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Peggy Powler & The Trouble At Pook Hill
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Considering her legs weren't as long as her fellow-competitors, Peggy Powler managed to grab fourth place in the
annual egg-and-spoon race of Banewood's Last Summer Fair. No trickery or majick had been used and the Last
Witch of Underhill later reckoned to herself that if she hadn't worn her hat, she may have nailed third.

But now from her makeshift seat, Peggy was content to watch the convivial residents of the reasonably-sized hamlet
wander from one tented-attraction to another. With no requests to oust bad-tempered Brownies from a home or give
advice to the worried about Buggane interactions with livestock, the enchantress privately enjoyed the peaceful vista
and the feel of her used-muscles from her recent endeavour.

Children chuckled and raced about in a marquee full of warped mirrors whilst their parents in their Sunday-best frowned
with uncertainty as they listened to a garrulous well-dressed Barker on a raised platform loquaciously assuring his small
audience that behind his particular canvas, a wonder awaited that took several lives to acquire.

"...And I can certify to you -ladies and gentlemen, the pelt you will witness is the actual skin of the malevolent beast titled
with the moniker 'Accam Dey'..." the garishly-attired flap-jaw stated. "...Remember, for only two frollis coins, you will see
evil personified in the form of the hide that the venal wearer displayed during his murderous reign" he urged.

Peggy wiped her mouth of crumbs from devouring a pork-crammed pie and grinned at the gussied-up announcer's
oratory. The wolf that had plagued the Summertide and Barnstead Counties was not inside the Barker's tent due to
the pact he'd made with a certain little Witch currently looking inside her satchel for something to clean her greasy
hands with. Until that vow was rescinded by that same rummaging spellworker, Accam Dey was bound to honour
her demand to keep clear of performing his earlier proclivities.

"...And I'm sure the good lady in the large hat would authenticate my prized exhibit?" the vociferous peddler in the fancy
duds offered and with a winning smile, raised a hand to point at the target of his proposal. Heads turned and looked to
see Peggy sitting on an empty beer barrel wiping her hands on her poncho.

Peggy gathered herself and with a friendly face and a wave of her own hand, replied "Yer' sugarplum words are enough
te' tell me yer'd nay be tellin' pecksniffians te' such a fine set of folk, me-own oath would not improve yer' claim". With that
said, the tired Witch wandered off to find something more interesting, but not before noticing a few of the assembly had
understood her hidden doubt and also left.

Maybe to visit another tent where a tattooed male will -for a single frollis, display an inked portrayal of a scantily-clad lady
dancing seductively on the man's naked buttocks or possibly marvel at a deteriorating Merman in a bottle.
...................................................

The quaint quince tree-lined avenue from Banewood to Calder's Way found a relaxed woman of picayune stature doffing
her hat to take in the late-afternoon sunshine. A Song Thrush -fresh from dining on brown-tail larvae that inhabit the fruits
of the the bird's perch, sang a dulcet melody that encapsulated Peggy's frame of mind during her amble to the sea-cobble
-surfaced road she knew so well.

Reaching the well-trodden highway, the bare-footed Wizard weighed her options on where to travel to next. Calder's Way
offered Moonlight Acres to her left, a solitarian mining community who's main export was honeystone for the jewellery trade.
Peggy had been there twice and found the village -not only reclusive, but downright rude towards outsiders.

Looking eastwards to the little Witch's right was Glasspool, a place she'd never visited and was renowed for its geothermal
springs and the curative properties from the hot sulphurous waters. Maybe -Peggy thought, her aching muscles deserved a
soaking in Glasspool's hot therapeutic springs and accepting that it would be tomorrow before she reached her destination,
looked forward to a quiet night out in the boondocks, snug in her satchel.

Sighing her contentment of her plan, she began her journey away from Banewood's last Summer Fair of the year.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe. 


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Peggy Powler & The Trouble At Pook Hill - by BIAD - 02-27-2022, 01:29 PM

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