I check for my bag. It's lying a few feet away, half-buried in leaves and mulch. Nothing is broken. My Hope is safe, as well as the mysterious piece of paper. MALEDIVO. I still don't know who or what Maledivo is. Everything aches. I must have been dropped.
---
Idiot.
It's not my fault.
You dropped him.
I tripped.
Yes. And now he's lost. And on to us.
I can fix it.
How?
I can find him.
---
What's that? There's something shining, just catching the sun by a tree trunk. It's a black, painted corner, jagging out of the soft earth, glimmering hopefully as though it's been half-sunk into the soil and can't wait to be found.
---
He can't hide. I can find him. Here some where.
---
The ground is soft. I find myself digging with my finger nails until the buly corner is loose. It moves a little in the ground and rattles. Whatever it is, it's heavy. And it's been here a while. How is it still so shiny?
---
I dropped him near here. Yes. I can find him. He won't last long.
---
It's some sort of machine, I think. I pull it carefully and it comes loose, cracking the earth around it. There's a mechanism. I dig some more and try to pull it up.
There's a sound I recognise in the distance. A thumping, crunching sound. Someone has found me. My heart pulses. But where to hide? And what is this thing?
Thud.
---
Yes. Close.
---
Thud. I wipe the sweat from my brow and give it one last yank. It pulls up in a shower of roots and earth. It is a typewriter, a very old typewriter.
---
I smell you.
---
What is a typewriter doing in a forest?
---
I see you.
---
It's Victorian I think. Courage 1883 is etched in bronze on a plate on the back. I brush the dirt from the keys. Most have faded, but there are a few left, still painted on, that I can make out. A, D, E... V... M... L... O... I... What? WHAT?
---
It's some sort of machine, I think. I pull it carefully and it comes loose, cracking the earth around it. There's a mechanism. I dig some more and try to pull it up.
There's a sound I recognise in the distance. A thumping, crunching sound. Someone has found me. My heart pulses. But where to hide? And what is this thing?
Thud.
---
Yes. Close.
---
Thud. I wipe the sweat from my brow and give it one last yank. It pulls up in a shower of roots and earth. It is a typewriter, a very old typewriter.
---
I smell you.
---
What is a typewriter doing in a forest?
---
I see you.
---
It's Victorian I think. Courage 1883 is etched in bronze on a plate on the back. I brush the dirt from the keys. Most have faded, but there are a few left, still painted on, that I can make out. A, D, E... V... M... L... O... I... What? WHAT?
---
Boo.
---
An enormous pole jabs into the soft earth next to me. I spin to face the giant. He grins at me, unpleasantly. He grips his staff and pulls it vertically from the ground. I am in trouble.
I run. Uselessness whacks the staff into my back and I collapse in agony. He laughs. I gasp. I struggle to my feet. He reaches out with that same ugly hand, in daylight this time, swiping for me. I dart behind a tree. The staff shatters into the trunk, cracking it like lightning.
I race for another. He grips this one by the trunk, wrapping his fingers around it as though it were a pencil. It cracks out of the ground, trailing roots and soil and stones as he lifts it and throws it toward me.
The tree splinters as it lands nearby. The world is shaking leaves again. I cover my head and then roll away into the undergrowth. The staff thumps into the ground as the giant roars between the trees. His voice is like thunder.
"You can't beat me!" he cries, "You. won't. win. Who are you? Who ARE you?"
He laughs again. The sky rolls. I peer through the bracken that's hiding me from him. He's right. I can't win. There is nothing I can do. If I run, he will see me. If I stay, he will find me. I reach for my bag and my hand moves towards the photograph.
"Courage," whispers a voice. It is the same voice. It's her voice, I think. "Take courage," it says again.
"Well?" he roars into the wood. "I'll tell ya. I'll say who you are. You are useless. No-one has a use for you. No-one likes you and no-one wants you. No-one. Hear me!"
Maledivo. The letters. My hand pulls out the piece of paper. I look at it. It isn't a person. It isn't a place. It's a code! Maledivo. M.A.L.E.D.I.V.O. It's...
"And soon you will be of use to no one, no-one at all! Not when I've done with you."
... It's an anagram.
I leap out. The giant turns. He twists his staff about him and looks me in the eye.
"Good. Now. Time to become really use-less."
I dart between the trees. He thunders toward me. Under the roots, over the splintered trunk, I leap. The earth shakes but there it is, still by the tree where I found it. The Courage 1883.
Uselessness approaches as the forest trembles. He's just a few feet away, holding his staff like a javelin.
