What Abigail Did Tha Summer by Ben Aaronovitch (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

the fish, the sun is not like the moon. But we all share our thoughts.”

‘“But all you ever do is complain that we are walking on you,” said the bear.

‘“I, for one,” said the cow, “am tired of hearing your thoughts on the subject.”

‘And so everything in the world argued amongst themselves – all except the man and the fox, who were over the horizon and practising their sniggering – which they had just invented.

‘Finally, as the sun rose from her fourth nap since the parliament began, the fox and the man wandered up and asked what was going on. The cat and the path through the forest told them the purpose of the parliament, and they laughed and sniggered and guffawed, another new invention of theirs, until they realised that everyone else was serious.

‘“But you can’t be serious,” said the man.

‘“But we are,” said the cat. “And, what’s more, we have reached a consensus – for the sake of peace we have decided to give up talking.”

‘“Fine,” said the man. “You chaps give up talking if that’s what you want, but fox and I will carry on if that is all the same to you. Right, fox?”

‘But fox was troubled, because much as she liked man she also had many other friends as well. She particularly loved the soft earth and the bright moon, and she knew if she kept talking, and they did not, they would grow estranged.

‘“I will give up talking,” she said. “If that is the consensus.”

‘But the man refused. For even then man thought himself more important than all the other things of the world. And he glowered at the fox for not siding with him.

‘“The parliament of everything wishes this change,” said the moon, who was pro tem speaker of the parliament. “And what the parliament decides applies to all things.”

‘“But,” said the cat, who had always coveted man’s bushy tail, “perhaps we could come to some arrangement.”

‘“Yes, yes!” cried all things. “If you want to retain the gift of speech, you must renounce your other gifts.”

‘Man, even in those days being wise to the ways of the cat, agreed. But only if he could choose to whom he gave his gifts. The cat objected, but everything was wiser back in those days and the cat lost the subsequent motion everything else to one.

‘“I give my thick fur coat to the ape and its cousins,” said the man. And so he lost his fur save for patches here and there to remind him of his loss. He gave his long claws to the dog, who even now never retracts them in his honour, his teeth to the bear, and – to spite the cat – his beautiful bushy tail to the squirrel.

‘“For this insult I will enslave you, you and all your children,” said the cat, but those were its last words.

‘Finally, man had given away all his gifts except his wisdom, which he gave to the fox.

‘“Thank you,” said the fox.

‘“Don’t thank me,’ said the man. “I do this so that you and all your kind will know what a mistake you have made.”

‘Silence closed around the parliament like a noose. But everything hesitated because the ground, upon which everything rests, had a final demand.

‘“I, for one, am sick of the sound of everyone talking,” said the ground. “If you plan to continue, please raise your mouth as far from me as possible.”

‘“As you wish,” said man, and reared up on his hind legs until he stood upright.

‘All the things laughed then, because there stood man – naked and bereft of all his gifts. All the things save the fox, who looked up at the man and saw long slim fingers unencumbered by claws, fingers that could grasp and take and reshape things to suit man’s own purposes. And saw eyes alive with a dreadful intelligence unencumbered by wisdom. And fox was suddenly afraid.

‘Man looked around from his new high vantage and saw that all the world was spread out about him like a neglected picnic.

‘“I propose that man become the master of all things,” man said. “Any objections?”

‘Man waited but objections came there none.

‘“Motion carried,” said man.

‘And that is why everything that wants to talk has to find a man to talk for them,’ says Indigo.

‘But the foxes talk,’ I say.

‘That’s because we won our voices back,’ says Indigo. ‘Can I have the crumbs?’

‘So how did you get your talking back?’ I ask, and hold the empty container in front of her muzzle.

‘That’s classified,’ she says, and snaffles up all the crumbs.

28

That Cylindrical Flickery Cartoon Toy Thing That I Can’t Remember the Name Of

Here is a bit of man’s wisdom for you – when you think things can’t get worse, they usually do.

Real talk – my dad was born poor into a small village with no health care and no prospects except subsistence farming, and you’d think that was bad enough, until the rebels came murdering, kidnapping and chopping off arms. He escaped, but most of the rest of the village didn’t. You never heard about it, because it was just one of thousands of shit things that happened far away and you probably wouldn’t have cared about it if you had.

Now, my dad did escape. And eventually there was my mum and Paul and me. But the first half was one shit thing after another – and he was the lucky one, remember. So, knowing this, I shouldn’t have been surprised when House came looking for me.

*

It’s getting dark again and I’m thinking I’ve sat here too long listening to fox fairy tales. Indigo is trembling as I grab her and jump up.

‘Up or down?’ she hisses.

‘We haven’t tried up yet,’ I say, and swing around the banister. But as I put my foot on the first step I see a flicker of light from the landing above. I stop and wait – the light shivers and starts coming down. As it gets closer a shadow forms, a figure holding a