Bartholomew Drigg sauntered along the famous sea-cobbled road and looked like a salesman who had decided to pitch
his business in a smaller version of Magdalene than the more populated district behind him. Maybe he was a chancer or
maybe he believed that a wide-cast net catches all, but whatever his reasons, he carried a sense of fortitude as well as
his wares. Drigg's demeanour seemed upbeat and as he hitched the large clothed bag on his shoulder, one might expect
him to whistle a tune he'd recall from his time as a towns-person.
With a derby hat jauntily sat on his head, the well-tailored merchant arrived in Salvation Row, parked his burden beside
the communal well and inspected the thatched abodes of his hopefully forthcoming customers. With a short pause and
a scratch of his unshaven chin, Mr Drigg strode towards the failing building that looked like it had once been a Store.
The structure seemed sound, but the banner above the dirt-smeared window wasn't readable and Bart dowsed his surprise
that the lettering wasn't from an intelligible language. Peggy had warned him not to show any emotion and just behave as if
Salvation Row was just another selling opportunity. Still, seeing scrolled gobbledegook where a fellow-trader's name should
be, unnerved him a little -to say the least.
...................................................
Peggy Powler slowly moved her position in the large bag and began her spell. Crossing over to another realm was a big job
in itself, but crossing into the correct one needed concentration and little more light than she was currently dealing with.
Thankfully and with a small flame from her outstretched thumb, the foot-long block of wood could be seen laying among the
few bottles remaining from Bart's great selling prowess and his lesser skill as an owl-killer.
Peggy whispered the special words and folded the block open. it was now wider. Then with further incantation, she unfolded
the well-planed ingot again into a larger expanse of wood. Then after repeating the charm she'd accepted from her mother,
the final unfurling displayed a tiny door with a brass ring attached. The last Witch of Underhill held her breath as she softly
tapped three times on the smooth surface and pulled at the metal handle.
Seeing the green glow appear as the Salem Door was opened, Peggy grinned to herself and whispered "We're in".
...................................................
Bart felt foolish for a moment, but his once-solid character of an elaborate-gesturing salesman returned quite quickly like
a welcoming old coat. He placed his fingers beneath his hat and put a hand on his hip in the act of mild perplexity, the shop's
door was open and in the shadows he could see canned and dried goods on shelves, but from his position on the threshold,
Bart gave off the feeling of discombobulation via his stance and features.
"Yer'll need te' tarry at the doorway..." Peggy had told him over their breakfast. "Callendous Vole's trap will only work once yer'
step into the immediate area that his Djinn-Kiln provides" she added and poured him refill. "The bugger's a wrong'un makin'
those damned lanterns and considerin' where he got 'em from, the price will be dear" she had declared as she and Bart had
decamped.
Now standing at the entrance to a spooky-looking chamber disguised as a retail-outlet, Drigg recalled the name that the little
Witch had told him of who the original owner of these so-called Djinn-Kilns was. 'Old Scratch' -the Devil himself.
"Hello?" he called weakly into the gloom of the store and hoped he was buying some more time for his partner in their belated
retaliation against the viperous Callendous Vole.
...................................................
The strange cavern that housed the seven huge ovens was suffused with the eldritch malachite of perfidious Elfin bewitchment.
What shadows there were, struggled in the crevices to be themselves against the rivalling seep of Halloween-green aura that
leaked from every crack of the place.
Peggy knew she was in a nasty-part of the Otherside and she wondered if Vole himself had generated the weird grotto from his
gathering of dark magic or was given from his truck with Old Scratch. Securing her satchel to her shoulder, she wasn't sure if
she wished to find out which.
Each voluminous Djinn-Kiln stood higher than two average-sized men. The lustrous metal-casing looked like brass, but the
slowly-approaching sorceress guessed that it was a casting not of her world. Repulsive runes of yore decorated the surfaces
of each giant lantern and along with the blasting heat and bellowing smoke from the chimneys, the same green glow exuded
from the hinges of the oven doors.
Peggy held back her tears as she recalled Madam Ruth Powler telling her what powered these hellish furnaces and during
their palaver back the signpost, the Fortune-Teller's daughter had warned Bart to never ask what that fuel was.
Now standing before the effulgence of evil, Peggy knew what she had to do and quickly. The Kiln before her was the one that
generated the false building her friend was standing outside of and the little Witch knew as she searched in her satchel for
the esoteric object to dowse the oven's power, that temptation was an intimate to humans.
