Continued from previous page
You are that grasshopper for twelve hours, half the day. You took your shower at midnight. You’ll keep that
state until midday.” said the hunchback, “That’s your destiny.”
Dinkykindy didn’t speak. He was contemplating his new look. His arms and legs looked longer and thinner.
He had a beak-like nose, wide eyes, long chin and a kind of a crest.
“Haven’t you noticed your new way of walking?” asked the man as he drew from his pocket a powder horn,
entered his middle finger in the cap ring and opened it.
Dinkykindy moved a step away from the mirror. He stopped. He looked confused. He tried over and over
again. He realized that he was not walking, as he used to do, but leaping as would any grasshopper do.
He glared at the man who took a pinch of the content from the powder horn and cast it on the floor. It
smelled. The more the incense emitted its burning scent, the louder thunder grew. The floor quaked, opened
and the hunchback disappeared. Thunder ceased and
the floor closed.
There, Dinkykindy stood in the middle of the room by
himself. A mixture of alarm and peace streaked his
chest. He moved his eyes left and right, up and down.
The room was clean and tidy. Everything seemed
normal.
“Why shouldn’t I be so?” wondered Dinkykindy.
He gained back his composure little by little.
“That is it! I am Grasshopperboy.”
There, on a stool, he noticed that the crippled man
had left the powder horn. He smiled although he still
felt grief. A low and mournful sound escaped: “I’ll get
my own self back.”
He took the horn in both hands, uncapped it and
glanced inside.
“Stop, Grasshopperboy!” shrieked the boy in alert, “No
mischief. Remember the green shampoo. This, also,
must be a trick of the ugly man.”
He put the cap back and sat on the stool. The stool gnashed and shifted. The boy shivered. It shook and
jolted. It flew slowly. Dinkykindy’s head hit the ceiling. It hurt. He yelled. The stool shifted right and
Grasshopperboy collided into the wall. He grunted. The stool flew left. They went into a painting.
When Dinkykindy gripped the horn tight, the stool hit the ground violently.
“That is clear!” nodded he. “The horn is the control.” Grasshopperboy recovered and had his wits back.
"Grasshopperboy" By Ezzeddine Cherni
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