Dandelion Wine

By Amanda Le

“They have dandelion wine to drink. And they eat cakes made of acorn flour and flavoured with, with, um...rosepetals.” 

“And I suppose they live in mushrooms with little doors.” 

“No, they live under tree roots. Like that one,” Travis indicated the eucalypt they were passing. Something had burrowed under the roots and now there was a small hole, festooned with cobwebs. 

“Nothing could get through that,” snorted Boyd. “Look at all the spiderwebs.” 

“Those are the fairies’ curtains. They just look like plain spiderwebs to mortal eyes.” 

“You’re sick Travis. No you’re worse than sick. You’re gay.” 

“I am not gay. You are.”

Boyd swung a fist at his little brother. Years of practice meant that Travis could position his body so that his schoolbag took the full brunt of the blow, while his squawk gave Boyd the impression that the punch had hurt. He hunched the bag back under his armpit in case Boyd went for a second swing at him. He just had to put up with the taunts. 

“You’re gay and a baby. You’re a gay baby. Hah! You need a fairy dummy, just go home to mummy and stick your head in the dunny.” 

Boyd powered on ahead leaving Travis to make his usual dreamy stroll home. He didn’t really know what this gay thing meant, but there were times when he wished he’d been born a girl. “You don’t hit girls,” their dad would say. “Ever.” There were other benefits to being a girl. No one made fun of them for having teaparties with dolls and bears. They could own books about fairies and elves and spend all day feasting on glorious pictures. Nobody teased girls when they talked about flowers and magic and stuff. But he had to put up with being a boy, and there didn’t seem to be any rule about not hitting boys. 

Travis cheered up by reminding himself that this was the start of the school holidays. Tomorrow was Good Friday and Easter was his favourite time of year. It was like the turning point of the seasons, finally a rest after the fever of Summer. The earth relaxed, allowing the first rains to soothe it and draw it down to the secret night of winter. 

***

It was a full moon tonight, and the Autumnal equinox. Travis made the mistake of mentioning this at the dinner table. 

“Gunna go picking carrots for the Easter Bunny?” teased Boyd. 

“No.” 

“Well don’t expect any eggs tomorrow, ‘cause I found where Mum hid them and I ate all yours. Yeah! You had one of those Smartie eggs and a great big dinosaur egg...” 

“That will do, Boyd,” said their mother. Travis could never understand the unfairness.  

“...They were deeeee-licious. I ate them up and then I pooped them...” 

“I said that will do thank you Boyd,” she said mildly. 

“...right down the dunny.” 

Travis promised himself that when he was a dad he would never let his big kids bully the little ones. He would always understand when people were being unfair. The remainder of the meal was taken in silence with only the sight of Boyd’s ugly face leering at him across the table to spoil it. 

When the meal was over, Travis waited. It didn’t take long before he was given his solitude. His mum went off with her phone and was soon texting on the family chat group. His dad plonked himself down in front of the footy from which nothing short of the house burning down would move him. Boyd went to play some game that was about ninjas or aliens or robots or maybe all three, in what was laughingly called the playroom; though it might as well have had “Property of Boyd, Trespassers will be Punched” written in bloodstained letters on the door. 

Travis crept into the garden. There was a mossy patch down below the apple tree and he was sure he’d seen toadstools growing there. In the gloom of the evening he found them, little mauve umbrellas scattered in a circle. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but there seemed to be a glow about them. He took his shoes and socks off and stepped into their midst. As he crossed the perimeter of the circle a surge of energy washed through him. 

He sat on the moss, crossing his legs, careful to keep within the circle of toadstools. The air was scented with the faint aroma of apples. He inhaled and looked up. He could feel light from the stars falling on him with a gentle, pulsing rhythm. The earth drew him into itself and the starlight was slowly overwhelmed by the glow of the rising moon. Travis felt the change. A cloud of dragonflies clattered around him and dazzled him with their rainbow wings. He could see that each tiny toadstool that made up the circle really did glow, they were streetlights for the market that his no-longer mortal eyes could now perceive. 

The market was filled with colourful stalls sheltered by the first redgold autumn leaves. They sold thistledown quilts, dandelion wine, oatmeal ale, and acorn bread and there were rose petal cakes, cobweb curtains and mouse-leather shoes. It was just like in the stories. Gossamer ladies dressed in petals and cobweb gauze turned and smiled at him, and slender, elegant men with shimmering wings dipped their hats. They held out their hands to Travis and welcomed him into their world. 

He smiled as he joined them, and didn’t look back.

*** 

Travis’s parents searched frantically for him for weeks, and sadly for the rest of their lives. The whole country was haunted by the little boy’s face gazing hopefully from the papers and TV news. Only his shoes were found.  

By morning the ring of toadstools had melted away to nothing.

About the Author

Also known as Amanda le Bas de Plumetot, Amanda has had short stories and poetry published in various places, including Best Australian Short Stories, Best Australian Poems, Literary Taxidermy, Cordite and Going Down Swinging.

She was also lucky enough to be part of Clarion South in 2009.

Lately she has spent far too much time being a lady who sells popcorn, and is delighted to be picking up pen again and have her work accepted for publication.

Amanda currently lives in the beautiful Dandenong ranges, near Melbourne, but is this year embarking on a big move to Bright, which everyone agrees is an even more beautiful location.