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weefatfella's (weefatfella on UKA) UKArchive
84 Archived submissions found.
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The Baobab Tree ( 4 ) (posted on: 11-04-16) Busisiwe Finds love in the moonlight. ![]() Archived comments for The Baobab Tree ( 4 ) Mikeverdi on 11-04-2016 The Baobab Tree ( 4 ) And the story moves on, still enjoying the tale WFF 😊 Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Mike. I'm still scribbling away at this. I haven't been very well recently, so havent been giving it my full attention. I'll be back to the river soon though. |
The Baobab Tree. (3) (posted on: 11-03-16)![]() Busisiwe feels betrayed. ![]() Archived comments for The Baobab Tree. (3) Mikeverdi on 11-03-2016 The Baobab Tree. (3) Still enjoying this Paul, some great descriptions. You have taken us on a very different journey with this story. Mike ps. I was wondering about the dandelion? Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Mike. I'm loving my change of style. I'm getting excited now, when a new idea pops up. At my age Mike; anything that pops up is always a bonus.The Lion's Tooth or Dandelion, does grow in S Africa. I decided not to use the former for a more fluent read. Ps, I've updated the piece Mike. The 'Dandelion' as you rightly pointed out was clunky and detracted from the story. I have edited that and tweeked a few other wee annoyances. Thanks again mate for your always constructive critique. Weefatfella. Pronto on 12-03-2016 The Baobab Tree. (3) Great, well written fable Paul I love tales like this. More please! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers mate, I'm fair chuffed you like it. I'm determined to finish this. Weefatfella. franciman on 22-03-2016 The Baobab Tree. (3) Paul, this fixes the reader. It makes him curious, yet reluctant to run ahead of the descriptions. The man, when seen from neath his cowl - now that's writing of the highest order. Not surprised she's attracted; I was! Can I just say there isn't too much dialogue and yet both characters are fully drawn. I loved the flirtatious nature of her spinning with her arms raised> You have a winner here, mate. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your wonderful comments Jim. I have to say I'm completely flabbergasted. It is however, spurring me on. Onwards and upwards. Weefatfella. franciman on 22-03-2016 The Baobab Tree. (3) Paul, I'm trying to nominate this piece, but the system won't let me. I'll persevere.... cheers, Jim Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much again Jim. My Flabber is still in a gasted state. Weefatfella. |
The Baobab Tree (Cont) (posted on: 26-02-16)![]() Busisiwe's journey continues along the river to meet her ancestors. ![]() Archived comments for The Baobab Tree (Cont) Rab on 26-02-2016 The Baobab Tree (Cont) Wow again. This is very good stuff Paul. It builds well and I'm looking forward to the next instalment. Ross Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Ross; Whit yie like? Weefatfella. franciman on 26-02-2016 The Baobab Tree (Cont) You have a great gift, pal. The voice is seductive, the narrative has great integrity, and the dialogue comes across as authentic and unstrained. On a personal note, I felt the first part needed a bit more dialogue, though I can see why that might not be possible! Looking forward to more of this. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: ![]() Jim, you have cheered me no end mate. The purpose of critique, as far as I've learned is to help the writer to learn and improve. Another great effect of constructive critique is to encourage the writer. This you have accomplished in spades Jim. Thank You again. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 27-02-2016 The Baobab Tree (Cont) Got to say this is so different from you Paul. I like the way the story is building; theres a magical, maybe spiritual element running through it. Clearly this is more than a 'short', so looking forwards to more. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Mike for taking the time to read and more importantly, to comment. I'm really enjoying this one. There's a bust of an African woman on the sideboard across from me as I write. ( bust being the operative word. The family call her 'The Boobies.) Maybe she is exerting her 'fluence' on me. I hope you're feeling well today mate. Keep up the fight. Weefatfella. Weefatfella on 28-02-2016 The Baobab Tree (Cont) ![]() Thank you very much to the 'Nibber' whoever he/she may be. I'm always pleased and encouraged to receive it. Weefatfella. Author's Reply: |
The Baobab Tree. (posted on: 26-02-16)![]() The Baobab on seeing his reflection in a lake. Complained to the creator that he was not as pretty as the other trees. After the trees constant and bitter complaints, an exasperated God pulled the tree out of the ground and replanted it upside down. The tree could not see himself or the other trees ![]() Archived comments for The Baobab Tree. Rab on 26-02-2016 The Baobab Tree. Wonderful writing Paul. Totally immersive and vivid. I want to read more. Ross Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very Much, Ross, for your very kind comment, I'm fair chuffed indeed. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 26-02-2016 The Baobab Tree. Wow! On to part two, full comments after that young Paul. So pleased to see and read your work again. Mike ps. If any lizards turn up in the lake.....😊 Author's Reply: ![]() This began as a comedic take on the differences between men and women shopping.I believe, though, that the story takes on a life of its own and must be allowed to do so. I just followed along. Thanks very much for your encouraging comments Mike. If any lizards pop up here, it's your fault mate. PS. Are crocodiles lizards? Weefatfella. Weefatfella on 28-02-2016 The Baobab Tree. ![]() Thanks to you! the Nibberoo! Weefatfella. Author's Reply: |
Secrets (posted on: 14-09-15) The women in my family hold secrets especially tightly. ![]() Archived comments for Secrets Ionicus on 15-09-2015 Secrets No matter how hard one tries to hide a secret, the truth will out. Good and rhythmical rhyming Paul. Well done and deserving of few more comments and a 'nib'. Cheers, Luigi Author's Reply: ![]() Gracie Luigi. It's a new venture for me As you know. With you mentioning the nib; it's there! sweetwater on 15-09-2015 Secrets Excellent opening first line,' They were all overcome with secrets and whispers' reminded me of Victorian ladies taking afternoon tea, lovely. Great flow and rhyme, interesting storyline kept me keen to know more as well. π Sue. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your kind comments, Sue. Weefatfella. Bozzz on 16-09-2015 Secrets I always find that people find these family likenesses as pleasant surprises. My own reaction is that I would be very concerned indeed if I did not look like a close relative - the implication being that some infidelity has crept in. But Paul you tell it all so beautifully. Bravo to your nose. Yours, David Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much, David. If there is any infidelity I'll be sure to sniff it out. Weefatfella. Kipper on 17-09-2015 Secrets Great writing Paul. Presented as a short story and yet the poetic rhyme and rhythm were there throughout. I liked the way it seemed to break through at the end. Lots of pictures in there too to add the the fun, and you didn't have to search for them. More like this please! Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks very much, Michael. Thanks for your supportive comments. I'm really chuffed you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. |
The Hill. (posted on: 11-09-15)![]() A wee insight into the pleasures of walking slowly. ![]() Archived comments for The Hill. sweetwater on 11-09-2015 The Hill. Oh I love it! The picture doesn't do it justice, you put so much more in front of my eyes with your words than the photo ever could. Every detail you described came alive. And the jogger well, what can one say! :-)) I actually laughed out loud at your last line didn't expect that. Great read, as the nib proves. Sue. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks very much Sue. This rhyming lark is all new to me. The only poetry I have ever really read is on here and other writing sites. Well, Apart fae Rab the ranter. Robert Burns. I'm really pleased you enjoyed this stuttering attempt and you honour me indeed madam by taking my story into your favourites, thank you very much. Weefatfella. MrMarmite on 12-09-2015 The Hill. Hi. Like Sue I really enjoyed this as at first I thought it was a short story then realized it was a poem.As I love walking and get inspiration when I'm on a good walk,this is right up my street.Great writing ! Cheers. Kevin. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Kevin. I have difficulties while walking, especially uphill. This was inspired by a walk uphill to the digs in Bowness on Windermere. It was quite a climb. Thanks again for your supportive comment. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. Pronto on 14-09-2015 The Hill. Very entertaining format the word picture superb and the bite-in-the-arse ending a joy. Right, bugger off and get the wine delivered before she comes to get yer! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks very much Tony. This is a new thing for me these wee 'Pomes'. I'm pleased you got something from it. Weefatfella. shadow on 17-09-2015 The Hill. Could really identify with this, sounds exactly like me on hills, right down to being shown up by a geriatric.Very funny. Author's Reply: ![]() Hi, Shadow, thanks for your very kind comment. Aye, hills are a bugger. so are fit geriatrics. Weefatfella. |
