Fraggle Fic: A Wandering Heart

[Slackbot]

One parting shot over the bow...

*****

A Wandering Heart
Extras: Outtakes
by Kim McFarland​

*****​

PART 1:​

[SCENE: the Gorg's garden. It is raining and the ground is muddy. Sage grabs the leaves growing out of a radish almost as big as she is and pulls hard. After much effort, skidding around in the mud, the radish comes loose—and rolls on top of her, smushing her into the squelchy mud.]​

**​

PART 4:​

[Janken is writing on Fraggle paper, whatever that is. Mica comes in and reads over his shoulder.]​

Mica: "It was a dark and stormy night"?​

Janken: The Storyteller starts out that way when her imagination's out to lunch.​

**​

[Janken and Mica are sitting side-by-side, her arm around his back. The atmosphere is bittersweet. They sit for a little while. Then Mica looks at him.]​

Janken: What?​

Mica: Your stomach was supposed to growl.​

Janken: I can't make my stomach growl on command. They'll have to dub it in.​

Mica: So much for method acting.​

Janken: [burps] Will that do?​

Mica: We'll stick with dubbing.​

**​

PART 5:​

Cantus: We will be moving on this afternoon. If you decide to join us, be ready to leave then.​

Janken: [flustered] I... thanks!​

[Janken dashes off. The Minstrels watch him go.]​

Murray: [to Cantus] Why do you get all the groupies?​

**​

PART 6:​

[The Minstrels have swapped instruments and played some music.]​

Murray: [to Janken] Surprised?​

Janken: Yes. I didn't know you played other instruments.​

Cantus: To play as one, you must understand the whole.​

Janken: [nodding] Oh, that makes sense.​

Cantus: [startled] It does?​

Murray: You're slipping, boss.​

**​

PART 10:​

[Janken emerges from a small tunnel into a dark storage room filled with boxes. He feels around in the dark, finds the door, and can't open it. He goes back to his backpack and gets something out. Then he climbs up the pile of boxes. When he reaches the top he plants a flag bearing the Solemn Mark of the Fraggle on the lid.]​

**​

PART 12:​

[Janken accepts a telephone receiver from Lana.]​

Doc: [through the phone] Janken Fraggle?​

Janken: Doc! Is that you?​

Doc: Of course it's me! They told me you've been stuck out there for months! Why didn't you call earlier? Or at least send a postcard so your family would know what happened to you?​

Janken: Er... I didn't think of it?​

**​

PART 15:​

[Janken and Scooter are sitting alone in the theater, holding hands. A movie has just finished. Scooter holds up a DVD remote player with his free ahnd and, aiming over the seat back, turns off the DVD player.]​

Janken: Thanks.​

Scooter: Glad you liked it.​

Janken: It's the second best thing that happened to me today.​

[Scooter makes a face.]​

Janken: What?​

Scooter: Whew! Dragon breath.​

Janken: [teasing] Who put the peppers and onions in my salad? I don't think it was me.​

Scooter: Next time, I'm packing mouthwash.​

Janken: Fine by me, carnivore.​

**​

PART 17:​

[The Great Hall, the winter solstice. Everyone has finished singing There's A Promise and Janken has joyfully returned to his family. Now Cantus and Janken are speaking.]​

Cantus: You have learned to listen.​

Janken: Thank you. Can I ask you a question?​

Cantus: There can be no answers without questions.​

Janken: What does 'Let Me Be Your Song' really mean? It sounds like... you know.​

Cantus: [momentarily flustered, then recovers and answers] I was young once too.​

Janken: [grinning] Thought so.​

*****​

Scooter and the Muppet Theater are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. Cantus, Murray, and Doc are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Sage, Janken, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.​

 

[Slackbot]

Another "bonus feature": an alternate ending inspired by Jack London's To Build a Fire.

The scene picks up from the middle of the last chapter, right after Janken enters the new tunnel.

