Fraggle Rock fanfic: Everything Seems To Sing

*hears inside his head the voice of Jim Ross over-reacting whenever a face is assaulted--especially Steve Austin--during The Attitude Era*

Seriously, there's no need to ducktape yourself. Hearing--or rather, reading--what you have to say is interesting, especially considering learning is fun to an extent!

"Gosh, you're so lucky to be getting all these gifts and things to pass on Mokey…"

Wembley said, polishing the mask made of slopply glued together doozer sticks he had given Mokey earler to make the crystallite pieces catch the glow of the just starting bonfire.

"Yeah, being born on Midsummer Day I'm surprised you don't just have a lifetime supply of wishstones."

Gobo added, tossing what looked like a small red bead up and catching it with a thoughtful look.

"I think I'll ask the fire for good luck for Uncle Matt this year…"

"Well, I almost have one for each year…"

Mokey nodded, looking down at the the many beads that made up most of her necklace, her voice taking on an oddly formal tone.

"Mother was not much for birthday parties.."

"No way Mokey, your mom didn't like parties? "

Gobo said, nearly choking on the rhubarb juice he had started to drink.

"Why did'nt you tell us? We could have given you twice as many!"

"You never asked… Mother did'nt like many things.."

Mokey said, looking toward the crowd around the central fire again as the notes of the well known magic pipe began the grow.

"…she hated daydreaming most of all you know…"

"No, we don't know!" Wembley said, eyes a bit wider than usual as he tried to tuck the remaining piece of the cake into his banana tree shirt without anyone noticing.

"You sure we're talking about your mom Mokey?" Gobo asked with a laugh.

"Oh yes, but of course…" Mokey said in the same odd tone with her own laugh.

"On the other hand," Gobo said, looking hard at his wishstone. "I do remember you saying once your family was well-to-do…"

"What's 'well to do' Gobo?" Wembley asked, taking his own yellow stone out of his shirt to make more room for forgotten cake.

"It's what fraggles become who don't like to pass it on." Gobo explained in a serious whisper.

"Fraggles that don't like to pass it on? You're pulling my tail!" Wembley relped in shock.

"Really! And they sit around with all their stuff…"

Gobo said, sitting back and putting his feet up on the table with such an over the top sophisticated bored expression Mokey could not help but giggle.

"… saying "Well, what's to do today eh?"


" 'Well, what's to do?' That doesn't sound very fun.."

Wembley quickly looked over at Mokey, his eyes cast a bit downward as he fidgeted in place.

"At least, I've never tried it Mokey, so I don't really know…"

God, I just realized I made a LAUNDRY pun. Maybe there's more of Boober in me than I realized...

Anyway, while Gobo was explaining "well-to-do", I'm surprised no one shot a glance at Boober or something, considering he's a very bad hoarder.

Okay, this is a prequel. I guess they haven't discovered (I refuse to repeat his corny label for it).

Wow. So Fraggles have their rich and weathly too. Another connection between them and we Silly Creatures. XD

Anyway, more please! ^_^

Boober's off with Red at the moment so he's not there to glare at *lol* Corny label? Which label do you mean? This story is set after the series...About two years after :3

Very connected..very. *duct tapes mouth again* :3

*un-duck tapes mouth* What did I say about that? XD

"Please duct tape your mouth, it's for the greater good?" *lol*

No. But, if you must, do as you wish, for your judgement I trust. XD

"It's not fun Wembley, trust me…" Mokey said with a laugh.

"Let the Midsummer Day wishes be made to fire!" Came the even spoken announcement of Cantus to the crowd of fraggles around the central fire, who cheered and whistled before quickly claiming down as Gobo joined them.

In the background the song of Midsummer Day began as the fraggles of the lower rock joined hands around the blazing bonfire.

The notes of melody were shared with Mokey's own song as the two weaved together, the summer song providing a steady beat to the more lighthearted 2nd song:


Fire, fire…


Mokey grabbed Wembley's hand with a well bred air, her voice a very practiced heavy impersonation of her mother.

If you want to be a lady of quality, here's what I know to do:


Fire, fire…


Mokey dipped down, curtsying deeply.


