The Spider Who Owned the Stories

Part One. Reading Buddies

Every Monday morning, the big kids from the class above come to our class for Reading Buddies. They sit next to us and listen while we read. It is the best part of the week.

This Monday it was even better, because two of the big kids were Alex and Felix's cousins, Elfine and Marion. You might remember them from the day of the soup. They are twins, and they look so alike that Mister Harris says he needs a clipboard to tell them apart. Elfine has glasses and a notebook. Marion has scabby knees and a pocket full of string.

They had also brought Willow.

Willow is a Bengal cat. She is nine, which is very old for a cat, and she is gold with black spots, like a tiny leopard. She is an official Reading Cat. She has a lanyard. She has a laminated badge. Missus Tibbs made her put a paw print in the visitors' book at the office, and Willow did it in a way that showed she thought it was a bit beneath her.

Every Monday, Willow walks into our classroom, ignores everybody, and chooses one child to sit beside. She never chooses the child who is shouting. She always chooses the child who needs her.

But today, Willow stopped in the doorway. She stood completely still, with her tail up like a question mark.

She was staring at the ceiling.

"What is she looking at?" said Ollie.

We all looked up. High above the door, a spider's web stretched from corner to corner. It was the same enormous web we had seen on Friday. And the silky writing in the middle had changed. It no longer said WHO OWNS STORIES? It said, in neat silver letters: I DO.

Part Two. The Man on the Thread

That's when something came sliding down from the ceiling on a long, shining thread.

It was a man. He was thin and tall, and he wore a long waistcoat with eight pockets, in black and gold stripes. On his head was a tiny hat. When his feet touched the floor, he let go of the thread and bowed.

His badge said Mister Anansi, Story Corner.

"Good morning, little ones," he said. "And good morning to the big children. And good morning," he added, looking carefully at Willow, "to the cat."

Willow's tail twitched. Her eyes went very wide and very black.

"Please do not eat the staff," said Mister Anansi politely.

"She won't," said Elfine. "She's a professional."

"I have made an arrangement with her," said Mister Anansi. "She may have the left side of the room. I shall have the ceiling. We shall not discuss the middle."

Willow blinked slowly at him. In cat language, that means yes. Then she walked across the room, sat in the exact middle of the carpet, and began to wash her paw.

"I have an announcement," said Mister Anansi. He drew himself up very tall. "I am the owner of every story in the world. Every tale. Every legend. Every bedtime story, and every silly rhyme. If you want one, you have to ask me."

"Nobody owns stories," said Kenji.

"I do," said Mister Anansi. "I paid for them."

Part Three. Elfine Has a Fact

Elfine pushed her glasses up her nose. This is what she does before she tells a fact.

"I know who he is," she whispered, so only the six of us at our table could hear. Her voice was shaking with excitement. "Alex, Felix, Marion. Listen. His name is Anansi. He is a spider-god from West Africa, from the Akan people, in a country called Ghana. In the old stories he is a spider who is also a man, and he is the cleverest, cheekiest trickster there has ever been."

"Like Loki?" said Alex.

"A bit like Loki," said Elfine. "But he is more about talking his way out of things. Anansi is a spider, and spiders spin webs, and a story is a bit like a web. It has threads that join up."

"How did he get all the stories?" said Felix.

"That is the best bit," said Elfine. "He bought them."

"From who?" said Alex.

"From the Sky God, Nyame," said Elfine. "A very, very long time ago, all the stories in the world belonged to Nyame. He kept them in a golden box, high up in the sky. And Anansi wanted them. So he climbed all the way up on a thread, and he said to the Sky God, I'd like to buy your stories, please."

"What happened?" said Marion, who had been trying to look bored but wasn't.

"The Sky God laughed," said Elfine. "And then he said, All right. But the price is very high. Four things. Bring me Onini the python. Bring me Osebo the leopard. Bring me the swarm of hornets. And bring me the fairy who won't ever be seen."

"Those are impossible," said Marion.

"That's what the Sky God thought," said Elfine. "He had not met Anansi."

Part Four. Four Impossible Things

Elfine told us how it went, while Mister Anansi was busy talking to Mister Harris about the best place for a story chair.

"First, the python," she said. "Anansi went to the river, and he found a long, bendy palm branch. He started talking to himself, loudly, in a voice that the python could hear. He said, My wife says the python is much shorter than this branch. I say the python is longer. We shall see."

"That's rude," said Felix.

"It's brilliant," said Marion.

"The python said, I'm the longest snake around," said Elfine. "So Anansi said, Prove it. Lie down beside the branch so I can measure. The python stretched out. And Anansi said, Hmm, you are nearly as long. Could you stretch a little more? And while the python was stretching, Anansi tied him on with vines, from his head to his tail."

"He tied up the python!" said Ollie.

