Brigetta and Winston

Reedsy Contest #237: Fairy Tale Truths

1.      Write a cautionary fable about someone who always lies.

Brigetta and Winston

               Brigetta stretched out long in the fresh straw as she raked in the delicious fragrances of their new environment, her pale whiskers quivering gently as the rooster crowed. Her feet and legs still ached from the long trek from Portland, but her paws were clean and she was dry. She felt safe, warm and happy. Each morning arising on the farm had been wonderous since their arrival. Winston hadn’t lied. Escaping the rat races of the city was the best decision she and Winston had made together.  

               Brigetta rolled over and stroked Winston’s dark back. He was curled away from her and seemed to be stirring, but did not respond to her touch. It was odd that he did not turn to greet her and her sensitive nostrils picked up a delicate aroma. Even over the strong grassy smell of their bedding, Brigetta detected the creamy smell of farm fresh cheese. It was untainted from garbage leftovers, car fumes or dirty wet pavement. This was a pure and clean scent that made her mouth water, her tongue tingle and her stomach growl.

               “Winston, do you smell cheese?” she inquired with a prod to his spine.

               “Ceese?” came Winston’s mumbled reply.

               “Yes, I’m sure I smell cheese,” insisted Brigetta. “Are you eating cheese?”

               “No,” lied Winston. “No cheese.”

“Did you find the farmer’s pantry?” pressed Brigetta.

               “Pantry?” Winston asked after a full, hard swallow.

               “Yes, the pantry, where the farmer keeps the good stuff. Remember the magazine picture? You said every farmer had a pantry and we’d never want for food again.”

               “No,” Winston replied slowly as he wiped his mouth with his paw, cleaning his lips and straightening his whiskers. “No, I did not find the farmer’s pantry.”   

               “Really Winston? I don’t believe you. Roll over and let me smell your breath. Prove me wrong. I think you want to keep all the cheese for yourself!”

               Winston turned to face Brigetta with a weak lopsided smile. His outstretched paw offered her a small limp carrot. “Just vegetables from the root cellar. Same as yesterday.”

               With a menacing scowl, Brigetta struck the carrot from Winston’s paw and demanded he take her to the source of the cheese. His breath reeked of it. She would not be appeased with a half rotten root. Share and share alike. She was entitled to a share of the good stuff. Winston had promised a pantry full of delicacies. 

               Winston grudgingly took Brigetta to the farmer’s creamery, cautioning her along the way about real and imaginary dangers. Watch for swooping dragons with steel talons. Beware the sharp tools which lashed out without warning. Be vigilant of the barn cats that lurked in the shadows. The large spiders, the flooding waters, the lions, the tigers, the bears. It wasn’t a long journey, but Brigetta was weary and unsettled by the time they arrived at the rustic wooden structure. Winston showed Brigetta the small gap that he had found in the siding, too far up for the mice to reach, but easy enough for a young agile rat.

               Once inside, Brigetta’s senses were overwhelmed. The creamery was enormous and filled floor to ceiling with racks of aging cheese. Hungrily Brigetta lunged at the nearest wheel, but Winston was faster and grabbed her paws.

               “Not these, “  Winston cautioned. “These up here are poisoned. We have to take from the bottom, from the back, in the dark corner to be safe. It’s our little secret.”

               “Mmmmhmm,” Brigretta promised. “Our little secret.” Though honestly, she thought as she enjoyed the first buttery bite, there’s enough cheese here to last a lifetime, even generations of lifetimes.

               Later in the morning, after a heavy post-indulgent snooze, Brigetta went to visit her new friend Claire while Winston did more exploring. Claire and her husband Roger lived up in the barn loft. Brigetta had met Claire the night that she and Winston had arrived. Claire, though heavily pregnant, had shared their meager food stuffs and helped the new arrivals settle into a protected corner under the eaves. Claire had given birth to a large nest of offspring in the wee hours of the next day.

               Brigetta worried that Claire was over tired and that Roger would not be able to provide for such a large family. She decided to share their creamery treasure location with Roger. Brigetta gave him careful directions and shared the warnings that Winston had outlined along the route. Roger was eager to gather some nutritious cheese for his beloved wife and set out immediately. Roger recognized that Claire looked peaked too.

               Roger was a slight rat, certainly not robust like Winston, but he was determined and hurried to the creamery to harvest a few delicious bites of cheese for Claire. Roger balanced carefully near the edge of the shelf and began to gnaw on the rind of the cheese closest to Winston’s secret passageway. 

               Suddenly from below came a shouted untruth. “Not those cheeses! Those are poisoned!”

               Startled, Roger lost his balance and fell to the hard packed floor quite some distance below. Roger did not land well and he heard a nasty pop from his leg. The pain was agonizing, but worse he had lost the cheese bites for Claire. And, he worried, had he also been poisoned? 

