It was the first time in a long time that she'd felt such a thing, but Peggy Powler knew right at the moment that she'd
noticed the visual-insult darkening on the craggy bark of the elm tree, the insidious wolf of Puddledown was watching
her and laughing.
Slowing her pace just a tad, the little Witch guessed in that one moment that the stain was a crude inducement for her
to display her emotions within the empty graveyard. Conjointly within those couple of seconds of awareness, Peggy
heard the words of Finley Teasel reverberate in her mind once more. "...this fiend knows you as well as you do yourself".
With a slight theatrical distortion, she whirled around and gave the impression of feminine-alarm. Raising her arms
-and at the same time, hoping no innocent cemetery visitor observes her revealing gesture, the shocked-looking Witch
gave an over-the-top impression of an exasperated vertically-challenged sorceress confused with what was going on
around her.
Bombastically stomping around the scene of damp affront and still gazing about Puddledown's only potter's field with
the masquerade of someone out-of-their-depth, Peggy hoped the monitoring perpetrator of the urine-stain would see
her display for what it really was. A sham reaction and mordant reply to the antic.
As the warm breeze ruffled the neatly-clipped grass and tickled the leaves above the assumedly-confounded shaman
the Last Witch of Underhill showed a large grin, bowed flamboyantly and wondered if a certain hidden Lupus was stewing
in its own anger right now.
The late-afternoon sunlight couldn't help but sustain a blithe disposition to anyone visiting the pastoral place of rest and
dramatically turning to leave the cemetery, Peggy maintained her smile but viciously murmured "Chum Mandy's Bull".
A slur that Carnival-folk may appreciate.
...................................................
"Well, I can... but are you sure?" Phineas Stappen asked as he poured his bare-footed guest a cup of chamomile tea.
Since moving to Puddledown, the retired bachelor had been growing his own herbs in homemade boxes on his kitchen
window-sill. The hobby had been so successful, that his back-garden was now an eternal battleground where potatoes,
cabbages and carrots fought for space against a fearsome foe of mint, parsley, dill and many other condiments.
War -sometimes, isn't Hell.
Peggy looked out of the front-window of her friend's little home and thought again about her decision to visit the outskirts
of Hexham. Walking back from the graveyard, the privately-annoyed little Witch had pondered on the simple fact that her
goal would always be one step ahead because of who she was and the now-obvious truth that the wolf knew how she
thought.
"Ah've looked at this till' Ah'm blue-in-the-face, Phineas... " Peggy said distantly, she was once more running through the
maze of rationality in her head and arriving at the same worrying conclusion. "...and all Ah' can come up wiv' is to catch
a rat, yer' need a rat-catcher" she added and smiled the smile of the cursed towards the man who use to repair things
she refuses to wear.
Phineas nodded and patted Peggy's hand, "Edmund Munday has a horse and cart that he'll lend me..." he whispered
and realised by his comment that he'd just accepted the pilgrimage he'd been dragooned into from when he'd been a
boy. "...We'll leave tomorrow morning, now drink your tea".
...................................................
A contemplating Miss Powler sipped her herbal refreshment and trawled the information on the others who'd fallen to the
fangs of the Puddledown Predator. The ninth and tenth victims had been secret lovers who's predilection towards covert
copulation demanded a discreet rendezvous, ideally out in the evening countryside.
After the hunters had been slain and the news of the horror had been spread around the village, the Elders felt that any
strong advice would be needless nimiety and so, the old men believed the seeping terror would do its work. Except -to
the pair of hush-hush sweethearts, it meant an opportunity where they could cuddle with the certainty of not being seen.
I mean, what would their spouses think if their tryst became the tittle-tattle of the village?
Mary Monkton and Daniel Duscot were found post-coitus during a rainstorm about a few yards from where the little Edith
Liddle's blood-stained bonnet was discovered. In the couple's last bond of fidelity to each other, both their heads had been
bitten off.
...................................................
Peggy stayed at the Stappen residence that night and hanging on a set of sturdy hooks in the small porchway beside
a few overcoats and the remains of a splintered walking cane Phineas had assured himself that he would fix one day,
a certain satchel dangled there with contents that struggled to sleep.
The Beast of Puddledown was besting her and no amount of prudence could bring her closer to the thing she sought.
From a safe distance, the adroit animal -that believes it can kill Peggy at any juncture, was now taunting her and by the
Witch's delay to act, also put the residents of Puddledown in peril.
Upstairs in his bed, Phineas' dreams were developing around the same unpalatable subject. Except in his, the enemy
wasn't the wolf that had tore his neighbours' cattle to pieces two years ago or decapitated the two sweethearts near the
old dolmens and mounds. In the restless Cobbler's nightmare, the creature he was running from was the one they would
be visiting tomorrow.
