14 June 2004 13:18
A Cornish Story
Once upon a time there lived in the far west of Cornwall a strange creature.
Human, of that we are sure, but of odd appearance. His face was covered with
hair but not much grew on his head. he was barrel
shaped and walked with a swaying motion (particularly after 11:00pm). Although
of odd appearance the creature was clearly not unintelligent as he communicated
by word and the most up to the minute forms of communication. True, his views on
life could be a little eccentric but Cornwall is known for its eccentrics.
However, despite his oddness he was generally considered to be harmless, affable
and amiable. He made friends with the local people with whom he had come to live
and was a staunch ally to them. He took their side whenever he thought a wrong
had been done to them and, although it sometimes caused him problems with the
local Sheriff, he kept to his lights. Each year the little village where he
lived held a huge fayre or fair. It was an unusual event as it often lasted over
three months with people coming and going all the time. Some stayed for a week,
some stayed for two; others stayed just a few days. Although the visitors, who
swarmed like ants over the village, were welcomed by the tradespeople and
entertainers our poor old fellow did not welcome them at all. He complained
about the numbers, the noise, the stench and the way that some (not all) of them
behaved. He also moaned about the waggons in which they arrived. They blocked
the paths, the roads and the fords. He really felt that the little village would
be better off without them. One day, whilst walking the cliffs, this peculiar
fellow came across a ring fashioned out of tin. It was dirty and very old. He
spat on it and rubbed it on his sleeve. He sat on the grass and kept rubbing
until it started to shine. Suddenly he was aware of a presence behind him.
Looking round he saw an old man dressed in some sort of robe. He had a long
white beard and, in his hand, held a tall wooden staff with strange carvings.
"You have called me," said the man. "Uhh?" replied our
fellow. "You have called me, you rubbed my ring and you have called me,
here I am, what is it you want?". Now our fellow was not as daft as many
thought and he quickly came up with an answer. "Well, it's near to the
month of June and our long fair will soon be starting, but I don't like it. This
year could you make all the visitors stay away and leave the village just for
those that live here?" The Saint (for that he surely was) looked at our
fellow, "are you sure about this?" he asked. Our fellow nodded.
The Saint struck the earth with his staff
three times. "Your desire is granted my friend, I hope you realise what you
have done." That year no visitors turned up to the village fair. The
tradespeople and entertainers stood forlorn around. Only our fellow was happy
and he eventually told the villagers what he had done. "You fool!"
they cried. "Our tin has gone, our fishing has gone, it is only our long
fair and those that it brings that keep us going. Now we shall all starve."
The villagers grew angry and hurled rock and stones and bread with meat wrapped
in it a the poor fellow and chased Adan drove him out of the village and right
up over the Tamar. As he crossed the Tamar few saw an
elderly man with a long beard strike the ground with his staff. But, they all
saw the visitors to their long fayre. The village was saved Adan the people
thanked the Saint. As for the poor fellow. Who knows?
Benatugana - Tereba nessa - Winwaloe
14 June 2004 15:21
A classic of literature; vibrant scenery, strong characterisation, action
and a happy-ending. And people you said you couldn't write for toffee!
You are the new J K Rowpullman. I await the sequel (there has to be a
sequel, it's a contractual obligation for fantasy novels!) with keen
PS. Who's this Adan person?
14 June 2004 17:31
He was included as a QC check. Not mentioned = missive not read (probably) -
One day I might even send you one of my "proper" stories!
15 June 2004 17:25
You've got the RT intrigued now! They want to know what's a 'proper' story.
18 June 2004 12:25
A piece of very good writing - they would not understand!
18 June 2004 15:23
There's nowt wrong with their writing; the abstract-naive style is all the
rage these days. Think of their scribblings as not so much writing as a modern
art installation. I don't see why cuddly sheeps, hedgehogs, dragons, etc.
shouldn't be eligible to win the Turnip Prize, every talentless baboon around
seems to have won it recently.
So, go on, then. Don't leave us on tentacle-hooks. Send us your illuminated
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