Careful what you wish for
We finally moved into this house, it’s spacious and we love it. There is an ancient wishing well in the garden. The framework on the well is quite dilapidated and so we have to make sure the children don’t get too close to the wood and brickwork that sort of holds it together. However, I love this piece of art work in our garden. I spend time down here and take a chair so that I can write. I write stories or prose and this setting gives me so many ideas of what to write about. It’s calming to the spirit, and amongst the bird song and the sound of busy bees, I feel as if I’m in another time or Galaxy. Time is endless when I sit here.
Truth is I spend too much time down here, and I forget my duties. John my husband will come home sometimes and his dinner is not cooked. The children grumble as I forget to wash their PE kit and school clothes. One day John and I had a heated argument about me letting things slip and so I decided to make a wish; it was to make me remember the time, and what my duties should be.
I am due to give birth to our second daughter; we already have a son and one daughter.
I bring my mobile phone down here in case I start to have labour pains. I worry about the fact that I can’t get back to the house in time for the baby to arrive. Today is Tuesday and we are now in June and it is so hot.
Before going down to the wishing well this morning I got the baby’s new carriage ready, and I packed some articles to take into the hospital with me. Julia is due at any time now, and Julia is the name I’ve picked for her. John and I argued about this, as he wanted to name her Mary after his mother. I don’t know if I’m just being stubborn, but for some unknown reason Julia keeps jumping into my mind. And so our unborn daughter’s name has stuck to Julia.
Sitting beside the wishing well one morning. a voice seemed to whisper that name. And I hear it many times as I sit here. I think it might be a trick of the breeze playing on me, as it gently sighs through the trees.
This morning while writing some prose, I felt a sharp pain. I waited a while and the pain came again, then suddenly my waters broke. I phoned for an ambulance and told them where to find me, at the bottom of the garden beside the wishing well.
The breeze is playing tricks on me again and just seems to be repeating Julia’s name. The ambulance should have been here by this time, and my labour is more constant. I’m panicked as the pain is more and more frequent.
I hadn’t brought any water down here with me, and I must have passed out in the heat. I was unconscious for a long time. I don’t remember the ambulance staff calling to tend to me, and get me to the hospital. They say I was out of it for just over a month. I can’t remember the birth of our child and I feel upset by this. I do remember having some very strange dreams.
The first one I can recall, I was somewhere in a cave and I remember distinctly a caveman bending over me, and he had a bloodied club in his hand. I had just given birth in this dream, and it was a girl child. The birth happened while he was out hunting for meat. He pulled some of the meat from the deer that he had caught and offered it to me.
I don’t remember eating it, as the dream changed quite quickly and dramatically.
The second dream, I was out in the woods and witches and warlocks were dancing around naked. I could hear the chants and saw the burning torches. The chants were in a language I didn’t understand, but a name was called out in this chant, and it was Julia.
This is when a monk appeared, just as the group was calling on the devil to put in an appearance.
I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but instinct told me this was what was happening. There were some bright flashes and loud thunder, just as a monstrous figure appeared. The face was like a goat and it had hideous horns.
The monk came into the dream and offered prayers for the witches and the devil.
I felt very afraid, as they were about to sacrifice Julia as an offering. She lay naked on a sort of slab. The devil had what looked like a Neptune’s fork or trident and he ran the monk through. I’ll always remember that piercing scream. Julia, what of Julia? I saw the knife that was to be used to kill her as an offering to the devil.
I’ve always loved magic, and I loved all the fables about Merlin. I read so many stories about Merlin, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I screamed and asked for the magician Merlin to help me. When Merlin came, the dream changed again and I am with my sweetheart and we are staying in a wooden cabin. My sweetheart’s name is Bernard and my name is Julia. Something or someone mentioned Julia and this is when I opened my eyes. I felt confused at first and blinked my eyes as the light is blinding. There is some kind of ceremony going on. I asked about Julia and then noticed a priest held her in his arms. He baptised her and she gave a tiny cry.
Then I noticed the tears everyone is crying.
“What’s going on?” I asked, and John held my hand.
“Sorry, love, but Julia has just passed over, she had a difficult birth as the cord had got caught around her neck. She was alive, but severely brain-damaged. If you had woken sooner, you might have had some time with her. Her brain was starved of oxygen and they have kept her going on a machine until today. The decision was made to switch off. We didn’t know how long you would still be in a coma. I’m so sorry love, it had to happen.”
Tears flooded down my face, our beautiful daughter is gone. I held her until they took her away.
Later, and after a few months, I still go to the wishing well and make wishes and prayers for Julia’s spirit. And those awful dreams still haunt me. I do wonder if Julia has been in the world before, and I wondered how many times she’s been here. I wished she will return again with another chance for us to be together.
After six months I’m pregnant, and again it’s a girl child. Of course, her name is Julia.
