SOLIPSIS 2
An empty glass sitting on the table. A beautiful and depressing object simultaneously. Beautiful, when acting as a prism refracting the sun’s rays. Depressing when I considered how much money I wasted drinking its contents.
“Let’s be having you my beauties,” Len, the friendly landlord roared. “Haven’t you got homes to go to?”
The darkness outside swallowed us and we stumbled down the street blinded by its blackness.
“Watch out for that lamp post Reg!” I shouted as my buddy of twenty years almost head butted the tall, austere, metal pole.
“Do you fancy a bag of chips?” asked Reg trying to light a twisted stub of a cigarette. “We can go to the ‘Saucy Haddock’; you know you fancy that weird bird behind the counter.”
“Fatima is an emo, she’s not weird and no, I don’t fancy her.” I was having a little trouble focussing, but my mind was sharp. Good old Stella, I thought.
Luckily the ‘Saucy Haddock’ stayed open long after the pubs shut and nothing went down a treat after a few pints like old ‘Faties’ greasy fish and chips. Fatima wore the characteristic black so loved by the emotionals or ‘emos’ as they prefer to be called. I didn’t know if she cut herself as every part of her body apart from head and hands were swathed in black.
A couple of skinheads were being served when we entered the shop. Tattoos covered their heads, hands and arms.
“Watch you looking at?” growled one of them when he saw Reg gazing at his embellishments.
“Not much,” replied Reg who stood six foot tall and was built like a brick shit house. “It’s just that your tattooist has spelt a word wrong,” pointing at the tattoo of a gruesome looking skull sporting the motto ‘Deth or Glory’. “He’s missed out an ‘A’!”
“You’re a smart bastard aren’t you?” retorted the skinhead. “How would you like a fist in the mouth?”
Reg reached across and gripped the youth by the collar and lifted him clear of the floor.
“You what?” he asked politely.
The other skinhead swung round and punched Reg in the side of the head. Reg treated it like a fly swat, he hardly felt it.
The suspended skinhead’s face was beginning to turn a puce colour and I tried to release Reg’s grip. The other skinhead misconstrued my action, thought I too was attacking his mate and slammed a meaty fist into my face. I heard my neck bones snap.
Time suddenly stood still for me and just before I lost consciousness I saw stars around Reg’s head. I tried to say something but it came out as a grunt. I fell into a black hole.
……………………………“Ronnie, you bitch! Get out of bed and make me some coffee!” I shouted. My sleep had been broken by nightmares. Something about a fight at a chip shop? Skinheads were involved, I was sure.
“Oh Seymour,” whined Ronnie. “It’s too early. Don’t make me please.”
I leant over and pulled the covers off my wife. She lay with her nightie hiked up to her thighs.
“Get up or I’ll kick your boney arse out!” I really wanted some caffeine.
Ronny moaned as she got out of bed. She scuffled around on the floor until she found her slippers, and then waddled off down the stairs. I lay back and mentally went over what I had to do that day.
I had to meet Jim down at the docks to arrange a shipment of ‘sweeties’. The S.S. Janeiro was leaving later that day and the head steward needed some ‘sweeties’ to sell to his richer passengers.
Bas Ryan was running some illegal gambling down the ‘Golden Parrot’, a nightclub of ill repute. I was staking him with a grand and three other ‘silent partners’ were putting in as much if not more.
“Here you are Seymour,” said Ronny as she handed me a cup of coffee.
“You bugger…….!” I swore as some of the hot liquid spilled onto my hand.
Ronny began to climb back into bed but I shoved her out.
“What the …… Aw come on, I need my beauty sleep.” She whined.
Later that morning after a breakfast of burnt toast and more coffee I rang Joe Kean.
“Did you manage to get that item I asked you to get for me?”
Joe was cagey. “It was a difficult job, but, yes I got it.”
“I want you to deliver it to my office down at Fishgate. I need it like yesterday.” I was rushed by circumstance.
