Saturday, 11 July 2026

In the works: The Trials of Rudwin!

Remember the Legend of Rudwin? 
  Well the adventures do not end there...
  O no!
  Rudwin will return - let me introduce you to the Trials of Rudwin.




Currently in the editing process - but once it is complete the epic adventures of Rudwin will continue - strange worlds and even stranger characters all for you to enjoy!
  So step up and join Rudwin on his most epic Trial yet.
  (But you will have to wait for it to be published first!  😊)

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)
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Thursday, 9 July 2026

A Cat IS Watching ME...

A CAT IS WATCHING

 A cat is watching a cat is watching!
  A cat is watching I know of that.  A cat is watching I am sure of that!


I walk the streets as innocent as a sparrow haunts a hedgerow.
  But I am being watched.
  Of that I know...
  It is a dark night and there are eyes on me...
  Of that I know...
  Of that I know!
  In the darkness the lights I see shining green - 
  It is IT watching me.
  I have no doubt there is a cat watching me!

A cat is watching I know of that.  A cat is watching I am sure of that!

There is a turn in the road I refuse to take.  I must admit every step I make makes me shake...

A cat is watching I know of that.  A cat is watching I am sure of that!
There is a cat watching I am sure of that!

I saw in the distance a shadowy figure go, with green eyes it had I saw them glow...A cat I am sure of that.  I am being watched by a cat.  A cat indeed, a cat!  I am sure of that.
  I must walk true and with speed.  There are green eyes watching me indeed...
  I fear the eyes!  I fear the eyes!  I see them in the darkness!
  Those green eyes I see them in the darkness...
  I fear those eyes - I move and I move, but those eyes stay always where they are, watching.  I know they are watching.  A cat is watching, I know that.
  My dreams are like my steps, I see the eyes when I rest - and I awake to the cry of something fierce in the streets.  It never sleeps, the cat that is watching, ever watching a cat is watching I know of that.
  On me it is finally dawning...
  I might never see the morning...
  A cat is in my way - in it's shadow my sins are displayed - ITS eyes are ever reading - always searching - ever seeking - seeking the truth deep inside the depths of me.
  O indeed it seeks me - a cat is watching me!  Of that I know that...
  In the streets I am fleeing, desperately retreated, from my shadow and something more than that.
  There is something that is creeping - and while I am dreaming it arrives seeping into my dreams.  And there in the darkness I see it crawling, ever pawing at my darkest fears - O my gosh there it leers!  It's shadow is always growing, ever pushing, ever nudging - at my presence it is always pulling.  With my conscience shattering it always seeks me as it leads me through the door.  And once in the street there is no retreat, from the shadow that hangs around my feet, is there anyone out there who will remember me and mourn?
  I fear the cat.
  I fear THE CAT!
  O please, dread!  Please let me flee the cat!
  
*          *
*****
********
*******
****
*******
*******
**********
**********
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*****
***
*
YES.
I am being watched by a cat - of that I know that...


(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)
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Monday, 6 July 2026

SHAVEN

"I shall tell you of Richard Lock, a man who walked the streets with golden locks...  Hair he had to the shoulder it fell, till the day came when it all fell...
  ...ALL OF IT...Fell down and down ALL down to the ground!"

This is the tale of Richard Lock and the severing of his golden locks...

