The Train Station: Chapter 1

On the edge of a tiny town in the woods somewhere north of Sandburg, you might have seen a very small wooden house with the words “The Jam-Jar” written on the front door. The house itself was very short and plain, with a huge, sloping roof and not enough wall, as though it were wearing a hat several sizes too big for it, and the shutters were all differing shades of green.  The chimney was long and crooked, and the door perched unsteadily on two gigantic leather hinges.
 It was a hot and humid day in the forest, and the birds were drowsing on the tree branches, too sleepy to sing. Even the bugs were humming lazily to one another, without bothering to be loud. Everything, it seemed, was half asleep in the rather sticky, hot rays of the sun.
All at once, without warning, there was a great bang from inside the house, as though a bomb had gone off, and several of the green shutters blew open. The birds, shocked by this untimely interruption of their morning doze, came busting into the air with a cacophony of distressed squawks. The bugs fell silent in an effort to express their disapproval of such a disturbing action. 
 There was a commotion at the front of the house; the door flew open, and a short, yellow-haired girl wearing a dress that was too big for her and a floppy green hat of similar proportions (she looked rather like the funny house personified) ran outside. She was holding a pan of sizzling water in one hand and a glass bottle of luminescent liquid in the other, and several iridescent bubbles followed in her wake like pixie dust. The girl set the smoking pan on a flat stone and gave the glowing bottle a reproving shake, causing more bubbles to come floating out the top.  
“I knew I got the ingredients wrong!” she announced, jamming a cork into the top of the bottle. Inside, the bubbles continued to form but were unable to escape out the top. The girl set it onto the rock beside the pan, and the liquid's bubble forming slowed.
There was a clatter of footsteps on the street and two more children of the same age as the girl (about fourteen?) came running up. They were both as yellow-headed as the girl was, thoroughly freckled, and very curious. “Jingle, what was that noise?”
“Hi Gary. Hi Beach.” The girl, (Jingle) shrugged and pointed at the bottle. “Don't know. It's not what I thought it was. Don't touch it.” Her voice was very unmelodic for one with such a name. 
One of the two newcomers, Gary, who had been about to touch the interesting bottle, jerked his hand back and put on an innocent smile. Jingle didn't notice. “I guess whatever it was in that bottle had a chemical-reaction (or something) with that hot water. I didn't think the bottle would do that . . . I thought it was normal flour.”
“Flour? You thought that was flour?” Gary's sister Beach asked, incredulous.
Jingle sighed and pushed the Brim of her hat out of her face. "Look, I wasn't thinking when I made the bread. I figured I had the recipe memorized. Guess I was wrong.”
“Where's your ma?” asked Gary, peering behind Jingle into the dim interior of the house. 
“Away to Sandburg. I'm keeping house.” She didn't look enthusiastic at the prospect.
Beach took pity on the girl’s obvious lack of baking skills. “I'll help you make the bread. I do it pretty good, ma says, for one my age.”
“O, thank you!” said Jingle, who had secretly been hoping for this offer but hadn't had the presence of mind to ask for it.
“I– I guess me too,” said Gary uncomfortably, knowing that he ought to offer help but knowing that the bread would have more chances of success if Beach alone was its maker. 
“That'll be great, you two. Come on in.” Jingle admired how grownup she sounded as she made this gracious speech. Things would be a whole lot more fun (even bread baking) if she had Beach and Gary to keep company with.
She had known them since she and her ma had moved here from Sandburg three years ago, and they had spoken to each other many times.  Ma would not mind if Jingle had them over for a visit while she was away.  Why, Beach was a better housekeeper than most  people already!  Gary, of course, would have to come along because he was her brother, and it would only be polite, even though Jingle wasn't sure that he was all that handy at baking.  
Just then, the cork burst out of the bottle with a bang, and a geyser of freed bubbles erupted forth, shooting into the air to mingle with the tree branches above.  The children shrieked and bounded into the house like frightened bunnies. The door slammed shut, and suddenly the forest was quiet once again.    
                          ———
Luminous liquid trickled unnoticed down the side of the bottle, finding its way underneath the rock almost as though it were alive. 



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