She was a difficult child and would throw the most awful tantrums. I caught her shaving the next door neighbour’s cat, and when she saw me she threw it over the fence. I had to go and apologise. As Julia grew older she was in the habit of getting herself into hot water with the police. She brutally killed some one’s cat and began stealing from shops. Drink became a real problem. She stole our car and wrecked it while in a drug-induced high. She began hitting me, and really hard, she also took a knife to me and just caught my arm. My husband asked where I was getting the injuries from, and I made up excuses.
It all ended the day she overdosed, and to me it was a relief as I was at the end of my tether. It is so terrible to be happy your child has died, but the path she was walking, I believe it’s better that she’s dead. There’s nothing I could do to change her, I tried to love her, but Julia resented that love and she hated me. I often think about the wish I’d made and now I think we have to be careful what we wish for.
Josie Smith
Hope
She had passed by the village wishing well many times and never once tossed in a coin or a wish, into the centuries old landmark. Today was different. Yesterday, she had learned she was pregnant and, thrilled by this revelation, visited her priest for his blessing. Yes, the world had sometimes become an evil, dangerous place in which to raise a child but she was confident the strong bond she and her soulmate husband shared would meet any challenge. She tossed in a gleaming new shilling.
Their little cottage, nestled in the forest just outside the village, was, she believed, guarded by the elves she spotted from time to time darting through the trees. Devil worshippers, coarse, uncivilised men, were encountered, so the village gossip claimed, whenever one wandered into the primeval area beyond the sanctuary. Emboldened by her faith and the love and support of her husband and neighbours, she confidently faced the days ahead.
Exactly seven months later their healthy daughter was born. They named her, “Hope.” Over the years the elves continued their watch and the bucolic setting in which Hope grew up was never disturbed.
Chuck Wallace
DIFFERENCE
A strange little creature was seen scuttling along the main street in Whistledon. He was carrying a club and looking furious.
“Are you villagers all asleep?” he shouted. “There was a landing last night by a 3rd Dimension. There are beings among them that none of you have seen before. You all need to be ready to fight!”
Several people came out of their houses, and those who were susceptible to fake news listened and went inside to find weapons.
A monk came out of the monastery and said quietly, “Let’s not be hasty, let’s just wait and see who they are and what they want.”
The twins who were in charge of the village shop were smiling happily, “They will need things from our shop!” they said. They ran off to open up.
The creature with the club, who lived at the edge of the village and whose name was Hasty, went knocking on doors that had previously stayed shut. He soon convinced most of the people of Whistledon that there was a real threat from the supposed invaders. Soon the villagers were gathering all along the street and one man was wielding a trident.
Somebody reported seeing many little creatures with pointed ears going up into the woods to where there was a cottage that had not been occupied for years.
“Come on, everybody. First of all we will close off the well so the evil creatures cannot get any water,” said Hasty. They put the cover on the well with a huge rock to keep it in place.
The Mayor, looking like Father Christmas, arrived carrying a sparkling bomb, and raised it ready to throw at the cottage. A little boy in the crowd stepped forward. “Be careful, Mister, my Dad says fireworks are dangerous.” Surprised, the Mayor rolled the bomb in the damp grass and put it out.
Still, some of the villagers went and banged on the cottage door, shouting angrily.
“Come out, come out and face us. You don’t belong here.”
Several pointy-eared creatures came out and stood staring at the villagers without saying anything. Then one stepped forward.
“We came to help you,” said the foremost creature. “However, you are obviously not ready for our wisdom. You are not prepared to give a chance to other ideas or possibilities.”
Hasty shouted, “Who do you think you are? We are fine with the way we live. We don’t need aliens to tell us anything.”
Several Villagers began to demur and say, “Perhaps we should just give them a chance to explain.”
Hasty jumped up and down, spitting venom. “We can’t afford to take a chance. You are all so naive. If we let them stay, there will soon be more of them. They will bring their families.”
A few Villagers mumbled, and some obviously would have liked more discussion, but nobody was prepared to stand up against Hasty.
The spokesperson for the visitors was confident and calm. “Very well. We must leave you to live as you will. However, we are leaving you with one possibility for salvation. Please move away and let us go. “
The villagers divided and let the creatures walk down the overgrown path and out of the woods.
When they had disappeared one of the women led the way into the cottage. Awaiting them was a great surprise.
Inside the cottage, directly under the sunlight shining through the window, there was a cradle with a beautiful smiling baby.
Linda Dalzell 22/05/21
STORYTELLING: FIRST PRINCIPLES
Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, and he loved her and she loved him, the end.
Hang on a minute! That’s not a story!
It’s got a beginning, a middle and an end – what more d’you want?
More! What happened after they realised they loved each other… you know… the rest…
Oh dear. I was afraid you might want to know about all that. Only…
Only what?
It’s not nearly such pleasant, uncomplicated telling as what you’ve already heard.
