Fraggle Rock fanfic: Song Of A Midnight Place

That was really touching.

Ohhhh....so beautiful and touching and I've missed this story! I'm so glad you updated again! It's just lovely, it really is. I hope to read more soon.

*pours soul on paper*
I missed you, my poetry and lyric writing *hugs it like a long lost puppy*
There is only one trouble..I wish the edit window was always open on stories so that I could fix typos...I guess I will have to just post this edited again when it's all done? I'm not sure...

Anyway, this chapter really took a lot out of me..I guess I really am a Mokey more than anything...

I was actually up for almost an hour fixing typos after I posted this chapter, and really the only thing I want fixed is actually just one word I forgot, but it is very important..I wish sometime with modly powers could add it in, if mods can do that..it's just a tiny word

Thank you kindly! *kisses Count's cheek* !

Tearfully sad, yet artistically beatiful at the same time! Well done, Red. Your inner Mokey would be proud of you. As Count said, "More please".

Thank you so much for your kind review . More is being written....

I was wondering, would anyone, when this story is done, be interested in me writing the prequel Mokey/Cantus fic?

oh so totaly yes to the Mokey/Cantus prequel. That would be really awesome.

I'd read it (the prequal I mean). =)

Me too. I'd love to read anything regarding the Fraggles!

That was lovely, good job! Can't wait for the next chapter

Of course, I'd love a prequel! More Fraggle Rock fanfiction is never a bad thing!

I'd love to read the prequel too! And I'd also like to read more of this story too, please post more!

I will, I will, don't worry . This next part is giving me a little bit of trouble...Maybe it is because when I was little (at 12 mind you) I had inborn fear of the Trash Heap *lol* *types* The odd thing is I am actually pretty good at writing her IMHO, I guess fear is a good thing sometimes

I've got the plot of the prequel almost planned out as well, it will ether be called:

Music of the Roses
or
Everything Seems To Sing

I can't decide which

*is reminded of when Boober was frightened of Marjory, even though she was going to help him be brave, bold, and daring*

The tiny ring of the few doozer hammers of the hard working early morning swift beat along with the raise and fall of the many fraggles still fast asleep in their living tunnels.

Suddenly, a miniature row of doozer stick lampposts topped with crystal stones flashed to life, illuminating the faces of Architect Cotterpin and her specialty selected crew.

A yell of 'Yay, we did it!" and "Go work-team seven!" wield up...

A second later, the thunderous sound of heavy footsteps moving at a breakneck pace drummed around them, shaking the stones off their mountings and draping the group again in morning shadow.

The doozers' exhausted sigh was broken by their leaders energetic voice.

"C'mon everyone! All we have ta do is try again!"

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The yellow blur topped with two orange red pigtails that still showed the ragged split ends of a long gruesome two am battle with a hair brush, galloped briskly, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Red, with Poppy in tow in a backpack carrier made of heavy sun-aged rope, had been unable to speak in nothing but a worried mumble for the last mile.

Her mind seemed to only get more muddled and confused as she drew nearer to the Guest of Honor cave.

"But what should I say? " Well you see, Gobo, I said something really dumb to Mokey last night. I hope she didn't go off and… ?" Nah, that doesn't sound right…"You know Gobo, I know we all swore never to talk about Cantus but I…" No, no..that's just as bad."

Red sighed and repositioned the carrier on her back, noticing that the little fraggle was now dozing without a care in the world.

"Immature huh?" She sat down slowly on a rock, only a few yards away from her destination.

"Am I really immature? What does that even mean?"

Red reached up to her shoulder and gazed at the pink hand, so much smaller than her own, that clasped its whole width over only two of her fingers.

"Life's so simple when you're little…it's just like that old rhyme…" Red started to sing, as the buzz and hammering of the doozer constructors rose up to meet her words in an blues-ike beat.

Softly, fuzzy daydreams in her mind filled the scene like a waking dream sharing.

When you're five or when you eight, you start to eat off a plate.

A tiny Red, no bigger than Poppy, sat in a crudely fashioned high chair of branches wearing a bib with a radish embroidered upon it. Her father, a tall orange fraggle with a aqua colored beard, was making funny faces. Her mother, a heavy-set, short, blue fraggle with white hair, was trying to spoon feed her daughter peas. Little Red refused them with a turn of her head one way and then the other…

When you're eleven everyone's so proud of you, when you learn to tie your shoe.

..before dumping the whole bowl on her head and licking the goo running down her cheeks, making her parents erupt in laughter.

The vision melted away to present day Red who absentmindedly picked a daisy, staring at it with worried eyes.

All these things Mom and Pop knew for sure, but what's it mean to be immature?

A new vision of a slightly older Red, her hair pulled up in a single ponytail and her cheeks covered in freckles melted into view. She sat, sleeping soundly at a stone desk covered with papers, Around her a crowd of other young fraggles danced, yelled, and threw paper airplanes.

At eighteen you learn to read and write…


The warhoop of a teacher shouting her name made her sit bolt upright, the whole side of her face now covered in the fresh sloppy berry ink printing that had once been on her paper. The whole class rolled in laughter.

And at twenty-three you can stay up and play half of the night!

Red twirled the daisy in-between her palms and threw it upward, catching it again just before it landed on her lap.

All these things I've always known for sure, so what's it mean to be immature?

A vision of the first day Red and Mokey moved in together appeared in fuzzy washed out colors of memory, Red ordering friends around as they found places to put all her many things, while Mokey looked on in horror as other half the room was filled to bursting.

At twenty-seven you're up and grown, big enough to live on your own…

A vision of Red kissing Gobo's cheek blended into the drab grey tones of the cave wall.

True love will come to you, between thirty-three and forty-two.

Red began to pick off the daisies petals one by one as the last vision melted away.

Of all these things a fraggles' sure, but what's it mean…?

She got up and walked toward the doorway of the cave, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

...What's it mean...?

She knocked on the door, her knocks set in time to the last beats of the song, as she knocked with one hand and held a newly awaken Poppy around the waste in a football hold in the other.

To..be..im-ma-ture ?

Aww, poor Red.