***

Richard, or Rich for short, was walking down the street minding his own business.  
  It was a fine day for a walk!
  Beautiful weather!
  "I am going to have a nice day today," Rich thought to himself.  "It is going to be the most perfect day!"
  That was when Rich was flanked by three good-sized lads.  They grabbed him.  They carried him away and threw him blindfolded into the back of a truck and then they all drove off just like that.
  Rich was beyond terrified.  He almost passed out!
  Eventually the truck stopped and Rich was pulled out - he tried to fight, kick and lash out with his limbs but it did him no good.  He was completely in the power of his captors.  
  The three brutes took Rich down some steps and dragged him into a room.  Finally they removed his blindfold.
  He was being made to kneel inside a very dank and gloomy office.  Dead cigarettes were being built up into hills on the desk, and there was smoke flying out of the windows.  On the other side of the dirty desk sat a huge man.  
  Rich knew this man, but wished that he didn't...
  The vast trunk sitting in that chair belonged to non other than Hombrecito Grande Y Tonto - leader of the feared Brazilian cartel in town!  
  Rich was made to kneel in front of the mighty crime-lord.  Guns were being closed in on his head.  
  What was this all about?
  What was going on?
  Finally Hombrecito spoke:
  'You owe me big dollar boy!' he said.
  'I can't pay you!  I told you!  Not yet!  I need time!' Rich replied.  Rich was desperately trying not to cry like a child.  He was so afraid.  He was having three guns being aimed at him at the same time - that was a tough thing to face for any man, even a trained stunt model used to working with fully armed weapons in Hollywood movies.
  'I want big dollar now.  Or there will be big pay in another way,' Hombrecito bellowed on mercilessly.  
  He was a mean piece of work was our Hombrecito when the mood took his fancy.  Not a man to be trifled with was our Hombrecito and everyone who knew him knew it as well - that was about six people in all including his grandmother, his mate Jimmy, and O yes Rich of course.
  'I have got a job lined up in the crab factory,' Rich went on in his sad wobbly tearful voice.  'Once I have got the job I can start paying back what I owe you...'
  'That is not good enough boy,' said Hombrecito sternly.  'I want big dollar now.  I wanted big dollar yesterday.  It is no longer yesterday.  It is now.  And you do not have big dollar now.  So you must pay another way!'
  'What are you going to do to me?' said Rich quivering.  'Are you going to put cement on my feet and throw me into the docks?'
  'I am going hit you where it hurts,' Hombrecito replied menacingly.  'It is not my way to kill.  Too easy.  I will not kill you.  I will send out a message instead!  Every man out there who owes me big dollar they pay, if not they suffer another way.  Now you suffer...'
  That was Hombrecito brought out the electric shaver!
  Rich saw the shaver and gulped.
  'What is this?  Please!  Tell me what you are going to do I beg you!' said Rich.
  'You have nice hair!,' said Hombrecito.  'I shave it all off!  You will look like an bold badger when I am done shearing you!'
  Rich begged the mighty Brazilian crime lord for mercy.
  Rich received none.
  And so Hombrecito got to work.  He switched the shaver into action and with stroke after hideous and harsh stroke Rich's refined golden locks fell freely to the ground!
  'There you go badger!' said Hombrecito bellowing with laughter.  'I turn you into badger-man!'
  Out of pure cruelty Hombrecito gave Rich a mirror so he could see what had become of him.  Rich was fully bold!  Rich burst into tears.  He couldn't believe it!  The cartel had stolen not only his soul, they had stolen his beloved fleece of golden flowing hair!
  After that Rich was knocked out thrown back into the truck and then later dumped into a ditch.
  It was over for Rich.

***

Three days later a man named Bill received a letter.  The words on it flowed thus:

William,

My dearest friend!  A great dishonour has been done to your fellow friend.  You know me as I know you and there is nothing I have ever had more pride in than the golden locks that grow from my head - or should I say grew - the past tense is certainly permissible in concurrence to my present predicament.  Forgive my heavy tone but the hand that has written this letter has been driven by a sad force lurking in a sad mind living in a heavy soul...
  Let me explain:
  I have been defeated.
  My enemies have struck me with a heavy blow.
  They took from me my love.
  It would have been better if they had killed me...
  I beg thee, dearest William my oldest and most cherished accomplice I beg you again pray visit me in my  home.  For the shame you will soon learn I cannot leave the confines of my domicile.  My home has become my prison.  I no longer feel happy here.  I feel trapped as dog tied to a kennel.  I feel like a dog...  Darkness is before my eyes and in my limbs.  The darkness is palpable, I can feel it touching me gnawing at me.  I hate it as much as it hates me.  My life has become a horror.  O sublime gloom take me in your wings and fly me away into the shadows beyond the dreams of living minds.  I beg thee, hide me from the waking eyes that watch in the streets.
  Please seek me out!

Your good friend,

Richard Lock.

The day after Bill read the poignant letter Bill paid a visit to his friends house.  The following conversation proceeded:

Bill:  My gosh!  It's a giant badger!  I better make a call to the RSPCA.  It is the only way.  We cannot allow such a large and dangerous looking beast to be loose in a public area!  It might...  it might hurt somebody!  O No!  I might be in danger of the beast myself!  No!  Badger!  Good Badger!  Stay back badger!  Don't hurt me badger!  Do anything you want to me badger just...  just don't touch my face!

Rich:  It is not badger that stands before you.  It is your dear friend who sent a letter to you four days ago...
  
Bill:  Rich?  Is that you?  No!  It can't be!  But now I look again I can see you, sort of - at least I think I can.  Stand closer...  

Rich:  I am too ashamed to step into the light...

Bill:  I can't see you from back there.  Unless you step into the light I won't know that it is really you, or some imposter!  Listen!  You could be a dangerous stranger!  I have my phone with me and I will call the police!

Rich:  NO!  Don't do that.  Very well.  For you, dear friend, I will step into the light.

Bill:  Good gosh!  The light is shinning so bright off of the top of your head I am struggling to look - but I must for old times sake, I must look!  Good lord it really is you Rich!  What happened?  Why did you shave your hair off?  Did some kind of madness take you?  

Rich:  It was my enemies that took me.  They took me and they shaved me.  They shaved and shamed me and left me as this - a defeated man with only memories to keep him alive.

Bill:  So you were shaved?  Gosh!  That is brutal.  I am sorry they did this to you Rich.  

Rich:  My hair was my pride and my joy.  It was all that I lived for.

