07-22-2022, 12:43 PM
The farmhouse -if that was the appropriate title for such a place, wasn't what Peggy Powler would envisage for a family
that received income from rearing animals and crops. The strange upturned boat-like wooden building smacked more of
an abode for a sea-orientated household, maybe a captain of a ship with his kin waiting worryingly at the seashore for his
return.
However, Saul Pritchard's later explanation of how his ancestors had shaped his decision to create his lifestyle helped the
little Witch understand why he'd chosen to abide in such close proximity to the Great Sea and use the surrounding land to
bring food and other resources to the region. With Daisy-Maisy's swishing a beat to their journey, Peggy, Saul and young
Rufus rode the flatbed wagon down a small track to where the farmer's wife and daughters were hopefully preparing supper.
Listening to the well-built man reminisce on his past, Peggy believed the sleep beside the walnut tree had done her some
good. It wasn't just the need to close her eyes and rest her body that Peggy now appreciated, it was the dream that had
hinted a possible way of ridding Seamarshes of the guileful Gretna Grindylow. But discerning the brass-tacks of the vision
was a job the bare-footed necromancer realised, would be the crux of the matter.
"...And then when my Pa passed over and left the farm to my older brother, I thought that I should strike out on my own
and build a business that would cater for the travelling bug I guess I'd inherited from my Grandpa..." Saul Pritchard turned
to the boy engrossed in the tale beside him and ruffled his hair, "...and Rufus' great-Grandfather".
Trundling down a leafy lane off Calder's Way, Peggy felt the goodness that rode with them in the buckboard. The genial
man seemed a good person and if any attestation was needed, just a simple glance at his devoted son would be all the
proof one would require. Yet moments later, what she saw next might have negated that assumption.
The Last Witch of Underhill stared at the wrong-side-up vessel amongst the stunted trees and wondered if the driver of the
wagon had possibly been dropped on his head at a young age. It was a house, it had a smoking chimney, it had windows
and a front door. But for the shape was undoubtedly of a marine craft.
Pritchard had said his grandfather had been a sea-going chap and arriving by boat on the shingly shores of Fennon County,
discarded his maritime practices for a beautiful young woman he'd seen looking for seashells on the beach. Denying his
love for the tiller and taking up the plough, Grandpa Pritchard married the girl and built a new life on the land he'd spent
his early years sailing away from.
With backbreaking work and a lot of nous, the peripatetic sea-dog and his pulchritudinous woman became nothing short
than an intricate part of the economy around the region. The farm flourished and this fairytale-family enjoyed a fine lifestyle.
It wasn't long before grandchildren arrived and blossomed into adults, two young men called Jonah and Saul
This was the old yarn Ivy, Iris, Evie, Rufus and Missus Martha Pritchard had been told many times and that was what
they believed. But it would be later, when the enterprising man who found the little Witch sleeping amongst the heather
would unknowingly relate the real account of how his forefather had come ashore near Seamarshes.
.................................................................
Little Evie Pritchard curtsied towards their bare-footed guest and began to giggle. This ice-breaking incident came after
Rufus had enjoyed a rambunctious reception from his sisters and mother due to his return from his uncle's home. The
boy had spent two weeks helping out at Jonah Pritchard's farm and learning the ropes for when his father was on the
road delivering Jonah's and his own produce. During a private chat, Iris and Ivy were relieved to find that their younger
brother hadn't been taught how to dismember a sheep yet.
"Aye, it's a strange day when yer' come across a grown-up who's the same size as thee, lassie" Peggy quipped at the
chuckling girl. The fabled Witch was unknown to Saul, Martha and their children and that was fine with the hat-holding
woman standing in the doorway of the upside-down home. Being gestured in by the lady in the flour-dusted apron and
matching hands, Peggy forego the usual perusal of the Pritchard entrance. There'd be no twisted sixpences or knotted
ropes of horsehair to effect their new guest, only a caring family wishing to be hospitable and an aroma of freshly-baked
muffins.
Smiling at each of the pretty girls as they scanned the little woman in the dark-green poncho, the object of their interest
wondered how long it would be before the virus of gossip would seep along Calder's Way and creep down the little path
to where this clan of happiness unwittingly waited. Allowing Ivy -the eldest of the girls, to take and hang their visitor's
faithful satchel on a coat-hook, Peggy followed Rufus and his kin into a room set in the rear of this head-over-heels
home. A home where a plate of muffins resided.
.................................................................
With Martha and the children unwittingly following in their grandmother's footsteps, Peggy Powler and the man who'd
invited her for supper watched the searching for seashells on the shingle beach below their strangely-built home. The
evening was warm and yet the Great Sea offered an occasional waft to keep the temperature pleasant in a setting the
little Witch rarely got an opportunity to appreciate.
