It was a cold morning, but then you get that, after a storm. Especially a big one. And Monday storms were known the world over for being voracious little buggers for intensity. Sam didn't mind too much that Holly was missing. After all, it hadn't been his idea for this man Michael and his dog to move in. He'd just appeared one day, with cap in one hand, suitcase in the other, pushing his way up the hall, and had taken up residence in the attic. No sign of any rent, mind. That, seemingly, was spent down the pub each Saturday. But never mind, at least he kept the garden in order. Sam wasn't known for his gardening skills.
What interested Sam this particular morning, though, was not the missing status of the spaniel, nor whether the New King might well be responsible for the inclement weather they'd been having of late. What interested him was the garden shed. It was an odd little shed, even when viewed from a sideways angle. It had a little dormer window, for one, right above the door. A strange thing to find in a garden shed. What was stranger still was the eerie music eminating from inside. That and the odd, *almost* laughter. A kind of half-cackle that just seemed to drone on and on.
Sam half-hopped, half-walked around the shed a full three times, before alighting gently on its one free (if rather battered) side. He pecked lightly on the rough metal of the shed, and then stood, head slightly cocked, listening for a reply. None came.
Sparky arrived soon after this. She looked at Sam, perched up there on the shed, and started to laugh. He just looked so ODD! She'd known him a good long while now, and yet he still had the ability to surprise her. As she watched him, first intently pecking at the ruined metal of the garden shed, and then stopping to listen for any answering sounds, she wondered whether she should tell him that she might well have had a hand in this storm. Not all of it, exactly, but at least SOME of it.
Some of it was caused by the New Monarch, who, in a bit of a huff over not being allowed to play with the garden hose, defied his mother, the Old Monarch, and used his powers of influence to make it rain - LOTS. His mother had always told him that his powers were to be used for the good of the people, not for his own selfish uses. But he was only four, and very new at being King. So it was understandable that he'd have a temper tantrum occasionally.
That said, Sparky also felt she had a hand in the Monday storm. She'd only wanted a bit of a breeze to dry her washing quicker, as she'd forgotten (as usual) to put her work blouse in the laundry on Saturday, so she'd had to wear a less-than-clean one to work on Monday, and she'd not smelt the best (and people had noticed). Thing is, Sparky hadn't been the healthiest of late, and she knew that head colds played havoc with her powers. They were hard to control at the best of times, but add a head cold or an out-and-out 'flu bout to the mix, and you were asking for trouble. So perhaps SOME of the storm (the wind part, anyway) might have been her doing.
But as she stood there, just a slip of a girl, staring at her friend Sam, still perched up on top of the garden shed, stopping now and then to preen an errant wing feather here and there, she started to become aware of a rather awful feeling seeping from that shed. A kind of dread, icy shiver that ran up and down her spine, and left her tingling with what exactly, she wasn't sure. But she knew it wasn't good.
(now back to Ceramix....)
What interested Sam this particular morning, though, was not the missing status of the spaniel, nor whether the New King might well be responsible for the inclement weather they'd been having of late. What interested him was the garden shed. It was an odd little shed, even when viewed from a sideways angle. It had a little dormer window, for one, right above the door. A strange thing to find in a garden shed. What was stranger still was the eerie music eminating from inside. That and the odd, *almost* laughter. A kind of half-cackle that just seemed to drone on and on.
Sam half-hopped, half-walked around the shed a full three times, before alighting gently on its one free (if rather battered) side. He pecked lightly on the rough metal of the shed, and then stood, head slightly cocked, listening for a reply. None came.
Sparky arrived soon after this. She looked at Sam, perched up there on the shed, and started to laugh. He just looked so ODD! She'd known him a good long while now, and yet he still had the ability to surprise her. As she watched him, first intently pecking at the ruined metal of the garden shed, and then stopping to listen for any answering sounds, she wondered whether she should tell him that she might well have had a hand in this storm. Not all of it, exactly, but at least SOME of it.
Some of it was caused by the New Monarch, who, in a bit of a huff over not being allowed to play with the garden hose, defied his mother, the Old Monarch, and used his powers of influence to make it rain - LOTS. His mother had always told him that his powers were to be used for the good of the people, not for his own selfish uses. But he was only four, and very new at being King. So it was understandable that he'd have a temper tantrum occasionally.
That said, Sparky also felt she had a hand in the Monday storm. She'd only wanted a bit of a breeze to dry her washing quicker, as she'd forgotten (as usual) to put her work blouse in the laundry on Saturday, so she'd had to wear a less-than-clean one to work on Monday, and she'd not smelt the best (and people had noticed). Thing is, Sparky hadn't been the healthiest of late, and she knew that head colds played havoc with her powers. They were hard to control at the best of times, but add a head cold or an out-and-out 'flu bout to the mix, and you were asking for trouble. So perhaps SOME of the storm (the wind part, anyway) might have been her doing.
But as she stood there, just a slip of a girl, staring at her friend Sam, still perched up on top of the garden shed, stopping now and then to preen an errant wing feather here and there, she started to become aware of a rather awful feeling seeping from that shed. A kind of dread, icy shiver that ran up and down her spine, and left her tingling with what exactly, she wasn't sure. But she knew it wasn't good.
(now back to Ceramix....)
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