Bill:  I know.  But I warned you Rich plenty of times you were doing crazy things!  You were getting involved with the wrong sort of people in town.  You were messing with the gangs.  I told you time and time again to stay dry.  Don't let the street tuck you over.  But I am looking at you now Rich and it looks like the streets didn't just tuck  you over but they tucked you up as well.  Tucked you up good and proper.  I don't feel sorry for you Rich.  When you play with the gangs you play a game and like any game that is a game you can win and lose.  And when you lose in any game you lose good and proper.  The gangs don't take mercy on losers.  I know my words are brutal, and not what you want to be hearing right now but I am your friend and a true friend speaks the truth.  If you had kept your head down you would be working in the crab factory now with golden locks flowing above your shoulders - proud for all to see.  But here you are standing there now as bold as a badgers underside.  You have brought shame down on your family.

Rich:  I know!  Please don't remind me of all that I have lost...

Bill:  You inherited your golden locks from both sides of your family.  Your fathers hair flowed like waves on the high sea, and your mothers hair in her prime glimmered like the sun - like golden daffodils in a field - swaying in the breeze, o please the memory of her hair would please many an eye to hold.  And I am old and I can remember your grandfather, going to war with golden locks at his back.  All of that was blessed to you, a gift!  But yet you decided to throw your inheritance to the grim tides of time.  I don't feel sorry for you Rich.  You had it all.  You and you alone let your enemies cut you down, golden locks and all.

Rich:  Help me old friend!  In a month I will have my locks back.  I will stay in hiding until then.  But I cannot hide here in this house - I have no food!  But across the road there is my uncles pad - stocked up with fodder.  Please!  Help me to cross the road unseen.  Then I will stay there and wait until my locks are back.

Bill:  I think I know a way.  My cousin has had her firstborn in only the last few weeks.  I think I can find a bonnet to put on your head.  I think I can find a pram as well.  We will pretend you are a  baby!  I used to work on stage and I can find a wig and a dress!  I will pretend to be your mother.  I will push you across the road in the pram.  And when we reach safety you can go into hiding!

Rich:  I am 5.9!  

Bill:  Yes.  And this is the year 2026.  Nobody cares what anybody looks like anymore.  And if anyone asks I will tell them that you are well fed baby!

Rich:  Fine.  I will go along with the plan.  Yes.  Anything to protect my dignity.

So the plan was put into motion.  Rich placed the bonnet on his head and got into the pram.  Meanwhile Bill, pretending to be a doting mother called Ann in his dress and flowing wig, started pushing the pram along.
  It was time to cross the street...

Bill:  My gosh!  A woman approaches!

Woman:  Is this your baby?  Goodness don't they grow large these days?

Bill (Ann from now on):  My baby is merely well fed!

Woman:  I can see that!  What's her name?

Ann:  She is a boy, actually, and his name is Fred.

Woman:  O I do apologise!  These babies they all look the same don't they especially when they are bold like that!  From one mother to another it must have been tough?  You know what I mean?

Ann:  What?  

Woman:  Well.  My boy was 4.5kg and good gosh was it ever difficult cranking that big fat sod out.  Worst job ever.  Never again so long as I live I said to my husband afterwords.  All I am saying is, with respect, what's your name again - Ann?  O Ann!  How old is he?  Six weeks?  Good Lord!  With respect, from one woman to another, it must have been difficult giving birth to such a huge for a baby!

Ann:  My baby is big because my baby is healthy!  Look at me for example:  I have never smoked.  I don't drink.  I have always eaten well.  I am vegan.  My baby is a reflection of the decent person I am today.

Women:  Of course!  You have done well as a mother.  Better than me!  Good gosh!  It took twenty years to get my boy to be that size!  Your baby must be, what , 5.9?  Imagine what he will be like when he is fifteen!  

Ann:  Are you mocking my baby?

Women:  No!  Of course not!  Your baby looks like a lovely lad!

Ann:  Don't you speak against my baby!  I raised this baby from birth!  I cranked this baby out into the world to give it life!

Woman:  I meant no offence!

Ann:  Well I do take offence.  Here I am taking my child out for a walk, getting some fresh air in his lungs, and then you come strutting forward giving me your lip interfering in my business and in my life!  How dare you!  Do you know how difficult it was for me a woman of 5.3 giving birth to a baby of 5.9?  It almost killed me, do you hear?  Yes!  That's right, I almost died giving birth to this beast.  And yet you have the nerve to mock me?  Look at you, so arrogant!  So disrespectful!  I thought that you, a fellow mother, would have some idea of the difficulties I have been through.  And yet you stand there like butter wouldn't melt lashing me with the harsh edge of your tongue as though I were a common cur in the street.  Well I am not a common cur.  I am a working class woman and I have a baby of six foot and six weeks to tend to!  So get out of my way and keep your distance from me and my child in the future!

Woman:  Wait a minute!  Stop!  I recognise this baby.  Thats you isn't it Richard Lock?  Why are you wearing that bonnet there?  I am taking it off at once!  O my gosh!  What happened to your hair!  You look like a badger!  I am calling the RSPCA right now to have you taken away you dirty stinking creature of the wild!  

Rich:  Please don't call the RSPCA!  I beg you!  Anything but that!

Woman:  You deserve to be locked up with all of the other badgers!

Rich turns to his friend Bill (Ann) and begs him for help...