Plucking the hand-sized vial from her bag, Peggy composed herself and using her hat as a glove, reached for the smouldering
handle. In her concentration of killing her first Djinn-Kiln, the anxious enchantress failed to notice the Dust Hob creeping from
his hiding place in the back-wall and climbing through the strange little doorway floating behind the bare-footed invader.
his business in a smaller version of Magdalene than the more populated district behind him. Maybe he was a chancer or
maybe he believed that a wide-cast net catches all, but whatever his reasons, he carried a sense of fortitude as well as
his wares. Drigg's demeanour seemed upbeat and as he hitched the large clothed bag on his shoulder, one might expect
him to whistle a tune he'd recall from his time as a towns-person.
With a derby hat jauntily sat on his head, the well-tailored merchant arrived in Salvation Row, parked his burden beside
the communal well and inspected the thatched abodes of his hopefully forthcoming customers. With a short pause and
a scratch of his unshaven chin, Mr Drigg strode towards the failing building that looked like it had once been a Store.
The structure seemed sound, but the banner above the dirt-smeared window wasn't readable and Bart dowsed his surprise
that the lettering wasn't from an intelligible language. Peggy had warned him not to show any emotion and just behave as if
Salvation Row was just another selling opportunity. Still, seeing scrolled gobbledegook where a fellow-trader's name should
be, unnerved him a little -to say the least.
...................................................
Peggy Powler slowly moved her position in the large bag and began her spell. Crossing over to another realm was a big job
in itself, but crossing into the correct one needed concentration and little more light than she was currently dealing with.
Thankfully and with a small flame from her outstretched thumb, the foot-long block of wood could be seen laying among the
few bottles remaining from Bart's great selling prowess and his lesser skill as an owl-killer.
Peggy whispered the special words and folded the block open. it was now wider. Then with further incantation, she unfolded
the well-planed ingot again into a larger expanse of wood. Then after repeating the charm she'd accepted from her mother,
the final unfurling displayed a tiny door with a brass ring attached. The last Witch of Underhill held her breath as she softly
tapped three times on the smooth surface and pulled at the metal handle.
Seeing the green glow appear as the Salem Door was opened, Peggy grinned to herself and whispered "We're in".
...................................................
Bart felt foolish for a moment, but his once-solid character of an elaborate-gesturing salesman returned quite quickly like
a welcoming old coat. He placed his fingers beneath his hat and put a hand on his hip in the act of mild perplexity, the shop's
door was open and in the shadows he could see canned and dried goods on shelves, but from his position on the threshold,
Bart gave off the feeling of discombobulation via his stance and features.
"Yer'll need te' tarry at the doorway..." Peggy had told him over their breakfast. "Callendous Vole's trap will only work once yer'
step into the immediate area that his Djinn-Kiln provides" she added and poured him refill. "The bugger's a wrong'un makin'
those damned lanterns and considerin' where he got 'em from, the price will be dear" she had declared as she and Bart had
decamped.
Now standing at the entrance to a spooky-looking chamber disguised as a retail-outlet, Drigg recalled the name that the little
Witch had told him of who the original owner of these so-called Djinn-Kilns was. 'Old Scratch' -the Devil himself.
"Hello?" he called weakly into the gloom of the store and hoped he was buying some more time for his partner in their belated
retaliation against the viperous Callendous Vole.
...................................................
The strange cavern that housed the seven huge ovens was suffused with the eldritch malachite of perfidious Elfin bewitchment.
What shadows there were, struggled in the crevices to be themselves against the rivalling seep of Halloween-green aura that
leaked from every crack of the place.
Peggy knew she was in a nasty-part of the Otherside and she wondered if Vole himself had generated the weird grotto from his
gathering of dark magic or was given from his truck with Old Scratch. Securing her satchel to her shoulder, she wasn't sure if
she wished to find out which.
Each voluminous Djinn-Kiln stood higher than two average-sized men. The lustrous metal-casing looked like brass, but the
slowly-approaching sorceress guessed that it was a casting not of her world. Repulsive runes of yore decorated the surfaces
of each giant lantern and along with the blasting heat and bellowing smoke from the chimneys, the same green glow exuded
from the hinges of the oven doors.
Peggy held back her tears as she recalled Madam Ruth Powler telling her what powered these hellish furnaces and during
their palaver back the signpost, the Fortune-Teller's daughter had warned Bart to never ask what that fuel was.
Now standing before the effulgence of evil, Peggy knew what she had to do and quickly. The Kiln before her was the one that
generated the false building her friend was standing outside of and the little Witch knew as she searched in her satchel for
the esoteric object to dowse the oven's power, that temptation was an intimate to humans.
Plucking the hand-sized vial from her bag, Peggy composed herself and using her hat as a glove, reached for the smouldering
handle. In her concentration of killing her first Djinn-Kiln, the anxious enchantress failed to notice the Dust Hob creeping from
his hiding place in the back-wall and climbing through the strange little doorway floating behind the bare-footed invader.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.