It was almost dawn when William arrived home. He went straight upstairs to his room, and didn’t even undress before Continue reading PMM’s Birthday Party! – An Unexpected Visitor by Chris Pollard
There was a knock at the front door, and Barry went to see who it was. He looked through the peep-hole, and there on the doorstep was a youngish man in a suit, wearing a big red rosette.
Barry opened the door.
“Good morning! Mr. Jenkins?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Hello, Mr. Jenkins, I’m Bob Wilkinson, your Labour candidate in this election, would you mind if I came in for a moment?”
“Dunno,” said Barry, looking up and down the deserted terraced street. “When can I come round your ‘ouse for a cup of tea?”
Mr. Wilkinson looked a little taken aback, but before he could speak Barry continued, “Only joking, mate, course you can come in!”
They went into the little sitting room, and Barry indicated a threadbare grey sofa. “’Ere, ‘ave a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, that would be most kind of you.”
Barry went and put the kettle on, and came back a little later carrying a beaten old tin tray with a steaming old teapot, a small jug of milk with no handle, a little plastic sugar bowl, a cracked china cup on a mismatched saucer and a glass of Continue reading A Political Choice by Chris Pollard
“Then how can I help you?” I asked the lad.
“Sometimes they send me to fish in the river, by the bridge.”
“So why don’t you just run away when you go there?”
“Would that it were so easy! They have me under a powerful enchantment, so that I may only go to the river, and when my buckets of fish are full, return directly.”
“What can I do then?”
“At midnight on the full moon, come and look for me there by the bridge, and bring a horseshoe on an iron chain. Hang it round my neck, and I will be able to escape. And you’d best protect yourself in like manner too, or they’ll take you in my place!”
The full moon was only two days away, so the following morning I went to the ironmonger’s store, and bought two horseshoes and some iron chain, preparing the two ‘necklaces’ as the lad Angus had instructed me.
The appointed night arrived, and I made my way along the road to the bridge over the river. There I waited in the moonlight for midnight to come around, wearing one of the horseshoes on its chain about my neck.
Sure enough, at the allotted time, Angus appeared nearby with two wooden pails and a fishing rod. He was down on the rocky shore of a fishing pool, and he sat upon a large stone, casting his line into the water.
“Help me!” the lad implored, a desperate look in his eyes.
I was quite surprised, as he had no apparent injuries and looked to be in good health.
When I awoke that morning, it had been a gorgeous summer’s day, so after a quick breakfast of fruit salad and coffee, I packed some food and a bottle of water in my knapsack, and set out for a walk in the countryside.
I had been in Scotland for a couple of weeks, making a tour of prehistoric stone circles, tumuli and such like, a perennial fascination of mine. My OS map clearly showed a couple of sites near the small town I had lodged the night in, so I set off to see if they would be interesting.
“You don’t want to sit here!” said the chair, brusquely, as I sat down on it.
Startled, I leapt to my feet.
“Ouch!” cried the carpet, “That bloody well hurt! I’m sick and tired of being trampled on all the frigging time.”
“You think you’ve got it bad,” called the wok from the kitchen, “You should try being me!”