Rich: My friend!  Please.  It's over.  As soon as that woman puts down her phone I am cooked!  I will be locked up with the other wild animals.  I can't do it.  I can't face such a fate.  Once the other badgers figure out that I am not one of their kind they will eat me!  I read about an old drunk who fell down a badger hole one day and the badgers ate him whole!  I can't die like that.  Please, Bill, take me to the docks.  

Ann:  Why the docks?  There's nothing waiting for you there except crabs (and maybe the old seal or three.  And seals can be just as vicious as badgers in a fix.  And so can crabs!).

Rich:  Please just do as I say.  I will stay in the pram, a defeated man.  Wheel me over to the docks and tip me in!

Bill being the very good and decent friend that he was did just that.  He wheeled his old friend Rich over to the docks and tipped the poor defeated man into the waters.  And so came to an end the life of Richard Lock!  The man who had golden locks and then nothing at all!  Richard Lock never had a grave because when people saw his body floating in the docks they thought he was just a great big dead stinky old badger so they left him there to be eaten by the seals and by the crabs.

THE END

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)


For more adventures set in the town of Fenwick Check out:
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Tuesday, 30 June 2026

Haunted By Owls

 "There is no worse fate for a man than to be eaten by another man who looks like a decent-sized owl..."

Old Hishnash saying


Some say the moon is an eye.  And if it is truly an eye it bled well that night when I saw it in 26, as I was walking below it I saw it - the eye, the blood red eye, the eye in the sky.
  The bloody eye -
  A vast eye above!
  The moon is the vast eye - the eye of a dragon with a belly full of fire and death - a belly of doom.  Foul folks burn there.  It is a place of gloom.
  The sky was dark as night skies always are - till the eye opened behind the fickle flying clouds.  And there it was thick and red, and from it bled - mountains and rivers of gore.  Blood mountains.  Blood hills.  Blood rivers trickling into blood streams and into blood seas - the blood was all I could see - see seeping into the clouds from the skies - till all I could see was blood.
  O please save me!
  All I could see was blood...
  Blood red skies, o how I despise, those dreadful meaningless blood red skies.
  A shape flies over - turning the red to black for a second and only that.  Was it a cloud or something more - something more to stand against the gore?
  O look at all that gore!
  There is a letter waiting for me on my desk:

  "Old friend.  I beg thee to read this:  I spend most of my days these days alone, but it is for the best.  People should not be near me.  I have become a drinker.  I do not know to which degree I qualify, a drinker or a drunk, or a drinking drinker, but I drink a dreadful lot of drink when i wrote this.  it has become my new way.  and in my drunkenness i have seen many a thing, a thing that most people will not want to bring in to their average living lives.  i have seen shadows but ah!  that is just the start.  a hooded figure and hooded figures, and that is just a lark when i compare them to the changing faces, the ugly faces grinning in my window and gazing at my heart.  i see them whenever i put the drink down, or whenever i am generally down, i see the faces, the grinning faces, the fazing eyes, the dish shaped eyes - i hear the twee twoo, and i see the shadows too, and the blood lit eye of the moon becomes as dark as doom.  the mountains of gloom, ruddy as doom-filled dreams become as shadows of a nightmare.  but worst things i have seen, beyond the rim of every dream - a darkness lives and lurks beyond the axis, where no dream has a single access, the horrors of a doom filled mind.  and there i have seen it, and there again i have seen them - twisting shapes - foul and foul!  terrible things that make me tremble, and with what sanity i have left i try to assemble - something meaningful in my doom damned brain, let me say with some semblance, to something i have born witness:  I saw these signs and twisted symbols:  ##@  += ^ ****
                                                                                            ***   ****
                                                                                             *** * * *** ****
                                                                                              ***
                                                                                               **      +G+=+E+EE+"q
                                                                                                  *
The owls are real and they are doomed and damned.  Against them no force can withstand - they are darker than all time that has ever spanned.  I will not be here when they expand.
  Best wishes dear friend and be away, and do not let them lead thee astray, them owls that lurk in the night twee twoo, do not let them do to you, what they have done to the spine of time, on thy soul they must never dine!"

I put the letter down.
  My eyes are so sore.  
  My mind is so tired.
  O I am so tired...
  My body aches.
  Everything is a blur.
  I look up and open my eyes - and to my surprise I see it, for a second or less - a creamy shape twisted and strange - quite deranged - and it had a head that resembled an owl.
  Am I to be haunted by an owl?
  Maybe it is to be my fate?
  O please close the gate on my fate - o dear my fate!  Please fate!  Close the gate!
  The owl will be my fate...

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)


For more adventures set in the town of Fenwick Check out:
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Friday, 26 June 2026

Eaten By An Owl

 "You know how the saying goes.
  Never trust a man who looks like an owl..."

Will:  You need to calm down!

Ryder:  How can a man be calm when he knows that he is facing the inevitable?

Will:  Every man faces the inevitable.  He faces the inevitable EVERY day.

Ryder:  But for me alone the inevitable is TRULY inevitable.  I know the number of my days I truly do...

Will:  The name the number of thy days!  Tell me!  I am interested.