"Next the leopard," said Elfine. "Anansi dug a deep hole in the forest and covered it with leaves. When the leopard walked past and fell in, Anansi said, Oh dear! Don't worry, I will help you out. And he bent down a tree, tied the leopard's tail to the top, and let the tree spring up."

"And the hornets?" said Alex.

"Anansi found a hornets' nest," said Elfine. "He filled a big hollow gourd with water and tipped some over his own head, and he shouted, Hornets! It's raining! Quick, hide in my gourd, it's dry! And all the hornets flew in. Then he put the lid on."

"And the fairy?" said Felix.

"He made a doll out of sticky gum and left it by a tree, with a bowl of yams," said Elfine. "When the fairy came, she said hello, and the doll didn't say anything back. So she got cross and poked it. And she got stuck. And then she got stuck again."

"That is the best story I've ever heard," said Marion.

"Anansi took all four to the Sky God," said Elfine. "And the Sky God said, You have done it. The stories are yours. And that's why, all over the world, they are still called Anansi stories."

Part Five. A Very Good Story, with a Price

Mister Anansi told us a story that morning. It was about a tortoise, a bag of beans, and a very unlucky banana, and it was so funny that Dot from Reception fell off her chair twice.

When it was over, he lifted the lid of a big clay pot that sat on his Story Corner shelf, and he said: "Thank you. Now I'll put that story somewhere safe."

"Where?" said Kenji.

"In here," said Mister Anansi. He tapped the pot proudly. It was round and fat and brown, with a heavy lid tied on by a long, tricky knot. "This is where I keep all my stories. They are quite precious, you see. If they were left lying around, anybody could take them."

"But you told it to us," said Felix. "So now it's ours too."

Mister Anansi's eyes went small and narrow, like a spider's.

"Not exactly," he said. "You borrowed it."

Alex and Felix said nothing, but they both had the same thought, which is that something was a bit odd.

And that was not the only odd thing. When we went back to the classroom, Maya Singh opened her favourite picture book. It was the one about the dragon who can't sleep. She turned over the pages, one after another.

Every single page was blank.

Part Six. Where the Words Went

By Tuesday, it was worse.

By Wednesday, it was a disaster.

All the books in the library were blank. Not a word. Not a picture. The big fat dictionary was white. The class reading books were white. The poster on the hall wall, which used to say HAVE A GREAT DAY! and had a picture of a sun with sunglasses, was just white paper.

And it wasn't only books. Dot couldn't remember how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star went. Ollie forgot the end of his own joke. Mister Harris stood at the front of assembly, opened his mouth to tell the story of the three little pigs, and said, "Well. There were three. And they were small. And then something happened."

"This is a crisis," said Mister Harris.

"It's the pot," said Elfine, on Thursday lunchtime, when she and Marion had come over to our table. She had her notebook open, and her pencil was flying. "Everything he tells goes in the pot. And I think the pot has got hungry. It's pulling in every story in the school."

"And he's letting it," said Marion, folding her arms.

"We need to find him," said Alex.

"And the pot," said Felix.

That's when Willow, who had been asleep on the radiator, opened one eye. Then she stood up, stretched, and walked straight to the door. At the door, she turned and looked back at us. She did a very small, very impatient meow.

"She knows," said Elfine. "Follow the cat."

Part Seven. The Tree

Willow led us out of the building, across the playground, through the little gate in the fence, and out into the school field. The grass was still wet from the rain. The wind was picking up. The sky above the trees had turned an ugly dark grey.

At the very end of the field stands the Old Oak. It is the biggest tree in the school, with a trunk so wide that six children holding hands can't reach all the way round it. Its branches go up and up, until you can't see the top.

And at the foot of the Old Oak was Mister Anansi.

He had the big clay pot tied on to his front, with a long rope round his tummy, like a baby in a sling. He was trying to climb the tree. He would get about two steps up, then slip down on his bottom, and then start again.

"Don't look!" he shouted, as soon as he saw us. "Go away! This is none of your concern!"

"What are you doing?" said Felix.

"I am hiding the stories," said Mister Anansi. He puffed and panted and tried to haul himself up another step. "At the very top of the tallest tree. Where nobody can reach them. Where nobody can get a single story out of my pot unless they come to me and ask."

"But why?" said Alex.

"Because," said Mister Anansi, "if I keep every story, then everyone has to come to me. And everyone will know that I am the cleverest, most important spider who ever lived."

He slipped down again. The pot clunked against the roots.

Willow sat down at the base of the tree, and looked at him, and swished her tail.

Part Eight. What Felix Said

Felix stepped forward. His voice was very quiet.

"Mister Anansi," he said. "But what's the fun in it?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Mister Anansi.

"If you keep all the stories in a pot," said Felix, "then nobody has any. And you can't tell them to anyone. So you'd be sitting at the top of a tree with a pot, all on your own."