Don't dilly and dally and daydream,


Burning bright!


Wembley bowed in reply, but went too low and fell down, semi-gracefully, on his nose.


Least others think less of you!


Bring us tomorrow with your light!


Mokey placed an invisible violin under her chin, taking out an imaginary bow and air playing the notes of the song, whispering the words "five years of lessons" to the small green fraggle.

If you want to make us proud,


Dream, hope...

Wembley tried to join in, playing what looked like an imaginary tuba and hitting a pretend sour note that made so nearby cave creatures wince and glare.

Keep both feet upon the ground!


...and promise we...


Mokey, grabbed Wembley's hand again, leading him over toward the cerebration with a well practiced graceful walk and her nose in the air.


Because a fraggle's not all the fraggle they can be, unless


Wembley mimicked her exactly, but had his nose so far in the air that he lost track of his feet and nearly fell down again, this time saved by Mokey's arm.


..they are soaking their toes in reality!


All this time the circle around the fire had reformed itself into a line and the fraggles were now taking turns jumping over it, tossing their wishstone into it halfway over.


Jump across the flames to see


Gobo's turn came and he backed up quickly, shutting his eyes and taking such a high spirited leap over the fire that many fraggles ooed and clapped.

Mokey's voice was small and thoughtful and back to her own voice as she sang the ending of her song, now only to herself, watching the flames lick an unlucky fraggle tail or two.


Be sweet, be gentle Mokey dear, be anything you please,


Fire fire that you hear our sound!


Mokey looked down at her wishstone, tighting her grip upon it slowly.


But don't let your mind wander to play all day, in imaginary trees...


She backed up a few steps as her turn finally came and…


The midsummer song of sky and ground...


"Mokey, Mokey!" The never failing to get attention sound of Red's voice in an emergency stopped both Mokey's focus on jumping, and the words of the summer song.

"Excuse me." Mokey said sheepishly, following her friend away from the group as Gobo and Wembley came to. "What's is it Red? What's wrong?"

"It's Lanford!" Red yelled. "I..well, I went back to our cave feeling bad and Boober came in to say sorry and..I found him still on your.. pillow."

She ended her exclamation with a tearful tone, parting the way for Boober, who was groaning under the venus flytrap like plants' pot.

"He may be heavy…but..he doesn't look very..good." He whispered.

Mokey gasped, rushing to the shadowed pot atop Boober's head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"…Lanford..no…"

Whew... poor Lanford...

Poor Red for feeling bad, but poor Landford for feeling worse.

Don't worry that will be my last simultaneous song for quite a while..musicals make it look easier to do than it is *lol* .
And poor poor Lanford...

I can see how simultaneous songs would be difficult, you did a great job.

Thank you ! I was beginning to wonder if they worked because I saw a few people writing my story and then running away without comment like it was infested with fleas or something *lol*. It's flea season for my kitties and it's nice to know my story has not caught them

Don't worry. Your stories are great and certainly are not flea-infested. XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Diary,
He looked at me, but I was not sure if he truly saw...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another black leaf fell.

The now nearly deserted cave was filled with five anxious sets of eyes all fixed upon a large pot.

The plant within it, a normally lively venus flytrap like creature with large puffed jaws was anything but his normal self.

Lanford's usually light green color with forest green wart-like markings was now a dark chestnut brown, with spots an odd shade of wine purple, and his mouth flat and withered slightly inward.

As the fraggles around this strange pet watched, one of which now holding a bowl up to his bottom jaw, another of the flytraps' blacking lesser leafs joined the many others that littered the rocky floor.

"Oh…he always eats his peat moss…" Mokey sighed, finally putting the brimming bowl next to where she was kneeling.

"Lanford..I know we haven't always been friends but…” Red edged closer, offering the plant one of her ponytails with a decided gulp.

“...if you get better, I..I promise I won't throw my swimming fins at you at night when you try to chew on my hair…”

Lanford seemed to consider this for only a moment before slowly turning his beak downward with the sighing sound of shallow breathing.

“Aw, but he always growls when I even mention head chewing.." Red grumbled.