“Ok Mr. Cassels, but remember if I see any of our friends, I’m gone!” He rang off.
I jumped into my car and roared off down the road. I emerged from Wyncombe road onto the main road and drove down to my office. The property had been rented when the property was derelict and I picked it up for a song.
Sally my secretary met me at the door waving two sheets of paper.
“Mr Cassels, you gotta sign these two order forms for me and there’s a guy in your office”
“Sally, Sally,” I said. “You’re supposed to say that there is a gentleman waiting for me in my office.”
“Sorry boss,” Sally retorted pointing her finger at me and smiling. “Next time ….I promise.”
Joe handed me the Smith and Wesson pistol. “It’s an orphan Mr Cassels, number rubbed down and burnt off with acid.”
*****
The bank was quiet when me and the boys arrived. A small queue had formed at the withdrawal window and the customers talked quietly as they waited. I hefted the pistol into the air and shouted:
“OK boys and girls this is a raid! Everyone flat on the floor arms spread out!”
The three of us collected the bank teller’s money cache in black bags and made our way to the exit.
“Right everybody. No one move until we’re away and no one gets hurt!”
We raced out the entrance to find the entire police force waiting for us. Obviously one of the tellers had hit a silent alarm and alerted the police.
“Drop the weapons and lie face down on the ground!” boomed a stentorian voice.
I noticed that one of the police cars only had one policeman by it. If I could hit him maybe at least two of us could get away. I raised my pistol and ………….
I felt a sharp pain on my forehead and the warm flow of blood down my face and I fell forward into nothingness.
…………………………..“The Germanic horde is amassing on that slope, centurion.” The soldier looked no older than my son but carried several scars on his face, some still unhealed.
“Load the catapults with Greek fire. We’ll burn them as they attack.” I replied.
I watched as the containers containing the blue green liquid was loaded into the catapults’ baskets. The ordnance men turned to me for the signal to release the inflammable liquid.
On the opposite slope the enemy began to advance. They poured down the slope like a river, the noise of their cries echoing from the surrounding hills.
“Ready, “I cried. “Ready…Ignite. Release!”
The sky was suddenly full of balls of fire. They roared through the air and then landed with explosive force. Suddenly the sea of men was burning, screaming, dying….I turned to my soldiers and raising my sword I pointed towards the attacking force.
With a roar my men advanced and began to move forwards.
Within minutes I was hacking at men with my sword. My men seemed invincible and cut a swathe through the enemy. Large areas were still alight and gave the battlefield an eerie glow. The ground was littered with corpses and injured men. Horsemen rode over both showing no quarter.
Then the Germanics were on the run, retreating, leaving piles of their dead. The battle was won. We were victorious. A cheer rose from the ranks as I rode around the field, but I cheered them, they were the true victors.
Then a glint of light caught my eye and I turned my horse to investigate
An injured Germanic bowman lay on top of a pile of corpses, he had managed to pull an arrow from his quiver and fit it on his bow. I had spotted the metal arrowhead shining as he bent the bow and released the arrow.
It sped through the air towards where I sat on horseback. I would wait till I had estimated its fall and then move thus avoiding being struck.
As I waited unsure of which way to move, a roar from a dying attacker scared my horse moving me to the left. The arrow drove itself through my breastplate and into my heart.
I could not believe my luck. My last thoughts were that I had survived almost unscathed through most of Caesar’s campaign in Germany to be felled finally by an errant arrow and a frightened horse…….
………………………………………………………….Tyrrak’s moon rose above the plain. It was slightly oval and a pale orange. Its lurid half light bathed the craters and gullies of the planet.
“Sire,” a polite voice sounded behind me.
A droid hovered five feet above the floor of the gallery. Its tiny head no bigger than scian’s egg, glittered with small lights.
“Sire we must blast off from this place before the Hurricar arrives. It is due in two Earth hours.”
“Yes Indir, I know,” I replied. “I have to get the albedo measurements from the moon’s surface before we leave.”