That’s all right. I can take it. I’m an adult.
Really? I thought you wanted a fairy-story.
Never mind what I want – or what you thought I wanted. Tell me the story.
All of it?
All of it. Start to finish. End to end.
How long have you got?
What d’you mean?
Well, if you really want to understand it properly, you have to go back a bit.
How far?
That all depends…
The beginning of the world?
Now you mention it…
Really?
In some senses, yes – because that’s where we first meet two basic principles that have had such an effect on human life as a whole, and these two people in particular.
Good and Evil!?
No. Don’t be silly. Energy and Idleness, of course.
Of course…
Glad you agree with me. Because you agree with me, I won’t bother to go through all the examples of Idleness and Energy between the beginning of the world and the start of the story.
Thank you.
Don’t thank me! Thank the Principle of Idleness.
Of course.
But don’t worry if you can’t be bothered. He won’t mind.
He?
Well, of course it’s a He!
I thought men were more energetic…
Only in order to get out of jobs they don’t want to do! Anyway, to get back to our story –
Our story? I thought it was your story?
I’m telling it to you. We’re both involved. That makes it our story – unless you’d really like it to be your story… it can be arranged, you know…
Hmm… I’d rather hear how it turns out first.
Well, we storytellers don’t always believe in telling everything…
You want to let the listeners use their imagination…
Y-e-e-e-s – and also, we’re idle. Anyway, you know the kind of thing that went on… looking, when the other one isn’t…
Waiting to see them go by…
A bit of holding hands…
The kind of breathing that makes the other one ask if you’ve got chest trouble…
Sounds as though you’ve done this sort of stuff yourself…
Heard about it from friends… magazines in the dentist’s waiting-room…
But he wasn’t going to say anything, was he? That would involve him in a commitment, and a commitment is an action, and an action requires energy, and entails a whole lot of other actions…
Oh! I see why you didn’t want to tell me any more! Because there isn’t any more!
Calm down! Relax. Relaxation is next to hibernation – which is, admittedly, only a seasonal form of idleness, but if there’s ever any summer again you can claim to be indulging in aestivation when you spend the whole day asleep. You see, the good thing (and sometimes also the bad thing) about relationships is that there are usually two people involved. Two, as a rule, is generally considered the ideal number, but, the moment there’s a rule there are exceptions, and there are often twosomes who have come together expressly in order to become a threesome, sometimes a foursome, or even a moresome –
I don’t need any more examples, thank you!
Good – because you weren’t going to get any…
Because you’re too idle to give me any…
You seem to be getting the hang of this. You wouldn’t like to tell the rest, would you?
I don’t know the rest, do I? Because you haven’t told it to me yet!
You didn’t mind my trying to get out of it, did you? Don’t bother to answer, because I’m going to carry on anyway. You see, the girl was energetic, and wanted to advance matters. So, on one of their walks together, she made sure they went past a well…
Am I going to like this? It’s not going to be scary, is it? I know about wells in stories – people end up being pushed down them!
Don’t anticipate disaster! Wait till it comes to you. That way, you only suffer once. But in this case, you won’t be suffering at all. Because, when they got to the well, she just stood there, sighing a little. Well, they’d been through this sort of stuff before, and, lacking in general perception though he was, he’d gathered it wasn’t a pulmonary problem, more a cardiac one, as you might say, but his preferred solution was, as always, practical (emotions, remember, are not practical), so he said, “Glass of water? I’ll get you one!” and before she could open her mouth, the bucket had splashed down, filled itself, and been wound up again, brimming…
I thought you said he was idle?
The skill in idleness lies in knowing when to do some things, which are easy and undemanding, in order to avoid having to do other things which really do require energy.
Like emotions?
I can see you’re following the story closely! So, as she sipped the water, she said, “Actually, this is a wishing well… ” and left such a big pause that he knew he had to fill it. “So – what are you wishing for?” he asked. “A husband,” she said, and he replied, “I’ll get you one… ” and had already turned round to run off and fulfil her request, when she grabbed his shoulders and spun him round, saying, just before her kiss put an end to all further verbal communication between them, for a while anyway, “I’ll get my own, thank you!”
Ah! What a lovely story! Thank you so much for that! See you around…
It’s not over yet, you know.
What?
You might think it’s over – and indeed, the fact that the route she took on their way home went right past a monk’s cell, where she decided that they should decide to get married, suggests that their story may be approaching its conclusion – but you will no doubt remember that I talked about twosomes wanting to be threesomes… and as they walked along hand in hand, he said, thinking to forestall any further requests for action, because idleness was strong in him, “My happiness is complete, now, dear – is yours?” And her breathing became troubled (and he thought It can’t be an allergy – it’s the wrong time of the year for pollen) and she said, “I would like a baby, of course…” and he said, “I’ll get you one!” and was off before she could grab him. Well, it wasn’t that he’d once met a bloke in a pub who dealt in them and had said, ‘Any time you need one, you just come to me and I’ll sort you out…’ but he did have a cousin who was a wizard, who, he reckoned, could fix that kind of thing at mates’ rates.