"Yer' a lucky fella'..." Peggy stated as she stirred the wet pebbles with her toes, water-smoothed stones that some in
Seamarshes believed were gemstones. "...the village just beyond yon headland is awash with foolery right now and
Ah'm' at a loss how te' fix the bugger" she offered and pointed vaguely to the tall cliffs that separated Seamarshes from
the haven of serenity Saul Pritchard had carved out for his family.
The transporter of vegetables nodded as he sucked in a great gulp of sea air. "Yes, I hear things on my travels and I'm
aware my name is not exactly the flavour of the month in Seamarshes" Saul admitted and plucked something out of
his pocket. "Avarice is something that taints all of us, I suppose" he mumbled as he scrutinised the object in his hand.
Realising that one of those precious moments had arrived where truth glimpsed out from the murky maze we call 'life',
Peggy quickly guessed his family were far enough away for her to chance a spell. Of course, she lamented the notion
of using a charm on such a kind host, but the time was now or she must let it pass by. Checking again on Saul's jovial
loved-ones, the necromancer wiggled her little finger and whispered something that was lost on the breeze.
.................................................................
They were all asleep and the upturned boat-of-a-home was quiet. Peggy peered out at the dark sea from her dangling
satchel and pondered on what Saul Pritchard had unintentionally told her. Being fully-alert from her earlier slumber,
the diminutive spell-worker hanging in the crooked tree -once again, came to the conclusion that what was believed
and what is reality, are often two separate animals.
The windjammer called Pritchard who'd come ashore at Fennon County and found his true-love, wasn't quite the brave
helmsman who his grandson had first presented. First of all, the main character of Saul's story hadn't beached, there
had been a storm and he'd crashed his vessel on the nearby cliffs. Secondly, Saul's well-told legend was absent of what
his grandfather had once mentioned to him during a day of gathering walnuts in the orchard on their farm.
Peggy sighed from wondering what it all meant. There was a route here, a way to solve the Gretna Grindylow's villainous
scheme. Dropping the flap of her faithful bag and shuffling for comfort, the little sorceress recalled how her mesmerised
host stared blankly out to sea and recited a comment about what his grandfather saw waiting for him and his pet-dog as
his small schooner lurched towards the wave-lashed escarpment.
The word he used was lizard.
that received income from rearing animals and crops. The strange upturned boat-like wooden building smacked more of
an abode for a sea-orientated household, maybe a captain of a ship with his kin waiting worryingly at the seashore for his
return.
However, Saul Pritchard's later explanation of how his ancestors had shaped his decision to create his lifestyle helped the
little Witch understand why he'd chosen to abide in such close proximity to the Great Sea and use the surrounding land to
bring food and other resources to the region. With Daisy-Maisy's swishing a beat to their journey, Peggy, Saul and young
Rufus rode the flatbed wagon down a small track to where the farmer's wife and daughters were hopefully preparing supper.
Listening to the well-built man reminisce on his past, Peggy believed the sleep beside the walnut tree had done her some
good. It wasn't just the need to close her eyes and rest her body that Peggy now appreciated, it was the dream that had
hinted a possible way of ridding Seamarshes of the guileful Gretna Grindylow. But discerning the brass-tacks of the vision
was a job the bare-footed necromancer realised, would be the crux of the matter.
"...And then when my Pa passed over and left the farm to my older brother, I thought that I should strike out on my own
and build a business that would cater for the travelling bug I guess I'd inherited from my Grandpa..." Saul Pritchard turned
to the boy engrossed in the tale beside him and ruffled his hair, "...and Rufus' great-Grandfather".
Trundling down a leafy lane off Calder's Way, Peggy felt the goodness that rode with them in the buckboard. The genial
man seemed a good person and if any attestation was needed, just a simple glance at his devoted son would be all the
proof one would require. Yet moments later, what she saw next might have negated that assumption.
The Last Witch of Underhill stared at the wrong-side-up vessel amongst the stunted trees and wondered if the driver of the
wagon had possibly been dropped on his head at a young age. It was a house, it had a smoking chimney, it had windows
and a front door. But for the shape was undoubtedly of a marine craft.
Pritchard had said his grandfather had been a sea-going chap and arriving by boat on the shingly shores of Fennon County,
discarded his maritime practices for a beautiful young woman he'd seen looking for seashells on the beach. Denying his
love for the tiller and taking up the plough, Grandpa Pritchard married the girl and built a new life on the land he'd spent
his early years sailing away from.
