(01-28-2022, 04:37 PM)guohua Wrote: The stories are Very Interesting and the Characters are Great,,,,, it is a great story to read even Translated in Mandarin Chinese.
(makes it easier for me)
Then we're all enjoying it then!!
The interesting thing about the Isle of Murdigon is that geographically, it's shaped like a tadpole or slim teardrop.
Being a bane to the many vessels of the sea-faring fisherman from the mainland, the trawlers have to travel past the
rounder part of the island rather than set a straight course to the deeper waters of the Great Sea.
The island's tail-like extremity stretches out for about nine leagues northwards and has one saving grace and that is
it has a lighthouse manned by volunteers from one of the three villages on the island, a redemption due to a perilous
underwater reef just off the tip of the land.
Peggy Powler had arrived near the fatter part of the atoll and near the village of Byefleet Howe. A title derived from the
artificially raised area of land that resides between the reclusive community and the beach that endures the winter storms
that come in from the sea. The barrow or mound -called a howe, was built to protect the village from the worst that any of
the wild tempests can throw at them and of course, it's an ideal location to wave good luck to the fleets of fishermen who
brave those violent waters.
The stunted surrounding woodland seemed to have no intention on encroaching on the neat outpost and a distant sound
of an hatchet hitting a tree told Peggy that the main fuel of Byefleet Howe was timber and the cause of no such arboreal
invasion taking place.
Smoke swirled upwards from the red-potted chimneys of the village and surrendering to the occasional breeze stealing in
from over the mound, the little Witch walked in a gossamer fog and breathed in the bouquet of burning lumber. A large dark
shape stood in the empty square of the community and for a moment, Peggy wondered if it was just another of the Water
-Kelpie's tricks. Realising it was the watering-hole of an almost-forgotten legend, she smiled and approached the tall piece
of marble architecture.
Moments later, Peggy remembered another aspect that made those who lived on Murdigon a little different from the lesser
water-surrounded folk. It came in the form of a greeting. This recall was prompted by a voice accompanying a cheerful
apple-shaped woman appearing from behind the well. "Eh, are yer' feet dry enough?" she asked plainly and adjusted a
pail -of what the little sorceress assumed was drinkable water, into a more comfortable position.
Many of whom live on that part of the coastal area beside the Great Sea know of the odd ornament that resides on the
piece of land that resembles a tadpole, it's an old tale and due to its age, as just become something that holds note
with those getting on in years. Salutations in Byefleet Howe are an oddity too.
Byefleet Howe boasts a lavishly-decorated well that offers a welcoming marble winged-seraph standing with legs apart
over the stone-walled borehole with a bucket attached to a rope that disappears beneath the carved flowing gown of the
benevolent Archangel. For most visitors to Byefleet Howe, this bizarre sight would be enough to cause a conniption fit
of laughter, but to the Last Witch of Underhill, it wasn't the strangest thing she'd ever seen.
"Er..." Peggy quickly searched for the appropriate answer to a Murdigon reception and responded with "...Like a crab
at high-tide". This brought a straight-laced nod from the gladsome fishwife as she lumbered on her way with her burden
to who-knows-where. "If'n yer' need a tongue to find yer' way, me-name is Tawny Codswell and Ah' live at the green door"
Tawny informed the newcomer in the big hat.
The smiling Witch waited until the bulky biddy was suitably distanced before peering again at the unusual sculpture and
mused on the age-old outrage of why-and-how the chiselled divine-being called 'Adjef' had found her home assisting the
residents of Byefleet Howe to retrieve water from a natural source. It should be a tale for another time, but since Peggy
was taking stock of the surrounding squat single-floor houses that made up the quaint village, I believe we may have a
short moment to explain.
...................................................
Almost a century ago, a sculptor -who's name got lost in all the scandal from his creation, carved what everyone in the
county of Sandingham agreed is the patron saint of fishermen. Purchased by a wealthy mine-owner in the region, the
open-armed effigy was initially set in the opulent gardens of his home until his wife told him in no uncertain terms to get
rid of it.
It is said that his beloved was of taste and that she viewed the statue as ostentatious. Also noted in the legend was that
if her ever-pleasing husband wished to continue his visits to her boudoir, the chunk of marble needed to leave the property
post-haste.
The frugal businessman decided to place the Angel of sea-going anglers down near his mining company, where one of his
engineers came up with an idea -that to most, would be ludicrous. However, the pit-owner agreed it was a fine notion and
so an ingenious set of block and tackles were innovatively inserted into a hollow between the seraph's agape legs to be used
in the delivery of equipment down into the mineshaft. Some might think that mining-designers have a wicked sense of humour,
but it seems their employers are not allowed in on their pranks.
Of course, when the industrialist's spouse heard about the immodest contraption, the statue was taken away and dumped
onto the residents of Pucklewatch in a gesture of goodwill. The narrative states that they didn't want it and who can blame
them considering the sight of the dangling roped-bucket would make them the laughing-stock of Sandingham County.
As it turned out, the less-starchy community of Byefleet Howe proposed that such a device -and what the image primarily
represented, would make a fine froufrou for their solitary village.
After deliberating whether to install the sculpture beside a nearby freshwater pool -where Peggy believed the Hippomare took
as a home, the people of Byfleet conceded the sympathetic statue would -for some unknown reason, look better standing atop
a to-be-constructed well in the hamlet's square. The same water source that was fed by the underground aquifer that kept the
pool filled and buckets of the villagers.
And that's the tale of how Adjef the Angel now pulls water from a pulley beneath her stone gown.
...................................................
As the mid-morning sun glistened off Adjef's flowing eternally-still locks, Peggy perused the tidy traditional white-washed
homes and wondered why it seemed to peaceful. Surely the duplicitous Hippomare's antics would've fraught the folk of
Byefleet Howe to be in a state of angst and communal decorum would've fallen. Yet, the little Witch took the feeling that
these residents were unaffected by the Water-Kelpie's allurement and maybe the voyage had been for nothing.
"Dry are they?" a man asked as he passed by with an armful of firewood and after muttering "oh fur' Hernes sake" under
her breath, Peggy pleasantly replied "Like Mellifor's finger in a drought" and hoped it didn't sound too stupid. The nodding
peasant continued on his ambling route to the house with the blue door, two cottages along from the ever-pragmatic Tawny
Codswell's abode. "That'll be right then" he countered and left the loitering Witch with a look of bemusement on her face.
What was it with knowing the condition of one's feet?!
Walking past the flamboyant well, Peggy Powler continued her investigation and the impact -if any, the foul creature of deceit
was having on the residents of Byefleet Howe.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.