The Watcher

By Janet Baldey

The moon lighting her way, she walked down the path towards him, her breath solid in the frosty air.  He’d been watching her for weeks. He knew where she came from, she came from the village every night and always at the same time – just after the sun had set. As she drew nearer to the thicket where he was hiding, his body stiffened and he held his breath. Concentrating on the track, she passed without glancing in his direction and he followed her progress as her figure dwindled. His eyes gleamed under his bushy eyebrows and he licked his lips in anticipation.

         Jane shivered and pulled her crimson scarf closer as the icy wind sliced into her cheeks. She looked up at the sky, there was a ring around the moon and at this time of the year, that meant snow. Alec had told her as much in his nightly telephone call.

         “Will you be going out tonight? I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out in the dark without me. And, it’s bitterly cold. They’re forecasting snow.”

         “That’s why I have to go. I have to feed my animals; they depend on me. On a night like this, I could make all the difference to their survival.”

         “Your animals! They’re more likely to be some rich lawyer’s fat Labradors. Anyway, take great care and don’t forget your mobile.”

         Jane knew he was wrong. She was always very careful to scatter the food inside the wire fencing next to the beaten down patch of grass that signalled an animal run. No dog could get through there. All the same, she wished she could catch a glimpse of whatever was taking the food, it was always gone next morning, every scrap of it.

         She’d gone to the lobby and wound a thick woollen scarf around her head. As she buttoned her heavy coat, she realised she had left her ‘phone upstairs, with a shrug she’d turned towards the door.

         Her feet scrunched over the iron-hard ground. At the top of a rise, she paused and looked at the silver ribbon of path winding down the hill and towards the woods. Although it was hard to leave the warmth of her house, once out she enjoyed her nightly treks. The woods were dark and mysterious, anything could happen in their hidden depths. This feeling didn’t frighten her, on the contrary, she felt a pleasurable trickle of excitement crawl down her spine.

         As she started down the hill, still gazing into the distance, her feet slipped on a patch of loose scree, her ankle turned sharply and she screamed in agony as a bolt of pain flashed up her leg. Her arms pinwheeling, she crashed to the ground and rolled over and over, down the hill. As she reached the bottom, she smashed her head against a rock, her vision exploded in a shower of sparks and she tipped into unconsciousness.

         A few seconds later, it started to snow. Feathering down at first, it gradually increased in ferocity until the sky was white with whirling flakes. Very soon, the familiar fields were turned into an alien landscape, carved into strange geometrical shapes by the drifting snow. In the early hours of the morning, the storm passed, the clouds parted and diamond hard stars peeped out. Before long, the sheeted fields were covered with a thin crust of ice.

         Bo and Peep, two black Labradors, ran around in a circle, their barks splintering the silence. They buried their muzzles deep in the snow, taking great mouthfuls before lifting their heads and sending a cloud of frozen ice particles sparkling into the air.

         Their owners followed, more slowly.

         “Winter, at last,” said Maureen. Squinting against the orange rim of the rising sun she peered ahead. The Labradors had stopped and were sniffing at a mound of snow.

         “What have the dogs found?”

         They plodded on through the deep snow, the outline of their following footsteps showing up sharp and clear behind them. As they drew nearer, Maureen drew in her breath and grasped her husband’s arm, she had seen a flash of red and the shape seemed familiar.

         “Bernard, I think it’s a body!”

         With faces creased in anxiety, they stumbled towards the hummock of snow.

         “It’s a woman. Is she alive?”

         Bernard knelt beside the body and groped for a pulse. It was faint, but steady. He brushed away some of the snow and saw the twisted shape of the woman’s leg.

         “I think she’s broken her leg.”  He groped for his ‘phone.

         Maureen looked around. Apart from their own tracks, the snow around the woman was smoothed and unmarked. She frowned. It had started snowing at 7.30 last evening, she was certain of this, she always called the dogs in just before her favourite TV programme and they’d bounded in with sequins in their fur. She looked at Bernard.

         “Bernard. I think she must have been here all night. It’s been the coldest night for years. How did she survive?

         As if they were coming from a great distance, Jane heard their voices. Her eyelids fluttered and a smile curved her lips. She knew. It was her friend. During all of that long, cold night, she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness. In one of her more lucid moments, she’d become aware she was not alone. A heavy body was covering hers, its warmth protecting her from the sub-zero temperatures. A musky aroma had filled her nostrils and tentatively, she had stretched out a hand and felt coarse bristles. She’d closed her eyes then and drifted away.

         Crouched in his usual hiding place, the old boar badger watched as Jane was stretchered away to hospital. When the fields were quiet again, he got up and trundled away, the fur of his underbelly brushing the snow.

         It had been payback time.

