Fraggle Rock fanfic: Where The Wild Wind Blows

[Redsonga]

Oh, well, see, I don't have that box.

I get it now.

*lol* Little silly creatures would love to just be passed one

 

[Redsonga]

Too true. And yet, Red didn't want to obey the new ruling at first, given her competitive edge.

..And she does like 'things', not as much as Boober or a certain other fraggle, but some

 

[Redsonga]

"Maybe you guys are right, maybe..maybe not even a guitar would make me great…" Wembley said, his suddenly sad voice braking up their playful teasing quicker than any water.

"Wembley…" Gobo began, stopping mid-tickle.

"We never said anything like that…" Red blurted out, catching the cutting edge of her taken a back-ness as best as she could as she got up.


Wembley turned from his friends, exchanging mellow words with the shop owner and bowing as the two other fraggles followed his lead.

The mood was still heavy and silent when they made their way though the swinging doors and onto the city streets, filled even at this hour with groups of tourists (dressed completely out of season, as was their custom) on their way to Kyoto's many temples.

"What did he say Wembley?" Red asked gently to the furry back walking slowly in front of them, dragging a neon green backpack covered with band buttons along the sidewalk with heavy footsteps.

"He said we're more that welcome to stay at their house again anytime, and to be careful..and, and he said to study hard on our exams."

Red sighed "Why doesn't anyone ever listen when we say we're not in Middle, High, Sideways or Upside Down school? For creatures that spend..." She shuttered from head to tail. "...years in school you'd think they'd be smarter."

Gobo laughed "Now Red, you know that's just Mr. Watanabe way of wishing us good luck."

Gobo smiled, trotting to catch up to Wembley. "You see? We would'nt get anywhere without your translating Wembley, we're no good at it."

"Sure, but you could learn easy Gobo, you're smart." Wembley said, not looking up.

"Hey!" Red grumbled in pretend anger behind them, trying without much luck to stuff two large fish shaped wind-socks into her small bundle.

"You too Red. The..only reason I'm okay at ten different languages is 'cause I'm not good at anything…any one thing. Besides singing, but everybody can do that."

Red fell silent as she finally picked up a long stick from the side of the road, pretending to be preoccupied with stinging her souvenirs like a pretend fisherman.

"Even..even..if I had a shiny guitar…"

"Wembley you know you're always…" Gobo began but was cut short by the growing temper under the younger fraggles words, an odd mixture of anger and sadness that was once so rare to fraggle kind it had even frightened the experienced explorer the first time he heard it.

"You know everything Gobo, Red's strong and sure, Mokey's good at stories and magic things, and Boober takes care of everybody..what do I do, what do I do?"

Wembley lifted his head at last, giving Gobo a glare that was bordered with tears and suddenly bolting off without another word. His friends had to admit that for all the things he had said he was awful at, running was not one of them.

"Wembley!" Gobo shouted, running forward with a dash he was getting better and better at lately . He just caught the strap of the maddened fraggles' pack a moment before Wembley wiggled free of it in one skillfully motion, sending him tumbling forward.

"Oh…" Gobo groaned, trying his best to hide the pain of a skinned knee as Red rushed to look at it. "I just don't know anymore Red, it..it was suppose to stop years ago."

"Outer Space is seriously weird about everything I guess.." Red said softly as she kneed beside Gobo, looking up to watch the small green fraggle dart into the surrounding crowd. "I..I hope he'll be okay..."

 

[RedPiggy]

Wembley, poor Wembley ... he just needs some time to himself to find himself. He won't stop comparing himself to others until he can find his talents on his own (did he forget about his super-hearing, etc?).

 

[Redsonga]

Well, he's not exactly thinking logically . Part of that is why he's so good at languages IMHO. It makes sense I think...

 

[Redsonga]

Oh Wembley, poor dear little Wembley..., what have you started? *writes*

 

[RedPiggy]

He probably knows of his hearing abilities, but when really would one need to hear water in rocks on a regular basis?

Good point, but

Well, he's not exactly thinking logically . Part of that is why he's so good at languages IMHO. It makes sense I think...

that makes sense too. His gifts could adapt ... Wembley's never been rigid (aside from that one time).

Edit: A better way of saying it: WEMBLEY'S never been rigid, even if WILFRED was.

More edit (sorry): You know, maybe Wilfred is Wembley's "Sidebottom" ...

 

[Redsonga]

Song

The brand new blue and white toy guitar lay propped up against a pillar of the ancient temple. Among the moss covered stones that had grown with the same orandary dependability for generations, it's shiny plastic waited.

The moon was already climbing when the figure of a small green fraggle came walking along the out of the way spot, the wind playing in his now dried hair. As he drew nearer wind chimes hung at the corners of the landmark years ago seemed to remember themselves, ringing a faint few notes.

The memory of his own voice whispered somewhere softly before melting away:

"Gosh Gobo, what's the wind like up there?"

Wembley joined in slowly in song, his slightly lower voice weavering around the edges.

The wind is moving ...
but I am standing still...
A life of pages waiting to be filled....

Wembley looked up at the sky, his tail swaying.

A heart that's hopeful, a head that's full of dreams
But this becoming is harder than it seems…
It feels like…

As he looked on the stars began to come out for the night ,twinkling faintly around the full moon, already beginning to recover its reflective shine.

I'm lookin' for a reason
Roaming though the night
To find my place in this world....
My place in this world...

"Do they have a moon to?" Wembley's younger voice asked as his older self passed at the edge of a decorative fish pond, the frogs from its water coming up to croak in the background melody.

Not a lot to lean on... I need your light to help me find my place in this world,
My place in this world....
My place in this world…

Wembley looked up at the moon, singing to its hanging shape as he paused to lean against the temple, his tear strained eyes wide.

If there are millions... down on their knees...
Among so many, can you still hear me?
Hear me asking, where do I belong?
Is there a vision that I can call my own?
Please show me…

His slow walk began again this time growing into a type of half hearted dance, it's steps reckless and random.

I'm lookin' for a reason, roaming through the night
To find my place in this world, my faith in this world…
Not a lot to lean on… I need your light to help me find my place in this world,
My place in this world.
My faith in this world…

Without thinking by second nature the fraggle came to the spot where the guitar lay and picked it up beginning to place. The soulful notes of an electric guitar reached into the air from the simple three stringed piece of plastic. As the fraggle played on his did not notice when the world around him was framed by the bluesh tint and number and dated corners of a home video. The frame hung in place as he played a solo that resounded throughout the temple ...and was put to rest just as quickly when a page of newspaper hit the unknowing performers' ankle.

The words were in bold fancy lettering, standing on their own ink and paper picture of a stage:

Now holding open auditions for non-human musicians, singers and dancers. The offices of Michael J. Sleaze, producer to the stars.

"...To find my place in this world, my faith in this world…"

Wembley sang, his song fading into thoughtful silence.

The video camera screen was lowered slowly to reveal the large fat warty face of a toad hidden among the frogs, his tattered yellow scarf blowing in the breeze as his wide brimmed hat bobbed up and down with barely masked laughter.

"Well, well …easier than catching swamp flies..and twice as tasty.." The gravely voice of Wander McMooch whispered to himself.

 

[Redsonga]

Oh no...Don't tell me McMooch is gonna--well--mooch off of Wembley's insecurities?

Oh..it's worst than that..much worst...

 

[RedPiggy]

*fangirl squeal*

WOO-HOO! I can't WAIT to see how McMooch (good choice of villain, btw) messes Wembley over.