Indir, the droid withdrew respectively and once again I was alone with my thoughts. The Kashmir of Paratine, a government department situated on Earth’s installation on Mars, had required an analysis of the artificial satellite orbiting Tyraak. Analysis of the moon’s geology suggested that it was from another area of the Universe and could have been wandering for millennia before being captured by Tyrrak’s gravitational pull.
Tyraak was a class H planet, a harsh desert type where the life was composed of scrub, tough grasses, microbes and a few viruses. There was no value to Tyraak. No water, minerals or gems and apart from its itinerant moon, basically a waste of space.
The temperatures on the planet surface were excessive 80 degrees Celsius and upwards as the neighbouring sun Achyron rose in the sky. A weather phenomenon had been discovered by early explorers called colloquially the ‘Hurricar’. A band the size of the planet’s diameter and several Earth miles wide rotated around the planet causing sandstorms and general destruction to any surface structures. The storm kept to a fixed timetable and most visitors to Tyraak would lift off and go into geostationary orbit during the Hurricar’s visit, returning after it had gone.
I looked at the readings from the moon’s surface. I would have expected lower numbers if the satellite was indeed composed of rock and dust but the high values I was seeing implied a metalloid surface. This gave me to understand that the moon was artificial, but what was its purpose? An abandoned space vessel? Perhaps a sepulchre made by superior beings to contain the residue of their dead, shot into space to wander the Universe.
“Sir,” Indir had returned. “There is one Earth hour before the ‘Hurricar’ arrives.”
“Mmmmm,” I mused. “What could it be?”
“Sir,” the droid whispered. “Sir, the vessel must be moved into orbit.”
“Yes, Indir. I am aware of the time, but I have made an interesting discovery while taking the albedo readings. The moon is composed of metal.”
“Metal sir? That is an anomaly. It should be rock.” Indir hummed.
As the space vessel rose high above Tyraak’s desert surface I fed the readings into the ship’s onboard computer. The more I thought of it the more I realised that this object could give us evidence of advanced civilisations which may or may not still exist.
On Tyraak’s horizon I could see the clouds of dust heralding the ‘Hurricar’s’ approach.
The light of Achyron made the particles shimmer and dance as the clouds rose and fell. A terrifying force displaying a pleasing light show.
“Computer analysis complete,” came the mechanical voice. “Object must be painted with laser light and X-ray radiation to establish interior characteristics.”
It was late morning before I awoke. I had left the descent of the ship to Indir and in true robotic fashion had done an admirable job of it. He knocked gently on my cabin door before entering and handing me a mug of coffee. It was an old drink but nothing existed at this time to beat its effect on my mental focus.
“The lasers and X ray equipment are set up sir,” Indir said as he left.
In the wake of the ‘Hurricar’ the desert sand was as flat as a dysac. The phenomenon would not occur again for twelve Earth hours. The air was so clear I could see at least twenty Earth miles clearly.
The moon would rise again in five Earth hours and I had set all the equipment to begin the analysis as soon as the full disc was above the horizon. All I had to do was wait.
While I waited I got the onboard computer to show me the history of this area of space. It was a relatively uninhabited system of six planets of which only Tyraak had a moon. The system swung round Achyron and all of the planets were of H type due the close proximity to the sun.
“Computer working. Not much history exists regarding this system. Last report was of an investigation to discover which minerals or ores were available for mining but the structure of all six planets are of a limestone aggregate unsuitable for anything but filling holes.” The computer screen switched on and displayed the location of the planets in relation to Achyron.
Two Earth hours later Indir came and informed me that the moon’s disc was clearly visible above Tyraak’s horizon. The robot asked for permission to begin using the laser and X ray bombardment. I gave it and Indir left.
The values and readings that began coming back from the moon were staggering. It indeed have a very esoteric interior. I could not recognise the images that were being returned but I knew that whatever the satellite was, it was complex.
“Structure of moon altering, sir” Indir suddenly reported. “It has begun to open,”
I grabbed my digital viewer and looked at the moon. It was indeed opening like a tulip; I could see structures within that looked like a very advanced transmitter.
