This story extract was published in IWA Magazine in 2012. The opening of a children’s book, the writing is aimed at younger independent readers. Genre: Islamic Fiction.
The Readers
“We are readers, not writers. And we need your help.”
Aa’idah gazed blankly at the strange green worm who had introduced himself as Folio. She found herself falling into the depths of fathomless green eyes, which seemed to sparkle despite only dim light emanating from the candle on the ground. Folio was smiling at Aa’idah encouragingly. He was sitting on his tail as he spoke.
As Aa’idah stared, Folio’s eyes seemed to change colour. They had begun as a forest green, darker than the leaves of the trees they were surrounded by. Now they were flecked with turquoise and then, before Aa’idah’s eyes, they changed slowly to sea green. Aa’idah could see Folio’s eyes alter slowly behind his round glasses. As Aa’idah watched, transfixed, his eyes became liquid and gentle waves began rolling into one another. The waves became choppy, splashing into one another like the sea on a stormy night.
Before Aa’idah could drown in the choppy green waves, she began to see herself in the reflection of Folio’s glasses. A confused, round face – altogether more human – surrounded by thick, curly hair was looking back her. Aa’idah blinked and the curly round face blinked back at her. This was an odd creature. It was as if his eyes revealed a brilliant soul, full of knowledge.
“You must help us by writing more books for us” Folio insisted.
“But…but, I’m no writer!”
Folio smiled graciously. “Yes you are. You write stories in school and the teachers ask you to read them to the smaller children.” Aa’idah stared silently at Folio. She thought of her school, which seemed so far away now. What would her teachers think if they could see this strange, big worm talking to her? Aa’idah wondered how Folio knew she read her stories to the First Years.
Understanding her expression Folio spoke again, “We saw you” he said.
“How? I mean where…when?”
“We were at your school. We have visited many times, to use your library.” Aa’idah couldn’t speak; she was even more perplexed. This strange little wormy thing had been at her school? And then she realised – there were more of them. Probably lots more.
“We always put books back” Folio added hastily, mistaking her confused expression for something else. “We just borrow them”.
“But why my school library? Why not the public library in town? It’s lovely and big, and full of all sorts of books!” Aa’idah was so excited remembering the library that she forgot all about the strange idea of the worms being at her school. “The town library has a children’s section, with bright coloured seats and bright shelves!” Aa’idah explained happily. “There are books for little kids and books for a bit bigger ones, like me. I’ve read nearly half of the books in the children’s section” Aa’idah said proudly. Folio was smiling at her, nodding and not saying anything. “Erm…so why do you go to my school library?” she asked again.
“We like the children’s books” beamed Folio. “We’ve read all of the ones in the town library.” Aa’idah felt cross. She had read nearly half of them, and that was more than anyone she knew, apart from Mrs Iqbal, the librarian. How had the worms read them all? They must be much older, Aa’idah thought. She looked closely at Folio as he spoke, trying to guess how old he was. He was smaller in height than she was and he was wearing a striped t-shirt. His cheeks were round and chubby and he clutched a small hardback book in his hand.
“We have to wait for new books to be brought in there so now we…we…borrow the books from your school library”. Folio looked uncomfortable and began twisting his tiny little green fingers together. Aa’idah finally understood the problem. “Oh! Well, that’s ok! Books should always be shared”. She smiled to show Folio that everything was ok. Folio’s shoulders relaxed and he shuffled round and round in a circle excitedly, his tail wagging from side to side on the ground.
“I’m 9” announced Aa’idah. “I’m 8 and a half” replied Folio “in human years. In Bookworm years I’m 8,465 years old”. There was that word again: Bookworm. Aa’idah had never heard of these strange creatures until Folio introduced himself. Green worms who borrowed books – and wore glasses and stripy t-shirts. This was all very odd. Aa’idah was sure she was dreaming.
“You’re like the Borrowers!” Aa’idah exclaimed, realising how very much like the Borrowers the worms must be. “Have you read The Borrowers?” “Yes. It’s by Mary Norton. Shall we go then? Shall we go into the tree?” Folio asked her, eager to move. Aa’idah hesitated. “We have over one million books” Folio declared.
“What? A million?” Aa’idah wasn’t sure. How could that many books be stored in one tree? She looked at the tree carefully. It was a majestic oak with a thick, brown, knobbly trunk topped with hundreds of dark green leaves. No, a million books couldn’t fit in there. Not unless it was hollow inside and the books were stacked up really carefully inside, one on top of the other. And even then they might not fit, Aa’idah mused thoughtfully.
***
Aa’idah didn’t know how it happened. When did she agree that she would go into the tree? Why would she agree to go into the tree? It had all happened in such a blur, but there she was, following Folio into the ground at the base of the tree trunk. She had wanted to know what was in there. She wanted to see the other worms and how the books fit into the tree. But she felt afraid when Folio had pressed the tree trunk with his tiny green hand and a hole at the base of the tree had opened up. But there she was all the same, following the green worm into the mysterious tree.