"That sounds lonely," said Marion.

"It does," said Alex. "And a story is a thing you have to tell. Nobody can have a story all by themselves. A story needs somebody to listen to it. Otherwise it's just words."

Mister Anansi opened his mouth. Then he shut it again.

"I'm very clever," he said, in a smaller voice. "I got the stories from the Sky God. I did four impossible things. I was clever, and I was brave, and now everybody should look up to me."

"You were clever and brave," said Felix. "But that's not the only thing. Clever isn't the same as being kind."

"Not always," said Mister Anansi. He looked at the pot. "And the pot has been a bit... greedy. Once I started keeping stories in it, it began to take every story told anywhere near it. Mine. Yours. Everybody's. And now even I can't stop it."

That's when the wind howled across the field, so strong that the Old Oak creaked. And the lid on the pot began to rattle.

Part Nine. The Pot Goes Rolling

The knot on the lid was straining. Faint golden sparkles seeped out around the edges. They looked like tiny letters, floating up into the grey sky. They fizzed and fluttered, and one by one they began to blow away.

"The stories!" yelled Elfine. "They're escaping!"

"The knot won't hold," said Mister Anansi. He tugged at his rope in a panic. "The pot's too full. If it cracks in the wind, they'll all blow away. Forever."

Then the rope snapped.

The pot dropped off his tummy, bounced once on the roots, and began to roll.

It rolled across the grass, faster and faster. It rolled down the slope behind the Old Oak, towards the bottom of the field, where the muddy path runs to the school pond. The pond is deep and cold and covered with weeds.

"It's going in the pond!" shrieked Dot, who had come running up behind us.

"Stop it!" shouted Ollie.

But nobody could run as fast as that pot. Nobody, that is, except Willow.

She shot across the grass like a golden arrow, claws out, ears flat, tail streaming behind her. She ran faster than a nine-year-old cat should be able to run. Just as the pot rolled to the edge of the water, Willow leaped, caught the end of the broken rope with one paw, and dug her claws hard into the mud.

The pot stopped. It teetered over the water, rocking back and forth.

Part Ten. Marion's Rescue

"I've got it!" yelled Marion.

She was already running, with Alex and Felix right behind her. Marion has the fastest feet of anyone we know. She slid down the muddy slope on her knees, grabbed the other end of the rope with both hands, and braced her feet against a root.

"I can't hold it!" she shouted. "It's too heavy!"

"We're here!" said Alex. He threw himself down beside her, and grabbed the rope.

"We're here," said Felix, and he did the same, right beside his brother.

"And me!" shouted Dot.

Elfine pulled, and Kenji pulled, and Ollie pulled, and Maya pulled. Even Mister Anansi came skidding down the hill and caught hold. Eight kids, one cat and one spider-man leaned back as hard as they could. And Willow, who had never in her life looked so determined, held the rope with her teeth.

"On three," shouted Marion. "One. Two. Three!"

We heaved. And the big clay pot lurched back out of the water, over the muddy bank, and flopped onto the grass. It lay there, humming and glowing. The lid was rattling louder than ever.

"We did it!" yelled Dot.

"We did," said Felix. He was out of breath, but he was smiling. "We did it together."

"That's what Maui and the brothers said," said Alex. "Everyone pulling the same way."

Part Eleven. The Knot

"We have to open it," said Elfine, "but we can't just cut the knot. If it breaks the wrong way, the stories fly out too fast and scatter."

She knelt down in the mud beside the pot, and peered at the cord. Her glasses were splashed all over with dirt. She did not stop to clean them.

"It's no ordinary knot," she said. "Look. It's a story knot. It's tied in a pattern. And I think it's a riddle."

"What does it say?" said Marion.

Elfine traced the loops with her finger. As she touched them, tiny silver letters appeared in the air above the knot, and floated into a line.

"It says," she read slowly: "Open me with a story, told for free, by all who listen, in company."

"Told for free?" said Kenji.

"Nobody asks for anything," said Elfine. "Not a penny, not a favour. Told just for the fun of it. And told together, by everybody, not just one person."

Mister Anansi was staring at the knot. "I tied that myself," he whispered. "A long time ago, when I still understood. I made it so that only a shared story could open it. And then I forgot."

"Then we'll tell one," said Alex.

"Right now," said Felix. "All of us."

Part Twelve. Telling It Together

We sat down on the wet grass in a circle, around the pot, with the wind whistling and the sky growing darker. Willow squeezed into the middle and began to purr, very loud, as if she were switching on the engine.

"Somebody start," said Marion.

"I will," said Felix. "Once upon a time, there was a golden cat."

The first loop of the knot loosened.

"Who lived in a school," said Alex.

The second loop slid undone.

