Thursday, 13 February 2014

The White Tower - Part V

The farmer sat at the wheel. Behind his glassy cab some trick of the light gave him a greenish tinge. He wore a green cap – unless it was another trick of the light, and looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon. His nose twitched like an animal that smells something bad. Then he opened the door of his cab. When he stepped onto the grass I realised it was nothing to do with the light: his skin definitely had a greenish ogre-like tinge.

I was paralysed with fear. I lay in the gorse and nettles and tried asking the ground, fairly politely, I think, to open up and swallow me for a while. My body was so tense; it was as if I was made of wood. My heart swung on a pendulum. It's beating was very loud. If this carried on any longer I would turn into a grandfather clock. That would give the green farmer something to talk about. 'I found this here grandfather clock worrying my sheep...'

Time ticked on. I think that twenty years must have passed before the farmer grunted and clambered back into his cab. Oh what blessed music it was to hear the Massey Ferguson as it drove away and disappeared from view. From that moment on, the Massey Ferguson Concerto would always figure pretty highly in my list of Desert Island Discs.

We stood up. Leaves and grass in our hair. It was a Walt Whitman kind of experience. My body stopped impersonating a grandfather clock. The nearest sheep stopped regarding me as if it was Socrates and started doing sheep-like things again.

The tower still stood on the hill.

12 comments:

  1. DELIGHTED!!!! what a wonderful yarn.......my heart was pendulumming right along with yours.....

    ....happy for the exhale, happy for the sheep, and happy that towers still stand on hills.

    happy also for great writing....hard to pick just one line out of this prose, but this....*this* --> "tried asking the ground, fairly politely, I think, to open up and swallow me for a while"

    brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. But, unfortunately, our two dashing heroes aren't out of the woods yet, I fear.

      Delete
    2. ....and I'd almost left the theatre! Close one! ; ) ok then, refilling my tub of movie popcorn and settling back in.....digging this particular thread.......do go on.... : )

      Delete
    3. (p.s.....wishing us all "outta the woods".......or at least wishing us a semblance of a path complete with breadcrumbs and white blazes.....and trail magic....lots and lots of trail magic) : )

      Delete
    4. Hopefully these things will happen. Part of the job has now been done now that you have scattered some breadcrumbs for me to follow.

      Delete
    5. As for going on, I don't need much encouragement. Many thanks for your kind words.

      Delete
  2. awesome write, Jonathan. looking forward to the next instalment. (with a smile)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Tanya. House shaking as I write with wild storms.

      Delete
  3. I would turn into a grandfather clock.
    Hilarious!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Susan. I'm glad this image chimes with you.

      Delete

Pages

Morlock Oil

Morlock Oil
A new collection of stories available now . Click on image for details.

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery
New Chapbook Available (email rockinahill@gmail.com for details)

Furrow

Furrow
Bunchgrass Press

Essential guides for the journey...