“What the hell is it?” I asked myself.
“The lasers or X ray bombardment has activated something in the object,” reported Indir.
All at once the ship began to shudder and shake. My cup of coffee fell off my desk and shattered on the floor.
“We are being struck by graviton waves, sir” came the calm report from Indir. “The ship is beginning to oscillate. Permission to leave this area?”
“Damn it, Indir,” I began to say, when a large crack suddenly appeared on the planet’s surface. As I watched it began to widen and soon I began to see magma spitting up from the molten core. The beam was a type of disruptor, a small tool used by the miners to break up rock but this one was massive, a virtual star killer!
“Yes, yes,” I screamed. “Get us out of here!”
The vessel rose slowly, impeded by the waves being sent out by the moon. Down below Tyraak had begun to implode, folding neatly into itself.
Then I spotted that the nearest planet by name Gander had totally collapsed and a cloud of debris marked its demise. I assumed that the other four planets would follow suit in quick succession.
“Indir, we need more speed to escape this effect!” I shouted.
“We are trapped sir, the emanating rays are too strong,” replied the robot. The vessel’s engines were roaring.
I made a quick decision. “Indir, report to the bridge.”
As the robot materialised I gave him an order, “Indir, Directive Zulu 3 Foxtrot/ 92”
I stood silently as a metal rod emerged fro the robot’s head. The end of it moved over until it touched my forehead. Then without me feeling any pain, it penetrated my skull and after a few Earth minutes I had taken over Indir’s consciousness.
The directive allowed senior personnel’s intelligence to be harvested off into a secure holding area in the event of a situation where the senior personnel‘s lives were in jeopardy. The intelligence could at a later date be downloaded from the robot and reinstated into a clone of the original person. Clones were produced on Earth in large batch farms. If illness struck or an accident ensued, the intelligence was downloaded into a blank brain from the original. Improvements in science had ensured no loss of data ever occurred.
I checked Indir’s functions and began feeding in instructions for a very quick escape from the vessel. Indir was fitted with powerful rockets and upon activation would lift me clear of the danger quickly.
The wall of the vessel began to warp and as I watched part of the wall cracked open. I had attached my mechanical body to a stanchion and I watched as the contents of the vessel, including my lifeless corpse was sucked out into the vacuum of space.
As the vessel broke open completely I fired the rockets situated in the robotic body. I shot out among the broken bits of metal and soon found myself high above the destruction area.
The six planets were just clouds of dust and debris, but the metalloid moon was still emitting its devastating ray. All at once the emitter switched off and as I watched it reversed and a large cannon like structure appeared. The mouth of the cannon began to change colour from red to blue. As I watched the destroyed planets’ clouds began to move towards the moon and then be sucked inside it. The colour changed from blue to green.
“Warning!” came a squeal from my onboard sensor. “Gravitation waves beginning to increase. Unit is in danger of being destroyed!”
The cannon structure was causing the beginnings of a black hole and I was in danger of being swallowed by it before I could engineer my escape. I began a sequence to initiate a blast off which would take me light years from the ensuing disaster.
“Warning, approaching debris. Unit is in danger of collision!” the sensor droned.
The fragment of rock struck me and sent me spinning towards the metalloid moon. It was too late to do anything now; I should have made my escape right away instead of waiting to witness the formation of the voracious black hole.
As I drifted nearer and nearer to the Event Horizon after which my image would appear frozen for all eternity as the Black Hole stopped any light escaping, I wondered how this could have happened. The only scenario was one where a much higher civilisation had built a black hole generator and had decided to use it in a solar system which it considered to be barren of intelligent life. What arrogance! I only hoped that this civilisation had fallen foul of some ‘bigger fish’ and had been exterminated. What irony!
I could feel the massive pressures building up on my metal body as I plummeted into the hole’s high gravitation zone. My last thoughts were of my family on Earth as I fell into the crushing blackness.