*****

A Wandering Heart​

Extra: Alternate ending​

Part 17A: Closing the Circle​

by Kim McFarland​

*****

Janken walked for several hours. It became colder and colder as the passage meandered downward. He hardly needed to blaze a trail, as he was following the main tunnel, which did not fork. Side passages branched off of it, but they were little more than cracks, not wide enough for a Fraggle to fit through. He had hoped to return to the nearby Fraggle colony, but the tunnel was leading him farther and farther away. But, he thought, it had to have opened up for a reason. Like all Fraggles, he believed in the benevolence of the world, and took it as an article of faith that everything had a purpose. If it was leading him away from the old colony, it was taking him somewhere else. Maybe, he hoped, it would lead him back home!

He continued, fighting the urge to run, to hurry toward whatever awaited him at the end of this tunnel. He could not risk injuring himself now, when he had to keep moving to stay warm. It was getting viciously cold. Tired and hungry, he stopped to eat some more of the daikon. He had been so intent his explorations, he had forgotten all about lunch. He sat down to rest his feet and munched the savory vegetable. But soon, tired as he was, he got back up again. It was cold, and he had to keep moving to stay warm.

He looked around as he jogged in place, chewing a mouthful of radish. He could find his way back now, then try again in the spring, when it would be warmer. He could bring proper equipment. He still had the pickaxe and rope and other things he had borrowed from Papa Gobo. Common sense told him that it was foolish to risk exploring this cold, unknown cave all alone. If he succumbed to hypothermia or one of the few predators that was active in winter, nobody would ever know what had become of him. He would simply disappear.

But this isn't about staying safe, he thought. It's about following your heart. This was a test of faith, he told himself. What had he been told all his life? Follow your heart. Believe in it and in yourself. Up on the surface the lesson had finally sunk in. He knew it in his bones, cold as they were. He would continue on.

**

The tunnel continued twisting lower and lower. Ice decorated the walls, waterfalls frozen in time. In the spring this tunnel might be underwater, Janken realized. Was that why it had opened now? It got colder and colder, and his throat was beginning to feel raw. He took his hands out from under his arms long enough to lift the turtleneck collar of his sweater enough to cover his nose. He had to hold his head tilted down at an awkward angle, but at least this way it didn't hurt to breathe the cold air.

Stalactites, stalagmites, and columns were beginning to appear, turning the tunnel into an obstacle course. He tried to edge around them without using his hands. For a while he managed that way, leaning against the formations for balance. Then a stalagmite snapped and he fell to the ground, a sharp pain in his side where the stump had gouged him. He breathed deeply a few times and judged that he wan't injured; he hadn't fallen hard enough to crack a rib. He'd just have a bruise there come tomorrow. No big deal.

He got back up and continued on. He had only stopped for a moment, it seemed, but he felt cold and weak. And tired. Tired was bad. He needed to keep moving, keep going forward, keep putting one foot in front of the other. He could do that.

After a while his feet stopped hurting. That was a relief. He felt almost like he was floating. He was a little clumsy, though. Then he looked down. He could not feel his feet!

He found a flat section of the cave and began running in place as hard as he could. He had to get the blood pumping to his feet. If they froze he was done for! As he ran, fueled by fear, he slapped his hands against himself, trying to warm those as well. His breath puffed harshly through the weave of his sweater, warming his chest. Soon his feet began to sting.

Still jogging, wincing with each step, he looked down the tunnel. The part that he could see was thick with stalactites and stalagmites, and so narrow he could not see far into it. He might not be able to get through. Home might be right around the corner, but he had been telling himself that for hours. Maybe it was, but if it wasn't, he might not be able to make his way back to safety. He could not survive much longer in this bitter cold. He hated to turn back now, but he didn't believe hard enough to stake his life on it.

