7: Day Of Giving Carol Part 1

Part One: In Which Mango Lands In Hot Water

It was a Wednesday Night at the Chez Weewoo and not a Saturday, for this was the 24th day of the month of Celebrating and therefore the Eve of the Day of Giving. For this was the night when all the members of the NTAG came together to celebrate the Day of Giving, as if they had not already been celebrating it enough since the first day of Advent.

Uncle Bilbo and Jhudora were the last to arrive, and this night the scrufft blue Lupe was bearing a tin the size of a hat box. “I have cookies, better known as biscuits to some of you. Uncle Bilbo’s Remarkable Sugar Cookies, the most heavenly and delightful sugar cookies ever made.”

He set the tin on the nearest table and everyone gathered around to look inside as he removed the lid. The only thing to be seen inside was a Mango Meepit with a very round tummy and a very satisfied expression; not even a single crumb remained.

“Mango!” Auntie Reve declared. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The Meepit looked up at her. “Brruuurrrp!”

“This is going too far, even for you,” Reve said sternly. “You’ve stolen our sugar-laden goodies for the last time. Take yourself to the Chamber of Humble Contemplation and think about what you’ve done.”

Mango hopped down off the table and waddled away, her cookie-filled tummy before her like a bass drum in a marching band. The others watched her in silence until the door closed behind her.

“She’s gone,” Nat remarked.

“Fortunately we anticipated this,” Uncle Bilbo said. “Piksie!”

The little blue Aisha hopped through the door, pulling a small wagon that held an even larger tin of cookies.

In another part of the Guild Hall, Mango slammed the door of the Chamber of Humble Contemplation behind her and threw herself into the nearest beanbag. Anyone who did not know her better might have assumed that she was deep in a funky pout. In truth she was already contemplating her next sugar-raid.

“Mango Meepit!”



Mango leaped straight out of the bean bag, for the ghostly image of a young man stood before her, wrapped in chains.

“Mango Meepit!” he said in a ghostly voice and rattled his chains for dramatic effect.

“Do I know you?” Mango asked fearfully.

“Perhaps in name only, for I was before your time,” he answered. “In life I was called Stoneman3x.”

“Stoneman the Great?” Mango squeaked. “The Stonie? But when did you die?”

“I am not dead. Those who have dwelled in Neopia leave behind a part of their spirit when they depart for what we call the real world. I am the spirit of Stoneman, and each link of the chains I bear was forged from every submission that I had accepted in the Times.”

“But why chains?”

The chains rattled as he shrugged. “Dramatic effect.”

Stoneman led Mango to the nearest window, where he drew back the curtains, raised the blinds and threw open the shutters (yes, we’re nervous about anyone seeing what we’re up to in here), then lifted the little Meepit and set her on the sill. Looking out into the night, she could see scores if not hundreds of ghostly forms drifting through the darkness as they slowly circled the guild hall.

Mango looked up at Stoneman. “Are those the lost spirits of the eternally danged, doomed to wander for all time?”

“No, those are lurkers.”

“Eh? What’s your point.”

“Those are lost souls longing to enter, longing for the very warmth and companionship that you have come to take for granted.”

Mango looked perplexed. “Are you certain that this is somehow about sugar?”

“You have come to value sugar even above your friends,” Stoneman declared ominously, rattling his chains yet again for dramatic effect. “Now you must chose between the two. This night you will be haunted by three spirits who will speak to you of what was, what is and what may yet be. Reflect upon what you were, what you are, and what you will chose to be. Chose well, and may the Force be with you.”

And with that he was gone.

(To Be Continued)