………………………….The pirate ship was close behind us and from the crow’s nest where I sat I could see the cannons being rolled out in preparation for the battle.
“Stand by for attack!” I shouted to the men waiting down below. “Prepare to receive boarders”
There was a crash as the two hulls crashed together. Men fell tumbling, thrown over by the impact. Already I could see pirates swinging on ropes over onto our ship’s deck. Our men killed them as they landed but their places were quickly taken by others. Soon a pitched battle was underway. The pirate ship’s cannons roared and I could feel the impact of the shot from where I sat.
I grabbed at the rigging and began to slowly climb down hand over hand. A musket shot whizzed by my ear like an angry mosquito. Below me the battle roared on, the pirates had been forced back but I realised that our ship had begun to list, the pirate cannon’s had breached our hull.
James Dempsy the ship’s bosun was fighting two of the cut throats. He swung his cutlass this way and that as he parried blows. I jumped down onto the back of one of the pirates, knocking him to the ground. The bosun ran the other through with his blade.
Quick as a flash the felled man was back on his feet and charging at me. I bent down low so that he fell over my back and I flipped him over the side of the boat into the water.
The poop deck was ablaze and some of our men were fighting the fire with buckets of seawater. The list had got worse and I realised that we may have to abandon ship soon.
I turned about and began searching the fighting for the captain. Captain John Derry was a huge man with massive hands; these were about two hapless pirates’ throats squeezing the life out of them.
I heard the scream behind me two seconds before I was run through with a sword. I spun round ripping the sword hilt out of my attacker’s hands, he was a young lad and the look on his face was one of pure horror.
“You’ve done for me lad,” I grunted and fell forward onto the deck, dead.
…………………………………………….The mastodon crashed out of the tall trees and trumpeted loudly. I reached for my spear and hefted it high, challenging the brute. The tribe would eat well through the coming darkness and cold. The Fireball became dull and the Tribe wrapped many furs round themselves. A time of sadness, a time of fear. Awaiting the Fireball’s return.
My spear flew and buried deeply in the great beast’s throat. It roared then fell to its knees. I raised my flint knife and ran to where it lay, bleeding. I looked into its great eyes and saw a look that begged for pity, but I knew the children of the Tribe would need food for strength if they were to survive. I dove at the animal and stabbed it to the heart cutting great chunks of flesh out as I hacked and tore.
“You have done well Karek,” said the Tribe leader, Angret. “The women will remove the meat from the beast’s body while our men hold off the packs of wolves and wild dogs. This will provide food for a long time. Rest now, Karek.”
The wiseman, a man of a hundred winters, woke us the following daybreak. There was ice covering the ground and the wind howled around raising leaves and bits of straw.
“The great Fireball will not return,” chanted the wiseman. “The spirits are unhappy and demand we make a sacrifice to them.”
“You wisemen are always wanting sacrifices,” said Angret. “We are struggling to stay alive here. Should you not be trying to improve our lot with your prayers?”
“The spirits have been offended,” the wizened little man screeched. “There will be no peace until they are appeased.”
I stepped forward and grabbed the old man by the throat. “What do they want,” I demanded. “These spirits of yours?”
“The creature called the Laruk hunts on the high peaks. It is said to be vicious and will kill any but the brave,” the wiseman said in an obsequious tone. “The spirits will accept the skull of the animal.”
Angret looked around at me. “You are our greatest hunter, but I will not send you on this fool’s mission. The spirits will just have to be unhappy.”
I picked up my spear and pointed at the wiseman. “Hear me, you leech. I will bring the skull to you, but if our fortunes do not improve, I will drink mead from your skull!”
*
The high peaks looked like jagged teeth as I made my slow journey up to them. The harsh wind threatened to pull me down to the valley far below. Ice and snow covered everything and I kept checking for signs of the Laruk, but no footprints except those of rabbits and birds were visible.
Nightfall came and I made up a small fire to keep the cold at bay. I had brought some dry meat with me and by melting some snow I would break my fast.