He could get back if he hurried. He realized with a start that he had forgotten to blaze the tunnels; what kind of fool simply forgot that? Fatigue must be making him goofy. At least he knew that following the main tunnel would lead him right back. And it was safe; no crevasses or other trickery. If he ran he'd keep warm enough to make it. Arms around himself, hands under his arms for warmth, he ran back up the tunnel.

**

The tunnel twisted and turned around him, as if spinning him like a water current played with a floating leaf. He was beginning to feel eerily disconnected, as if he was running in place while the world whirled and flew past. That couldn't be good, he thought, but as long as he kept moving it didn't matter. Run, run, back toward warmth and safety! Every step was a step closer to the rest of his life.

He was concentrating so hard on urging himself on, he did not slow when he walked by the frozen waterfalls. The ground was unnaturally flat for a cave, and it had been so cold that he had not recognized the change from stone to ice and then stone again. Now he was on ice once more. It had been strong enough to bear his weight when he was merely walking, but when his foot came down hard it cracked. Janken heard a loud snap, then felt shocking cold as he plunged in up to his knees.

He pulled himself out of the icy water as fast as he could. His socks and leggings were completely soaked, and would leach all the heat from his body if he kept them on. But what was he supposed to do, take them off and run bare-legged? Whatever he did, he had to do it now and keep moving! His feet were going numb again!

He compromised. He pulled off the leggings, but left the socks. Cold and numb as his feet were, they'd need the protection. He left the leggings behind on the ice and ran on. A few minutes after Janken left the leggings were frozen solid, and the hole he had made was icing over.

**

The floaty sensation was back, and worse. He was stumbling now. His feet were no longer doing what he told them. He stopped and sat on a frosty boulder and pulled off one sock. He had to break ice to get it off. He rubbed his foot between his hands as hard as he could. His hands became chilled by the air and his cold foot, and his behind began to sting as well; even through his thick winter fur, the rock was cold! And he was cold and hungry and tired. He needed to rest. He couldn't make it the rest of the way now. Just a few minutes...

No. If he stopped now, he wouldn't start again. He tried to force the sock back on his foot, but it wouldn't go. Frustrated, he swung it against the cave wall. The ice cracked.

He got up and started stumbling forward.

**

He was beginning to become confused. He could no longer be sure he was going in the right direction. Blaze marks would have helped, if he had remembered to make them. Up, he had to keep going up; that one thought repeated itself in his mind. His feet told him nothing, and he had to run along one cave wall so he could grab it if he started to fall. That helped—when he fell in the right direction.

One too many times he tripped and fell to the ground. He tried to get his feet underneath himself, to push himself up, but they only scrabbled halfheartedly at the gritty cave floor. The stone against his cheek burned, but not for long. The pain was fading mercifully away. He'd rest until he was ready to get up, and then he'd continue back. He always felt better in the morning. In the back of his mind he realized that if he went to sleep now he would not wake up. He imagined himself looking down at his body. Nobody lives forever. And it's better I die out here, where nobody will find me and be sad. They'll think I'm still off having adventures. And some other Fraggle will come up to the surface to live among the Silly Creatures, now that they know it can be done. It won't have been a waste after all. It's okay.

He let go, and walked away from himself.

**

Hours later, cave creatures emerged from their nests, awakened from hibernation by an unexpected scent. They found a gift of food and warm nest-lining material waiting for them. They accepted without question the bounty that would sustain them through the harsh winter, and began bringing it back to their nests and their young.

*****

Fraggle Rock is copyright © The Jim Henson Company, and is used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

I have to applaud you for doing this. But personally, I've never liked Jack London's work ever since I had to read some of it for my lit. classes. Thank you for the extra ending though.

 

[Slackbot]

You're welcome, Count. I figured that anyone who had hung on this long would probably enjoy seeing Mister Mary Sue getting bumped off, even if it ain't for real 'cause he's still around in Masks.

I promise that in any future stories Janken stay mostly in the background, where he belongs, if he appears at all.