Ryder:  I have but 5 hours in one day - that is all that I have left...

Will:  Then thou know the hours if thy day!  Is that a good or a bad thing?  I laugh at you Ryder Spring!   You are the only man in town who has nothing to worry about!

Ryder:  Don't joke with me about such things!

Will:  Then speak  up!  I know not of what thy talk...

Ryder:  You have known me a long time haven't you?

Will:  Long enough, I suppose.

Ryder:  Seventeen years long enough?

Will:  I have known you long enough to know that you are an arrogant and stubborn boar blessed with the luck of a prince!  A golden boar!  That is you.  A boar born with a golden hide to flaunt as your royal robe to the world!  And I have also known the world long enough to know that some folks have it and some folks don't.  I am talking about LUCK!  You have luck and lots of it apparently.  But that is your business not mine.  

Ryder:  We were friends at college...

Will:  Yes.  But you had not yet fired me from my job when we were friends at college, history had as yet to weave that unhappy event for me... Ah!  History, history is something that we know so little about except the useless bits that have become the subject of oblivion.  So little we know!  To have an eye for the unknown is the ultimate eye for a man like I!  You were born with your golden boar hide, and I was born with dirt under my feet.  I should have stayed in the dirt, except instead I tried to run with golden boars.  It is the folly of men like me.  Most common men only know how to be uncommon in situations when they should truly just stay common.

Ryder:  I am no different from you.

Will:  Except that you have a lot of paper in your bank.  A lot of a lot of that.  Enough to pay people and throw people away whenever the mood fits you.  Golden boar...

Ryder:  My life is full of horrors - darkness, night terrors and nightly terrors.  Terrifying dreams filled with terror!

Will:  So I am supposed to feel sorry for you now?  I will lend you an ear for old times sake, but then there is suffering and then there is suffering, and a man who lives in a big old building like this bought with seven digit figures cannot be suffering as badly as most of the average suffering suffer.  I will weep no tears for thee golden boar!  

Ryder:  Will you hear my tale?

Will:  I said I would lend you my ear.  It is yours till the stars leave.  So please!  Entertain my ear!

Ryder:  I am not rich...   Well...  not like what you think.  My folks were poor crab merchants living on the shore - I started out as a crab merchant you know that.  I worked for the Kings  long enough to put bread on the table.  And it was while I was at work I met him...  A strange man with a pale face.  A very strange man.  He asked me for directions to the church.  I gave them.  He thanked me.  I must say again he was a grave looking fellow, sable clothes, skin as pale as the moon!  And he had huge eyes, eyes like dishes!  He looked like an owl!  He had me sit with him on the bench by the lamp near the old church road.  He said he was looking for company, and that he had travelled far from far places and that he needed rest.  He told me plainly that he did not like to eat or to drink and when I offered to spend sometime with him in the local inn he said NO with a Twee Twoo.  He said, "That is not for me!" and then after making a strange twee twoo with his voice, he told me he preferred the night!  "I do not like the day," he continued, "I can only stand the night!  The day is just too bright!  And only at night can I stand on rooftops and sing without other people mentioning a thing!  I always sing twee twoo it is what I do!  Can I sing for you?"  I told him that there was no need for that.  He was shaping up to be a truly odd fellow.  He would not give me his name either.  He made me feel uncomfortable and I grew to bear a deep disliking for him.  I felt like I needed to get away.  And I reckon he knew it.  I reckon he knew how I was feeling.  Because just as I stood up he made me sit back down.  "I will make a deal with you, twee twoo.  Let me give five million to you!"

Will:  So this owl-like man wanted to give you five million?

Ryder:  Just like that.  With five years to enjoy it!

Will:  It must have been a joke!

Ryder:  Obviously I was thinking the same thing!  So I said yes.  If it was a joke I would play.  He told me I could go home now, so I did.  The next day I woke up carrying on doing what I always did.  I didn't think any differently about anything.  Till one day I received a letter from the bank telling me I no longer owed them anything and then asking me what did I want to do with my inheritance.  Hearing that blasted my mind!  So I went to check on things with the bank and there it was in my personal account...  five million.  Just sitting there.  I couldn't believe it.

Will:  That is how you built your business?  That is how you bought this house!

Ryder:  I was rich.  I could do as I liked.  You know I disappeared for a few months that one year in twenty two I think?  That was me going on holiday.  As many holidays as I wanted!  Nothing could stop me.  I was invincible.  And when I felt that I had had enough fun I thought about getting into business by buying a business - I was going to invest the money.  I had the resources so why not?  I had all the money anyone could want...

Will:  And only five years to enjoy it...  how much time do you have left again?

Ryder:  Four hours...  no three!  

Will:  You are starting to sweat like a pig!

Ryder:  What do you expect?  I am terrified beyond belief!  

Will:  Never thought about fleeing to another country.  I mean you can do it.  Sell this place free up some capital and get out!  Now!  Do it!  Don't hang around not while you have a chance to get out!