Awakening (posted on: 04-09-15) The fortress at Sinai has been destroyed. Aaron blames his complacency and naivety. After some deep soul searching, he reaches a new resolve and comes to a new awareness. ![]() Archived comments for Awakening Mikeverdi on 06-09-2015 Awakening I liked this Paul, the concept is different and the story is well handled.....I'm not sure about the birds, for me this needs a better explanation, just doesn't flow. It maybe better in the context of the whole book? I still think I would like more 😊 Mike Author's Reply: ![]() You're right Mike. I will have to edit in a better explanation of why Lucifer wants souls etc. I'll do that at a later date. I am too impatient with this. Thanks for spotting it and being so honest. I have removed it and edited to suit. Weefatfella. |
Curiosity (posted on: 28-08-15) I attempted this wee tale a couple of years ago. I felt it needed better representation. I hope whoever reads it enjoys it. It's mostly true. ![]() Archived comments for Curiosity Mikeverdi on 28-08-2015 Curiosity Enjoyed the read, as I do all of your mad stories. It had to be something at the end like that, but despite that knowledge, I still (like him) needed to know HaHa! If you want critique, find someone else. π Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks mate. I appreciate you taking the time to drop by. Weefatfella. Rab on 28-08-2015 Curiosity I nearly saw it coming Jim! Did this happen where Morrisons now stands by any chance? Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks, Rab. Good God man. You've surprised me there. I worked for North British Steel Group, at Armadale works. The new Morrisons store is on the site of the Bathgate plant. The company owned both foundries. the Menzies family ran the company as a family business for many years. The supermarket sits on Menzies Road named for the obvious. Aye! you sure surprised me there. Weefatfella. pommer on 30-08-2015 Curiosity Well Weefatfella,I really enjoyed the well written account of the furnace,and the suspense would not let me stop reading.I could see something like the end coming, but I would not have been able to guess.Be lucky,Peter. PS.I shall be watching the tattoo on the box tomorrow like always.I still remember Edinburgh from my POW days up there. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your supportive comments, Peter. I'm pleased you enjoyed my wee indulgence. Weefatfella. Popeye on 08-09-2015 Curiosity Even though we all know there will be a twist in the tale, the fascination is in finding out, enjoyed the read (served ya right for being nosey) π Author's Reply: Aye! A'm right nosey bugger me. Thanks for taking the te tae drop by Popey. I hope yir good self, Olive and Sweepee are well. Weefatfella. |
The Light (posted on: 21-08-15) These wee pomes have been running about my head for some time. I felt I had to get them out. ![]() Archived comments for The Light Mikeverdi on 21-08-2015 The Light Clearly they are putting something in the whiskey north of the wall. Maybe it's Cameron slipping a little something into the mix. Or maybe you should stop smoking that new brand you're on. HaHa! Mike Author's Reply: You're spot on Mike. It's me that's putting something in the whisky; more bloody whisky. Thanks for taking the time to read snd comment Mike. You know it's appreciated mate, Paul H. Weefatfella. Kipper on 22-08-2015 The Light Missed it all myself. "See it tomorrow night" I said. I mean three o'clock in the morning. Well now, that's a gap filled; thanks Paul. Michael. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for dropping by Michael, Set your alarm for two, then you can't miss it. Mind yie.some can never see the light. Weefatfella. |
A'm No Gaun. (posted on: 17-08-15) You don't have a choice. When the bell tolls. ![]() Archived comments for A'm No Gaun. Mikeverdi on 17-08-2015 Am No Gaun. Bugger, that raised a lump in my gullet at the end. Been a lot of that weird lingo from North of the Wall on the site recently HaHa! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Mike. I'm bliddy shocked. I'm certain I got back to you on this. My Profound apologies Mate. Thank you very much for reading this drivell. Aye there hus bin a wee bit ae Northern banter flyin aboot UKA. That's only because aw yeez urr meetin in Bristol. and ma passport's run oot. Have a great time there Mike. I'm sure with yir wee self runnin the thing It'll be a good weekend. Awrrabest Weefatfella. Andrea on 17-08-2015 Am No Gaun. Ooooh, I wonder what gwirionedd will say?? Author's Reply: Hi boss, nice to hear from you again. Thanks for popping by. As for gwirioned....fit's thone loon daein jookin aboot here. Gang yir way ya wee numpty... Or words to that effect. Weefatfella. Andrea on 17-08-2015 Am No Gaun. Here's one of his, WFF, thought you might enjoy it π Dalriada Author's Reply: chant_z on 18-08-2015 Am No Gaun. Very refreshing lore to me. It's unusual here as far as I've seen. Liked it a lot! Witty in a way. Thanks! Author's Reply: Thank you very much for dropping by chant_z and for your supportive comments. They are appreciated. Weefatfella. pommer on 20-08-2015 Am No Gaun. Well, I really enjoyed reading this well constructed piece of poetry.I had no problem reading it in spite of the Scottish brogue.Having read a lot of Rabbie Burns made it easier.Thank you for sharing.Be lucky, Peter. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much, Peter, for taking the time to read this wee indulgence. I thank you very much for that, and for your supportive and kind comment. Please drop in again. Weefatfella |
Mary's Naughty Pal. (posted on: 17-08-15) Jist a wee bit ae nonsense. ![]() Archived comments for Mary's Naughty Pal. Pronto on 18-08-2015 Marys Naughty Pal. Delightfully daft draught my friend. Wheel may ye're sporran spin! Author's Reply: ![]() Aye!Thank you very much. When this rubbish gets inside my head I have to push it out. Thanks for reading P, And more importantly for commenting. Weefatfella. pommer on 20-08-2015 Marys Naughty Pal. I am glad you pushed this rubbish, as you call it, out.I enjoyed reading it. Well done Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Peter. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. |
The Spider Doors (posted on: 10-08-15)![]() Another excerpt from the larger piece New Freedom...A working title Leathig has been delivered into the hands of Asmodene at his stronghold of Dihabal Pollag. ( Devil's Pit.) ![]() Archived comments for The Spider Doors Mikeverdi on 10-08-2015 The Spider Doors Hello mate, I have a suggestion/critique, there are too many uses of the word 'Thin'. In the first six lines you have it Four times, at least twice it's not needed. Just saying. Its (as usual) only my opinion, and you can tell me to piss off π ps It is a great story though, and I would like to read more. Your Friend Mike Author's Reply: Cheers Mike, well spotted. I've obliterated it. with your help here mate I believe this piece has improved a great deal Thanks again. Yir wee fat pal; Weefatfella Mikeverdi on 11-08-2015 The Spider Doors Thanks for the confidence in my critique Paul. As I said, I liked it, and now I like it better HaHa! More please π Mike Author's Reply: Kipper on 27-08-2015 The Spider Doors Wow! Whatever else it's quite a read. I think perhaps I need a second go at it. Just one thing I would say, although I'm sure many will disagree, is that the use of the F expletive was somewhat overdone. Sometimes less is more. Perhaps this time. Your depiction of the troll world is very graphic which fans of this genre will appreciate. Not quite my cup of tea Paul, but that is me not you, though still I say WOW Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Michael, Thank you for your 100% spot on critique. I was attempting to use the expletives as a tool to help make the trolls obnoxious. You are right, on re-reading and subsequently editing. I find the piece much improved. Thanks again Michael. Weefatfella. |
Ayr at the fair (posted on: 31-07-15) Memories of the beach at Ayr, are embedded deep in every child born west of Shotts. East of Shotts; it's Portobello. ![]() Archived comments for Ayr at the fair dylan on 01-08-2015 Ayr at the fair Hi, mon ami. Like most Weegies, the Ayrshire coast is imbedded in my psyche-(think that`s what it is!) This brings back memories-especially day-trips on Fair Monday, which almost inevitably, ended up in Ayr. Jan and I still go down regularly-there`s a nice wee pub called The Wellington in (ahem) Wellington Square just off the sea front. (I ended up busking at the front earlier this year. Nuff said!) Anyhoo, nice rhythmn and evocative imagery. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: Cheers D, I believe this piece can be best appreciated by,as you say Weegies,and their close cousins from the Shire. Thank you for reading and more importantly commenting. Thank you for dropping by. sweetwater on 01-08-2015 Ayr at the fair Well I managed to decipher the foreign language enough to have a very enjoyable and memory filled read. Have never been anywhere near Ayr, but seasides' are magical anywhere when you are young. Loved every line π Sue. Author's Reply: Thank you very much for reading Sue, and for your encouraging comments. I think your right about the 'Seaside' it is a magical place. Weefatfella. pommer on 02-08-2015 Ayr at the fair Lovely to see you back Weefatfella,and once again in your amusing style. Never been to Ayr, spent my time as a prisoner of war near "Old Reeky" .You prompted me to look up Ayr, and to admire that fantastic beach. I have always loved the sea, having been born at the Baltic many years ago.I enjoyed reading your piece, Be lucky, Peter. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your comments Peter, I'm pleased you enjoyed it. I hope you were well treated by the Edinburgh folk, they can be a wee bit strange. Weefatfella. |