All through the night I kept waking and looking into the darkness. The fire had gone out and I hadn’t got any more wood to start it again.
I heard a raucous call from over on one of the higher peaks, but apart from that only the wind’s mournful drone sounded in that blasted area.
The daybreak came with a light rain which chilled and soaked. I moved back up towards the next set of peaks. They were rounded and covered with green and yellow lichens but still rose high into the air.
A cry came from above and I wondered if it was the Laruk. The creature could be cunning and begin to hunt me, and then I would have to be on my guard.
The weakened Fireball was lowering in the sky as I neared a set of large boulders. These rocks would provide me with protection during the dark period and a camp to eat at.
Without any warning a large fur covered animal launched itself from the top of one of the boulders. It crashed into me and I felt sharp teeth snapping and tearing at my chest. I rolled down the mountainside with the creature biting into me; I grabbed at its jaws and forced them open. It was like trying to break a thick branch, almost impossible.
I pulled the creature off and threw it down the slope below me. It rolled and then launched itself up towards me again. Its eyes were glowing red and its jaws were covered with blood – my blood.
Reaching to my side I drew my dagger and prepared to hold the beast off. I saw it jump at me and I levelled the flint knife at its head. There was a sickening crunch and the Laruk fell to the ground. The flint weapon had broken its skull and penetrated its brain. I fell on the twitching corpse and stabbed it again and again.
A dulled Fireball was high in the sky, surrounded by black clouds when I arrived back at our encampment.
The wiseman was speaking to a large group of my neighbours. He was pointing at the sky and up towards the mountains.
“Alright, wiseman,” I grunted as I stepped up next to him on the Gradrock. Only the chief and the wiseman were allowed to stand up there, but I felt that I had earned my place. “The skull of the Laruk. Now show us that this evil period will soon end.”
The wiseman quailed when he saw that I had succeeded in my task.
“I will offer it to the spirits, but it is up to them if they wish to accept it!”
The old man held the skull up between his hands, his arms stretched high above his head.
“Oh spirits of the winds listen to my cry and give us back our Fireball. Let us feel its warmth and see its light. We beseech you!”
The following period worsened. The blizzards increased and we could see massive ice mountains growing round our valley. The Fireball was constantly hidden by black clouds. The hunters began returning with less and less food. The people were always cold and hungry. The old and the very young died and soon our tribe consisted of only a few souls. Eventually no one ventured out as the snow was piled high all around. We just sat in our lodges and waited to die from the cold or hunger. It was like endless night outside and all you could hear was the wind keening, moaning and howling.
I began to feel weaker and weaker and I knew that Death awaited me. I struggled to my feet and crawled out of my lodge. I forced my way through the snow drifts until I stood up on the Gradrock. I took my flint knife out of its sheath and holding it aloft cried out:
“I am Karek! Spirits take me to my forefathers. I am ready now!”
With a quick slash at my throat I loosed the blood. It ran down my chest and coloured the snow. I would not wait for Death, I would meet him – head on!
I fell to the ground and lay looking up into the darkness that was all about and I became part of it ………….
…………………………………………….I looked down at the crowd. I could see my neighbours, my friends all screaming for my death.
“Burn witch burn!” they all cried out.
I had only tried to help them with my medicines and my unguents. I collected herbs and toadstools in the forest and turned them into remedies and cures.
If a family had no money I willingly gave it for free. My mother and her mother before her had worked with the potions and elixirs. The villagers had called them ‘wise’ woman and respected and loved them.
Now the witch frenzy had spread throughout the country and witchfinders were abroad. They tested poor old women for witches’ marks by pricking them. They would throw them into water and deem them witches if they did not drown.
No village was safe and they all sported at least half a dozen witches hanging from their gibbets after the witchfinder moved on.
My only crime had been to help Jay Appleton’s baby for cholic. How did I know that the wee mite had been bitten by a rabid rat not two days before? All I was told was that the baby was suffering from stomach cramps and its mother thought it was cholic.