Copyright Janet Baldey      

 

Cheilin Saga ~ 24

 Cheilin Saga ~ 24  1^st Day of the Games 

By Len Morgan 

Meredin marched at the head of the honour guard, going over the route again, looking for potential last minute hitches - material changes on the route that warranted further investigation.   At the intersection of ‘E1’ and ‘C20’ the route was blocked by the newly erected viewing stand, an hour past it had been a pile of wood and metal poles.   On the inauguration day of each series of Games, the stand was erected anew, the Emperor’s party would view the activities from above, and in turn, could be viewed by the populace.  

 “Troop halt!” his sergeant barked, “Easy… fall out!”

He sat in the shade of the temporary structure watching in fascination as the half-naked mahogany skinned erectors, acted as one, to create a stairway to the upper levels.   The truly amazing thing in his mind was the way they scurried about, barefoot on the skeletal framework, each intent on completing their own task knowing instinctively when to act and when to wait.   Each action was complex and dependent upon the timely execution of a series of others; each to be completed in its set order.   Just one step omitted would result in the whole fluid sequence of events grinding to a halt; speed was of the essence.  He watched the elaborate dance, with undisguised admiration, as it was enacted, at incredible speed, before him with not a word spoken.   He glanced at his troop and wondered how many commands they would require to duplicate it; doubting they would ever be able to do so.

Seeing the gaffer, with bundled plans crushed under his arm, Meredin walked over and stood beside him.   The gaffer acknowledged him with a nod.

“Sir, pardon my intrusion on your work, but I would ask a question of you,” he said.

“My work is done; it’s for them to act it out now Major.”

“How then do you convey your requirements to the workers up there?   I have watched and listened.   But for the regular beat of your drum, there are no commands issued by anyone.   So how do they know what to do and when?”

The gaffer rubbed his bristly chin and smiled.  

“Looking at them, what does it remind you of,” he said.

“A dance, a strange one I’ll grant, to the rhythm of a drum.”

“That is very perceptive; many would not even think to associate the drum with the work.   If you knew how many times they have erected this stand over the years, you would realise they can do it in their sleep or in pitch darkness.   There are twelve journeyman riggers aloft and six prentice riggers below who understudy them.”

“Understudy?”

 “They watch every move the riggers make until they can do it as well.   Each week they replace a different rigger, to extend their experience, and confidence.”

“But, there are twelve men aloft but only three prentices,” Meredin protested.

“No!   there are three prentices below and three above, while three journeymen are off duty.   I’ll wager five coppers you cannot pick two of the prentices as they work above” he said with pride.

Meredin looked long and hard, then shook his head,

“They are good for sure.   I can’t pick a one.   How do they remember so many jobs?”

“If you look carefully you will see there are three teams of four aloft.   Two prentices watch the moves of each team, so we have two supports for each team.   In case of accident, sickness, or if a man leaves, there is always a stand-in and a replacement.   It is a very demanding job but it pays well and there are queues of hopefuls waiting their chance on this team,” he said with pride.

“Mmm,” said Meredin, a seedling germinating in his mind.   He continued watching with renewed interest.

“Sir, the men are waiting,” said his sergeant patiently.   He hadn’t even heard them forming up.

Watch well men, see how they work as a team.   You may well be watching the future of  the Red Guard.”

On the beat or alternate beat, each team carried out a series of actions or moved to a new location.   It all worked like clockwork until one man dropped a tool.

“Ho!” he yelled and for one series of beats the teams did not move, while the man completed his activity, then the dance continued.

“That’ll cost him,” the gaffer remarked.

“Why so, you can hardly fine a man for the loss of half a minute, and the others should be grateful for the rest…”

“Ah you misunderstand,” he said with a smile, “It will be his companions he will have to pay.   It’s his fellows who will not allow him to forget, the ale they drink tonight will be paid for from his pocket, it will be a long time before he forgets that slip.   It’s a rare occurrence and now you know why,” he chuckled.

“Do you ever envy the freedom they enjoy, up there,” asked Meredin.

In answer, the man stood and limped towards him, “I was the best until my fall.”

.-…-. 

As the cavalcade formed up in readiness for the arrival of the royal party, Aldor saw a man he did not know, within stabbing distance of Dan.

“Who is that young man,” he asked.

“He is Hestor’s replacement, appointed by the high council, to act as his steward, secretary, advisor, and confidante,” said Tyse.

“How long has he been working in the palace?”

“About seven years in all, in low profile positions.”

“Are you sure about him Tyse.”

“As sure as I can be of an outsider.”    “I would be happier if Hestor were back.”

“You do not think Hestor is our man?” Aldor asked.

“I never liked the man, too stuffy and officious by far, but he is loyal and his interests have always coincided with those of the Emperor.

“So,” Aldor pushed.

“I don’t think the man capable of treachery, not at all.”

