.

But one fateful day, as she ambled alone on the Meadow, making up a new song:

Spin, little spider, spin, spin, spin,

Weaving out, weaving in,

Spin little spider, spin, spin, spin,

Spin your silken thread ...

a particularly large, hairy, grinning, monster of a spider scrambled up her leg with what she thought was dark intent.

Shoo! she yelled, shaking her leg, trying not to panic.

The spider clung to the hem of her dress and wouldn't let go. It grinned and made squeaking sounds.

Get off!  Leave me alone! she yelled again, flapping her dress. A lump of terror came into her throat. She jumped up and down, but the spider hung on and continued to squeak at her. All the fears and prejudices she'd worked so hard to master overtook her. She screamed at the top of her lungs and was soon surrounded by a throng of horrified Limerans.

Brush it off! Send it packing! cried one, from a safe distance. But Cremona couldn't bring herself to touch the thing – no Limeran could. She just kept jumping up and down and screaming.

Make way, make way! cried another, pushing through the crowd. It was Dew-lap, one of the local storekeepers. He brandished a sweeping brush – the one Toe-rag had used earlier that day to clean out the drains; Toe-rag was currently over the Hill tending the rubbish, or he would certainly have rescued Cremona and the spider. Before Cremona had time to object, Dew-lap swiped at the spider, taking several more passes to get it onto the floor. With another swift blow, he disabled the spider, sending up clouds of dust and spatters of mud from the mucky broom. The spider (which, indeed, was a big one) lay on its back, flailing its many strong, hairy legs.

Hit it again! the crowd gasped.

This time, Dew-lap hoisted the broom above his head like a mallet and brought it crashing onto the spider's fat body. There was a thud, and a splat, and a plethora of dust, and the spider writhed no more.

Cremona crumpled to the ground in a faint.

When she came to, she was as dirty as Dew-lap's broom, and her lovely new dress was all in tatters.

She would never forget the glare on that villainous creature’s face as it clung to the hem of her cloudsilk dress. Neither would she forget its look of triumph at having reduced her to hysterical tears. Had she but known that the spider's intent was to thank her for her song she might have reacted differently. No. Please. Wait! I love your song. Don't be afraid of me. I don't bite. Please, sing some more! But Cremona couldn't hear its thin, spidery voice. All she heard was squeaks.

From then on, Cremona took to seeking out as many creepy-crawlies as she could, and stamping on