"And she was nine years old, and knew everything," said Marion, with a glance at Willow.

"But she never said," added Elfine.

"Because she was too cool," said Ollie.

"And one day," said Dot, in her loudest voice, "a spider fell into her tea!"

Everyone burst out laughing. And with every sentence, the knot unwound more, and the lid shuddered, and the silver letters in the air grew thicker. It was working. We could see it. Everybody was talking, and building on what the last person said, and nobody was winning.

"And the cat said nothing," said Kenji.

"But the spider said something," said Maya.

"What did he say?" said Alex.

Everybody turned to Mister Anansi. He was sitting very still, with his hands on his knees. His tiny hat was crooked. There were tears in his eight, round, shining eyes.

"The spider said," whispered Mister Anansi, "I am sorry. I thought stories were something you keep. But they are something you give."

The last loop fell open.

Part Thirteen. The Stories Fly Home

The lid flew off.

Out of the pot, in one huge, glittering rush, came every story in the world. They shot up in a column of gold. They swirled over the field like a flock of starlings. We saw tortoises and dragons, kings and ghosts, stars with faces, boats with wings, a hundred thousand words and pictures all tumbling over each other, laughing as they went.

Then they swooped down and streamed back towards the school.

They flew in through the library windows and settled on the empty pages. They landed on the hall poster, and the sun in sunglasses was back, grinning. They whooshed round Dot's head, and she suddenly yelled, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star!" as loud as she could. Mister Harris, who had come out of the building to see what was going on, put both hands on his head and shouted, "The three little pigs! I remember the pigs!"

One last small, shining story circled our heads. It landed on Willow's nose, and she sneezed.

"That's Willow's story," said Felix.

"And that's the one we just made," said Alex.

"Ours," said Marion.

"Everyone's," said Elfine.

Mister Anansi took off his tiny hat, and held it against his chest. "Nobody owns a story," he said. "Not even a spider. I only ever borrowed them. And the best part about borrowing a story is passing it on."

Part Fourteen. What the Spider Learned

On Friday, the school held a Story Assembly in the big hall, and every parent and grandparent was invited. Nana was there, in the front row, with her good hat on.

Mister Harris stood on the stage, and told the three little pigs, and did all the voices. Then Dot told a story about a spider in a teapot. Then Kenji, Ollie and Maya told a long one about a dragon who liked bananas. Then Elfine and Marion told their own, taking turns, sentence by sentence, with Willow lying across both their laps like a golden scarf. And last of all, Alex and Felix stood up and told the story of the pot on the hill.

"Once upon a time," said Alex.

"There was a spider," said Felix.

"Who thought he owned the world," said Alex.

"And then he learned to share it," said Felix.

The whole hall cheered. Mister Anansi, who was sitting high on the curtain rail with his legs swinging, wiped his eyes with a tiny silk handkerchief.

Afterwards, he came down on his thread, and knelt in front of us all.

"I need to say something," he said. "I told you I owned every story. But I was wrong. A story doesn't belong to whoever has the biggest pot. It belongs to whoever tells it, and whoever listens. You were never too small to teach me that. And that, I think, is the cleverest thing I have ever learned."

Then he handed each of us a single shining thread, as fine as a hair. "If you ever need a story," he said, "hold on to this, and think of me."

Willow, who had been watching all of this without a word, stepped forward. She looked Mister Anansi right in the eye. Then, very gently, she touched her nose to his.

"I think," said Elfine, "that means he's forgiven."

Part Fifteen. The Ending, with a Hook

It was nearly home time when we noticed the sky.

It had been bright when the assembly began. Now, through the tall hall windows, we could see a dark, towering wall of cloud rolling in from the west. It was purple and black and shot with flashes of white. It was the biggest cloud any of us had ever seen.

Somewhere far above, there was a long, slow rumble.

"Is that thunder?" said Dot.

"It's not thunder," said Maya, who already had her notebook out. "It's too regular. It's more like... drums."

Mister Harris opened the hall doors. A gust of cold, fresh wind blew through, and all the papers on the notice board flapped.

Out on the school drive, a van had pulled up. It was painted deep stormy blue, with lightning bolts down the side. Across the door, in big silver letters, it said: HADAD'S STORM SUPPLIES. Next to the van stood a broad-shouldered man wearing a helmet with bull's horns, holding something that crackled and fizzed in his fist. It was a bolt of lightning, as long as a spear.

He gave the school a big, friendly wave.

Up on the curtain rail, Mister Anansi put his hand over his face. "Oh no," he said. "Not the storm lot. Not already."

Elfine and Marion went very quiet. Willow fluffed up to twice her size.

And all eyes turned to Alex and Felix. The twins looked at each other, grinning, with the thunder rolling around the roof. They said, at exactly the same time, "Monday."

The End.