As Folio glided and Aa’idah stumbled along in the very dim light, Aa’idah realised that this was like another book she had read a long time ago, Alice in Wonderland. Aa’idah smiled to herself. Yes, she was just like Alice, following the rabbit down the rabbit hole. She wondered if she would meet a Mad Hatter or a Queen of Hearts. Oh no, thought Aa’idah, I don’t want to meet a Queen of Hearts who will say “Off with her head!”
Aa’idah was so busy with her thoughts that she stumbled on a tree root. Folio was quick – he jerked his tail under her as Aa’idah’s feet flew out in front of her and she fell into a sitting position, cushioned from the ground. “Thanks!” she said jumping up. These worms are super-fast, thought Aa’idah. She tried to concentrate on walking, putting thoughts of having an adventure, like Alice, behind her.
Folio’s smooth, wormy tail and body seemed to glide over the earth but Aa’idah’s ballet pumps kept catching on stones and the roots of the tree. The other strange thing, Aa’idah realised suddenly, was that they were walking downwards. The decent was not sharp but they were definitely travelling down into the Earth. Aa’idah shuddered, suddenly afraid. Where was she going? But she felt safe with Folio – he was a little boy who liked books, just like her.
When they had stopped walking down and ever down, they began to walk horizontally. Strange little lights glimmered on the wall to her right, appearing at infrequent intervals. Aa’idah stopped to look at one. It was a crystal-like cone attached to the wall by a thin strip of metal. Where a bulb should have been there was a small, sparkling flame. “Come, come Aa’idah!” called Folio. Aa’idah hurried on, noticing that soon she was flanked by cone-shaped lights on either side of her every yard.
The walls of the tunnel were close together – plenty of space for a worm, but a little tight for Aa’idah. If Aa’idah stretched out her hands she could touch both sides at once. She had to grab both walls several times as she tripped again and again over knotted roots, stones and – was that an anthill?
“Jump over it!” called Folio. Aa’idah obediently jumped as high as she could to avoid the anthill, hitting her head on the roof of the tunnel. Folio glided back to her. “There was no need to jump so high” he said bluntly. Aa’idah was rubbing her head. “Yes, I know. I just wanted to avoid squashing the ants.”
“Why?” asked Folio, gliding away, leaving Aa’idah to catch up with him.
“I just remember that story” Aa’idah puffed to catch up, “of Suleiman alayhisalam when I see ants. So I always try to be careful.” Folio stopped abruptly and Aa’idah would have crashed into him if his speedy gliding had not taken him so far ahead of her. “I don’t know that story” he mused quietly, looking at the book in his hand. “Who is Suleiman?”
“He is a prophet, on him be peace. I read about him in Quran Stories for Little Hearts”, huffed Aa’idah as she jogged to catch up to Folio.
“On him be peace”, murmured Folio solemnly, nodding. Aa’idah didn’t think that Folio knew what that meant but before she could ask; “Come, come. We mustn’t be late”, and he was gliding into the distance before Aa’idah could respond. Just like the white rabbit, thought Aa’idah. As they continued Aa’idah noticed that they were gliding and jogging past another tunnel to her right. “What’s down there?” she asked, pointing.
“Ah, I will show you one day, I promise” Folio said. They continued on and without warning the narrow walls of the tunnel opened up to a huge underground cavern.
The sight before Aa’idah’s eyes was astonishing. The tunnel opened up to a room so big that she couldn’t see the end of it, but the walls were adorned with more crystal, cone-shaped lights and everywhere she looked, Aa’idah could see worms. Worms, worms and more worms. Some were gliding, some carrying books, some reading books and some talking to others about books. It was an incredible sight. There was a buzz of activity everywhere. Baskets woven out of thin tree branches and twigs, held together with mud and leaves, were being pulled up and down the length of the tree in front of Aa’idah’s eyes. The baskets were full of books. Aa’idah tried to read the titles as the baskets shot upwards to worms waiting at the top. “The Twits”, she read. Aa’idah knew that book. She loved it.
Aa’idah couldn’t tell if they were now in the centre of another oak tree but it certainly looked like it. Except the tree is ginormous! Aa’idah thought, her eyes whirling as she tried to follow the worms as they moved around.
“Now Aa’idah”, Folio spoke again solemnly, “we need your help.” He suddenly stopped and the word “help” seemed to be suspended in mid-air.
“But I’m only little. I’m not an author”.
“Aa’idah, you write the best stories we have ever read. We have kept your stories in a safe place at the very heart of the Ancient Tree.”
“Mine? But why?”
“Because we love them. And we need your help in writing more. This is what we bookworms live for – wonderful stories. And I have brought you here to show you why we need you to write more.”
(c) Amina Malik (often published as A.A. Malik)