Ryder:  Don't you think I have thought about doing that already?  It was the one thing that was on my mind.  It has been for five years!  You want to know where I was last month?  I was in Tuvalu, living in a shack in a town that isn't even on the map!  I went to sleep one night thinking ALL was fine, till I awoke in the witching hours with a cold sweat and a panic attack - I looked and there he was at the door, half past four, terror at my door - a man with eyes like dishes - skin as pale as the moon, clothes of sable cloth and when he opened his mouth I heard it - TWEE TWOO!  My nightmares were made into flesh.  I thought I was going mad!  Night terrors it had to be?  I have drank bad and hallucinating many a time before that day I saw that man at Tuvalu.  With my hands held up ready for a fight I attacked him.  Such a slight man I will crush him, I thought, but he brushed me off like I were a fly on the coat of a king.  He almost squashed me, put his foot on my throat TWEE TWOO - "Only five weeks left for thee!  Hee hee!"  He told me that I had had my fun, and now the serious stuff had to be done.  He told me it was over for me.

Will:  Two hours left!  Unless you put some juice in your feet it will be over!  Rise up and rise out!  That is what I would do if I were thee.  Run for it Ryder!  Please run...  one hour and forty minutes.  Do you think this owl man of yours will arrive at the door while I am still here?'
 
Ryder:  That man who has the eyes of an owl does not knock on doors.  He sits on roofs and he sings and he waits.  He does not watch the gates he watches the windows...  O yes!  The chimneys any crack in the roof that is from where he will strike.  That man who has frightened and haunted me for five years strikes from above not below.  He will make his move against us from one of the upper rooms.

Will:  Right...  wait.  You said us?  Why did you say us?  The owl-like man does not know me?  I have no business with him.  He is your problem.  NO!  I will not be dragged into this vile mess as well.  I say again NO!  I am going to go home.  Good day to you, Ryder.  I hope you figure it out.  But I will not be here when that owl-like man arrives to steal you away into the night!

Ryder:  You will be here.  You will have no choice.  There is a reason I have not fled to another country.  I am fully prepared to face this night.  Have been for a good long while.  I have plan.  Let me show you what I have in my pocket now.  This is a Glock Inc. 45!

Will:  What are you doing with that thing Ryder?  You plan to shoot the owl?  Will it work?

Ryder:  I don't know about the owl.  But I know it will work against you!  

Will:  You have gone mad!  You can't do this to me!  We are friends!

Ryder:  At the start of this conversation you told me that we were not friends anymore.  You called me a golden boar!

Will:  Ryder!  Please!  Don't do this to me!  I have family.

Ryder:  I am not going to shoot you.  That is not my way.  Instead I am going to offer you up to the owl as a sacrifice!  Maybe the owl will give me a few more years to live when it has your blood in its veins...  a few more years till I can find somebody else to feed to it!

Will:  Damn you Ryder!  Were you ever a good man?  After this night I can only say nay!

Ryder:  It is the only way.  I have money.  You have nothing.  I can change the world.  You cannot do anything.  You have even lost your job.  You contribute nothing.  Therefore I am the one who should be given the chance to live!  And that is how it is going to be.  Now sit in that chair!  Do it!  Now!  The owl will be here in... thirty... twenty minutes.  TEN...  FIVE.  The minutes are melting into seconds.

The clock strikes four.  There is knocking at the door.  A messenger arrives with a letter on which the words written in black ink read - "Hear singing in the roofs?  Look up for I strike from above!"   A tall thin pale man with dish-like eyes appears at the window.  He moves through it like vapour.  Ryder drops his gun and stands fully in the grip of pure unadulterated terror: a unique kind of exotic terror very few human beings fortunately will ever know.  Will remains transfixed in the chair.  The owl attacks.  Ryder is done.  Only Will shall ever be privy to the true horror that took place that night in The Perilous Hall, the home of Ryder Spring.
  Now the police are investigating the matter and they arrive with a few questions for Mr Will Sutherland the good friend of the badly deceased Mr Ryder Spring...

Police:  So you knew him, yes?  You knew Mr Ryder Spring?

Will:  O I knew him, he was a thing in town!  Known by all.  Rich as a king.  He would never take a sting not from any man in town!

Police:  And yet he died a horrible death!

Will:  He did indeed - died indeed...  more horribly than most will ever know.  He died worse than dreams.

Police:  You were there when he died?  You witnessed his death?  It looked like the man had been savaged by wild animals.  Can you reveal any details?  

Will:  Ryder was eaten living by a man who looked like an owl.  I watched Ryder die a death no man deserves.  The memory of it will haunt me.  Now I never leave the house at night...  I fear the sight and sound of owls.  Whenever I hear an owl I must hide under my bed...  but I know nothing will save me if the owl returns to eat me.  I think the owl will want to get me - for I witnessed the deed - I saw my friend die at its beak and claws.  I fear now that only the owl knows the number of my days...

Only the owl knows...

THE END


(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)


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Thursday, 18 June 2026

The Curse of the Scarecrow

 "There was a man called Squib, who liked to tell a fib!  He messed about, and lied with his mouth...

...And now he is in a crypt!

...That stupid man called Squib."

THE SAD LEGEND OF SQUIB

**DAY 1

Bill:  Ever heard about Squib?

Phil:  Is that some kind of a Christmas tree decoration?

Bill:  No!  He was a person.  He was one of the local lads!  He was quite famous!  What's wrong with you?  Have you been living your whole life with your head under a pillow?

Phil:  Well I did yawn just then so I suppose the answer would be yes.  So tell me about this Squib lad of yours then.  Sounds an odd sort!

Bill:  Squib was actually one of the most normal men I have ever known - until he got involved with the movie business.  He started out working in the Fenwick Theatre.  He used to drink here in the evenings.  His real name was Erik Peter David Michael Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff Jr.  Born to a renown local pigeon fancier he trained to be a hawk tamer, but ended up in the movie business after he showed a talent for film.  He was talented indeed have no doubt about it.  I saw his earlier pictures.  Black and white, smooth and gorgeous films.  They mostly revolved around hawks and pigeons, and he made a movie about an owl once, got a French Lady to dub the owl very odd.  Erick was really into birds of the feathered kind, sort of obsessed really, but that was the only odd thing about him.  O yeah and he used to eat cold porridge mixed with onions.  But apart from that a really normal guy.  He married a woman called Claire.  She was large around the waist if I remember, wobbled when she walked.  They had two bizarre sons who ended up joining the American army.  

Phil:  Why were the sons bizarre?

Bill:  Well they were both a scholarly kind.  Grew up reading and quoting Hans Christian Andersen, and the one son loved Alice in Wonderland and used to wear a dress and demanded everyone call him Alice.  It just seems odd they both went the army way, one of them ended up dying in the war against the Cartel...'

Phil:  Bless his brave soul!

Bill:  Aye well, so Erik got involved with film.  Made a couple of pictures.  Made movies about owls and other birds.  He made a movie about a walrus once and dedicated it to his wife.  It was the only movie he made that wasn't about birds - unless you want to call his wife a bird and well you can't really do that in 2026 and anyway I wouldn't really call that woman a bird she was really more of a sea potato.  But anyway, getting back to things, it turns out in the end that our boy Erik was a good actor among other things.  That was how he got involved with theatre.  One of his sons was acting in a dramatization of the wizard oz for a local school production and the actor, or child I mean who was playing the scarecrow fell sick and so our boy Erik, hero that he is, stepped in to play the role.  Little did he know that Luca Vincenzo was watching.  

Phil:  Isn't he...

Bill:  Mafia?

Phil:  No way!

Bill:  Also a movie producer.  Really wealthy.  Got a lot of money.  In with the Kings.  Makes movies locally and distributes them globally.  

Phill:  Such a famous person!  Who would think such a man would be present at a local school production of oz...
  
Bill:  That's fate for you son.  So anyway, Luca is making a series of commercials for TV at the time advertising shoes and he wanted a scarecrow character in the commercial to wear the shoes.  So Squib was born and Erik was playing him.  They were good commercials: big budget!  I remember them well.

Phil:  Now you come to mention it I think I remember them as well!

Bill:  You should do.  They were very good.  Quality.  And Squib?  Man!  Erik played that scarecrow like a dream.  Perfection on the screen.  But then something happened.  It's a mystery.  The story is Luca made a joke about Erik's wife, something about her wobbling as she walked, and Erick, bless him!  Our boy Erik he just laughed back.  Few drinks in the belly, you know how it goes.  Well his wife overheard the business of her husband laughing at this joke and the story is that she either cursed him or she found a local witch to curse her husband.  And that was when the curse set in, because our boy Erik, bless him, he was cursed from that day forth.  

Phil:  Did his wife truly wobble?

Bill:  I think she did!

Phil:  Good gosh!  Carry on with your story.  Tell me more about this curse!

Bill:  Well our boy Erik was doing his thing, you know, strutting around like a scarecrow.  He was doing another commercial, it was his job to dress up like that.  But when the production was over disaster struck.  Our boy Erick he couldn't take off his scarecrow makeup!  There was nothing he could do about it.  He was forced to walk the streets as a shambling shaggy dirty old scary looking scarecrow.

Phil:  My gosh!  The horror of it!

Bill:  So Erik's world fell apart!  There was nowhere he could go.  If he paid a visit to his local drinking den then people would give him a strange eye.  I admit I looked at him odd once.  I regret it.  I told him 'you need to get out of character, Erik.'  I told him that he can't go around method acting not while dressed like a dirty old scarecrow thing.  I upset him, poor soul.  His wife ended up leaving him.  We are talking full on divorce!  She wouldn't let Erik see his children.  She put a restraining order on him.  Erik's life was done.  He went from a talent to a scarecrow in ONE night.
  
Phil:  Such is life!  What a sad tale.

Bill:  No one has seen him since.  Squib vanished.  Some say he still lurks the streets, but I don't know.  I just wish I could meet the man again and apologise for giving him a strange eye.  He was a good man.  He needed a friend.  I could have been a friend.  Except I let him down.  We all let him down.

**DAY 2

Phil:  (Damn!  I need to get to work!  Damn crabs won't catch themselves - and the Kings will kill me if they find that I have overslept...  Gotta get going...  O wait!  Who is that large woman approaching?  I better hide...  O no!  Too late.  She's got me!  Darn.  I am going to have to talk to  her!)  Can I help you?

Claire:  No.  But I want you to have this.  

She hands Phil a book.  It is Erik's journal.  While taking a break at the crab factory Phil starts to read the crusty old journal.

THE JOURNAL

"Hello to all or any who read this.  I am Erik...  Or I used to be.  Nowadays I am only known as Squib.  LOOK AT ME!  I am an ordinary person.  In my heart I am normal.  I might not look it...  normal, or whatever normal is...  I might look strange.  But I am normal in my soul.  I can't...  I don't know how to say this...  I can't take off my mask.  I must walk the streets in shame with a head looking like a giant turnip.  I am so ashamed.  People...  They can't look at me.  They run away.  They are frightened.  I don't like it.  THEY don't like it.  My own children hate me.  They will not speak to me.  And my wife...  she hates me.  Things were never any good between us.  Our relationship was mostly me hiding behind a sofa.  She left me with nothing but tears, and my face...  the face of a turnip.  I cannot bear to see my face.  It is NOT a face.  I am not a human anymore.  I am a shambling beast.  How can I live like this?  I don't think I can.  I have lost it ALL.  I have lost my home, my children, and my love...  Don't be like me.  Whoever reads this please do not be like me!  I am nothing now but a tramp with a turnip head and I am ashamed.  I am fully and completely and wholly ashamed of myself.  I was going for a walk by one of the local lakes and I saw a reflection in the water of my turnip head.  The sight of it filled me with pure disgust.  Don't be like me.  It is NOT worth it.  These days I am in hiding.  I found an old house I can camp in.  It is lonely, but at least I will not be seen.  Of all the disgusting things I have ever been this thing...  this horror...  O please bring me respite!  But I know I will have none of that.  I must spend my days in this old place wandering, thinking, waiting...  I am a ghost in flesh and one day I will be a ghost without flesh - and this old ruin will be my home.  Think of me.'

**Day 3

Back at the pub...

Phil:  You remember what we were talking about the other day?

Bill:  O yeah you were talking about your grandfather I remember.  You told me he was a war veteran?  Sounds like a fine man!

Phil:  No!  Not that.  I mean about Squib.

Bill:  O yeah!  Squib who told a fib!

Phil:  I have been having these dreams.  I dreamt that I was in this old place, a building with no furniture.  And there is this scarecrow just standing there.  It is a horrible dream.  I can't sleep without seeing it!  I can't stop these nightmares.

Bill: Phil, my lad!  Calm down and listen up!  Look at yourself in the mirror.  There is one over there.  Look at yourself.  Tell me what you see?  Do you see a face?  A human face?  Do you see Phil?  Yes?  That's good.  You do not have a turnip head?  Then you have nothing to worry about.

THE END



(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)


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A King For A Day (UPDATE)

Yes.  This game is still in development!  I will be honest...  The other games - Scare Them Soulless, and Start Punks HAVE been abandoned.  They just didn't work out.  But I have always been passionate about a Medieval King game.  
  So A KING FOR A DAY is on it sway.  It will NOT be the game I original envisioned it to be.  It will not be the next Defender of the Crown!  Sorry about that...  The original version of this game failed badly.  
  Instead a I opted for a more simpler approach - an arcade style game that can be played and enjoyed in approx five to ten mins...  If the player is generous.  Basically a bit of fun.
  In my new version of the game you literally get to be a king for a day.
  You move about Britain, beat people up, make money, crush your enemies - you basically get to be the king.  You get to tour around Britain as well (and a bit of France).  You will collect resources to help you vanquish your foes.  But the game WILL be nothing more or less than a fun browser game to kill, as I mentioned before, a handful of minutes.  Just a bit of fun.  I grew up playing old medieval war games on the PC - the aforementioned Defender of the Crown, Kingmaker, Conqueror A.D. 1086, and my favourite of ALL time without ANY quarrels the first two Lords of the Ream Games.  I LOVED the later, played them like mad.  I wanted to rebuild them.  I couldn't do it, not yet anway.
  I did have some inspiration for A King For A Day.  There used to be a game for DOS I played a lot, probably older than all the titles I just mentioned, I am sure, and it was called Grail Quest - 1989 interactive fiction graphic adventure game published by Artworx.
  I played this a lot.  It was an adventure game where you wandered around Britain (after you found your horse and managed to saddle it without it running away from you!) and you visited many of the famous locals of Arthurian Britain EVEN The Tower of London which I am sure was built after the Age of King Arthur.  But o well!  Never mind.
  I remember playing this game as a child, roaming around the British isles and thinking, "Wouldn't it be great if I was the king and I ruled the land and could give out orders and fight foes?"  Well...  That is what I have tried to build!  Whether I succeeded or failed folks will no when A King For A Day finally releases...
  ...releases...  sometime in the near distant future hopefully this!

Best wishes

SWW


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