Waifs and Stragglers. (posted on: 29-05-15)![]() Working in the wee sma hours in a taxi can be stressful. Working in the early morning when the drunks have nearly recovered is hilarious. ![]() Archived comments for Waifs and Stragglers. Mikeverdi on 29-05-2015 Waifs and Stragglers. Oh it's good to read your manic writing again, 'Tales from the Taxi'..love them HaHa! Mike Author's Reply: Thanks very much Mike. I'm pleased you had a larf! Weefatfella. pommer on 29-05-2015 Waifs and Stragglers. Hi Mate, I really enjoyed this one.Like the style in which it is written.Peter. Author's Reply: Hi! Peter, thank you for popping round, and for your supportive comment. Please call again. Again. Weefatfella. deadpoet on 31-05-2015 Waifs and Stragglers. Hi do you always write in Scottish? I liked reading it- and could understand almost every word luckily. Good cabby story. My Dad was a cabby way back in the 50's-60's in Sydney Australia. I used to nick a penny or two from his small change bag when it hung in the closet. He never mentioned it. Thanks for a bit of fun and suspense. Very good. Pia xx Author's Reply: Hi Pia, Thank you very much for your kind comments. My daughters used to pinch a shilling or three from my float on occasion. Like your Dad I say nothing. It's why its there. Weefatfella. |
Quillibet (posted on: 15-05-15) From New Freedom An explanation for the seven year old boy sitting on the throne in 'Asmodene' the previous excerpt. ![]() Archived comments for Quillibet Mikeverdi on 15-05-2015 Quillibet Beautifully weird, and so you. Great stuff mate, fits the last posting like a glove. Mike Author's Reply: You know what Mike? The truth will out, and you have just outed it. Thank you for your honesty mate! Weefatfella. Rab on 18-05-2015 Quillibet And there is more! Mike's just said it all, and I agree entirely. Ross Author's Reply: I'd rather be a wee bit different. If that's weird, then so be it. Thank you for taking the time to pop in mate. Weefatfella. deadpoet on 11-06-2015 Quillibet The very birth and the Creator- this is very good and I agree with the others- a beautiful and expressive follow up to Asmodene. Quite a powerful birth of Quillibet- masterly penned- seems like your imagination is flying and flowing.. brilliant WFF- keep writing- Author's Reply: Thanks again Pia. What can a soldier do when asked to charge when out of breath? (Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus) |
Asmodene (posted on: 11-05-15) A continuation of "New freedom" a working title. Asmodene. God has broken his pact with the devil. His intervention by using Leathig,and by setting the ten plagues on the Egyptians has allowed Lucifer to retaliate. The battle begins for the souls of the Hebrews. Asmodene, his most powerful demon, has been summoned to lead the fight. ![]() Archived comments for Asmodene Andrea on 11-05-2015 Asmodene How brilliant to see you back, WFF! We've missed you. Hope you're all well π Author's Reply: Thanks Andrea. I gave up on the illuminated manuscript. I kept making mistakes. My drawing in my opinion, improved,but my punctuation has remained suspect. I hope all you lot are still maintaining robust and extremly rude health. Thank you again for the lovely welcome back. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 12-05-2015 Asmodene Just great to see you back WFF!;-))) This is a more serious style for you but just incredible writing IMHO. Alison x Author's Reply: Thank you very much indeed Alison for your heartlifting comments. I was feeling a wee bit petulant there. My bottom lip wiz stickin oot like a vanity sink. You've brought me back to my senses. I'll sharpen ma pinsul and hopefully ma wits alang wie it and git the heid doon and the erse up and continue with what I started. Again Alison thanks a million. X Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 12-05-2015 Asmodene HaHaHa! You piss off to do some scribbling with a fancy pen for a few months, then come back to show how it'd all done again. I hate kids like you! Welcome back you little fat bugger, great story π Mike Author's Reply: Mike, ya bugger yie. It's great to be the subject of your sharp tongue again. I love it. I'm hoping to make the aquaintance again of our mutual friend Webber. Holy shiny stuff but you've been busy. Lookong forward to hearing from all you reprobates again. Weefatfella! pommer on 13-05-2015 Asmodene Hi Weefatfella,great to see you back and in form.A well written story.It is not the sort of story I would normally read, but I could not resist this one,as it was so well written. Be lucky, Peter. Author's Reply: Cheers Peter. Thanks for your kind comments. Weefatfella. Rab on 18-05-2015 Asmodene Great to see you back weefatfella, we've missed you. A strong one to come back with too, filled with mysticism. I look forward to more! Ross Author's Reply: It's an ongoing project Rab. I've a fair idea where it's going. I'll just follow along. Thanks again Rab. Weefatfella. deadpoet on 10-06-2015 Asmodene I saw this up last month and didn't think I could get into it! How wrong I was! It's marvellous WFF! Thanks for an exciting read. Is there more somewhere? I hope so! Author's Reply: What an amazingly supportive comment Pia. Thank you very much indeed. This has inspired me to take up the quill and wrestle once more with this dream of mine. In answer to your question. I'm hoping to extend 'New Freedom' into a series of novels on the history of the Scots as i see it. All very grand and self indulgent I know, but we all have dreams. Once again Pia, thank you. |
Where To Sir? (posted on: 21-07-14)![]() The people I meet as a taxi driver never ceases to amaze me. In this job I can be taken from the mundane to the fantastic, in the same hour. here is a small example. I have illustrated this piece to the best of my ability. I hope you at UKA will enjoy it. Paul H Weefatfella. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Where To Sir? jay12 on 05-11-2014 Where To Sir? This is a very sad story indeed. But I know how he feels. I'd go back to the year 2000. Everything was much better then. I've seen far too much loss over the past 14 years and would give anything for just one weekend back at the turn of the century. Nice work man! Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Jay, sorry I've taken so long to reply to your comment. Aye,It's always nice to peer back to the past and the seemingly better times. I think we all have a place in time we like to reflect on. I'm pleased you enjoyed the tale. ( It's nearly true). Weefatfella. |
A Miracle at Midnight. (posted on: 02-12-13)![]() A rewrite for Christmas. ![]() Archived comments for A Miracle at Midnight. Mikeverdi on 02-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. A true Christmas tale, nice one Paul. I've asked father Christmas for you're book in my stocking :0) Mike Author's Reply: ![]() http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mair-Weefatfellas-Weavings-Wondrous-Weavings-ebook/dp/B00EMZPY8W Kipper on 02-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. Hi Paul You\'ve done it again. A good story well told and with a nice Christmasy twist. I love the detail and the true sounding dialogue. I did have a little difficulty here and there but as I have a sister-in-law from Walls End I imagined her telling the story. Worked fine. Michael PS Edit. The illustration is great. Is it your own artwork? Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Michael for your lovely comments. The Scottish vernacular is my trademark here. It's getting so I find it difficult to explain myself in any other medium. The sketch is from the internet, I wish I could draw as well. Thank you again for popping by, I do appreciate you reading, and your comments. Weefatfella. bo_duke99 on 02-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. a great Christmas tale, some really arresting images, and the imagined witches etc. was brill, nice one man - Greg Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for dropping by Greg, and for your supportive comments. Weefatfella. Pronto on 03-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. Och aye, it was a smashing Christmas tale well told as usual Paul. Well done mate Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Pronto, I;m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, commenting and for your very generous rating...shuks! Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 03-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. Nice one. Good bit of Christmas cheer. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers OP pleased you were cheered mate. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 04-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. A nice zippy wee tale, Paul. Good all round. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for dropping by luigi always appreciated. Grazie. Weefatfella. pommer on 04-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. Hi WFF,what a lovely Christmas story.When first reading it I found it quite eerie.I was able to picture the scene, and the sense of foreboding,but then the excellent finish.All I can say i enjoyed your story.Well done my friend. Have a lovely Christmas and a good New Year. Pommer Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Pommer, for your kind comments and your very generous rating. I wish you and yours the compliments of the season. I hope Santa is good to you. Weefatfella. Rab on 04-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. Nice one Paul, the characterisation and suspense raise it above the expected Christmas fare. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Rab. I'm fair chuffed you enjoyed it. As a taxi driver Rab, I'm expecting a few fares this Christmas. Weefatfella. BigIan on 06-12-2013 A Miracle at Midnight. It drew me in - spooky and then warmth! You caught us out you swine! Well done WFF! I can't write any tales for anticipating your next one! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Ian, you're very gracious. Thank you also, for your very generous rating. Weefatfella. Weefatfella on 13-05-2014 A Miracle at Midnight. ![]() Thank you very much indeedy for your nomination. I'm fair chuffed. Weefatfella. Author's Reply: Skytrucker on 25-06-2014 A Miracle at Midnight. Excellent! A brilliant offering frae a fellow Scot! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks mate I'm glad you enjoyed it. |