Accam Dey.
noticed the visual-insult darkening on the craggy bark of the elm tree, the insidious wolf of Puddledown was watching
her and laughing.
Slowing her pace just a tad, the little Witch guessed in that one moment that the stain was a crude inducement for her
to display her emotions within the empty graveyard. Conjointly within those couple of seconds of awareness, Peggy
heard the words of Finley Teasel reverberate in her mind once more. "...this fiend knows you as well as you do yourself".
With a slight theatrical distortion, she whirled around and gave the impression of feminine-alarm. Raising her arms
-and at the same time, hoping no innocent cemetery visitor observes her revealing gesture, the shocked-looking Witch
gave an over-the-top impression of an exasperated vertically-challenged sorceress confused with what was going on
around her.
Bombastically stomping around the scene of damp affront and still gazing about Puddledown's only potter's field with
the masquerade of someone out-of-their-depth, Peggy hoped the monitoring perpetrator of the urine-stain would see
her display for what it really was. A sham reaction and mordant reply to the antic.
As the warm breeze ruffled the neatly-clipped grass and tickled the leaves above the assumedly-confounded shaman
the Last Witch of Underhill showed a large grin, bowed flamboyantly and wondered if a certain hidden Lupus was stewing
in its own anger right now.
The late-afternoon sunlight couldn't help but sustain a blithe disposition to anyone visiting the pastoral place of rest and
dramatically turning to leave the cemetery, Peggy maintained her smile but viciously murmured "Chum Mandy's Bull".
A slur that Carnival-folk may appreciate.
...................................................
"Well, I can... but are you sure?" Phineas Stappen asked as he poured his bare-footed guest a cup of chamomile tea.
Since moving to Puddledown, the retired bachelor had been growing his own herbs in homemade boxes on his kitchen
window-sill. The hobby had been so successful, that his back-garden was now an eternal battleground where potatoes,
cabbages and carrots fought for space against a fearsome foe of mint, parsley, dill and many other condiments.
War -sometimes, isn't Hell.
Peggy looked out of the front-window of her friend's little home and thought again about her decision to visit the outskirts
of Hexham. Walking back from the graveyard, the privately-annoyed little Witch had pondered on the simple fact that her
goal would always be one step ahead because of who she was and the now-obvious truth that the wolf knew how she
thought.
"Ah've looked at this till' Ah'm blue-in-the-face, Phineas... " Peggy said distantly, she was once more running through the
maze of rationality in her head and arriving at the same worrying conclusion. "...and all Ah' can come up wiv' is to catch
a rat, yer' need a rat-catcher" she added and smiled the smile of the cursed towards the man who use to repair things
she refuses to wear.
Phineas nodded and patted Peggy's hand, "Edmund Munday has a horse and cart that he'll lend me..." he whispered
and realised by his comment that he'd just accepted the pilgrimage he'd been dragooned into from when he'd been a
boy. "...We'll leave tomorrow morning, now drink your tea".
...................................................
A contemplating Miss Powler sipped her herbal refreshment and trawled the information on the others who'd fallen to the
fangs of the Puddledown Predator. The ninth and tenth victims had been secret lovers who's predilection towards covert
copulation demanded a discreet rendezvous, ideally out in the evening countryside.
After the hunters had been slain and the news of the horror had been spread around the village, the Elders felt that any
strong advice would be needless nimiety and so, the old men believed the seeping terror would do its work. Except -to
the pair of hush-hush sweethearts, it meant an opportunity where they could cuddle with the certainty of not being seen.
I mean, what would their spouses think if their tryst became the tittle-tattle of the village?
Mary Monkton and Daniel Duscot were found post-coitus during a rainstorm about a few yards from where the little Edith
Liddle's blood-stained bonnet was discovered. In the couple's last bond of fidelity to each other, both their heads had been
bitten off.
...................................................
Peggy stayed at the Stappen residence that night and hanging on a set of sturdy hooks in the small porchway beside
a few overcoats and the remains of a splintered walking cane Phineas had assured himself that he would fix one day,
a certain satchel dangled there with contents that struggled to sleep.
The Beast of Puddledown was besting her and no amount of prudence could bring her closer to the thing she sought.
From a safe distance, the adroit animal -that believes it can kill Peggy at any juncture, was now taunting her and by the
Witch's delay to act, also put the residents of Puddledown in peril.
Upstairs in his bed, Phineas' dreams were developing around the same unpalatable subject. Except in his, the enemy
wasn't the wolf that had tore his neighbours' cattle to pieces two years ago or decapitated the two sweethearts near the
old dolmens and mounds. In the restless Cobbler's nightmare, the creature he was running from was the one they would
be visiting tomorrow.
Accam Dey.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.