“Then we have work on our hands,” said Aldor, “if it is not Hestor we need to know who it is.”

“You would back my instincts?”

“I would be a fool if I did not.   The parade is about to leave, on who would you wager?   Quickly, man, all our lives are at stake” said Aldor.   The new secretary mayhap?   Or Zophira, what of my look alike?”

Tyse was silent. 

“Think on it long and hard,” Aldor said as he hurried away to see to the carriage.

.-…-. 

“Good day to you Aldor,” Dan’s greeting was light and friendly.   “Tell me how am I to be assassinated, and by whom?”

“The popular vote seems to favour my double to be your executioner.   But, a close second favourite seems to be a high profile concubine of one of the princes of your line…”

“Ah Zophira, such a creature never graced my bed.   It is unseemly to envy the young but one look at her…” his face broke into a distant smile, “it would almost be worth it, and certainly natural causes, that would let you off the hook eh my friend?”

“According to other sources your new steward cum secretary,” he gazed meaningfully at Raynor, sidestepping Dan’s jibe, “is a close third favourite,” said Aldor.

“No money on Hestor?” Dan asked somewhat surprised.

“The smart money says no.   He is far too loyal and incorruptible,” said Aldor, “most think he simply hasn’t got the stomach for it.”

“Then why did he desert me thus?”

“Mayhap he was not given a choice, but there is one other.   A veteran of your bodyguard disappeared for two weeks and cannot recall what happened during his absence.” Said Aldor.

“It doesn’t look as though I have much chance of survival,” said Dan,” if I banished Rhynor I would die of embarrassment; you know what my dress sense is like.   If I banish Zophira I alienate my dearest flesh and heir.   If she went, he would I am sure follow her wheresoe'er she led him; he is quite besotted with her.    Finally, I’m not absolutely certain your famous double even exists.   I think you are, in reality, the monster you have been portrayed as being.   So, let us hope it will be the long suffering Bector.   Mayhap we could put him painlessly out of his misery Eh?” Dan giggled in his characteristic manner to signify he was jesting.   “Those are the only candidates?”  He chided.

“Well yes, if you discount every corrupt official you have removed from office over the last six months and the families of those who have committed suicide over the same period.   Then of course there are mission cells from Bluttland who would replace you with…”

“Yes?   Pray continue, don’t stop there, I was just warming to your confidence and positive appraisal of my future or lack thereof,” said Dan.

“I think we can remove one from the list of candidates."

"Which leaves us with?”

“Mmm,” said Aldor.

“Well man, what say you?”

“At a guess, I would say about a quarter of the cities population,” Aldor replied.

“Thank the gods; I thought you were implying that my popularity is waning,” said Dan.

 

Aldor rose from his seat and headed towards the family quarters.

“You too?” said Dan sniffing at his armpits.   “You might have told me Rhynor,” he said with a wink.   Rhynor smiled, he liked this old man, for sure, life with Dan was never dull.

 

(To be continued)

By Len Morgan

 ADAM

Peter Woodgate 

Within the labyrinth of time

The world was ours both yours and mine

And with it came the waters deep

The mountains, and should we peep

Beyond this sphere a show of light

The sun by day, the moon by night.

What more then could a man desire?

Too late, you find with that small bite

The knowledge that condemns all to eternal fire

 

 

 

(Written 37 years ago with the belief that mankind’s

Cumulative knowledge would lead to the destruction of our planet)

Conundrum:

 Conundrum: What happened to £1?

The Riddler

Three friends went for a meal.  At the end of the evening, each contributed £10 to the bill which came to £25.  They gave the waiter a £2 tip and each received £1 change:

 

So: they’d each contributed £9.  ~  £9x3 = £27

                    They gave a Tip to the waiter £  2

                                                    Total = £29

                              The guys started with  £30 

                            So whose got the difference?

Drop your explanation into the comments section...

 

 MESSAGE FROM HELL

By Rosemary Clarke

I'm brought up here inside my sty
And all they want is for me to die
To face the fear and a machine
I wet myself, it is so mean.
Electrics stun us into submission
For on your plate's our body's mission
We live, not for love, but for food,
Life for us may be short, but good.
Would you see your children so?
I think that's a resounding ' NO!'
To see us all hanging there,
Do you really have no care?
We're trodden underfoot, like twigs.
Be kind to us, we're only pigs.
Don't we deserve a life as well
Instead of this horrific Hell?