Auld Bill. (posted on: 22-11-13)![]() Old cabbies don't die. They just get flagged down. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Auld Bill. Mikeverdi on 22-11-2013 Auld Bill. Just love you're taxi stories Paul, good to see you back on form mate (and not a lizard in sight!) Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Aye. A'm no finished wie they buggers yit Mike. Thank you very much Mike for you unflagging support. Yir A Mate. Weefatfella. BigIan on 22-11-2013 Auld Bill. Don't know where that came from Paul, but well done. A brilliant read matey! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Ian and thanks for your very generous rating. It's appreciated. Weefatfella. Kipper on 23-11-2013 Auld Bill. Another great story Paul (hope you don't mind) and I'm getting the hang of the accent now. One thing. I'd like to know what the mechanic knew at the end. An intentional tease perhaps, or did I miss something? Great writing-worth a ten. Michael Author's Reply: Kipper on 23-11-2013 Auld Bill. Another great story Paul (hope you don't mind) and I'm getting the hang of the accent now. One thing. I'd like to know what the mechanic knew at the end. An intentional tease perhaps, or did I miss something? Great writing-worth a ten. Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Michael. Thank you for reading and for taking a further interest in the story. Philip and indeed everyone in the garage know about Auld Bill, >>The mechanics stood as if to attention as the old Matriarch cruised into the car park.<< Like all ghost stories,the people directly involved never want to talk about it. Philip knew the story and he Knew Auld Bill in life.>> β Did he have a white cap and purple tinted glasses oan and wiz he wearin a red leather jacket wie patches?β << I hope this clears things up fur yie Michael. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 23-11-2013 Auld Bill. A good story, well told. The FX4 was the last of the real taxis I reckon. Well done. Author's Reply: ![]() Aye yi'r right OP, although there is a strong argument for the TX1 with the 2.700 Nissan. Thank you for dropping by mate. I appreciate you doing so and fighting with the auld Scots dialogue. Weefatfella. pommer on 23-11-2013 Auld Bill. What a great story Paul, as usual.Had me gripped all the way through.I love ghost stories, as we were always telling them around the fireplace in my old home. Well written.By the way, I still have my old black bomber jacket from my days as an older rocker.Well written and most entertaining. Author's Reply: ![]() Pommer, thank you very much, both for your wonderful comments and your very humbling and generous rating. This didn't start as a ghost story but maybe Auld Bill took a hand? Thanks again mate. Weefatfella. Kipper on 23-11-2013 Auld Bill. Thanks for the explanation Paul. I knew it was a ghost story of course; just wasn't sure if 'they' did. BTW it look as though I forgot to click on a number. I'll do it now! Cheers again, Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Michael. Thank you for your very generous rating. A'm ower the moon. Weefatfella. orangedream on 25-11-2013 Auld Bill. Enviably good writing. More than enjoyed. Tina Author's Reply: ![]() Why thank you madam. ( Doffs his panama in a wide extravagant sweep) Weefatfella. ValDohren on 28-11-2013 Auld Bill. Ooooh now I'm scared of taxis !! Another great story Paul. Val :-{ Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Val, your comments are always appreciated. Weefatfella. |
A Fool and His Money. (posted on: 11-11-13)![]() Sometimes you have to be the Captain of the ship. ![]() Archived comments for A Fool and His Money. Rab on 11-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Nice story Paul, with the ring of truth about it. Makes me glad that I don't go to clubs any more! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Rab. It's all made up mate. There is no pub as far as I believe, on Lothian road call Fiery Jacks. It's a great compliment that it rang true though. Cheers Rab, thanks for dropping by and for your great comments. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 11-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Bloody hell Paul! I was thinking of coming up for a drink or three.... but you seem like a bunch of light weights Ha Ha! Mike regards to 'the sweetness' Author's Reply: ![]() Hello Mike. Great to hear from you again. Thank you for asking after Theresa. She's, as usual tip top thankfully. Please take my serious and best regards to Lesley, I hope she's well. Thank you for your amazing support, your generous rating and Humorous comment. Cheers Mate. Weefatfella. Kipper on 12-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Another cracking story - I think. Very descriptive; I could almost smell it. Nice dialect too, not overdone for the rest of us, even though there was the odd passage I had to read twice. Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Michael. I'm really pleased you enjoyed this. Thank you for reading and more importantly for commenting. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 13-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Ooooooh, I feel quite sick now !! Certainly descriptive. Val Author's Reply: ![]() Oh my Val. hope you feel better soon. Thanks for dropping by. Weefatfella.x OldPeculier on 14-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Good one. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers OP, and a special thanks to the mystery Nibber too.! Andrea on 18-11-2013 A Fool and His Money. Nice one, WFF π Love the pic, too...(p.s. How to you get one on ABC?) Author's Reply: ![]() I'll Pm you boss.x |
A Lovely Spot. (posted on: 04-11-13)![]() Night fishing on the Clyde. ![]() Archived comments for A Lovely Spot. Mikeverdi on 04-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. Excellent story telling Paul, your description of the fight and killing were as real as it gets. Good to read you again. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Great to hear from you again Mike. Thank you for your encouraging comments and your very generous rating. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 04-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. Very good. Loved the first paragraph. Have you been taking poetry pills? Author's Reply: ![]() Ha!.. Poetry. Oh my God Naw! poetry fascinates me, but is way beyond my skills. Thanks for the compliment OP but I'll stick to what I can just about manage. Weefatfella. Kipper on 04-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. Bi eck, there's more to this fishing lark than I thought! Great story, great imagery, and a great twist. Nothing more to say. Oh yes, nice picture too. Michael Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Kipper, for your wonderfully encouraging comments and your incredibly generous rating. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. Hi Wee Fats π I see this is a change of style for you and demonstrates yet again that you can turn your hand to anything if you ask me..maybe even poetry one day! *shock! horror!* Anyway, the end was a great twist, the fight scene gruesome and the plot excellent. Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Alison. Great tae hear fae yie hen.. A've missed yie. Thank you very much indeed for dropping by and for your very generous rating and wonderfully encouraging comments. Poetry I'll leave to the gifted. {The Sweetness has yir glesses by-ra-way.} Weefatfella. <3 Ionicus on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. DΓ©jΓ vu, Paul? Most certainly. Not long ago I posted a comment on this piece which was accompanied by two jucy cherries. Now the 'Great Read' nib has also appeared to complement the other accolade. A different style from previous contributions but equally enjoyable. Luigi Author's Reply: ![]() Grazie mille luigi. On two counts. I have recently been posting there. I think there are more prose writers on that site but it's hard to tell. I've been very busy at work recently and have found it hard to scribble at all. It's lightening up now though Weegrassotizio. Weefatfella. Rab on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. I really like this, Paul, even if I had to read it through twice to get it. Very well constructed, and as Mike has said, the fight scene was really gripping. Ross Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Rab, I know what you mean. I had to triple check to see if the proper survivor had the cheek scar. To be perfectly honest, I'm still not sure. I'm pleased you enjoyed it Rab. Thank you very much for reading and more importantly, commenting. Cheers Mate. Weefatfella. Buschell on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. You can't beat a twist and this one was a ripper. The angler fighting the fish and his rival showed up the quiet brutality that men are capable of on many levels. Not that fishing is brutal...unless you're the trout I s'pose. Good experiment matey! Author's Reply: Buschell on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. You can't beat a twist and this one was a ripper. The angler fighting the fish and his rival showed up the quiet brutality that men are capable of on many levels. Not that fishing is brutal...unless you're the trout I s'pose. Good experiment matey! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Buschell. Thanks a bundle Mate. A'm fair chuffedd noo!!! Weefatfella. BigIan on 05-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. Geez! You have a dark side!! You surprised us there - waiting for the funnies but excellent Weefatfella! Sheesh! Author's Reply: Thanks Ian. I tried something a wee bit different. I'm pleased it seems to have worked. Weefatfella. {My Photobucket Won't load up. Don't know whit's wrang.} TheBigBadG on 07-11-2013 A Lovely Spot. So this is another autobiographical tale from the taxi years, right? Remind me never to get on your bad side. Some really good stuff in here though, the opening paras and the deed itself are really strong moments. Lines like this: 'On the opposite bank, the shallow water applauded, as its searching fingers busily probed between and below the slick algae covered boulders.' Excellent stuff, really nice. I reckon you'd do yourself a favour by putting section breaks in between the angler and the fight just because the shift in point of view is jarring. One after 'The full moon silhouetted the two men struggling there in silence.' and another after 'The body floated downstream leaving it behind.' Without them you lose the impact of some of the fight because you're trying to adjust, with them it's marked out and the reader knows (sort of!) what's happening. A very enjoyable read all round, though. If this was a tester then I say go for it. More please! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks George, I'm really pleased that you took the time to pop in and have a wee gaze at my scribblings. I really have a strong compulsion to write and it gives me amazing satisfaction when I receive compliments and constructive critique from someone as technically gifted as yirsell. I have taken your points on board and again I have learned something ( I didn't know about section breaks...thanks to your good self I do now.) Weefatfella. |
