Fraggle Rock fanfic: Everything Seems To Sing

Author's Note:
Finally, my next fic is ready to start!
This is the official prequel to my first very first fanfic Song Of A Midnight Place and is set about seven years before that story. This story tells the start of how I think Mokey might have finally became a minstrel, and her relationship with Cantus. There will not be as many original songs in this story as in Midnight Place, but for a good reason that actually plays into the plot. Again, this fic is somewhat dark in theme, but keeping fraggles (and other races of the rock) true to themselves, has some light as well . (This story is told in parts that each start with a line and doodles from Mokey's diary, the words of which I will also be typing for the sight impaired)

Everything Seems To Sing
By Alicorn (aka Redsonga aka Alicornmoon )

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Prologue
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~

The normally peaceful front room of the renowned tinker Jerome Crystal's workshop was blissfully noisy for four in the morning.

On any other day this would be more than a bit of an annoyance to his old grey and white sheepdog mutt Sprocket. But today, he happened to be making a good part of the runious as a barking mimic to his human.

"Now, fishing pole..fishing pole? Where did I put that rod? I tell you Sprocky, this is the trouble with never borthing to unpack these last two dozen boxes from the move, can't find a darn...Oh, thank you."

Sprocket wagged his tail from where he sat up, grasping an old fishing pole in his jaws and dropping it gingerly into Doc's hand.

The old man patted his head, adding the pole to the contents of three giant duffle bags that already looked as if they were ready to burst.

Sprocket barked happley going back to hunting for interesting things among the dusty boxes.

"It sure was a surprise wasn't it? That Matt Fraggle fellow saying he wanted you and I, and Ned to accompany him on one of those famous road trips his always writing Gobo about...right around the same time as our annual fishing trip to Michigan to..."

Doc eyed a large menacing looking wench in each hand and then shrugged, packing both.

"Of course, I can understand the need for a last hurrah before retirement. Company makes it easier most of all when you have a family to break the news to when you get home...All things consitered he does seem to think of us as his closest human ..and dog friends...”

Sprocket hummed along in the background picking all sorts of dog toys and adding them to a bag, ending with a stuffed chew toy that looked mysterly like a hand knitted fraggle before Doc noticed his progress.

“Oh no, we can't take all that Sprocket, we have travel light, that's the key you know...Now, did I put that portable generator?"

Sprocket whimpered as his collection was poured back onto the floor, scooping up the fraggle toy in a paw and quickly sandwiching it back into the bags messy contents when his human was looking the other way.

The picture Doc had picked up in that same moment was a framed black and white photograh of a group young faces, some of thir hair laced with flowers, in front of a well loved looking Volkswagen.

“Oh I tell you Sprocky, this is going to be just little the good old days when my college friends and I took to the road..Living on nothing but our van and our dreams..the world seemed so big then...”

He tapped the image of a curly long haired man at the center of the picture holding a pair of scissors with a cheerful gaze.

Sprocket glaced over his shoulder feeling the top of Doc's balding head in shocked horror for a moment, before going back to packing as the old inventor continued to ramble on.

“...That was the summer I gave up a future as a rocket scientist to start my first barber shop...I wanted to do something useful, something real...”

“Row?" Sprocket growled in question, resurfacing from the layers of boxes on the workshop floor wearing a pair of green and pink lensed sunglasses and peace-signing over energetically , while holding Doc's pipe in his teeth.


“Where in the world did you find those old?..Give me that!" Doc grumbled in distaste, cleaning off the stem of his pipe and giving his dog a sidelong glance.

“Oh Sprocket, don't tell me you buy into all those stereotypes..”

“Rarrwo?" Sprocket interjected raising a suspecting bushy eyebrow as he haled up a worn and faded looking box that 's contents clicked and made foreboding other sounds under the covering of an oversized tiedye shirt.

Doc's eyes went wide as he quickly took the box from his dog and whipped it out of sight in one swift movement that was surprisingly agile for a man of his age.

“Alright, I won't say we were angels, but we all really felt like we were a part of something ...headed for adventure...”

Doc's gaze glossed over again as he made a dramatic sweep of his arm toward an invisible horizon that the old sheepdog seemed to follow to, looking, dream like, off into the distance.

“What do you say to making this summer a great adventure Sprocky, just for old times sake?" He said in a pleading tone, leaning down to the dog's level.

Sprocket put a paw to his mouth thoughfully and then barked, nodding and panting as Doc reached to scratch him behind the ears.

“That's my groovy boy!"

Right on. *flashes a peace sign*

Like Ed said, this is off to a great start. I can't wait to read more!

~ AnimatedC

LOL ... Doc as a hippie...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Diary,
The songs don't seem to sing in the same way they did once...
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A tuff of light blue hair at the tip of a long lilac tail whipped in a restless semi-circle in the darkness.

The living caves were all but silent in the early morning hours, filled was the peaceful snoring from fraggles of all shapes and sizes.

The distant notes of five more mellow sleeping sounds, all woven together like a melody, could even be heard above the rest, washing over the scene and leaving nothing but a drowsy sense of claim to every carefree mind of fraggledom…

That is, to every mind but Mokey Fraggle's.

She gave another deep sigh, flipping over to lay on her stomach and forcing her eyes closed.

With a grumble the tall fraggle reached with one jerky movement to tuck the blanket around her exposed feet and tail, before pulling the rest over her head like a knitted flower print cocoon.

A weak, concerned growl rose from the pot in the nook of the wall.

Mokey's pet night-blooming yellow-leaved deathwort, Landford, awoken long ago by his owners tossing and turning, now carefully slid his pot to the edge of the shelf.

Giving his bottom warty flytrap like lip a last chew of concentration, the plant drew back tightly on his spring like stem, launching himself at small bed.

Mokey gasped at he sudden weight and shower of leaves on the exposed half of the pillow above her head, but then relaxed just as quickly when an inquisitive hand and eye revealed only the gentle razor teeth lined jaws of her pet.

"Grrgh.." Landford purred, resting his head with a cozy yawn the top of her hair as Mokey began to absentmindedly pet his two main leaves.

"Red?" Mokey whispered out into the cave.

The two ginger pigtails visible above the edge of the worn looking hammock, surrounded by small hills of junk and nicknacks, did not stir.

"Red?"

"Mrgh…wa?" Came the faint, muffled reply.

"What do you think the meaning of life is? Why are we here?"

Mokey asked, her voice oddly clear and focused.

"Sleeep." Red growled in a zombie-ish tone, turning over and tunneling her head under her pillow like furry yellow worm.

Mokey laughed lightly at her friends unbridled enthusiasm.

"No, no, not why we are here, why do we exist at all? What's the point?"

Red's now sightly more awoken voice leaked in a whining wave through the thin fabric of her hammock bottom.

"Moookeey..it's too early for thoughtful..the point 'ill be there in… morning…"

"Say…say you were older and storyteller wrote a song about you..what would you want it to say?" Mokey continued on, seeming to not hear her friends protests.

"Mokey, this doesn't have anything to do with your birthday tomorrow..I mean, today, does it?" Red added with a sigh, still buried under said pillow. "… 'Cause it's too early for quarter-life crisises to you know…"

"Aw come on Red…your song, what would it be?" Mokey erged, breaking into a soft singing tone "Listen well all fraggle kind to the tale of Red…"

"Who had enough of her crazy friend and went back to bed! Happy birthday!" Red finished, curling up into an inpenetratable ball under her radish patched quilt.

"Say, that's pretty good!..At least it does rhyme…Why if you put a few more metaphors and some meter..to…" Mokey stopped mid-thought, finally noticing her friends unconsciousness.

"Goodnight..." She whispered, softly slipping out of bed so as not to awaken Landford and following her restless feet out into the early morning stillness.

Excellent - I've said it before, but it bears repeating - where I don't usually care for fan fiction, yours so perfectly captures the tone of an actual script I could see being taped...and I can SO hear Karen Prell's flawlessly hilarious line reading of her finishing Mokey's song!

Red's part of the song was so classic. This is so spot on.

That opening with Doc and Sprocket--along with Jerome's flashback to earlier times--oozes excitement. And I bet Uncle Matt would love to come on Doc & Sprocket's adventure, considering every day the world begins again [whether] sunny skies or rain...[and] every sunrise shows (him) more and more [which means] so much to explore... And as was said, the interaction between Red & Mokey--in Ernie & Bert fashion--was classically priceless!

Pooh! You're back, yay! *hugs stuffing out of Pooh*
In my mind Uncle Matt and Doc are a natural buddy pair for some reason, they just fit...maybe it is because to me, in fraggle years vs. human years, they are about in the same age group...

I'm glad everyone likes the story so far, it has been buzzing in my head for a while

The grass-lined valley surrounding the Grogs garden was draped in all the finery of a wild wheat field in mid-June.

The tall grass whipped in a slight breeze to the background melody from sleepy grasshoppers in the unsure hour between the night and the coming morning.

Though this scene, with only the golden grass and white downy heads of thistles, turned a bluest tint in the moonlight, as a guide , Mokey walked slowly to her favorite place in the world.

As she walked, feeling the cool dew brush against her bare feet, her progress awoke what looked like grumpy ladybugs.

Annoyed at the fraggles lack of noticing them, the group of bugs began to follow, thumping their tiny bodies against the ground to fill in the beats between the grasshoppers chirping.

Mokey fingered the soda tab on her necklace thoughtfully, watching its silver gilt catch the dim light as she began to sing softly.

Sometimes I'm alone, sitting on my very own
Trying to find a simple kind of clue

She spun slowly around in a circle , upsetting the ladybugs, who scattered to not be stepped on.

And I would like to know, why the world moves me so
When it's only doing the things it will always do?

Moths took flight in the background, dotting the sky line like tiny white winged shadows among the fainting stars.

Why do caterpillars crawl?
Why is there a sky?
Why is there a world at all?
And why do I ask why?

Mokey looked down sadly as one of the moths landed on her shoulder, tilting it's head as if listening carefully.

Here I go again, why do questions never end?
What keeps calling all day long to me?

She glanced to the side and smiled slightly, singing as the moth flexed it wings in the crisp air.

Secrets come and go, I know I can't be the only one...

The moth flew off again, leaving the lone fraggle to sit down alone in a mossy sheltered spot.

Sometimes magic, sometimes only me...

Mokey slowly raised her arm up toward the sky, now starting to become edged with the orange glow of morning.

Why do caterpillars crawl?

She carefully rimmed the distant image of still bright crescent moon with her fingers...

Why is there a sky?
Why is there a world at all?

..and let her hand fall back to her lap with a sigh, bowing her head and closing her eyes in frustration.

And why... do I ask... why?

This was beautiful. As I said before, your inner Mokey would be proud. On top of that, I am sure the father of all Muppetdom--Jim Henson himself--would be proud to know that fans still have care, faith, and adoration for his creations (i.e. his "children" as it were, because his real kids have continued the Henson legacy). As the King of Country--George Strait, that is--once sang, this love is a love without end...amen.

"If you ask me, it sounds like you've got yourself a nasty case of The Whys there, young fraggle."

A heavy accented old lay's voice chimed in, to the background chorus of tin cans and rotten ten week old rutabagas rising from the surrounding earth.

Mokey turned sharply from the perch of her favorite place, that overlooked to one side the back of the fraggles famed oracles home. Two glay and pink mole rats still lay in their hammock beds between the two, dead to the world despite the noise around them.


"Madam Trash Heap! Oh, I'm sorry if my singing woke you.." Mokey said, her voice high and apologetic as she picked a dandelion.

"…A lot of good it did anyway..Oh, even my question song isn't helping today…"

Mokey blew on the white ball of fluff, sighing with a deamy gaze as most of the seeds remained stubbornly in place.

"Oh no no, I was awake already. Advice is a twenty four hour thing you know." The Trash Heap said, wagging a finger. "You'd be surprised how much night business I get…

She raised her lensless glasses on their stick up to her eyes in the light of the sunrise to the east.

The golden cheery tint bathed both the giant heap and the twenty-two inch tall fraggle above it on the hillside, as the the bird calls and sleepy gorg yelling began to tell of an everyday morning.

"Now, as I was saying, it sounds like you have a bad case of The Whys."

"Is..is there a cure?" Mokey asked, scooting forward to sit on the edge of her spot.

"Of course there's a cure," The trash heap said with a huff." Would I still be gabbing away to you if there wasn't?"

"Well…" Mokey began, quickly biting her tougue as if to keep her thought at that moment from escaping.

"The cure for the whys is the simplest thing in the world:"

Marjory began, again getting out her patented wagging finger (Which happened today to be a piece of old cheese).

"You gotta' take a bite out of the big apple."

"Pardon?" The fraggle tilted her wild haired head, not seeing anything that remotely looked like an edible apple around the Trash Heap.

"Do! My little fraggle, do! You've been stepping back so much you're sittin' on the frame of the big picture!"

"But last time I did something like that, it did'nt…" Mokey ended, her energy for words seeming to die halfway though.

"Then try again, find what works for you, don't just give up..."

The oracle rattled her contents, raising up on her magical base with a sound that seemed like it would wake up all creatures within a mile, but hardly brothered the nearby Philo and Gunge.

"...See new sights, meet new people: Find a new road and hit it good, honey!"

"Hmmm..Okay!" Mokey concluded at the infectious peppy tone of the wisdom giver.

"Well, I'm really going to have to think about this though…" She added beginning to walk away back to the rock, and then suddenly turning to look back as if a thought had just hit.

"You know, Madam Heap..why is it none of my friends ever stop to just talk sometimes, like we do?"

"Well, not many creatures really get their kicks chatting with an oracle, you know…"

"But why?" Mokey asked.


"Because it tends to make an advice giver more real to their eyes …." The heap added with a nod.

"But why would that make any diffan…?"

"If we are real, it means we can make mistakes just like you." The heap cut in, glancing over her glasses.

"Oh, that's silly Madam Heap," Mokey replied with a light laugh.

"Why, I know you're not perfect, I think of you as just a normal person …"

"Oh you do, do you?" Marjory said with a suddenly more piercing glance. "Then how is it after all these years you're still calling me "Madam Heap" when you know what my real name as well as Philo and Gungey?"

"I'm…I'm not sure…" Mokey clamored in embarrassment, suddenly very interested in the ground.

The Trash Heap broke the serious moment with a belly laugh that make the bottlecaps on her necklace clink.

"Oh that does'nt matter, listen to me rattling on, I can see just fine why more fraggles don't stop to really chat."

"T..thank you for your words Madam Heap." Mokey said, dipping her head a little as she turned to resume her track home.

"Don't mention it little fraggle, and rememer: Do!"

The trash heap shouted over the groggy background grumbling that just now could be heard starting of one rattly demand for banana asparagus pancakes...

Thank you! *hugs* And that so much everyone that has reviewed so far, it means so much to me to know you like it. Even if I noticed some mistakes again *lol*. Aw well, I always fix them all when I post them everywhere else but..silly dyslexia and getting all my writing done at midnight ...
But I wanted to get this first part done today and I did so yay! :3

Awww, I can't believe I didn't notice this earlier (thanks for your PM). It's such a joy to read. I love docs hippie past! it suits him. And The way you've got across to us just EXACTLY how Mokey feels is so well done. I'm looking forward to the next chapter ((hugs))

Thank you ! I think it suits him to..I always like a feeling of history...A new chapter should be ready by tomorrow.

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Dear Diary,
I should have known from that moment something was wrong...
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"What's the matter, Mokey? Aren't you hungary?" Boober asked softly.

What had once been white and red swirled cake with green frosting and rainbow sprinkles had now become something closer to green pudding under the restless attack from her fork for the last half hour.

The cave that the five friends where now in was abuzz with activity from far more than the birthday party in one corner.

Moss Melon cavern, filled on every wall with the climbing vines of the magical melon that was only ripe once every hundred years, was now in it's center having wood for a bonfire slowly placed. The minstrels looked on to one side, softly playing a tune that made even the work part of the Midsummer Festival seem like play.

"Is there something wrong with your cake?" Boober looked down at the offending cake piece as if it had deeply betrayed him. "I made it especially ...but if you don't like it I could always…"

Red suddenly skipped around their stone table, her mouth covered with white and red crumbs and one hand full of another sizable piece of cake, while the other hand carried many pieces of wood for the bonfire as she made three trips back and forth in the blink of an eye, talking at a mile a minute.

"How could anyone not like radish bar cake? It's as good swimming,..no better even! I'd lifemate it just to eat it again and again…!"

"Me to!" Wembley agreed, munching happly to the side of where Gobo sat, looking a bit sad at his lack of dessert.

"No..no, the cake is just wonderful Boober…" Mokey gave him a little reassuring hug as the small green fraggle sat in his usual spot to her left, rubbing a free edge of her sweater.

"…It's just, I've been thinking…Gobo, maybe you know.."

Gobo turned his attention quickly from where he had just been about to take his chances with a tiny bit of radish bar icing on a spoon.

"Have you ever felt like there was something you had to right away, something important, but you didn't know what?"

"Why sure, lots of times.." Gobo replied, nobbing his pink haired head, which today happened to be wearing a red yellow and green striped beanie from his hat collection.

"The first time though was when I first decided to be an explorer…"

"Gosh, do you want to be an explorer Mokey? Do ya? " Wembley asked, sitting down with a burst of energy on Mokey's lap, his voiced edged with the first signs of his own sugar rush.

Mokey laughed at his face, which was now not only his normal light green but dark forest green from the frosting around his mouth, making the young fraggle look like a green clown.

"Well..I don't know…Oh Wembley, Wembley, what a mess you are!"

"Is exploring better than radish cake with sprinkles Gobo?" Wembley asked as his his face was being assaulted by the clean corner of one of Mokey's many watercoloring rags.

"Of course it's better than radish bar cake, I'm allergic remember?" Gobo retorted with a sad sigh, finally thinking the better of it and being down the frosting spoon.

"At least you've got things better than Marlon." Red interjected as she paused momently from zipping everywhere "He can't have sugar at all. I think that's how his eye got all swinty... it just isn't normal…"

"Don't be silly everyone, Mokey's not the sort to just fling herself headlong without thinking into something as dangerous as exploring!"

Boober declared, bumping Wembley to the side and giving Mokey an unseen look of complete confidence before returning to his ranting tone.

"…Mokey is an intellectual rock dweller like me! What she needs something safe, something constructive, something that supports…"

"Ideals…" Mokey mumbled, picking at her cake again.

"Right!" Boober agreed.

"Spiritually…" Mokey added, giving her cake a hard stab.

"You tell 'em Mokey!"

"Drastic action!" Mokey finished dramatically, standing up in one sharp moment of insight that sent both her cake plate and Boober tumbling to the cave floor.

"Righ..Um, couldn't we just start at acquiescent action and work our way up?" Boober asked in a small, muffled voice from where he had landed squarely on his nose.