"What is that?" he stops. A look flashes across his leathery face.
"This?" I say, trembling. "This is courage." I'm standing up now, standing to my full height. "I do have a use. I have a use because I'm... chosen. I have a use because I belong. I have a use because I am WHO I AM."
"You are no-one."
"Wrong."
"You are no-body."
"Wrong!"
"You are nothing."
"You're wrong!" I shout at his curdling, angry face. Then bending down to the typewriter, I push the I key. It clunks into motion with a metallic click. I look up and back into his eyes. He knows something.
"I" say I.
"Don't do that."
"AM" I push the A key forcefully, then the M. Click, click.
"No!" Uselessness drops his staff, "NO!"
"L" click.
He takes a step backwards.
"O" click.
He recoils as though struck by something I cannot see.
"V" click.
"E" click.
Uselessness drops to the ground, and lets out a roar.
"D" click.
He falls face down, thumping the earth with his fists. The ground shudders. I grip the corners of the typewriter, just holding my nerve and standing.
---
An enormous pole jabs into the soft earth next to me. I spin to face the giant. He grins at me, unpleasantly. He grips his staff and pulls it vertically from the ground. I am in trouble.
I run. Uselessness whacks the staff into my back and I collapse in agony. He laughs. I gasp. I struggle to my feet. He reaches out with that same ugly hand, in daylight this time, swiping for me. I dart behind a tree. The staff shatters into the trunk, cracking it like lightning.
I race for another. He grips this one by the trunk, wrapping his fingers around it as though it were a pencil. It cracks out of the ground, trailing roots and soil and stones as he lifts it and throws it toward me.
The tree splinters as it lands nearby. The world is shaking leaves again. I cover my head and then roll away into the undergrowth. The staff thumps into the ground as the giant roars between the trees. His voice is like thunder.
"You can't beat me!" he cries, "You. won't. win. Who are you? Who ARE you?"
He laughs again. The sky rolls. I peer through the bracken that's hiding me from him. He's right. I can't win. There is nothing I can do. If I run, he will see me. If I stay, he will find me. I reach for my bag and my hand moves towards the photograph.
"Courage," whispers a voice. It is the same voice. It's her voice, I think. "Take courage," it says again.
"Well?" he roars into the wood. "I'll tell ya. I'll say who you are. You are useless. No-one has a use for you. No-one likes you and no-one wants you. No-one. Hear me!"
Maledivo. The letters. My hand pulls out the piece of paper. I look at it. It isn't a person. It isn't a place. It's a code! Maledivo. M.A.L.E.D.I.V.O. It's...
"And soon you will be of use to no one, no-one at all! Not when I've done with you."
... It's an anagram.
I leap out. The giant turns. He twists his staff about him and looks me in the eye.
"Good. Now. Time to become really use-less."
I dart between the trees. He thunders toward me. Under the roots, over the splintered trunk, I leap. The earth shakes but there it is, still by the tree where I found it. The Courage 1883.
Uselessness approaches as the forest trembles. He's just a few feet away, holding his staff like a javelin.
"What is that?" he stops. A look flashes across his leathery face.
"This?" I say, trembling. "This is courage." I'm standing up now, standing to my full height. "I do have a use. I have a use because I'm... chosen. I have a use because I belong. I have a use because I am WHO I AM."
"You are no-one."
"Wrong."
"You are no-body."
"Wrong!"
"You are nothing."
"You're wrong!" I shout at his curdling, angry face. Then bending down to the typewriter, I push the I key. It clunks into motion with a metallic click. I look up and back into his eyes. He knows something.
"I" say I.
"Don't do that."
"AM" I push the A key forcefully, then the M. Click, click.
"No!" Uselessness drops his staff, "NO!"
"L" click.
He takes a step backwards.
"O" click.
He recoils as though struck by something I cannot see.
"V" click.
"E" click.
Uselessness drops to the ground, and lets out a roar.
"D" click.
He falls face down, thumping the earth with his fists. The ground shudders. I grip the corners of the typewriter, just holding my nerve and standing.
"I AM LOVED!" I shout finally into the trees. Return. The typewriter clicks and the platen slides clunkily but firmly into place with an old-fashioned ping.
The roar echoes. Slowly it fades like a whistling breeze until finally it whimpers into the air with a pop. The giant is still. The forest is quiet. Uselessness is dead.
I collapse, exhausted to the floor, holding my bag close to me and staring up at the swirling green canopy of leaves above my head.
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