The Dark Destroyer. (posted on: 07-10-13) The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! ![]() Archived comments for The Dark Destroyer. Mikeverdi on 08-10-2013 The Dark Destroyer. WFF, you tell these tails so well, I always feel as if we are in a pub and you are in the chair recounting your last nights episode...your round by the way π Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike, I appreciate your kind comment. It was just unfortunate at the hotel after the meet the place was so noisy we couldn't hear ourselves think. I may have spun a few yarns then. Thanks again mate. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 08-10-2013 The Dark Destroyer. One thought occurred to me, Paul. Taxi drivers must be very fit after all those chases. I must take care to keep my fare handy and not aggravate the situation. A well told story, as usual, in your own inimitable style. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for dropping by Luigi. The last thing I am is fit. Cheers for the kind comment Sir. Weefatfella. BigIan on 08-10-2013 The Dark Destroyer. A real case of assault and batteries! The culprits should be locked up in a (Dura)cell!! Well done WFF Author's Reply: ![]() Brilliant Ian. Thank you for dropping by and shedding some light. Weefatfella. pommer on 13-10-2013 The Dark Destroyer. Hi,WFF,I felt really enlightened after reading your fantastic account.I could see it all in my mind.It can't be easy driving a Taxi at night,with some idiots thinking they get away without paying the fare.Sorry I didn't comment before, but life is a bit difficult at present. Be lucky, Pommer. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Peter, for your generous comment. Aye it's a hard life just now in the taxi game. With this recession some people are taking risks they wouldn't normally take. I draw up to a busy rank in the black cab and the idiots, knowing they can't get out of a black cab without the driver allowing it by releasing the locks, step back to offer the taxi to someone else. I feel it for the saloon car drivers. Anyway this is me time. Thank you again pommer, for reading and commenting, Weefatfella. |
My Wee Pal Adam. (posted on: 30-09-13)![]() KIds can be so honest. ![]() Archived comments for My Wee Pal Adam. Nomenklatura on 30-09-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. Very moving without descending into 'schmalz'. On a purely writing note I'd remove the parenthetic explanation about the C.Pap, you don't need it. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Ewan, I appreciate your critique on the parenthesis. Advice taken and acted on. You're 100% correct, the piece reads much better without it. Weefatfella. Andrea on 30-09-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. Agree with Ewan. A great write but lose the C Pap, it seriously interrupts the flow π Congrats on the nib! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Andrea for reading and commenting. Ewan's advice has been taken. Weefatfella. expat on 30-09-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. I think this is the first non-humorous biographical piece of yours I've seen, Paul - it's touching and heart-warming at the same time. No crit on this one because the essence is more important than the mechanics. Steve Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Steve. Glad you enjoyed. Nice to hear from you again. Weefatfella. pommer on 30-09-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. A great moving write.I enjoyed reading it.Getting back gradually. be lucky, Pommer. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for looking in pommer. Glad you're getting there. Weefatfella. Rab on 30-09-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. A lovely slice of life Paul, moving without being over-sentimentalised, loved the ending. You and Adam clearly have a great relationship. A great piece of writing. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Rab for your encouraging comment. Yes, I feel we do have a special relationship. He's a wee corker. Weefatfella. amman on 01-10-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. Very moving, Paul with natural free-flowing expression. The love shines thru'. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Tony. I'm really pleased you enjoyed it. The wee boy's going to be under pressure shortly, Wee Sophie was born two And a half weeks ago. She is still in hospital but will be joining the family shortly. I know Adam will be her protector. Thanks again Tony. Weefatfella JackCrowe on 05-10-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. Loved it Paul, especially the all the heigh ho'ing. Great writing. Ian. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Jack for your lovely comment. I'm tied up pretty tight just now with Grandfatherly duties. Will get round to some writing when wee Sophie my new grandaughter settles into her own home. Texasgreg on 23-10-2013 My Wee Pal Adam. Oh, this is such a wonderful slice of life and am sooo glad you wrote it for posterity, Paul. Adam really came to life for me through your words and the love you share is evident throughout. Don't you dare go anywhere for a long time! Greg π ![]() Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your kind words Greg. No I've no intentions of shuffling off quite yet. Incidentally Greg, here is something you once asked me for. |
The Wardrobe. (posted on: 16-09-13)![]() A strange and old piece of furniture. ![]() Archived comments for The Wardrobe. Rupe on 16-09-2013 The Wardrobe. I've got to say that reading this is the first time I've actually felt glad that our wardrobes are from IKEA... Creepily atmospheric, although I had to use Googletranslate to get the Latin joke - nice touch there, if a bit obscure. Rupe Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, I have hit a wall just now. Thankfully it's only waist high and I can pull some fruit from the tree. It started off as an account of a true story, then I went off at a tangent. Thank you for reading and commenting. Weefatfella. Rab on 16-09-2013 The Wardrobe. I really liked this Paul, you paint a good picture, very atmospheric. Like the joke too, after google translate had done its job (what did we do before?) Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Rab for your comments and very generous rating. I'm fair chuffed. Weefatfella. BigIan on 16-09-2013 The Wardrobe. Currently suffering from man flu, this did my digestive system no good! Terrifying! Manducare minus PLACENTA diurno Author's Reply: ![]() I hope the man flu retreats soon Ian. Thank you for dropping in and for reading and more importantly commenting. Get Well Soon! Weefatfella. roger303 on 19-09-2013 The Wardrobe. A divergence from your norm WWF. It got better and better as it progressed. Very atmospheric - great descriptions "Lillies and leaves exploded fan-like from inside a fat, florid two-handed vase". I love alliteration. Good stuff! Thanks for posting it. Regards Roger Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Roger, Just a wee experiment to keep my hand in.I'm pleased you got something from it. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 19-09-2013 The Wardrobe. I thought the Lizards were bad enough, now you bring us this horror! Brilliant WFF. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Mike, I enjoy a wee ghosty noo and again. Hope to see you and Lesley soon. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 19-09-2013 The Wardrobe. I started to laugh when I saw the pic...I am used to getting a good belly laugh with your work...Then I read and found a different style. You seem to be able to tyurn your hand to anything. We will have you writing poetry before too long! π This reminded me of the horror stories I so loved growing up before we had all the plethora of horror everywhere. It really did 'shiver me timbers...' The descriptions were great and the feeling throughout one of increasing terror. Well done Wee Fats. Another gem and no mistake Alisonx Author's Reply: ![]() Why thank you my dear. I hope there's no increasing terror over the weekend. And no hangovers. Well maybe just a wee one. Oh,thank you very much make it a whisky. Weefatfella. Lookin furrit tae it... Hope tae see yie soon Alison.x |
