Monday, November 28, 2011

11/28/11 Written today! Lead up the garden path.

Shock, horror. I managed to post the day I wrote.

IoMANNITE: We considered trying them as witches, the lot of them, dog included. A little bit of dunking in the river* and a couple of tribulations before tying them to a stake each on the green and burning them as a true and just punishment.
But wiser heads prevailed and we decided against it. We are attempting to be modern and past that kind of small town, olde type thinking behind us.
REPORTER: Are you being serious?
IoMANNITE: Of course not, you daft bugger. This is the 1940s not the 1640s. This thing was simply a monumental pain in the arse and that isn;t a capital crime, last I heard,
REPORTER: What did he do?
IoMANNITE: Ah, now. I can only talk a little hearsay about what he did to others, but to me, well for starters he put the frighteners on my sheep. Simply by being in the same field. He would throw gravel at the house. He'd laugh during the night, you'd think it was a fox screaming, but it wasn't.
The more I say the less I find him a nuisance
"And the more I find him a terror" would be the following statement.
Also the asterix above is to remind me to check if there are actually  any rivers on the Isle of Man.
IoMANNITE is really Isle-of-Mannite.
The worst was the whispering. You'd not be able to make out words, but it was definitely someone. Not the wind. He could keep it up for hours, it'd follow you around. You'd try and find it, and it would never be where you'd expect it to be. He can move fast. One night, I was standing at the front door and the susurrus of whispering began. Tired of this nonsense, I went and found my shotgun. I didn't know why I did. It's not like I had a target to hit. I placed the butt to my shoulder and aimed into the dark. As I was about to squeeze the trigger a small hand touched the back of my knee. I just about died.
There was no one there. Anyway, I put a load of shot into the front door. The little bastard couldn't stop laughing.
REPORTER: Susurrus?
IoMANNITE: I do the crossword.
REPORTER: I think I did the same one.
IoMANNITE: Did you know he used to steal golf balls at the club?
IoMANNITE: Sure. I don't know where they all went. There's probably a burrow somewhere.
REPORTER: So, Gef played golf.
IoMANNITE: As much as any wee beastie might. He probably chases reflected light too.
 That was a lot of fun to write. There will be more to follow. There are things to be said about the family too. My beloved, Carmen, suggested that Gef probably stole the golf balls and didn't really play. I reckon he actually had a set of perfectly scaled clubs. Your mileage may vary.


  1. It was a lot of fun to read. Great job! Liked the line about chasing reflected light. lol

  2. Thank you. It's a little bit cheeky: the IoMannite is kind of the character I'd end up being. I'm beginning to think that a lot of my characters default to the word-o-phile.