It Iss Time

“It iss time,” the Spirit hissed in Petey’s ear.

Petey batted at the noise as if it was naught but a fly.

“Get up. It iss time,” the Spirit hissed again this time louder.

Petey rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. Why couldn’t he have a decent bit of sleep? That’s all he wanted. Just some time to sleep; and dream. He’d been having a good dream. Morgan…

“IT ISS Time!” the Spirit’s hiss reverberated around the room.

Petey just pulled the blanket tighter.

“Enough!” Grandma B’s authoritative voice cut the Spirit off before he could hiss again. “I will not have any of that other worldly screeching in my house.”

“He iss ignoring me,” the Spirit complained.

“What’d you expect when you wake him up at three in the morning without giving him any forewarning?”

“I just want some more sleep,” Petey grumbled

“There’ll be time enough for sleep when the battle’s won.” Grandma B pried the covers from Petey’s face. “There’s a warm slice of apple pie waiting for you once you’re dressed.”

Petey took in a sniff of the air. Sure enough the sent of fresh baked apple pie reached his nose. No wonder he’d been having such a good dream. Stifling a big yawn Petey slowly swung his legs out of the bed. The Spirit left the room with one more quiet hiss of “it iss time.” Grandma B followed seeing that Petey was actually getting up. How could he not, when she’d baked him an apple pie.

It seemed like Petey had lived in this room forever and yet he knew it had been less than a month. He hadn’t dared touch Morgan’s things. Instead he’d lived out of a suitcase. Grandma B had offered to set up one of the other rooms for him or even re-do this one. Petey’d refused. By staying here he reminded himself what all this was for. He might not be able to have Morgan, but she was his cousin, and his light.

“For My Morgan,” he whispered as he got dressed; the sound of a helicopter coming near.

Petey bolted downstairs and nearly swallowed his pie piece whole.

“Doess he alwayss eat like sso?” the Spirit of Devil’s Flat asked.

“Only when he thinks he doesn’t have enough time.” Grandma B chuckled before calling out to the back door. “Door’s open, come on in for a bite to eat.”

A man ambled inside after slight hesitation.  Petey recognized him. He was the pilot who’d taken him home after the Morgan debacle. Debacle, Petey munched his pie, now there was a word he’d have never expected to hear in his own head. Grandma B must be magic to be educating him that way. Either that or it was all them books about the damn flat she made him read.

“I’ll just take it to go, Ben and Sarah seemed mighty sure they wanted you here quick.”

“Well, just give me a sec to pack the pies,” was Grandma B’s response. “get me those carriers from the cupboard Petey.”

Petey hastily complied, hoping that he might get another slice. Grandma B packed each pie with care. There were a total of five, which made Petey wonder if she’d slept. Then again there were times when Petey wondered if she ever slept. He’d never woken up before her, nor fallen asleep after her.

Pies all packed, they trudged out to the helicopter idling in the back field. The pilot helped Grandma B climb on board. Petey carefully handed her each pie box to be stowed on board. He followed the last box in and buckled up. Least he wouldn’t be in fear of falling out like last time. Then again last time he had been a stowaway.

“Iss it ssafe?” Devil’s Flat hissed.

To Petey’s surprised the pilot answered. “Of course she’s safe. Ben wouldn’t think of letting his helicopters fall into disrepair.”

Petey looked at Grandma B who was looking at the Spirit. The Spirit was looking amazingly faint for something that could whip Petey’s butt. Could it be, Petey wondered that Devil’s Flat was afraid of flying. It was a bit scary, Petey could admit that, but…

“Oh get on board,” Grandma B chided the Spirit, “You’ll be back in contact with land soon enough.”

The End

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