Sunday Night In The Stuart Arms. (posted on: 09-09-13)![]() The Banter. ![]() Archived comments for Sunday Night In The Stuart Arms. Ionicus on 09-09-2013 Sunday Night In The Stuart Arms. "There are men shaggin sheep, men humpin men, and women humpin women. Noo this perverted idiotβs runnin aboot gittin aw excited looking in Greggs windaes." and then there's Dougie "a hootin and a hollerin, and a hammerin and a bangin." Classic Paul. You have a way with words, no denying it. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Ha! Cheers Luigi, I really appreciate you dropping into the prose section for a wee blether. Thank you indeed. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 10-09-2013 Sunday Night In The Stuart Arms. another WFF classic. Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Alison. Both for dropping into the prose section and for your amazing and generous rating... Chuffed!. Weefatfella. |
Karma (posted on: 02-09-13)![]() In Scotland, there are three different types of houses, in two different settings. Private houses in plots of land called Estates. Council houses, and bought by ex tenants and now called, ex council houses in schemes. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Karma Mikeverdi on 02-09-2013 Karma Wow! This is a hard tale Paul, shows us a different side to the job. As a man with two divorces behind him I know what it's like to leave it all behind. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, very true Mike. We see all aspects of life and all in the raw.Looking forward to a blether and a coupla jars with you and Lesley and Alison.. Weefatfella. amman on 02-09-2013 Karma Well written, Paul. A sad tale and ye canna help but feel sorry fer the auld biddy. Cheers. Tony. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Tony. It's true even with all her faults she didn't deserve that. Thanks for looking in Tony Weefatfella. BigIan on 02-09-2013 Karma Been there, done that and carried my life in a couple of bin liners! I feel I know this wumman! Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Ian haven't we all. The path of true love..etc Thanks for reading and commenting Ian. Weefatfella. Rab on 03-09-2013 Karma Nice story Paul, you managed to make me feel sympathy for Diana despite your demolition of her at the start of the story. Karma indeed. In Glasgow an ex council house is often called a 'bought house', or in Weedgie, a boat hoose, which confuses the hell out of anyone not from the city! Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Rab, A'm Fae Wishae originally we hud boat hooses tae though A've never seen wan wie a set ae paddles. Thanks for popping in Rab. Nice tae see yie. Weefatfella. bethybob on 04-09-2013 Karma I really like this, especially the first paragraphs description and the phonetic spelling of the words. Been on both sides of this myself, grew up in a council estate then got accepted into a private school, so abuse from all sides. I love the message- is it a true story? bethybob Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for taking the time to read and more importantly to comment. No it's not a true story, it's a what if. There is such a person but she still lives in her nice wee private home and she is still a snob.She changes her excuse to go for her wine. I have never heard so many soft items; bread,newspapers, vegatables, etc. They all clink when she brings them into the cab Weefatfella. Ionicus on 05-09-2013 Karma β Well if itβs in a state Diana, Yie could get the Coonsil tae come and fix it.β Absolutely hilarious, Paul. And the insults that she hurled as she was leaving: β A hope yie die in yir sleep ya horrible fat bastard. A never loved yie anyway, and yir shite in bed. Yir faither wiz much better at it than you. Oh, and yir mother wiz even better than him." Classic. You always write good, entertaining tales and this is no exception. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Luigi you're very kind. Thank you for your support mate. Weefatfella. Nomenklatura on 07-09-2013 Karma What a difference it makes when your work is presented cleanly. I've always liked the way you tell a yarn, but you are getting better at all aspects of writing every day. Hats off to you! Regards Ewan Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Ewan. I feel better about my work now that things are coming together. It's down to you all here at UKA and for that I am very grateful. Weefatfella. |
Capitulation. (posted on: 26-08-13) Wee Bert drops his principles. ![]() Archived comments for Capitulation. Corin on 26-08-2013 Capitulation. Hi WFF, Great dialogue and a great inside view of the Taxi business. The confrontation is set up beautifully and I was expecting an explosive climax and some kind of twist in the resolution, so having the boss come in and shout βJust Fucking do itβ seemed rather disappointing. Couldnβt there be a story behind the story. I donβt know - Prince William found drunk outside an Edinburgh Brothel and Bert is the only Royalist on the pay roll??? Dave Author's Reply: ![]() Aye David that's maybe somethin I could work on. It would be more like ha hadn't paid his cab-fare and promised the crown jewels in recompense. Now there's a tale. Thanks for dropping by. Hope to see you soon David. Weefatfella. BigIan on 26-08-2013 Capitulation. Is this Bert who plays golf? I sense a connection....? Author's Reply: ![]() The very Cheeky Chappie. The same guy who removes cap and shoves up bottom. Weefatfella. Rab on 28-08-2013 Capitulation. Liked the dialogue, Paul, and it had the ring of truth about it. A capitulation much like most of us wage slaves have to commit from time to time... Author's Reply: ![]() Very true Rab , but you've still goat tae rip the knittin when yie git a chance. Thank you for your valued comments mate. Weefatfella. |
Auld Joe. (posted on: 26-08-13)![]() My father was an amazing man. That's just it,..he was. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Auld Joe. Mikeverdi on 26-08-2013 Auld Joe. Mate, that's bloody marvelous, I think your Dad and mine would have had a lot to say to each other; that is if they could have understood each other π Your descriptions of everyday things turn them into unforgettable reading. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Mike. For your very pleasing comments and amazingly generous rating. I'm chuffed tae Falkirk. My Dad had a lot to say to everybody. He was in Mauritius visiting family and wherever he went he took over. He was sharing a table with maybe twelve or thirteen people and the old Minister who was attending felt his nose put out, cause Auld Joe was hogging the conversation as usual. He thought he would put my father down by bringing up his bad habits . He said to auld Joe, " Joseph, you drink rather a lot of whisky, and you use colourful language and I haven't seen you without a cigarette in your mouth all night. Joe came back with " Aye Reverend They're my sins. what's yours? Aye he was an auld bugger right enough. Thanks again Mike for your support. Hope to see you at the bar in the comfort. Weefatfella. pommer on 26-08-2013 Auld Joe. A masterpiece as usual. I agree with Auld Joe about the winged chair.I always have to have one like that.He is a man after my own heart.He was indeed a busy man.Great stuff WFF.I am watching the tattoo as usual on TV tonight,Being a sucker for the pipes and drums.Be lucky, Pommer. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks P. Aye he loved his chair, and is grandchildren Enjoy the tattoo pommer. Thanks for your kind words mate. Weefatfella. franciman on 26-08-2013 Auld Joe. Written with love Paul. It's in the wistful nature of the piece and the care and attention given to its construction. The test, I suppose, is in the way it makes each reader see his own Dad. I surely did. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: ![]() Jim I am speechless. For me that doesn't happen very often, as you can imagine. I am totally humbled by your reaction to this piece. I thank you very much indeed for your lovely comments and for taking this into your favourites. Paul H. Weefatfella. BigIan on 26-08-2013 Auld Joe. Too close to home for me! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Ian. Weefatfella. Romany on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. Sounds like quite a character! Great read (as the award suggests!) Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Romany for you very kind comment. He was quite a character. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. Has me sitting here with tears in my eyes. I think you are a fantastic writer. You capture SO much in your writing that it's just heart-warming to read.:-) At the risk of coming over all emotional ;-0 I have to say that your writing shows a depth of love, understanding and insight not to mention a tenderness. It's funny, sad, poignant and touches the reader. No wonder you are among my very fav writers here. Allow me to nominate it Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Alison , what can I say? Thank you very much indeed for your humbling comments. Again thank you Alison, for the amazing nomination and your fantastic rating, sniff! Weefatfella.xx amman on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. Hi Paul. I love the wistful, warm-hearted nature of this. Your dad was so obviously his own man and a real character. Reckon he passed down some of his genes to your good self. An excellent write. Cheers. Tony. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Tony. My dad was indeed his own man. He, after being unfairly dismissed from his job at Ravenscraig Steelworks, when the Union had told him to forget court action. My father fought the case himself. After eighteen months of courts and more courts. he won the appeal in the court of session. He was awarded a substantial sum and thus began his Publican career. I have seen no evidence of his genes apart from I'm very nearly his double, but then maybe I'm looking too closely. Thank you again Tony. Weefatfella. barenib on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. Very entertaining and well written. I'm usually found in the poetry section, but I'm pleased to have read this - excellent stuff, John. Author's Reply: ![]() John, thank you very much indeed for dropping by. I'm very pleased you weren't disappointed. Weefatfella OldPeculier on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. Another cracker. There is something totally honest in your style that makes it so readable. Author's Reply: ![]() That's a fantastic thing to say OP. If there is one thing I admire it's honesty. Thank you very much for your lovely comments. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 27-08-2013 Auld Joe. I have once again strayed into the prose section lured by the name 'Weefatfella'. How could I resist when your writing is so fascinating? This is another gem to enjoy, Paul. Well done. Author's Reply: ![]() ciao Luigi,Sono umiliato dai vostri commenti il mio amico vi ringrazio molto. Weefatfella. JackCrowe on 28-08-2013 Auld Joe. That's terrific Fella. And yea, a great read. Your writing continues to inspire me. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Jack. I'm really chuffed you enjoy my tales. Weefatfella. Nemo on 28-08-2013 Auld Joe. Bloody marvelous! Like other people have said, this story brings back memories of our own fathers and we get sad. My father was a quiet, withdrawn man. I missed out not having a character like your father's in my life, or even knowing one as big-hearted as yours. Enough of that, I really enjoyed this, the description, the humour and the humanity. Thanks, Gerald Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Gerald, for your amazing comment and surprisingly generous rating. I can only imagine I am riding on the coattails of others memories of their late fathers. I'm pleased however that people find something worthwhile here. Also that they may have felt while reading, to feel a wee bit closer to their father... For a wee while anyway. I certainly did when writing the piece. Paul H. Weefatfella. TheBigBadG on 29-08-2013 Auld Joe. I think the thing is that you have a natural handle on vernacular, dialogue and those snippets that bring people to life. They're things some of us here have to work at to make it look so natural. Perhaps a result of all that time in the cab? I have this feeling that you're a natural raconteur, in fact, and that maybe you've got some of your dad in you... Author's Reply: ![]() I know you're right here.It's not just the cab thing I always had the knack. I just wish my writing was better? Thank you for dropping by G. Weefatfella. Pronto on 29-08-2013 Auld Joe. Very real and entertaining as usual WFF I felt as if I'd met him from this superb descriptive write. Well done sir! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Pronto. Your remarks are encouraging and supportive. Weefatfella. Weefatfella on 29-08-2013 Auld Joe. ![]() Thank you everyone who commented on this piece. I have been totally amazed by all the kind and encouraging comments. I thank all of UKA not just for these comments, but also for the support and encouragement in all the attempts I have made up to now. I know Auld Joe would have been very pleased and proud. Thank You UKA. Paul H. Weefatfella. ![]() Author's Reply: mageorge on 29-08-2013 Auld Joe. Encouraging, an inspiration...I wondered why it was that i got into prose. (in a minor way of course) Paul, you have given me the answer! Kindest regards, Mark. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mark. I'm really loving all the attention here though!!! Weefatfella. Andrea on 29-08-2013 Auld Joe. Well, WFF, you know what I think of your writing and story-telling ability π Author's Reply: ![]() Why Thank You Madame, from my bottom, of course. Weefatfella. bluepootle on 30-08-2013 Auld Joe. What a great series of snapshots of your Dad. It makes me feel like I know him a little bit. A lovely read. Author's Reply: ![]() Why thank you Madam. I feel really honoured with all the attention for this. Thank you very much for your kind words bluepootle. Weefatfella. |
A Common Victory. (posted on: 12-08-13)![]() In Battle, All men Are Equal. ![]() Archived comments for A Common Victory. ValDohren on 12-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. All men (and women) are equal, battle or otherwise WFF - great video, love to hear the bagpipes, love Scotland. Great story. Val Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Val Thank you for dropping by. I am referring to class not gender here. This is part one, in this, as far as I know, true story. An Earl is seen to be killed by a commoner. *********************************************************************** In the final of the Westlothiana Inheritance, Because of your mention of the word F****n. I tried to be more Poetic. I hope you'll take the time to let me know what you think. Sorry Val, I'm a pain I know. Weefatfella.XX orangedream on 12-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. As Val says, great story, and the bagpipes set it off a treat;-) Tina Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Tina. My daughter met the author of a book about the battle of Bannockburn. ' The Genius Of Bannockburn by William Scott' He gave her a signed copy for me. The book gave me the idea for this story. Thank you for your comment. Aye, The pipes'll set oannythin aff . Weefatfella. Rab on 12-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. Great story Paul, and well told. Particularly like the dialogue betwen father and son, the mix of courseness and tenderness. Are you thinking of extending it? Author's Reply: ![]() Like everything I do Rab, I get an idea and take it as far as it goes. The story often takes over. This was inspired by the book I was given. ( The genius of Bannockburn by William Scott) There is a piece there about the death of The Earl of Gloucester, I would like to bring this into the tale and see where it leads. Thank you for taking the time to read and more importantly, to help with your comments. I really appreciate it. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 13-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. Hello Paul, I don't know where you find the time; all these different stories π Great descriptive writing here, the dialog between the participants is well thought out. I like the care taken by the father to calm his son before the coming battle; it all felt real to me. Looking forwards to the next chapter...its all set up! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Mike. I sit in the taxi and in between hires I scribble away in my notebook. I erase more than I keep though. I hope you do enjoy the next chapter,it's giving me headaches. Weefatfella. franciman on 13-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. Hi Paul, Great story and loved the balance between coarse and gentle. Really believable characters these. you'll know by now that I'm the pedantic sort? It was Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray- nephew to The Bruce; and Sir James was a Lord of Parliament but not an Earl.. Neither of these distinctions changes the fact that tis is a great read. I want to read more. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Jim. I'm working very hard on the second part as we speak. It's giving me a headache. It's so easy to wander away from the narrative and to generalise, but I want to do this right. It's more of a Nigel Tranter if you'll forgive me, than a John Prebble. I wanted to promote Douglas, in case at some point I could use the Black Douglas for effect. I'm fair chuffed you're enjoying the tale. I was inspired by a gift from an aid to the author of 'The Genius of Bannockburn, by William Scott.' An enjoyable if somewhat sour rant against historians. He makes a good claim to the truth of the famouse battle and well worth a read. Thank you once again Jim, for your wonderful comments and for taking me onto the anthology. Weefatfella. Pronto on 15-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. A great story well told WFF you had the Scottish half of my blood wrestling with the English half! Can't wait for the next chapter. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks P for your wonderful comment. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 15-08-2013 A Common Victory. Part One. Very good with believable players. Looking forward to the next part. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks OP. For your support and for dropping by. Weefatfella. |
No Water. (posted on: 26-04-13)![]() Mel Gibson visits Glasgow. ![]() Archived comments for No Water. japanesewind on 26-04-2013 No Water. Die! ya fuckin smelly, shitey arsed bastaaaard hahaha, loved that after the build up. Almost seamless, only one bit dropped me out of the story to consider the point, it was this. Would Mel have been carrying photographs of himself to the butchers, especially after coming from "weapons training"? good laugh this...D Author's Reply: ![]() Mel did come into my father's shop and he did in fact have a pile of photiographs with him. Vanity thy name is Mel Gibson! I love your, Die! ya fuckin smelly, shitey arsed bastaaaard! Highlight. Thanks for popping in mate.and for your lovely comments. Weefatfella. Nomenklatura on 26-04-2013 No Water. Hey, WFF. Get about 90,000 words together (in short stories), employ an editor to knock the kinks out and look for an agent. Your stories are funny: you might have to sacrifice the truth for style in places but I think someone will take you on. Good luck. Author's Reply: ![]() Ewan, Coming from yourself, that is high praise indeed. I must say I am very grateful for the help from your good self, Andrea, Ex Pat, E Griff and all commentators on UK Authors, who have helped me tremendously. I know I still have quite a bit to go, but I know I will get there with continued assistance. Thank you again Ewan. Weefatfella. japanesewind on 26-04-2013 No Water. NOW THAT IS FUNNY, imagine carrying those everywhere ya go....I do love mad max 1 and 2 though..... have you seen Apocalypto? good film .....D Author's Reply: ![]() I know David, once you start telling stories ,it's difficult to stop. Weefratfella. BigIan on 27-04-2013 No Water. Yet another excellent tale WFF! Your stories are one of the reasons I visit here! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Ian, Thank you very much for your generous comment. Weefatfella. Andrea on 27-04-2013 No Water. Great stuff WFF! Your sentences still need to be shorter and punchier though π 'He did this very quickly. It was reminiscent of some African tribal dance manoeuvre, accompanied by the click, sweep, click, as the edge, scraping along the harder metal of the steel, was sharpened. He moved the blade along the hone, ending in an arc. As he followed, perfectly, the shape of the knife-edge, he smiled serenely. Just a suggestion π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Andrea. I totally agree, and have made the necessary adjustments. Thanks again for your much needed help. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 27-04-2013 No Water. Another great story from your pen WFF - Mel Gibson eh !! Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, givin ma age away. Thanks Val, for your support. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 28-04-2013 No Water. You and your stories are a just brilliant, you do need to publish them. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Maybe one day. If I win the lottery Mike,I'll pay a proofreader to run over them,or I might just run the hack over them. Thanks for dropping by. Weefatfella. |