But the wizard was busy, and waiting for a delivery, you know what it’s like, and he was trying out a new line in precognition, which was mostly a swindle, getting the punters to tell you things by asking clever questions that seemed to have nothing to do with the matter in hand, so when the lad turned up, the wizard said, “I know what you want.” “Do you?” said the lad. “Of course!” said the wizard. “Do you doubt me?!” in that thundery voice wizards can put on when they want to. “N-n-n-no!” said the lad. “Then go and wait outside, and I’ll deal with the matter immediately!” So he did – the lad that is, who went outside.
Now the wizard was waiting for the delivery of something special for a local club-wielding giant – of course, the giant could have ordered it for himself and not had to pay the ordering charges and the delivery charges and the handling charges and the charges charges, and the giant vaguely knew that there were other ways of acquiring what he wanted, and he would have asked his wife, but she’d run off with a load of other giantesses to found a feminist commune because they were frankly fed up with the poor quality of conversation they got from their menfolk in the evenings – and the mornings – and the afternoons – why d’you think the giants are always kidnapping normal-size princesses?
Because their conversation is pretty poor as well?
Hey – you’re not one of those subversives, are you? If so, I’ll stop telling at once…
Carry on. Please.
Well, outside the door, just about to knock, was a demon – only small and mildly horrid, nothing scary, and he was about to say, “Demon Delivery Service, package for – ” when the door opened, and a lad came out, so, to save time and trouble, he put the package straight into the lad’s arms and ran off, to get on with his round. The package in question was a cradle – so the lad drew the obvious conclusion about its contents and began to walk home to his wife, who was still living with her parents. But the cradle, which he’d put on his shoulder, to carry it more easily, began to get heavier and heavier and heavier, so he had to stop and put it down, and when he did that, he saw that the baby was beginning to squeeze out of it all round – like a loaf that’s too big for the baking tin – because of course giant’s babies have a very short shelf life and need special storage conditions – and in less time than it’s taking me to tell it, the giant’s baby had turned the cradle to firewood and was stomping off, looking for its parents…
Girl, was it?
How d’you guess?
The energy. The intelligence.
You’re learning. So the lad sat down in despair. Couldn’t go home to his wife without the baby he’d promised her. Couldn’t go back to the wizard, who’d been so quick in providing just what he wanted, because he must have done something wrong with the baby he’d been given. And as he was sitting there, up came the demon, who was also in a dilemma, having failed to deliver the baby properly (though that kind of delivery was potentially a lot easier than what we think of as the normal kind). So they both sat down together, and the lad told the demon about his problem, because that’s what you do, when you need to confide – you choose someone you’ve never seen before, and you’ll never see again, and you tell them what’s wrong, and it’s as if you’re talking to yourself, but without all the preconceptions. And all the while, the demon was looking at his badge of office – you know, the three-pronged fork, which is supposed to be for tormenting sinners, but is actually for toasting crumpets. And it occurred to the demon that one is traditionally on the horns of a dilemma – two prongs, both sharp – but that maybe there might be a third way out of the situation, both for the lad and for himself. You see, if demons do one good deed, they can start again, be born as humans, and have another go…
So the demon decided to do his good deed, by helping the lad.
“Have you got a house yet, you and your wife?” he asked.
“No,” said the lad. “But there’s plenty of space and plenty of trees around, so we thought we’d make our own.”
“Aha,” said the demon, and let the pause grow. “And the baby?” he said. “Why don’t the pair of you just – make your own?
“I don’t know how,” said the lad, almost on the verge of tears.
“I’m sure your wife does,” said the demon, fingering the middle prong of his fork reflectively, and the lad cheered up at once. “Why don’t you go home and ask her?”
So off he ran, and when he got to his wife’s parents’ house he rushed straight in and found her on her own, working in the kitchen, and said, “Let’s make our own!” “Our own what?” she said, rubbing her hands dry. “Baby!” he said, and she threw the towel aside and hugged and kissed him, saying, “I hoped you’d say that!” Is that the end you wanted? So I can go back to being idle?
Yes! Oh yes! But…
But what?
The demon… the demon who was going to be born again as a little baby…
You don’t want his story as well, do you? There are limits, you know…
No… but… was he born as… their baby?
Who knows? How could you tell?
What d’you mean?
Well – between you and me – aren’t all babies capable of being little demons from time to time?
(And as for the giant baby, and her expectant father – the lesson to learn is: Never finish a story so completely that there isn’t a bit left over to start another one… because inventing from scratch requires so much more energy!)
Mike Rogers
No comments:
Post a Comment