With backbreaking work and a lot of nous, the peripatetic sea-dog and his pulchritudinous woman became nothing short
than an intricate part of the economy around the region. The farm flourished and this fairytale-family enjoyed a fine lifestyle.
It wasn't long before grandchildren arrived and blossomed into adults, two young men called Jonah and Saul
This was the old yarn Ivy, Iris, Evie, Rufus and Missus Martha Pritchard had been told many times and that was what
they believed. But it would be later, when the enterprising man who found the little Witch sleeping amongst the heather
would unknowingly relate the real account of how his forefather had come ashore near Seamarshes.
.................................................................
Little Evie Pritchard curtsied towards their bare-footed guest and began to giggle. This ice-breaking incident came after
Rufus had enjoyed a rambunctious reception from his sisters and mother due to his return from his uncle's home. The
boy had spent two weeks helping out at Jonah Pritchard's farm and learning the ropes for when his father was on the
road delivering Jonah's and his own produce. During a private chat, Iris and Ivy were relieved to find that their younger
brother hadn't been taught how to dismember a sheep yet.
"Aye, it's a strange day when yer' come across a grown-up who's the same size as thee, lassie" Peggy quipped at the
chuckling girl. The fabled Witch was unknown to Saul, Martha and their children and that was fine with the hat-holding
woman standing in the doorway of the upside-down home. Being gestured in by the lady in the flour-dusted apron and
matching hands, Peggy forego the usual perusal of the Pritchard entrance. There'd be no twisted sixpences or knotted
ropes of horsehair to effect their new guest, only a caring family wishing to be hospitable and an aroma of freshly-baked
muffins.
Smiling at each of the pretty girls as they scanned the little woman in the dark-green poncho, the object of their interest
wondered how long it would be before the virus of gossip would seep along Calder's Way and creep down the little path
to where this clan of happiness unwittingly waited. Allowing Ivy -the eldest of the girls, to take and hang their visitor's
faithful satchel on a coat-hook, Peggy followed Rufus and his kin into a room set in the rear of this head-over-heels
home. A home where a plate of muffins resided.
.................................................................
With Martha and the children unwittingly following in their grandmother's footsteps, Peggy Powler and the man who'd
invited her for supper watched the searching for seashells on the shingle beach below their strangely-built home. The
evening was warm and yet the Great Sea offered an occasional waft to keep the temperature pleasant in a setting the
little Witch rarely got an opportunity to appreciate.
"Yer' a lucky fella'..." Peggy stated as she stirred the wet pebbles with her toes, water-smoothed stones that some in
Seamarshes believed were gemstones. "...the village just beyond yon headland is awash with foolery right now and
Ah'm' at a loss how te' fix the bugger" she offered and pointed vaguely to the tall cliffs that separated Seamarshes from
the haven of serenity Saul Pritchard had carved out for his family.
The transporter of vegetables nodded as he sucked in a great gulp of sea air. "Yes, I hear things on my travels and I'm
aware my name is not exactly the flavour of the month in Seamarshes" Saul admitted and plucked something out of
his pocket. "Avarice is something that taints all of us, I suppose" he mumbled as he scrutinised the object in his hand.
Realising that one of those precious moments had arrived where truth glimpsed out from the murky maze we call 'life',
Peggy quickly guessed his family were far enough away for her to chance a spell. Of course, she lamented the notion
of using a charm on such a kind host, but the time was now or she must let it pass by. Checking again on Saul's jovial
loved-ones, the necromancer wiggled her little finger and whispered something that was lost on the breeze.
.................................................................
They were all asleep and the upturned boat-of-a-home was quiet. Peggy peered out at the dark sea from her dangling
satchel and pondered on what Saul Pritchard had unintentionally told her. Being fully-alert from her earlier slumber,
the diminutive spell-worker hanging in the crooked tree -once again, came to the conclusion that what was believed
and what is reality, are often two separate animals.
The windjammer called Pritchard who'd come ashore at Fennon County and found his true-love, wasn't quite the brave
helmsman who his grandson had first presented. First of all, the main character of Saul's story hadn't beached, there
had been a storm and he'd crashed his vessel on the nearby cliffs. Secondly, Saul's well-told legend was absent of what
his grandfather had once mentioned to him during a day of gathering walnuts in the orchard on their farm.
Peggy sighed from wondering what it all meant. There was a route here, a way to solve the Gretna Grindylow's villainous
scheme. Dropping the flap of her faithful bag and shuffling for comfort, the little sorceress recalled how her mesmerised
host stared blankly out to sea and recited a comment about what his grandfather saw waiting for him and his pet-dog as
his small schooner lurched towards the wave-lashed escarpment.
The word he used was lizard.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.