Boober meanwhile was elbow deep in a large book that smelled of old paper and earthworms, on the floor before him. Wembley seemed to be trying to read it to, without much success.

"Oh, I wish I'd kept up on my plant pathology studies..What if whatever Lanford has mutates and starts effecting fraggles?"

He licked the edge of his finger with vigor and turned another page.

“We could be all brown and spotty with our arms all atrophied and falling off in who knows how much much time…"

"Time…what year is it?" Mokey asked in a suddenly nervous tone.

"What year is it?" Gobo laughed. “That's a silly question, no fraggle in their right mind still keeps track of the year names, when we have the seasons to…"

"It's June 24th of the eighty-ninth Weeba." Boober spoke up suddenly almost before Gobo had finished speaking.

" Eighty nine...sixty eight…oh no.." Mokey's eyes grew wide after her somewhat slow calculations on her fingers and then toes came to an end.

"'Oh no' what?" Gobo asked.

"Never ask what after an 'oh no' Gobo;" Boober butted in again, patting him on the shoulder wisely. “...it's never good…"

"I..got Lanford as a gift for my 9th birthday..that was twenty-one years ago…" Mokey said in a far away tone, her eyes still wide.

"So? Why does that matter?" Red asked, resisting the urge to poke the poor plant in hopes of any sort of response.

"Lanford's kind, the Night-Bloomers…they have to be put in a special soil...”

She carefully picked up a handful of the soil in Lanford's pot and watched as it fell slowly, her last words weak.

“..within two months of becoming twenty-one years old..if they don't.. they die…"

"Well, that's no problem Mokey, there's lots of soil around the rock...” Gobo said, zipping up beside her.

“... and the gorg's garden and…" Red began, suddenly at the other side.

Mokey shook her head drying her eyes, only to have them fill a moment later.

"No, it can't be just any soil..it has to be the soil were he was first planted in to have the right nutrients..everyone…I, I have to go back to Lanford's planting place..soon, very soon..starting tomorrow if I can..I have to make this right…"

"We'll go with you!" Gobo exclaimed.

"Yeah, you never know when a best friend or two will come in handy, it'll be fun!" Red agreed.

"Me three!" Wembley shouted with a hop.

"I'll come." Came a flat but certain voice.

Everyone but Mokey turned toward the small form of Boober in shocked surprise.

Where Mokey would have normally laughed at her friends more than eager energy there was nothing but a serious pause.

"Oh…everyone..it's too far..even for you Gobo... it's so far from lower rock that you could get lost forever if you aren't use to traveling there.." Mokey said quietly.

"There's more of the rock than here?" Wembley asked.

Boober let out a dry laugh from where he now sat next to Mokey in his usual spot, getting several of the good luck knots he always had in his tail untied absentmindedly in their normal distressing ritual .

"Don't you know anything Wembley? The rock runs under most of the land of silly creatures, remember Northern Rock?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Boober, I forgot…I forget sad things easy I guess..." Wembley sighed.

Mokey worked steadily on a nasty knot in Boober's tail, looking almost afraid to look her friends in the eye as weighted words finally found their way out.

"My clan… we were always drifters when I was little going days without food, water..I don't want to have another friend hurt because of me…”

None of the others seemed to notice when she gave Boober's tail a slight squeeze.

"Besides, don't worry..if I'm going to be able to go.. I can't go alone..it's too dangerous..I need someone experienced, someone like…"

"Uncle Matt?" Gobo said, pulling the newest postcard he had gotten from under his hat in a well practiced swoop. “But he's all the way on the other side of the silly creature world right now I bet…"

"No, no..even better…I only hope…" Mokey's voice trailed off to an uncertain whisper.

I hope Lanford ends up okay ... killing off characters can be so sad.

Now if I told that it would telling ...

You better not kill Lanford *evil glare*!
Or else...I'll...send Tosh's Beast after you!
And show a poison Cackler your picture!
(without it seeing me of course)

Um but yeah, poor Lanford, I hope he's ok. And poor Mokey, how could she forget, tsk tsk. She would feel so bad.

Great writing again. Just loving it