               Roger drug himself to a dark corner to assess his situation and make a plan. He would not be able to climb back out the way he had come in. Would Claire worry and send a rescue party? How long would it take for the poison to set in? Roger contemplated his fate and the fate of his young family.

               Claire did indeed worry about Roger and the length of time he had been away. Claire begged Brigetta to fetch her brother who lived downstairs by the manger. A strong group of rats was soon organized to search for Roger. Brothers, cousins, friends. They would find Roger and bring him safely home they assured Claire. Brigetta was worried for Roger, but she was also becoming concerned that their lovely secret creamery was no longer a secret. Winston would be disappointed in her for sharing with Roger and Claire. It was a fiasco.

               The gang of rats found Roger trembling and fearful in the middle of the old building. Roger was delirious and certain that he would never see Claire or his babies again. The pain from his leg had escalated. Roger was panting and sweating. He was certain he would die soon from the poison that he had ingested while trying to harvest the cheese. He warned his rescuers to turn a blind eye to the buttery temptations that surrounded them.

               Sharply, from somewhere above, came a loud cautionary lie. “Fire!”

               Roger, already overheated with exertion and worry, was certain that the creamery was ablaze and urged his rescuers to abandon their mission and save themselves from the flames. The rats quickly organized a fireman’s carry for Roger and hustled him out of the shed through the secret passageway. Each rat that had a free paw grabbed a bit of cheese on their way out, scattering crumbs of delicate curds on the shelves and across the floor of the old building. It was a disastrous and telltale mess of hungry, greedy vermin.

               Roger was safely returned to his family and the rescuers were quick to share their stolen cheese in an impromptu feast to celebrate their success. It was a loud and rambunctious party that went late into the evening. Brigetta slunk away early as she recognized the liar that was responsible for all that had happened in the creamery to Roger. She was ashamed of Winston for scaring their new friends and breaking their trust with his lies.

               Winston was slow to leave the creamery. The cheeses had been such a delectable treasure and now the farmer would know the building had been breached by all the damage the rescuers had left behind. The cheeses were untouchable now. It wouldn’t be safe to return here. The farmer would likely put out poison or traps, or maybe move the cheese elsewhere. Winston took one last hunk of cheese for his journey home as he resolved himself to a life of limp cast off vegetables from the root cellar.

               Winston reflected on the day’s events. He had lied to Brigetta about the cheese. He should have shared his good fortune with her and perhaps she wouldn’t have forced him to reveal the creamery to her. Brigetta wouldn’t have shared with Claire and Roger. Winston wouldn’t have needed to scare Roger away and the rat gang wouldn’t have been there to ruin the treasure. Winston concluded that Brigetta was correct in being honest and truthful. Winston decided never to lie again and he was excited to share this revelation with Brigetta. He trotted on home as he finished off his last bite of cheese.

               Brigetta was sleeping soundly when Winston arrived. Briefly he toyed with waking her, but decided to surprise her in the morning with his promise of honesty.

               Winston woke with a start as the cock crowed. He rolled over eagerly to share his revelations with Brigetta, but his enthusiasm quickly vanished. Brigetta wasn’t there. Her straw was empty and cold. 

Winston quickly raced to check for Brigetta at Claire and Roger’s. Maybe they had needed Brigetta to help with the children. Maybe she was nursing Roger, or maybe even Claire, hadn’t Brigetta said that Claire was ‘peaked’? But Brigetta wasn’t amongst the rescue party rats that were snoring all about the loft.

There was only one other place that Brigetta might be and Winston ran with abandon towards the creamery. His entrance hole was still open and he scrambled up through it. He noticed that a new rat trap had been placed near the first wheel of cheese. The wheel he had told Brigetta was poisoned. Brigetta had escaped the trap and he looked down to the floor. The crumbs and rescuers’ debris had been cleared away. Brigetta was there tasting each cheese from the bottom shelves.

“What are you doing Brigetta?” Winston shouted down to her. “It’s dangerous here now. We can’t come here anymore. Come along up and let’s go back home.”

“Winston you’re a liar,” Brigetta shouted back. “No one can believe you and your lies hurt our friends yesterday. I’m indulging my guilt with a variety of yummy cheeses.”

“I was a liar Brigetta, but I’ve changed. I’m only going to tell the truth now,” Winston promised. “I’ve learned my lesson!”

“Yes, Winston, you’ve said that before and I will not be foolish enough to believe that lie ever again.”

Winston realized with horror that the farmer hadn’t just set out traps.

“Cat!” Winston screamed in desperation, but it was too late. Brigetta would never believe him again.

Gluttons and liars make poor bedfellows.