And True Me In

Saint Maclou is pulling out the half carrot, when Belle returns from the MuMa.

What happened? asks Belle.

Terence buried it, says Saint Méen. 

It was growing, says Terence.

Have you found it a note pad? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, says Belle. Look. It's really nice.

Indeed it is. From the gift shop at the MuMa. Thick creamy paper. A decorative pattern across the top of each page.

Very modern, says Saint Maclou. How much was it?

Three euros, says Belle.

I would offer to repay you, but we saints don't carry money, says Saint Maclou.

Don't worry, says Belle. Let's just see what it writes on this beautiful paper.

Saint Maclou sets the carrot back down on the grass.

But where is the pen it was holding?

It is still in the hole.

I'll get it, says Quiet-tartus. 

He retrieves the pen, which has ended up dirty.

Should we wash it? asks Belle.

No, says Saint Méen. I'm sure that the carrot won't mind.

At last the half carrot has the pen in its hairy tendril.

It thinks about what it will write.

dont.woch.me. writes the carrot.

What does it say? asks Terence.

Dont woch me says Belle. I guess it doesn't want us to watch it.

Unless it doesn't want us to wash it, says Saint Maclou.

Or wash the pen, says Saint Méen. As Belle was suggesting.

You mean the carrot may be writing as though it is the pen speaking, says Saint Maclou. That seems far fetched.

Why not ask it? says Saint Méen.

But there is no need. The carrot has been writing in the mean time, and has now finished.

It's finished, says Terence. 

May we read it? asks Belle.

The carrot does not indicate otherwise.

So Belle reads out its poem:

alto peepl ar kind

the btst pat of my lif is ovue

tak me bac to the rive

an true me in

menny tanks 4 vis boon

The saints are moved. 

Belle wipes a tear from her eye.

What? asks Terence.

It wants us to throw it back into the river, says Belle. 

Why didn't it just say that, says Terence. Before, when it could.

No doubt it wished to leave a written record, says Saint Méen.