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

 

 

 The Wedding Hat

Jane Scoggins 

The little boy was in awe of the lady with the big hat.  Henry had never been to a wedding before and he had never seen such a large hat. Henry guessed it must be a hat because it was on the lady’s head. He had seen grandpa’s flat cap and the yellow hard hats of the workmen on the building site near his house. He also had his own experience of wearing a stripey beany hat in cold weather. But the hat in front of him was something quite different and needed a lot of looking at to gain as full an understanding of it as possible. He tried to make some sense of it. There was a lot to take in. The wide brim of the hat was loaded with flowers of different colours, Henry counted five different colours, but thought there may be more that were hidden. Without actually reaching up to investigate more thoroughly Henry could not be certain. The hat had a wide round brim that shaded the lady’s face so he was not sure if she could see him gazing at her. This was just as well as he had been told, on more than one occasion, that staring at people was rude and they generally didn’t like it. The brim Henry thought was rather like the big china plate that grandma had on her dining room wall. He had often stood and stared at that too as he could not imagine why a plate would be on the wall and not on the table or in the cupboard. One day as he stood staring at it Grandma had explained that it was the meat plate that had belonged to her own grandmother. She had very happy memories of big Sunday dinners with all the family around the table. It was old and fragile now and grandma wanted to keep it safe. She had thought it best to put it on the wall where everyone could see it and she could remember her Grandma every time she looked at it. The flowers on the hat reminded Henry of his grandad’s garden in the summer. Grandad said that the flowers were to be enjoyed by sitting in the garden amongst them and only very occasionally allowed Grandma to cut a few to put in a vase or give to Henry’s mum on her birthday, which was in July. Many times Henry had sat on the garden bench in the summertime with Grandpa sipping his mug of tea. They would sit watching the bees and butterflies hovering in and out of colourful petals of the flowers and blossoms.

When Henry’s mother noticed that he was staring at Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s so long and so intently she called him away and took him with her into the little village church and sat him next to her on the pew. She was relieved to see that Mrs Ponsonby Smyth was sitting in a pew ahead of them so that if Henry continued to be obsessed with gazing at her most extraordinarily over the top creation of a hat, at least she would not see him staring fixedly at her. Henry’s mother and at least half of the congregation would also have liked to stare at the creation on Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s head that dominated most of the space around her in the diminutive church, but knew that it would be very bad manners and therefore resisted. Henry’mother was not the only person in the church that day that felt a bit sorry for the ladies who had decorated the flowers in the church for the wedding, as Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s hat far outweighed their more modest arrangements.

  The wedding service went ahead and Henry’s mother was relieved that Henry, who was not accustomed to attending church, sat quietly, and did not attempt to chatter.  All the while, whilst hymns were sung and prayers said. Henry was thinking and trying to remember something. And then it came to him in a flash. He had worked out what it was about the big hat and what it meant to him. In his enthusiasm to share his understanding and in sheer relief that he had worked it out, he stood up and in a temporary silence whilst the congregation bent their heads in prayer, he said in a loud and clear voice

‘ CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG HAT’

 There was a ripple of stifled laughter throughout the church. Mrs Ponsonby Smythe was the last to realise what it was all about and when she did, sat down and looked embarrassed.  Fortunately, the service was at an end and the organist was able to strike up with the wedding march, and with all stops out the beautiful music filled the church and with the sun streaming in through the open doors the bride and groom turned from the altar to walk arm in arm down the aisle to the sound of clapping and music. The bride halted near Mrs Ponsonby Smythe as she remained sitting. Reaching down to her she said:

 ‘Thank you for coming Aunty May. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was the first of many films you took me to as a little girl and it has always been my favourite. Thank you for those memories on my special day.’

Mrs Ponsonby Smyth touched her niece's hand briefly and smiled. As the bride and groom swept down the aisle, Mrs Ponsonby Smyth tilted back her head and smiled at those around her. Everyone smiled back and a happy chattering congregation left the church for the reception.

  Henry and Mrs Ponsonby Smyth were seated near each other at the reception where, in between mouthfuls of cake, they had the opportunity to chat about favourite films.

 

 Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 Young Love

By Rosemary Clarke

Your minds are filled with hopes and dreams
All those ideas, all those schemes
Ignorance thwarts you if it can
Be you woman or be you man.

Don't believe the others tales
If you do you're bound to fail.
Not the colour, age or sex
Don't let your friendship be next!

In each other have belief
All your feelings underneath
To your own selves be so true
Look to the future both of you.

Always have each other's backs
Whatever way you take your track.
Learn about each other's ways
That way you'll have happy days.

Give each other space and care
All of the time and anywhere.
Keep each other safe and sure
That way your love will not be poor.

Keep the friends who give you wealth
Of friendship's eternal health.
Together you can beat the rest
This is true love's deepest test.

Listen to your own heart's beat
Not the voices in the street
Nor the doubts inside your head
Put there by folks who fear and dread.

In deepest anger take a while.
Remember all your warmest smiles.
Keep your own hearts open wide
Then through the many years, you'll find
You understand each other's minds.

You have a lifetime to discover
If you are mates, or friends or lovers
Perhaps a blessed mix of all
Is what you'll get when love will call.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke