On board the ship of this greedy, bitter, desperate pirate, Barney was finally getting his sea legs. The crew thought it odd that he still wobbled around in such an uncoordinated way after two weeks, but that was before they realised he always walked like that. His already slender body had almost disappeared, but he was beginning to keep his food down – he was getting tired of stew though. Sometimes he would catch the Captain staring at him, almost hungrily, as he scrubbed the deck. Now, Barney might have been wonky and timid and frightened, but he was not stupid, and could see that the captain was forming a plot. As Sammy was rather dim (nobody has brains and looks and sporting ability and a godly mission), and Celia was much too busy doing sensible, practical things like cooking and cleaning and watching Sammy’s muscles ripple, it fell to Barney to uncover and thwart it.
One day, shortly after Barney had realised that the Captain was forming a plot, he took his chance. A lion growled loudly from under the deck, and because Barney knew that there was not a single lion on board, he deduced that the Captain was asleep. He tiptoed past the cad, who was hanging half-out of his hammock, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor beneath his open mouth. He let out a great snore as Barney went past, and Barney had to pinch his nose to keep out the stink of the man. The captain would not let Celia wash his clothes. Barney snuck on and prised open the door to the private cabin.
The private cabin was off-limits to all crew members, including first mate. Barney did not like to think what would happen if the captain found him there. He did not want to be thrown in the sea, because he could not swim, and had recently learned about several large and fearsome creatures that made their homes in it. Staying on board, even among the woodmen, who, although angry and struggling, could not get out of ship’s timber, was infinitely preferable. But he plucked up his courage and began his search of the cabin, listening all the time for the lion in the cabin next door.
Scar was unusually well educated for a pirate – nothing but the best private schools for the eldest son of Captain Ruthless. All his plots were outlined in numbered steps with diagrams, planned to the second. Sadly, for all his private school education, Scar was just not very bright. He failed to take into account that there were other people involved that didn’t know about his plans, and consequently was taken by surprise every time one of his magnificent plots was foiled. He was also very messy, and by the time the day came to put his plans into action, his papers were all muddled and some of them were lost, and he would have to start with step fourteen in his plan, because he couldn’t remember the first thirteen that had somehow disappeared.
Barney, however, was unaware of the intense stupidity and inability to adapt of Captain Scar. All he needed to do was steal a few of his papers, but Barney was not to know that. He shuffled through the piles of loose paper that loomed on every surface, and looked at the sheets that floated off every time the ship rocked, and the ones that slid across the floor. His hands trembled and sweat dripped from his forehead, because not only was he in a room full of paper, there was also a large and fierce pirate captain sleeping just beyond the door (Barney had realised by this time the Scar was indeed a pirate, although the other two had not yet clicked, Sammy being rather slow and self involved, and Celia being busy doing sensible practical things.) Sifting through the papers, he finally found a sheet entitled, in perfect neat handwriting, all in capitals: PLAN # 457 – WHITE SLAVE TRADING.
Reading the sheet, Barney realised that they were not heading to the land across the sea that made the wonderful shoes, but to some far off island at the edge of the world where they still kept slaves. Step 1, he read, trick slaves into thinking they are not captured. There was a diagram of stick figures smiling. Step 2, sail to the slave markets at Alvin. (A picture of a sailing ship, carefully drawn to scale.) Step 3, put up for auction. Demand lots for girl. (A picture of a handcuffed stick figure in a skirt and another with an auctioneers hammer.) Here, the sheet finished. Barney picked up the next. Step 27 – train crocodile. Scar had made the mistake of not titling each piece of paper, and his plans were often mixed up, so he would spend six months training a crocodile before attacking a passenger liner with cutlasses. Barney became to engrossed in searching for the next section of the plan to sell them off as white slaves that he completely failed to notice the loud thump as Captain Scar fell out of his hammock, and the sudden silence as his snoring stopped.
Captain Scar was always grumpy when he woke up, especially when he woke up suddenly. Today, he was woken very suddenly, as the ship jolted against a large and unexpected wave. He wobbled grumpily up from the floor, and turned to go and yell at his useless crew on deck. But as he turned to leave, he noticed something. His rum bottle was empty. He would have to get a full one from his cabin. He couldn’t face his useless crew without rum.
Barney froze as the door creaked open. He was caught. He was caught and he didn’t have time to come up with a counter-plan. Now, Scar may not have been very adaptable when it came to his plans going awry, but he knew just what to do when you caught someone snooping in your private cabin. Especially if they were small and weedy and cross-eyed. Scar grabbed the trembling boy roughly, and covered his mouth with his hand. Barney struggled feebly, but to no avail. He was well and truly captured. Scar carried the struggling boy out of his private cabin and threw him into the cage.
After Barney was captured, it was necessary that Sammy and Celia were also put into the cage. Even Sammy wasn’t stupid enough to think it was normal for a passenger to live in the cage. Celia proved easy to catch, as she was going about her normal jobs of cooking and cleaning, trying to lull the crew into a false sense of security while she formulated a plot to save Barney. The captain and the first mate crept up on her from behind and overpowered her. Sammy proved more difficult, being large and strong and half-god. They surrounded him while he slept, which turned out to be a mistake, because Sammy disliked being woken. It appeared that as well as being able to knock a very large man out with one punch, he could also light people on fire. With three of his crew knocked out, and his first mate huddled on the floor groaning, with severe burns, Captain Scar held his pistol to Celia’s head. Sammy climbed into the cage.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Chapter 7 - The Captain's Tale
Before we continue, it must be made clear how much danger our heroes and heroine were in. For, while Sammy swam in the ocean and Celia cooked for the crew and Barney threw up over the side, all the time, the evil captain was plotting.
The Captain was called Scar, because he had a big scar on his face and pirates aren’t very imaginative. He had given it to himself, but no-one knew that, and everyone who saw it thought it made him look very fierce. He loved fighting, and the sea, and jewels. But mostly he loved gold. He had loved it ever since he was a little boy. On his seventh birthday his father, who had been a well known and greatly feared pirate in his youth, had let him into the plunder room at the family home. They had a great big house in the islands, with seventeen bedrooms and lots of servants, because Scar’s father was Captain Ruthless, and as his name suggests, he was ruthless in his plundering attacks, and consequently very successful as a pirate. He had been able to retire comfortably at the age of thirty, and marry a governor’s daughter, whom he had carried away to her only mildly exclamatory protestations. He had a special room in his enormous house, set aside to store the wealth he had accrued. Before that day, Captain Ruthless had never permitted his son to go into the room, fearing he might be squashed by the weight of the gold. Scar could remember it perfectly. It had been the best day of his life...
The plunder room was very large, and packed solidly with beautiful things. Scar’s seven-year-old eyes almost burst with awe. There were coins of gold, and coins of silver. They spilled out of great wooden chests, and enormous piles of them that covered the floor. There were jewels of every kind imaginable – rubies and sapphires and emeralds. Scar’s favourites were the rubies, because they were the colour of blood, and he liked blood. There were crowns stolen from kings, and beautiful dresses taken from sailors’ daughters. There were swords and guns and ornately wrought daggers. And all of it gleamed and glinted and reflected the flames of the torch. Captain Ruthless did not approve of electric lighting. He did not want it in his plunder room because it would ruin the atmosphere. Scar’s father led him through the piles of riches and told him rollicking tales of life on the sea, full of sword-fights, and booming cannons and gold. Scar decided, as he weaved through the gold after his father, that one day he would be a great pirate.
Scar’s wish did not quite come true. He became a pirate it is true, but never a great one. By the time his father died and he was free to take up a life on the sea, the time of pirates was nearly over. Merchant ships were armed with machine guns and bombs, while his pirate ship’s weaponry was more traditional, tending towards cutlasses and cannons. As a result of this, he found himself running through both crewmen and ships at an alarming rate. The plunder room of the family home was now almost empty, and he badly needed a successful capture. He had been reduced to docking at Yarel, because he couldn’t afford docking fees anymore, and if he lost this ship, that would be the end of his life of adventure and excitement on the seas. He would have to return to the island and become a salesman like his brother. Scar would do anything to prevent being associated with his brother, who was rather effeminate and often made fun of his pirating abilities.
Scar’s lack of success at pirating had made him bitter. He had wanted badly to be like his father, who had been large and intimidating, but had always told brilliant stories at dinner parties. Nobody wanted to hear the story about the time Scar’s ship was blown apart by machine gun fire before they got within cannon range. So Scar sulked bitterly and kept trying. And every time, something ruined his plan.
His first ship had been glorious. It was made of dark wood, trimmed in gold, with a mermaid on the front just like in the books. His flag had looked magnificent on the mast, and his crew was truly piratey. One of them even had a parrot. He had stepped on board, ordered the crew to “Weigh Anchor!” and stood in the bow feeling omnipotent and raring for action. Unfortunately, he soon learned that looks weren’t everything, and his glorious ship was both slow and sinking. He ordered the crew to commandeer the first ship they saw. It turned out to be a navy battleship and his ship was blown to pieces the second he opened fire. He was pulled from the wreckage and taken off to prison. Two years in there before he managed to escape during transfer, and take to the sea once more.
His second ship, crewed by an entirely different set of men, was more modest, but solidly built. He checked it floated before they left the harbour. Everything was going swimmingly until they attacked and his second ship was cut up by machine gun fire. This time no-one rescued him and he washed up 3 days later, nearly dead, on an island.
After he found his way off the island, he purchased a new ship, hired new crew for huge amounts of money, and set about making an intricate plan to uncover buried treasure, since his attempts so far to plunder ships had failed spectacularly. A month into the journey, his crew realised they were lost, mutinied, and marooned him on an island.
Most people would give up after this, decide pirating was not for them, and take a nice job in a bakery selling cakes and loaves of bread to little old ladies. But Scar was nothing if not persistent. And piles of gold cannot be obtained by working in a bakery. So, bitter and nearly forty, Scar was still pirating.
A greedy man is always trouble. A man who is both greedy and bitter is worse. But a man who is greedy, bitter and desperate is truly a person to be afraid of, because they want everything, they want it now, and will seek revenge on those who thwart them. And they have nothing to lose. Scar was one of those people. With these three unsuspecting youngsters, his chance had come.
The Captain was called Scar, because he had a big scar on his face and pirates aren’t very imaginative. He had given it to himself, but no-one knew that, and everyone who saw it thought it made him look very fierce. He loved fighting, and the sea, and jewels. But mostly he loved gold. He had loved it ever since he was a little boy. On his seventh birthday his father, who had been a well known and greatly feared pirate in his youth, had let him into the plunder room at the family home. They had a great big house in the islands, with seventeen bedrooms and lots of servants, because Scar’s father was Captain Ruthless, and as his name suggests, he was ruthless in his plundering attacks, and consequently very successful as a pirate. He had been able to retire comfortably at the age of thirty, and marry a governor’s daughter, whom he had carried away to her only mildly exclamatory protestations. He had a special room in his enormous house, set aside to store the wealth he had accrued. Before that day, Captain Ruthless had never permitted his son to go into the room, fearing he might be squashed by the weight of the gold. Scar could remember it perfectly. It had been the best day of his life...
The plunder room was very large, and packed solidly with beautiful things. Scar’s seven-year-old eyes almost burst with awe. There were coins of gold, and coins of silver. They spilled out of great wooden chests, and enormous piles of them that covered the floor. There were jewels of every kind imaginable – rubies and sapphires and emeralds. Scar’s favourites were the rubies, because they were the colour of blood, and he liked blood. There were crowns stolen from kings, and beautiful dresses taken from sailors’ daughters. There were swords and guns and ornately wrought daggers. And all of it gleamed and glinted and reflected the flames of the torch. Captain Ruthless did not approve of electric lighting. He did not want it in his plunder room because it would ruin the atmosphere. Scar’s father led him through the piles of riches and told him rollicking tales of life on the sea, full of sword-fights, and booming cannons and gold. Scar decided, as he weaved through the gold after his father, that one day he would be a great pirate.
Scar’s wish did not quite come true. He became a pirate it is true, but never a great one. By the time his father died and he was free to take up a life on the sea, the time of pirates was nearly over. Merchant ships were armed with machine guns and bombs, while his pirate ship’s weaponry was more traditional, tending towards cutlasses and cannons. As a result of this, he found himself running through both crewmen and ships at an alarming rate. The plunder room of the family home was now almost empty, and he badly needed a successful capture. He had been reduced to docking at Yarel, because he couldn’t afford docking fees anymore, and if he lost this ship, that would be the end of his life of adventure and excitement on the seas. He would have to return to the island and become a salesman like his brother. Scar would do anything to prevent being associated with his brother, who was rather effeminate and often made fun of his pirating abilities.
Scar’s lack of success at pirating had made him bitter. He had wanted badly to be like his father, who had been large and intimidating, but had always told brilliant stories at dinner parties. Nobody wanted to hear the story about the time Scar’s ship was blown apart by machine gun fire before they got within cannon range. So Scar sulked bitterly and kept trying. And every time, something ruined his plan.
His first ship had been glorious. It was made of dark wood, trimmed in gold, with a mermaid on the front just like in the books. His flag had looked magnificent on the mast, and his crew was truly piratey. One of them even had a parrot. He had stepped on board, ordered the crew to “Weigh Anchor!” and stood in the bow feeling omnipotent and raring for action. Unfortunately, he soon learned that looks weren’t everything, and his glorious ship was both slow and sinking. He ordered the crew to commandeer the first ship they saw. It turned out to be a navy battleship and his ship was blown to pieces the second he opened fire. He was pulled from the wreckage and taken off to prison. Two years in there before he managed to escape during transfer, and take to the sea once more.
His second ship, crewed by an entirely different set of men, was more modest, but solidly built. He checked it floated before they left the harbour. Everything was going swimmingly until they attacked and his second ship was cut up by machine gun fire. This time no-one rescued him and he washed up 3 days later, nearly dead, on an island.
After he found his way off the island, he purchased a new ship, hired new crew for huge amounts of money, and set about making an intricate plan to uncover buried treasure, since his attempts so far to plunder ships had failed spectacularly. A month into the journey, his crew realised they were lost, mutinied, and marooned him on an island.
Most people would give up after this, decide pirating was not for them, and take a nice job in a bakery selling cakes and loaves of bread to little old ladies. But Scar was nothing if not persistent. And piles of gold cannot be obtained by working in a bakery. So, bitter and nearly forty, Scar was still pirating.
A greedy man is always trouble. A man who is both greedy and bitter is worse. But a man who is greedy, bitter and desperate is truly a person to be afraid of, because they want everything, they want it now, and will seek revenge on those who thwart them. And they have nothing to lose. Scar was one of those people. With these three unsuspecting youngsters, his chance had come.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Chapter 6 - Going to Sea
They trudged wearily along the frightening road to Yarel for several hours. When they reached the town they were extremely disappointed. It was small and dusty and boring, and smelt strongly of rotting fish. Barney was very puzzled because it didn’t seem to have enough people to supply all the cars on the road. Or maybe the road was so busy because of all the people urgently escaping before they died of boredom. Dock towns were dying out, and Yarel had been slowly fading for years. This would have been unremarkable except that Yarel really was dying. Literally.
It had once been a busy coastal town, full of children in brightly coloured clothes rushing to meet the merchant ships and huge passenger liners that docked there every day. Fish were abundant, and there was always work for a fisherman. The economy had boomed, and Yarel had become prosperous and wealthy. These days, clouds hung low over the town, but never dropped the rain. Plants drooped, and dust rose in sleepy clouds with each footstep. The few people left moved slowly and aimlessly. Some simply lay in the street for a nap and never woke up. No-one knew why this was happening, and it had started so gradually that no-one really knew when it had begun. Now, cars sped past along the coast road, but never stopped in case it happened to them. The only visitors to the town were the people who used the docks for nefarious purposes – smugglers and pirates and people plotting to overthrow the crown.
Our three intrepid journeypeople didn’t know this of course. Celia had never left the farm. Sammy was half god and didn’t have time for things like that. And Barney had been living under a rock for the past four years. So while they were perplexed at the people lying in the street and the strong smell of rot, they marched onwards to the docks to barter a passage to the land across the sea.
Fortuitously, the docks were not empty that day. A rickety ship floated low in the water, ragged black sails tied down, flag hanging limply in the still air. A pair of men played a vigorous game of cards on the deck, with many a shocking exclamatory remark. Celia was introduced to many new and interesting words that day. The captain of the ship sauntered easily across the docks to them, polishing his knife. His black hair was long and oily, and he held it out of his eyes with a dirty red scarf. His complexion was swarthy and his black eyes were beady. A scar ran the length of his left cheek, and a gold tooth glittered his mouth. He spoke gruffly, in a foreign accent.
Now, one does not need to be omniscient to realise that someone like this is not to be trusted, particularly if he is polishing a large and pointy knife. Our heroes were rather naive, though, and none of them had ever encountered a pirate. They needed passage rather badly, because now that they were in this sleepy little town, they were beginning to feel a little sleepy themselves. So they duly traded the friendly, fat little pony for a ride on the ship, and climbed aboard. The captain led the friendly, fat little pony off, and returned an hour later with food for their month at sea.
They left that afternoon, before anyone had a chance to fall asleep and die, and Barney’s day, which had not started well, began to deteriorate.
Barney had never been on a boat – he did not live by the sea and there were no rivers or lakes nearby. He couldn’t swim and kept having horrible visions of being tipped out or somehow falling off the deck. In these visions, the boat sailed off into the distance, black sails billowing, and nobody even looked for him while he sank to the bottom and drowned. While he was doing this, the Captain yelled at him for not doing anything, the first mate yelled at him for getting in the way, and the second mate knocked him over in an attempt to look up Celia’s skirt. Sammy laughed at him. It turned out Sammy liked the sea. The rocking of the deck made his stomach churn, and he threw up on Celia’s shoes; a major setback in his quest to win her heart. And if that wasn’t enough, the entire ship was made of wood. Old, angry wood. Barney crawled through the trapdoor into the cabin. It hit him on the head on the way through. He crawled to his bunk, rubbing his head, and lay curled up, his face green. This was not going to be a good trip.
[Word Count: 4087]
It had once been a busy coastal town, full of children in brightly coloured clothes rushing to meet the merchant ships and huge passenger liners that docked there every day. Fish were abundant, and there was always work for a fisherman. The economy had boomed, and Yarel had become prosperous and wealthy. These days, clouds hung low over the town, but never dropped the rain. Plants drooped, and dust rose in sleepy clouds with each footstep. The few people left moved slowly and aimlessly. Some simply lay in the street for a nap and never woke up. No-one knew why this was happening, and it had started so gradually that no-one really knew when it had begun. Now, cars sped past along the coast road, but never stopped in case it happened to them. The only visitors to the town were the people who used the docks for nefarious purposes – smugglers and pirates and people plotting to overthrow the crown.
Our three intrepid journeypeople didn’t know this of course. Celia had never left the farm. Sammy was half god and didn’t have time for things like that. And Barney had been living under a rock for the past four years. So while they were perplexed at the people lying in the street and the strong smell of rot, they marched onwards to the docks to barter a passage to the land across the sea.
Fortuitously, the docks were not empty that day. A rickety ship floated low in the water, ragged black sails tied down, flag hanging limply in the still air. A pair of men played a vigorous game of cards on the deck, with many a shocking exclamatory remark. Celia was introduced to many new and interesting words that day. The captain of the ship sauntered easily across the docks to them, polishing his knife. His black hair was long and oily, and he held it out of his eyes with a dirty red scarf. His complexion was swarthy and his black eyes were beady. A scar ran the length of his left cheek, and a gold tooth glittered his mouth. He spoke gruffly, in a foreign accent.
Now, one does not need to be omniscient to realise that someone like this is not to be trusted, particularly if he is polishing a large and pointy knife. Our heroes were rather naive, though, and none of them had ever encountered a pirate. They needed passage rather badly, because now that they were in this sleepy little town, they were beginning to feel a little sleepy themselves. So they duly traded the friendly, fat little pony for a ride on the ship, and climbed aboard. The captain led the friendly, fat little pony off, and returned an hour later with food for their month at sea.
They left that afternoon, before anyone had a chance to fall asleep and die, and Barney’s day, which had not started well, began to deteriorate.
Barney had never been on a boat – he did not live by the sea and there were no rivers or lakes nearby. He couldn’t swim and kept having horrible visions of being tipped out or somehow falling off the deck. In these visions, the boat sailed off into the distance, black sails billowing, and nobody even looked for him while he sank to the bottom and drowned. While he was doing this, the Captain yelled at him for not doing anything, the first mate yelled at him for getting in the way, and the second mate knocked him over in an attempt to look up Celia’s skirt. Sammy laughed at him. It turned out Sammy liked the sea. The rocking of the deck made his stomach churn, and he threw up on Celia’s shoes; a major setback in his quest to win her heart. And if that wasn’t enough, the entire ship was made of wood. Old, angry wood. Barney crawled through the trapdoor into the cabin. It hit him on the head on the way through. He crawled to his bunk, rubbing his head, and lay curled up, his face green. This was not going to be a good trip.
[Word Count: 4087]
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Chapter 5 - Finding the Road
When darkness fell, Sammy returned to Barney, glowering fiercely. “Why did you throw it away, stupid?” He bellowed in greeting. Sammy liked to bellow. He was very good at it. He was in a terrible mood after a long day of heroic rescuing and shoe searching, and he wasn’t fond of Barney, who had refused to help because of the tree fairies or some nonsense. He had a bruise on his arm from falling over during the earthquake, and was inclined to blame Barney for that too. He sat with his back to Barney and didn’t offer him any food.
Barney didn’t mind so much, though, because Celia, who was a very sensible and practical girl, had brought plenty of food and had shared it with him. She hadn’t laughed at him once. Barney had an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in his stomach, and his mouth kept twitching upward like a fish on a line. He tried to make it stop, because his face was twisty enough as it was, but it wouldn’t be controlled. He was smiling for the first time since the day of the plan, fourteen years ago.
Celia thought Barney’s friend was very handsome. He was big and strong, with pleasant features and pretty blue eyes. He was trying very hard to look fierce, and failing miserably, being one of those people who look like a nice person all the time, even when they’re trying not to. He was dressed magnificently, in breeches and a billowy white shirt, black leather boots, a gold-handled dagger strung about his waist on a belt of green. She wondered why such a grand gentleman was travelling with the odd cross-eyed boy she had shared her lunch with.
Sammy told Celia all about his mission and his fruitless search for the shoe Barney had so thoughtlessly thrown away. She listened intently and smiled a lot. Then, in her sensible and practical way, suggested that they go and buy a new one. She’d heard they made excellent shoes in the land across the sea, and it just happened that she was headed in that direction, seeking her fortune. Sammy, who was very taken with her brown curls and dimpled cheeks agreed immediately, not because he truly believed a new shoe would be an acceptable substitute, but because he was beginning think it would be worth failing to become a god if she would smile at him every day. He, too, was falling in love.
The next day, the three of them set out for the docks at Yarel to catch a ship to the land across the sea. Barney would have preferred a plane, but plane tickets were expensive, and many of the planes ran out of fuel on the journey and crashed into the sea. So they were to catch a ship. The problem with this plan was that none of them knew the way. Barney had lived in a stone hut since the age of fourteen, and hadn’t seen a map of the country since before then. Celia had never left the farm. Sammy said he knew the way, but Barney began to have doubts when they walked past the same tree for the fourth time. He knew it was the same tree because it looked angrier each time.
That night, they were attacked by a particularly unproductive group of bandits who preyed on the poor lost travellers who wandered seven hours from the main road in search of a good campsite. The bandits were very poor and hungry, and consequently very fierce. Sammy had to be very heroic and bellow a lot and wave the shotgun at them in order to save Celia from them. Barney stood awkwardly in the shadows. Even the bandits ignored him except to pull his pants down. After a lot of shouting and punching, the bandits were conquered. Celia tied them up with the length of rope she had so sensibly brought with her, and refused to free them until they gave them directions to the road.
Celia was suitably impressed by Sammy’s heroics, and grinned very unsensibly at him as they followed the bandits’ directions. He had looked marvellous holding the shotgun, she thought. Barney noticed her foolish smiles jealously, but smiled equally foolishly every time she glanced his way. He began to occupy himself with ways to win her over.
At last, the road appeared before them. Barney was rather frightened of it. Barney was frightened of most things. Cars rushed past in gusts of wind and dust from their wheels. There was a never ending flow of them in both directions, looming big and black and menacing. Celia was frightened too. She had never left the farm, and the only vehicle she had seen was the tractor. She trembled and slipped her hand into Sammy’s. Sammy wasn’t scared. Sammy wasn’t scared of anything. He was just surprised, and that was why he was shaking. The pony glanced dismissively at the road and put its head down to graze.
They set off down the road to Yarel.
[word count: 4016]
Barney didn’t mind so much, though, because Celia, who was a very sensible and practical girl, had brought plenty of food and had shared it with him. She hadn’t laughed at him once. Barney had an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in his stomach, and his mouth kept twitching upward like a fish on a line. He tried to make it stop, because his face was twisty enough as it was, but it wouldn’t be controlled. He was smiling for the first time since the day of the plan, fourteen years ago.
Celia thought Barney’s friend was very handsome. He was big and strong, with pleasant features and pretty blue eyes. He was trying very hard to look fierce, and failing miserably, being one of those people who look like a nice person all the time, even when they’re trying not to. He was dressed magnificently, in breeches and a billowy white shirt, black leather boots, a gold-handled dagger strung about his waist on a belt of green. She wondered why such a grand gentleman was travelling with the odd cross-eyed boy she had shared her lunch with.
Sammy told Celia all about his mission and his fruitless search for the shoe Barney had so thoughtlessly thrown away. She listened intently and smiled a lot. Then, in her sensible and practical way, suggested that they go and buy a new one. She’d heard they made excellent shoes in the land across the sea, and it just happened that she was headed in that direction, seeking her fortune. Sammy, who was very taken with her brown curls and dimpled cheeks agreed immediately, not because he truly believed a new shoe would be an acceptable substitute, but because he was beginning think it would be worth failing to become a god if she would smile at him every day. He, too, was falling in love.
The next day, the three of them set out for the docks at Yarel to catch a ship to the land across the sea. Barney would have preferred a plane, but plane tickets were expensive, and many of the planes ran out of fuel on the journey and crashed into the sea. So they were to catch a ship. The problem with this plan was that none of them knew the way. Barney had lived in a stone hut since the age of fourteen, and hadn’t seen a map of the country since before then. Celia had never left the farm. Sammy said he knew the way, but Barney began to have doubts when they walked past the same tree for the fourth time. He knew it was the same tree because it looked angrier each time.
That night, they were attacked by a particularly unproductive group of bandits who preyed on the poor lost travellers who wandered seven hours from the main road in search of a good campsite. The bandits were very poor and hungry, and consequently very fierce. Sammy had to be very heroic and bellow a lot and wave the shotgun at them in order to save Celia from them. Barney stood awkwardly in the shadows. Even the bandits ignored him except to pull his pants down. After a lot of shouting and punching, the bandits were conquered. Celia tied them up with the length of rope she had so sensibly brought with her, and refused to free them until they gave them directions to the road.
Celia was suitably impressed by Sammy’s heroics, and grinned very unsensibly at him as they followed the bandits’ directions. He had looked marvellous holding the shotgun, she thought. Barney noticed her foolish smiles jealously, but smiled equally foolishly every time she glanced his way. He began to occupy himself with ways to win her over.
At last, the road appeared before them. Barney was rather frightened of it. Barney was frightened of most things. Cars rushed past in gusts of wind and dust from their wheels. There was a never ending flow of them in both directions, looming big and black and menacing. Celia was frightened too. She had never left the farm, and the only vehicle she had seen was the tractor. She trembled and slipped her hand into Sammy’s. Sammy wasn’t scared. Sammy wasn’t scared of anything. He was just surprised, and that was why he was shaking. The pony glanced dismissively at the road and put its head down to graze.
They set off down the road to Yarel.
[word count: 4016]
Monday, November 3, 2008
Chapter 4 - A New Fate
The exact nature of his companion’s mission was unclear to Barney. A search for a shoe, even a nice shiny glass shoe with rainbows in it, seemed rather inane and tedious for a mission from the Gods. Barney had heard many stories of Godly missions, and as far as he could remember, not a single one involved searching undergrowth for a shoe. Saving princesses was a big theme. Fighting dragons. Conquering kingdoms. Apparently this was a non-traditional mission that involved slashing at shrubs with a knife, looking for a disappearing shoe.
And so it came to be that Barney was sitting, stomach growling, in the middle of a field, while Sameus Rufus Pegasus (Sammy to his mother) bashed around in the fringes of the forest and bellowed in frustration. His horse, which Barney now recognised as a placid and rather fat pony rather than the fearsome battle charger it had appeared to be, grazed sleepily and farted. And while Barney was sitting in the field, ruminating on what he would most like to be eating – even the pony was looking tasty at this point – a girl in a blue dress was tripping happily through the field towards him.
Barney had never been in love. Girls never go for the cross-eyed one with the wonky face and irrational fear of trees and all products derived from them. One of the great mysteries of life. He hadn’t spoken to a woman except for Martha since he was fourteen. Consequently, when love hit him, he did not recognise it.
The girl in the blue dress was named Celia Josephine Brown, and her father had, but a few hours before, been holding our hero at gunpoint. She recognised that her father was an unpleasant and uneducated fellow, and had decided to make her escape. And now, while her father made his way home, unharmed but shaken from his encounter with a God, Celia whistled while she walked to freedom.
When the two met, it shook the earth. A foolish man would call it a coincidence. An educated man would call it science, and explain it by the inner workings of the earth. A wise man would tell you it is what happens when two fates intertwine. For Celia’s fate was to be saved by him.
Fates are not, as many presume, omnipresent. Neither are they unalterable. Rather, they occupy a small area of our immediate surroundings, a circle with a radius that depends on the strength of the fate – Barney’s was unusually large. They invisibly guide our actions, some stronger and more dense than others. When two fates meet, one must reshape itself, changing to accommodate the other. However, very occasionally, two fates of equal size and strength meet. They jostle for position, each seeking to prove its importance and overcome the other. The earth moves and the sky darkens and all other fates are pushed aside. This was one of those occasions.
At the moment they met, the fates of both warped slightly, and they found themselves travelling on the same path.
A third traveller was gained, and Barney fell in love.
[Word Count: 3172]
And so it came to be that Barney was sitting, stomach growling, in the middle of a field, while Sameus Rufus Pegasus (Sammy to his mother) bashed around in the fringes of the forest and bellowed in frustration. His horse, which Barney now recognised as a placid and rather fat pony rather than the fearsome battle charger it had appeared to be, grazed sleepily and farted. And while Barney was sitting in the field, ruminating on what he would most like to be eating – even the pony was looking tasty at this point – a girl in a blue dress was tripping happily through the field towards him.
Barney had never been in love. Girls never go for the cross-eyed one with the wonky face and irrational fear of trees and all products derived from them. One of the great mysteries of life. He hadn’t spoken to a woman except for Martha since he was fourteen. Consequently, when love hit him, he did not recognise it.
The girl in the blue dress was named Celia Josephine Brown, and her father had, but a few hours before, been holding our hero at gunpoint. She recognised that her father was an unpleasant and uneducated fellow, and had decided to make her escape. And now, while her father made his way home, unharmed but shaken from his encounter with a God, Celia whistled while she walked to freedom.
When the two met, it shook the earth. A foolish man would call it a coincidence. An educated man would call it science, and explain it by the inner workings of the earth. A wise man would tell you it is what happens when two fates intertwine. For Celia’s fate was to be saved by him.
Fates are not, as many presume, omnipresent. Neither are they unalterable. Rather, they occupy a small area of our immediate surroundings, a circle with a radius that depends on the strength of the fate – Barney’s was unusually large. They invisibly guide our actions, some stronger and more dense than others. When two fates meet, one must reshape itself, changing to accommodate the other. However, very occasionally, two fates of equal size and strength meet. They jostle for position, each seeking to prove its importance and overcome the other. The earth moves and the sky darkens and all other fates are pushed aside. This was one of those occasions.
At the moment they met, the fates of both warped slightly, and they found themselves travelling on the same path.
A third traveller was gained, and Barney fell in love.
[Word Count: 3172]
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Chapter 3 - A heroic rescue
Barney relaxed as he walked through the fields. Little did he know, he was about to face even greater peril. For at that very moment, just over the rise of the hill, stood Farmer Brown and his trusty shotgun.
Barney tripped as he began his descent, rolling and sliding down the steep, rough slope. He gathered speed as he rolled, stopping only when his body met a solid pair of legs. They were an exceptionally solid pair of legs. They barely staggered when the weight of an eighteen year-old boy and a great many rocks crashed into them. They were clothed in worn tweed, and each leg was as wide as Barney’s body. Barney looked up into the barrel of a gun.
“Don’t take kindly to trespassers in these here parts,” The man with the gun grunted, reaching down and dragging him to his feet. “Walk.” Barney did as he was told. He didn’t like guns.
As Barney walked, quavering, to certain death, a loud, rhythmic thumping filled the air. Faster and faster, louder and louder. The farmer stopped and held the gun on Barney, listening. From the distance, a tiny figure emerged, growing rapidly.
The man on horseback galloped in a tight circle around Barney and the farmer, before clattering to a sudden halt. He vaulted lightly from the saddle, leapt forward like a cat, and punched Farmer Brown in the face. He prised the shotgun from the farmer’s shaking hands, and stood over him, one foot on his chest, gun aimed at his head. Barney thought he looked rather magnificent. The horseman stood a foot taller than him, golden locks tossed by the wind, strong hands steady on the gun.
“I am Sameus Rufus Pegasus!” The magnificent man bellowed. “God Omnipotent over these lands! The boy goes free!”
The farmer, now very pale, nodded weakly and fainted dead away.
Sameus Rufus Pegasus sprung easily back into the saddle. He held out a hand swing Barney up behind him. Barney took it. He tried to swing up, he really did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making the effort, it was just that he had very little experience with swinging up on horses, and it was nowhere near as easy as it looked. In the end, the God dismounted to give him a boost.
“Good lord, what do you have in your pack? Rocks?” The God panted, lifting him into the saddle. This struck Barney as odd, because surely an omnipotent God would have no trouble lifting a small human onto a horse, even if his bag was full of rocks. He asked the God about it, because the whole affair was rather tiring, and if there was any other way to do it, Barney wanted to take that option.
“Well, I’m not completely a God,” Sameus Rufus Pegasus admitted. “My father is a God, but my mother was just a villager. So I must complete this mission. If I succeed, I get to be a proper God, with my own palace in the sky and serving girls to feed me grapes and everything. They didn’t say you were going to be this heavy, though. Or this dirty. Now, where’s the shoe?” With that he swung up behind Barney and took up the reins. Dazedly, Barney pointed toward the forest where he had thrown the shoe. They set out at an uncomfortable, bouncing trot.
And that is how Barney gained a demigod as a companion on his journey.
[Word Count: 2658]
Barney tripped as he began his descent, rolling and sliding down the steep, rough slope. He gathered speed as he rolled, stopping only when his body met a solid pair of legs. They were an exceptionally solid pair of legs. They barely staggered when the weight of an eighteen year-old boy and a great many rocks crashed into them. They were clothed in worn tweed, and each leg was as wide as Barney’s body. Barney looked up into the barrel of a gun.
“Don’t take kindly to trespassers in these here parts,” The man with the gun grunted, reaching down and dragging him to his feet. “Walk.” Barney did as he was told. He didn’t like guns.
As Barney walked, quavering, to certain death, a loud, rhythmic thumping filled the air. Faster and faster, louder and louder. The farmer stopped and held the gun on Barney, listening. From the distance, a tiny figure emerged, growing rapidly.
The man on horseback galloped in a tight circle around Barney and the farmer, before clattering to a sudden halt. He vaulted lightly from the saddle, leapt forward like a cat, and punched Farmer Brown in the face. He prised the shotgun from the farmer’s shaking hands, and stood over him, one foot on his chest, gun aimed at his head. Barney thought he looked rather magnificent. The horseman stood a foot taller than him, golden locks tossed by the wind, strong hands steady on the gun.
“I am Sameus Rufus Pegasus!” The magnificent man bellowed. “God Omnipotent over these lands! The boy goes free!”
The farmer, now very pale, nodded weakly and fainted dead away.
Sameus Rufus Pegasus sprung easily back into the saddle. He held out a hand swing Barney up behind him. Barney took it. He tried to swing up, he really did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making the effort, it was just that he had very little experience with swinging up on horses, and it was nowhere near as easy as it looked. In the end, the God dismounted to give him a boost.
“Good lord, what do you have in your pack? Rocks?” The God panted, lifting him into the saddle. This struck Barney as odd, because surely an omnipotent God would have no trouble lifting a small human onto a horse, even if his bag was full of rocks. He asked the God about it, because the whole affair was rather tiring, and if there was any other way to do it, Barney wanted to take that option.
“Well, I’m not completely a God,” Sameus Rufus Pegasus admitted. “My father is a God, but my mother was just a villager. So I must complete this mission. If I succeed, I get to be a proper God, with my own palace in the sky and serving girls to feed me grapes and everything. They didn’t say you were going to be this heavy, though. Or this dirty. Now, where’s the shoe?” With that he swung up behind Barney and took up the reins. Dazedly, Barney pointed toward the forest where he had thrown the shoe. They set out at an uncomfortable, bouncing trot.
And that is how Barney gained a demigod as a companion on his journey.
[Word Count: 2658]
Chapter 2 - A Shoe is found and lost again
Barney wasn’t sure where he was going. He spent much of his time sitting on rocks, carefully calculating distances, planning his path through the fields so he was as far as possible from any trees. He filled his pockets with stones, ringed his hat with them, put them in his pack. It made going slow, and his neck hurt from the weight of his hat, but it was necessary. He could feel the woodmen following him. They hid in shadows and lurked just out of sight, waiting. Every night they crept a little closer, pressing in on the barrier the rocks created. Sometimes he thought he saw the trees at the edges of the field closing in, and he gripped the smooth white stone he always held more tightly.
One day, as he spread his blanket in the field and set about creating a ring of stones around it, he noticed a glint in the grass. This was odd, because he had carefully planned his path this morning to avoid all trees, products derived from them, and humans. The first two were for obvious reasons. He avoided people not because he didn’t like people – he had always had a deep longing for companionship – but rather because farmers these days don’t take as kindly to young men on a journey through their fields as they did in the old days, and often carried shotguns. According to his carefully planned route, he was several hours from the nearest house. So deep in the hills, in fact, that he had not seen a sign of life, a sheep, a distant building, a gate, since the escaped sheep he had glimpsed in the distance the day before. So it was strange that there was something glittering in the grass in the middle of his circle. He pushed the long grass to the side to reveal the glittering object. A shoe.
This was no ordinary shoe. It was like nothing Barney had seen. The light of the setting sun caught it, making rainbows in the glass. It sparkled and gleamed, casting the light onto him, making his skin rosy. Barney knelt beside it. It was a woman’s shoe, small, delicate, high-heeled, and totally impractical. And clean. That was the perplexing part. How had a shoe this lovely, an elegant evening shoe, come to be lying in a field so far from anywhere, without getting dirty. He reached down to touch it, and for the first time since he had left the quarry, he put down his white stone.
That night Barney slept with the shoe in his hand. He did not like to let it go, in case it disappeared. It seemed to him it must be a magic shoe. All magic things were sparkly, everyone knew that. But did it work the other way around? Were all sparkly things magic? Barney wasn’t sure, but he decided to keep it, just in case. He carried it with him all the next day. He tried rubbing it and wishing the woodmen away. When that didn’t work, he aimed smaller, wishing his eyes were not crossed. He couldn’t tell whether or not that worked, not having a mirror, so he wished for some food. Closing his eyes, he counted to 10. When he opened them, his food bag was still empty. He glared at the shoe. And set up his ring for the night.
The next day, Barney realised the magic shoe had distracted him from his purpose, and he had lost his way, circling aimlessly, dangerously near the forest. The woodmen became more active near the trees. He could hear them chattering, sniggering with glee as the forest came into sight. The shoe was evil, he realised. He threw it as far as he could. Which wasn’t very far, him being rather small and weighed down by rocks. And there it lay, gleaming arrogantly at the edge of the forest. He turned and angrily marched out of danger.
[word count: 2080]
One day, as he spread his blanket in the field and set about creating a ring of stones around it, he noticed a glint in the grass. This was odd, because he had carefully planned his path this morning to avoid all trees, products derived from them, and humans. The first two were for obvious reasons. He avoided people not because he didn’t like people – he had always had a deep longing for companionship – but rather because farmers these days don’t take as kindly to young men on a journey through their fields as they did in the old days, and often carried shotguns. According to his carefully planned route, he was several hours from the nearest house. So deep in the hills, in fact, that he had not seen a sign of life, a sheep, a distant building, a gate, since the escaped sheep he had glimpsed in the distance the day before. So it was strange that there was something glittering in the grass in the middle of his circle. He pushed the long grass to the side to reveal the glittering object. A shoe.
This was no ordinary shoe. It was like nothing Barney had seen. The light of the setting sun caught it, making rainbows in the glass. It sparkled and gleamed, casting the light onto him, making his skin rosy. Barney knelt beside it. It was a woman’s shoe, small, delicate, high-heeled, and totally impractical. And clean. That was the perplexing part. How had a shoe this lovely, an elegant evening shoe, come to be lying in a field so far from anywhere, without getting dirty. He reached down to touch it, and for the first time since he had left the quarry, he put down his white stone.
That night Barney slept with the shoe in his hand. He did not like to let it go, in case it disappeared. It seemed to him it must be a magic shoe. All magic things were sparkly, everyone knew that. But did it work the other way around? Were all sparkly things magic? Barney wasn’t sure, but he decided to keep it, just in case. He carried it with him all the next day. He tried rubbing it and wishing the woodmen away. When that didn’t work, he aimed smaller, wishing his eyes were not crossed. He couldn’t tell whether or not that worked, not having a mirror, so he wished for some food. Closing his eyes, he counted to 10. When he opened them, his food bag was still empty. He glared at the shoe. And set up his ring for the night.
The next day, Barney realised the magic shoe had distracted him from his purpose, and he had lost his way, circling aimlessly, dangerously near the forest. The woodmen became more active near the trees. He could hear them chattering, sniggering with glee as the forest came into sight. The shoe was evil, he realised. He threw it as far as he could. Which wasn’t very far, him being rather small and weighed down by rocks. And there it lay, gleaming arrogantly at the edge of the forest. He turned and angrily marched out of danger.
[word count: 2080]
Chapter One - Before the Beginning
Some are destined for greatness. Some are destined for power. It is the fate of a select few to rise above and become Gods, omniscient and immortal. It was Barney’s fate to be killed by a tree.
Barney’s life had been going downhill since the day he was born. As his father sped through the rain to the side of his labouring wife, the car tyres had lost their grip on the wet road. Barney’s mother struggled through twenty hours of labour alone, and when Barney finally made his appearance, she was given the news that her husband was not, as she had been told, at the side of his dying mother, but was in fact dead himself. She reacted surprisingly calmly to the news, probably because she was too tired to get hysterical, named the baby for him, and dropped off to sleep. The nurse, who was new, and very young, took the baby from her sleeping arms to carry him to his crib, and promptly dropped him on the floor. She stared in shock at the child on the floor, before picking him up and placing him in his crib, brushing him off and glancing about guiltily to check if anyone had seen. It was a busy day for babies, and all the nurses were occupied with screaming women and wrinkly babies. No-one even noticed that Barney’s nose was flatter than before and his eyes had become slightly crossed.
Barney’s mother never grew to love her ugly son, blaming him for her husband’s death. Barney would sit and watch the other children, the ones who weren’t cross-eyed with wonky faces, with their mothers, and wonder why his mother never smiled at him, or played with him, or sang to him. At the age of four, he watched Henry, the dark-haired boy with the large, comfortable mother, fall from a tree and run crying to his mother for comfort. He came up with a plan. He would climb the biggest of the big trees at the back of the garden, and fall from the very top. Then he would run to mother and she would realise how much she loved him, pulling her too him in giant bear hug. So Barney traipsed to the back of the garden. It was a very large garden, and he was rather tired by the time he reached the big trees. He sat down to have a rest, eyes drooping. When he awoke, the light was fading, and he was a little afraid. Trees are scary in the dark. But he was committed to his plan, now. He would just have to do it fast. He scrambled up through the branches of the largest tree, excitement building. His plan would work, he just knew it. Tomorrow his mother would love him. As he neared the top, the branches began to bend and sway beneath him, and he became frightened once more. Flailing about for a way down, Barney’s leg slipped, and his body followed. He thudded and slid and banged his way down for several metres, until he was caught by a V between two solid branches. As he hung there, recovering from his fright, he realised that he was completely, unquestionably stuck. And it was getting dark.
Barney’s mother did not even realise he was missing until she woke suddenly in the middle of the night, remembering she had not given him dinner. She sleepily checked his bed, but he was not there. Taking a torch, she began to search the garden.
The shadows deepened around Barney, as he struggled to free himself. Branches creaked and moved in the dark, leaves slapping him in the face. Twigs became hands, and hollows became faces. The trees closed in on him, the prey they had cleverly tempted into their trap. He felt the one that had caught him shake with laughter, and he began to scream. He screamed until he had no breath left, and everything went black.
His mother followed his screams, finding him shortly after he passed out. She angrily freed him from the tree, annoyed at being forced out of bed in the middle of the night, and carried him back to the house. And so began Barney’s fear of trees.
Barney never again ventured near the back of the garden. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid all trees, crossing the road whenever he had to walk past the big oak tree on the way to school. The other children laughed at him, poking him with sticks and giggling when he began to cry. His mother lost patience with him when his fear began to spread to all tree products, refusing to touch the wooden walls of their cottage, becoming hysterical at night when the woodmen climbed from the walls to get him. She began to ignore him completely, tolerating his presence by pretending he wasn’t there. But Barney wasn’t imagining it.
Walking home from school at the age of nine, the old oak reached across the road for him. His teacher had made him stay to write lines, because he had refused to open his book, it being made of paper. Consequently, he was walking home alone in the late afternoon. The sun was setting, and the long shadows of the oak stretched across the road. Feeling brave, he stepped into the shadow. The old oak didn’t like that. Barney stood frozen, watching as the old oak woke up. Its wrinkled face slowly changed, eyes narrowing, mouth turning down. The tree frowned a warning at him, but he was too scared to move. He stood like a stone as the oak moved with a speed beyond comprehension. Trunk bending across the road, branches slapped down on either side of him and pressed inwards. Barney wriggled out underneath them and crawled on his stomach out of the shadow. The tree thrashed angrily at losing its victim, and Barney ran home as fast as his slightly wonky legs would carry him.
Attacks from the trees became more frequent as he grew older, and he grew so frightened that he moved out of his mother’s cottage at the age of fourteen, taking work at the quarry and building a tiny hut from stones snuck out after dark. By day he worked in the quarry, running the machine that smashed up the rock into pieces for the roads. He was comfortable there. There were no trees in the quarry, and even the woodmen, who had been growing more bold, following him even in the daytime, seemed afraid to venture into the depths. By night, he slept in his stone cottage, empty of furniture and books. He wore only woollen clothes, and took great pleasure in eating the fruit and vegetables left for him by Martha, the woman who bought his food for him because he could not get past the trees that lined the road to the market. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to eat them, knowing that he was winning, because if he was not so careful the situation could very well be reversed.
When he was eighteen, his mother died when her cottage collapsed, and he knew they were coming for him through the people he loved - for he did love his mother, despite her cruel neglect. His love for his mother took him from the quarry for the first time in four years, to her funeral. The entire funeral consisted of him, Martha, who had driven him, and the preacher, who spoke in what Barney felt was an unnecessarily exclamatory fashion about his mother’s path to the gods. When the preacher left, Barney placed his favourite stone on his mother’s grave. He stood, head bowed, for a moment, remembering with sadness her impatient glare.
On the way back, a tree fell across the road, missing the car by inches. Martha slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel. They spun off the road, skidding safely (relatively) to a stop in Farmer Johnson’s bull field.
That night, Barney packed his things. He didn’t have many – a few clothes, a blanket, some bread and cheese, and a small sack of money he had earned in his four years at the quarry. He didn’t say good-bye to anyone, not even Martha, or her husband who was chief rock-breaker at the quarry. At midnight, Barney set out on his journey. That day, Barney had realised his fate.
This is the story of how he escaped it.
[word count: 1418]
Barney’s life had been going downhill since the day he was born. As his father sped through the rain to the side of his labouring wife, the car tyres had lost their grip on the wet road. Barney’s mother struggled through twenty hours of labour alone, and when Barney finally made his appearance, she was given the news that her husband was not, as she had been told, at the side of his dying mother, but was in fact dead himself. She reacted surprisingly calmly to the news, probably because she was too tired to get hysterical, named the baby for him, and dropped off to sleep. The nurse, who was new, and very young, took the baby from her sleeping arms to carry him to his crib, and promptly dropped him on the floor. She stared in shock at the child on the floor, before picking him up and placing him in his crib, brushing him off and glancing about guiltily to check if anyone had seen. It was a busy day for babies, and all the nurses were occupied with screaming women and wrinkly babies. No-one even noticed that Barney’s nose was flatter than before and his eyes had become slightly crossed.
Barney’s mother never grew to love her ugly son, blaming him for her husband’s death. Barney would sit and watch the other children, the ones who weren’t cross-eyed with wonky faces, with their mothers, and wonder why his mother never smiled at him, or played with him, or sang to him. At the age of four, he watched Henry, the dark-haired boy with the large, comfortable mother, fall from a tree and run crying to his mother for comfort. He came up with a plan. He would climb the biggest of the big trees at the back of the garden, and fall from the very top. Then he would run to mother and she would realise how much she loved him, pulling her too him in giant bear hug. So Barney traipsed to the back of the garden. It was a very large garden, and he was rather tired by the time he reached the big trees. He sat down to have a rest, eyes drooping. When he awoke, the light was fading, and he was a little afraid. Trees are scary in the dark. But he was committed to his plan, now. He would just have to do it fast. He scrambled up through the branches of the largest tree, excitement building. His plan would work, he just knew it. Tomorrow his mother would love him. As he neared the top, the branches began to bend and sway beneath him, and he became frightened once more. Flailing about for a way down, Barney’s leg slipped, and his body followed. He thudded and slid and banged his way down for several metres, until he was caught by a V between two solid branches. As he hung there, recovering from his fright, he realised that he was completely, unquestionably stuck. And it was getting dark.
Barney’s mother did not even realise he was missing until she woke suddenly in the middle of the night, remembering she had not given him dinner. She sleepily checked his bed, but he was not there. Taking a torch, she began to search the garden.
The shadows deepened around Barney, as he struggled to free himself. Branches creaked and moved in the dark, leaves slapping him in the face. Twigs became hands, and hollows became faces. The trees closed in on him, the prey they had cleverly tempted into their trap. He felt the one that had caught him shake with laughter, and he began to scream. He screamed until he had no breath left, and everything went black.
His mother followed his screams, finding him shortly after he passed out. She angrily freed him from the tree, annoyed at being forced out of bed in the middle of the night, and carried him back to the house. And so began Barney’s fear of trees.
Barney never again ventured near the back of the garden. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid all trees, crossing the road whenever he had to walk past the big oak tree on the way to school. The other children laughed at him, poking him with sticks and giggling when he began to cry. His mother lost patience with him when his fear began to spread to all tree products, refusing to touch the wooden walls of their cottage, becoming hysterical at night when the woodmen climbed from the walls to get him. She began to ignore him completely, tolerating his presence by pretending he wasn’t there. But Barney wasn’t imagining it.
Walking home from school at the age of nine, the old oak reached across the road for him. His teacher had made him stay to write lines, because he had refused to open his book, it being made of paper. Consequently, he was walking home alone in the late afternoon. The sun was setting, and the long shadows of the oak stretched across the road. Feeling brave, he stepped into the shadow. The old oak didn’t like that. Barney stood frozen, watching as the old oak woke up. Its wrinkled face slowly changed, eyes narrowing, mouth turning down. The tree frowned a warning at him, but he was too scared to move. He stood like a stone as the oak moved with a speed beyond comprehension. Trunk bending across the road, branches slapped down on either side of him and pressed inwards. Barney wriggled out underneath them and crawled on his stomach out of the shadow. The tree thrashed angrily at losing its victim, and Barney ran home as fast as his slightly wonky legs would carry him.
Attacks from the trees became more frequent as he grew older, and he grew so frightened that he moved out of his mother’s cottage at the age of fourteen, taking work at the quarry and building a tiny hut from stones snuck out after dark. By day he worked in the quarry, running the machine that smashed up the rock into pieces for the roads. He was comfortable there. There were no trees in the quarry, and even the woodmen, who had been growing more bold, following him even in the daytime, seemed afraid to venture into the depths. By night, he slept in his stone cottage, empty of furniture and books. He wore only woollen clothes, and took great pleasure in eating the fruit and vegetables left for him by Martha, the woman who bought his food for him because he could not get past the trees that lined the road to the market. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to eat them, knowing that he was winning, because if he was not so careful the situation could very well be reversed.
When he was eighteen, his mother died when her cottage collapsed, and he knew they were coming for him through the people he loved - for he did love his mother, despite her cruel neglect. His love for his mother took him from the quarry for the first time in four years, to her funeral. The entire funeral consisted of him, Martha, who had driven him, and the preacher, who spoke in what Barney felt was an unnecessarily exclamatory fashion about his mother’s path to the gods. When the preacher left, Barney placed his favourite stone on his mother’s grave. He stood, head bowed, for a moment, remembering with sadness her impatient glare.
On the way back, a tree fell across the road, missing the car by inches. Martha slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel. They spun off the road, skidding safely (relatively) to a stop in Farmer Johnson’s bull field.
That night, Barney packed his things. He didn’t have many – a few clothes, a blanket, some bread and cheese, and a small sack of money he had earned in his four years at the quarry. He didn’t say good-bye to anyone, not even Martha, or her husband who was chief rock-breaker at the quarry. At midnight, Barney set out on his journey. That day, Barney had realised his fate.
This is the story of how he escaped it.
[word count: 1418]
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