I had prepared liquorice leaf ground down with tansy seeds. This was a simple remedy meant to ease a baby’s suffering.
When the little thing began to froth at the mouth and scream, I was called for and asked if this was the fault of my remedy, which I denied.
Now it just happened that Sir Jaffrey Burbridge was visiting the village for the purpose of employing some of the men to work in the fields that bordered his estate. Sir Jaffrey had been involved in some witch finding a month before in a neighbouring county and had hanged three harmless old biddies for nothing more than gossiping. Upon hearing of Goodie Appleton’s baby, he ordered that I be seized and held for trial.
I languished in the church’s charnel house as no jail existed. Sharing a room with rotting bones was anything but pleasant but what awaited me was far worse.
Two weeks later I was dragged through a screaming crowd composed of my neighbours to a hearing in front of Sir Jaffray. One by one witnesses came forward to tell lies about me. I had been seen dancing with the devil. I had been seen talking to familiars, a cat, a hen and a ferret. One woman even said that she had spotted me flying on a broomstick!
At the end of the proceedings, Sir Jaffray placed a black cloth on his head and sentenced me to death. I was to be burnt as a witch!
Now I stood lashed to a wooden post as men piled wood and tree branches round my feet. The noise of my screams was drowned out by the crowd and every so often I was hit by a rotten piece of vegetable.
I must have lost consciousness for when I opened my eyes the mob had become quiet as they watched Sir Jaffray touch the torch to the woodpile. Within minutes it was ablaze and I began to choke as I breathed in the noxious smoke. I could feel the heat on my legs and I hoped that I would die of suffocation long before I began to burn.
Sir Jaffray stood at the back of the crowd. He had a wicked smile on his face as he watched me begin to die. Suddenly a vision appeared in my mind and before I could stop myself I cried out:
“Ah Sir Jaffray, here is your future! I see your mighty house burnt down and you hanging from a tree!”
The lord turned as white as snow and I saw fear in his face as I closed my eyes and gave myself over to death. Night, darkness ….
……………………………I stood on the top of a hill, a hill covered with snow. The hill ran down to a large pond which was frozen over. I held the hand of a little boy his name was Peter and he was my son.
“Go on son,” I said laughing. “Onto the sledge and off down the hill. Mum’s waiting at the bottom.” I could see my wife in her duffel coat and furry hood. She must be freezing, I thought, but knew that she would not complain. Margaret was a real gem, I loved her dearly even though we had been married for ten years, my true best friend.
“Come on Peter,” her voice was muffled, but I knew she would feel proud when our son ran his sledge down the hill.
“But it’s so high Dad,” Peter wailed, gazing down towards his mother.
“Aw come on Petey,” I replied knowing he hated the babyish form of his name.
“Alright,” he shouted as he grabbed the sledge. “But don’t blame me if I mess up my clothes.”
As the sledge descended the slope it began to pick up speed. I shouted after him to use his feet to slow himself down. I could see Margaret looking up at him with worry on his face.
Down the hill the sledge flew and I could see him running onto and across the ice on the pond due to his speed.
The sledge reached the bottom of the hill still moving at a rapid speed. Margaret ran across in an effort to stop Peter, but he was onto the ice before she got near.
Then, catastrophe, the ice gave an almighty crack and Peter and the sledge went into the water.
I stood aghast for a millisecond and then I was running, slipping, sliding down the hill. I could not see anything of Peter or his sledge only an ominous hole in the ice.
“Do something Bill!” screamed Margaret starting to step onto the ice.
“Get back Margaret!” I shouted as I flung myself as far as I could onto the ice. I crashed through but kept smashing my way through the frozen surface. My bands got cut and the blood streamed down my arms and over my clothes. Eventually I reached the hole and I dove down into the water.
It was very murky down under the water but I soon located Peter and grabbing him tightly I pushed off from the bottom of the pond and surfaced holding my son tightly.
An old couple had witnessed the accident and they had phoned for the police and ambulance.
I strode out of the pond cradling an inert Peter. Laying him down on the ground I began to give him CPR , gently pressing on his chest. I checked for breathing and finding nothing, began mouth to mouth.
“He’s gone, Bill,” wailed Margaret. “He’s gone.”
I looked up in the sky and saw a large star. It was Venus, a bright planet which often was visible the dusk.
“First star I see tonight………,” I recited mechanically. It was from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and the little princess had wished on it. “I need a big, big wish,” I was babbling but somewhere, some place logic prevailed.
“Take me and give back Petey. Give back Petey…….please,” I whispered looking deep into that star’s fiery heart.
Suddenly Peter coughed and was sick bringing up brackish pond water.
“Peter………!” I began to say, just as a sharp pain hit me in the chest. My arm felt on fire and my vision began to blacken out. Margaret, Peter…….” I muttered before it all went black.
…………………………………”Daddy, Mummy, I’m scared!!!!” I screamed. There were noises all around me and I knew they were monsters.
The door swung open and a beam of light shone in from the hall lighting the little bed where Adrian sat up in bed. Anne Bradley stood at the door and smiled at her son.
“What’s wrong Adrian,” she asked. “Daddy and I are just downstairs. You are quite safe.”
“Monsters, Mummy, in the wardrobe!” I whined; I was scared.
Walking over to the wardrobe Anne opened the door and clicked on the light inside. My jacket, coat and various pairs of trousers hung there. My boots and shoes were arranged in an ordered row.
“Nothing there sweetheart,” said Anne quietly shutting the door.
Just then Daddy appeared in the doorway.
“Are you alright Adrian?” he asked looking over at Anne.
“Yes, its OK Andy, Adrian thought that he had heard a monster in the wardrobe,” she said. “So, we were checking it out.”
Daddy sat down by my bed and ruffled my hair. “There aren’t any monsters Adrian and if there were Mummy and I could chase them away!”
*
The next morning the sun was shining and Andy and Anne took their son to the park with his tricycle. Adrian loved to ride along the paths chasing the birds who often sat on the ground eating crumbs.
As they neared the park Adrian pointed up to a house which sat back from road. It had a lovely garden full of flowers and bushes. A little boy sat on a seat up by the front door. He was reading a book.
“I used to live there,” I said to Daddy.
“No, you didn’t Adrian,” said Mummy with a laugh. “I don’t know who lives there.”
I felt annoyed and climbed off my tricycle.
“I did,” I said feeling cross. “That is my little boy there.”
“Your little boy?” laughed Daddy. “I think you have been dreaming Adrian!”
“No, no, no,” I screamed. “I’m not dreaming!”
Anne and Andy looked at one another in amazement. They could not figure out what had triggered this outburst and how they could handle it.
Before they could stop him, Adrian pushed open the garden gate and ran up the path towards the boy. Anne and Andy followed him in hot pursuit.
The boy who had been sitting at the front door got up and was about to run inside.
“No Peter, wait, wait!” I screamed. He stopped and looked at me strangely.
Just then the front door opened and a lady came out.
“Peter? What is it?” she asked.
Andy and Anne stood by their son and looked at the mother and son. Adrian pointed at the lady then the boy.
“That is Margaret, my wife and that is Peter, my son,” I shouted trying to pull away from Daddy.
The lady looked very sad and knelt down so that she was looking into my face.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“My name is Adrian but it used to be Bill,” I said angrily.
The lady fell backwards and landed on her bottom on the path.
“What’s wrong?” asked Daddy pulling me back.
“My….h..h..usband’ s name was Bill,” she whispered. “But this is impossible….”
“Mum!” shouted the little boy. “Who is this?”
Suddenly there was a roaring in my head and everything went red then black.
When I opened my eyes, Daddy was carrying me down a path and out through a gate. Over his shoulder I could see a lady and a little boy standing in front of a house, it all looked so, so familiar………..
“Come on Daddy,” I shouted. “Let’s race Mummy to the park!”
……………………………………………….+……………………………………………………………….