Infidelity. (posted on: 22-04-13)![]() What Happens In The Taxi, Should Stay In The Taxi. ![]() Archived comments for Infidelity. Rupe on 22-04-2013 Infidelity. Another great one. I should have seen the ending coming, but for some reason I didn't - probably because the way you write pulls the reader completely into the narrator's way of looking at things, to the point where you can't see it from another perspective. That's a definite advantage in a story of this type. I was too busy wondering what I would do in that situation to notice that you were leading us down the garden path. Rupe Author's Reply: ![]() What wonderful comments Rupe. Thank you very much indeed. I'm chuffed. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 22-04-2013 Infidelity. Well up to your usual high standard WFF. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Mike ,yir a pal!! Weefatfella. ruadh on 22-04-2013 Infidelity. I enjoyed this, there's certainly a lesson to learn from it π Well done. Author's Reply: ![]() Weefatfella. stormwolf on 22-04-2013 Infidelity. Gaun yersel WFF I am SO relieved tae ken that there is a code of honour among yea that says that aboot stayin' in the taxi. That brings me some small comfort thinking back... Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Alison,if we didnae huv that code naebody wid git taxis. Thank you for popping in. Weefatfella. Ps Alison. I'm really chuffed "Four in a row, Hallo Hallo, Four In a Row ,Ya BElter!! ( Nibs) japanesewind on 22-04-2013 Infidelity. I like the thought of them "leaving you to stew" I wonder how they would have got you to "broach the subject" had you declined to do so, good one WWF....D Author's Reply: ![]() They were a great bunch of guys David. Very hard working, and they all had an old fashioned hard working mentality. I was honoured (on reflection) to have met most of the guys in the Foundry at Armadale. Thanks for cutting By David . Weefatfella. ValDohren on 23-04-2013 Infidelity. What a dilemma, but maybe the moral of the story is to bide one's time as the truth will out eventually. Another great story from you WFF, intriguing to the end. Val Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Val. Aye, cannae keep ma mooth shut, that's the problem being a middle child. Thanks again Val. Weefatfella. Pronto on 23-04-2013 Infidelity. And let that be a lesson to ye! π Good write mate I thought daughter nor sister though. Relly enjoyed this one mate especially the authentic accent. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Pronto. Aye a true story again. I'm pleased you enjoyed this. Thanks for dropping by. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 23-04-2013 Infidelity. Very good. Flows well with plenty of atmosphere. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank You for your kind comments Oldpeculier. Weefatfella. amman on 24-04-2013 Infidelity. Good story, Paul. Love the picture and agree that snogging in the rain would be kind of sensual (not that I can remember)!! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Tony. You're the only one that commented on the picture, thanks fur that. Wheather it's sensual, or not to snog in the rain, I haven't a bloody clue, but the emotion felt right for writing. It seemed to fit the occasion. I hope you get the chance to let me know at some point. Thank you also Tony, for dropping by and for the generous rating. Weefatfella. JackCrowe on 12-06-2013 Infidelity. Catching up with your stuff Paul. So enjoyable to read and full of real, believable characters (which I guess they are!) And that Geordie was in on it . . a lovely twist right at the end. Great work pal. Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, The bugger. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment Jack, It's appreciated. Weefatfella. |
The Westlothiana Inheritance. (posted on: 15-04-13)![]() The people of West Lothian's small villages have an interbreeding problem. ![]() Archived comments for The Westlothiana Inheritance. stormwolf on 15-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. OMG WFF I have said before and I will say again...you should be sending off your stuff to see if it can be made into comedy like Rab C Nesbit. It is way on a par if not better and would really go down a storm to us here in God's Country! LOVED IT. Too many hilarious pieces to highlight in fact I will be honest, it was ALL top rate. Alison x oops almost forgot to say, I have very dear friends who stay in Winchburgh. I have never paid too much attention to their digits, we are too busy getting 'fou and unco happy' but will next time we meet! Author's Reply: ![]() Aw Shucks Alison. Thank you very much indeed for your wonderful comments, and very generous rating. I'm fair ower ra moon. I don't intend to insult anyone. The character 'Greengrass' is based on a friend of mine who in fact does live in Winchburgh. He has the ordinary amount of digits and is in fact tall and distinguished, especially while wearing his bunnet. Weefatfella.x Mikeverdi on 15-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. WFF, I am concerned about your sanity!!! Lol You are a true one off. Brilliant. I make no apology for my top mark. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Mike. For the amazing rating and your intuitive comments. I do worry myself sometimes. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 15-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. Been on the Whisky again WFF ?!! Great - loved it. What an imagination you have. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Aye! A Huv. Thank you Val for your kind comment. I'm back on the wagon. Weefatfella.x BigIan on 15-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. The good folk of Winchburgh will rise against ye weefatfella! Be assured of that! SayI! Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Well, SAy I, if it's only the good folk, A've nuthin tae worry aboot, there's only two ae them and they're jist oot the mating pool. Thanks for your Comment BigIan. Welcome again to UKA. Weefatfella. Rupe on 17-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. This is really mad, in a good way. Very inventive stuff with elements of comedy and horror - not a bad mix if you can pull it off. The signs are good. Are there more chronicles to come? Rupe Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Rupe for your very encouraging comments. I was a wee bit afraid to submit this, that's why I hedged my bets with the experimental thing. The response though has been very encouraging. I might try to expand it into something more substantial, I will, However, try to keep to the humour side. rather than the horror. Thank you again Rupe for your encouragement. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 18-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. Forgot tae mention at the time but that female reptile in yer pic is a shameless hussy so she is. (Ma mither telt me nivver tae lie like that in public) just sayin' Author's Reply: ![]() Aye Alison, She wiz right. You should at least wait tae he shuts the door. Weefatfella. Bandersnatch on 18-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. I loved it but I got a bit confused. Did they want to save the lizards or kill them? Also were they lizards? Or did they have lizards in the town? Even though I was confused (which wasn't your fault or your writings fault but just my competence) it was excellent and very funny!! BanderSnatch x Author's Reply: ![]() Weefatfella. Savvi on 18-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. Loved it very original and scary funny top marks WFF great read. S Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Savvi, for the very generous rating, and for taking the time to peruse my off- the- wall experiment. I'm very pleased with the outcome. I may expand this. Again Thank you. Weefatfrella. Andrea on 21-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. Haha, brilliant WFF! Loved it! Author's Reply: ![]() Aw. Thanks very much for your lovely comment Andrea. I'm ecstatic! The" Nib". Ya brammer! Love It makes it all worthwhile. Weefatfella. Andrea on 21-04-2013 The Winchburgh Chronicles. Not all nibs come from me tha knows. Looks like someone else liked it too π Author's Reply: ![]() I know! I love it anyway. Weefatfella. pommer on 08-08-2013 The Westlothiana Inheritance. Part 1 Great Wff.What imagination.If I ever return to Longniddry I shall look for them.I enjoyed reading this great piece of writing.I used to smoke that "Golden Vagina" bacci.I also once rode a Zuendapp in my own country many years ago.Sorry I haven't commented before, but I shall catch up gradually again. ,A great write.Be lucky Pommer. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Pommer, I also used to enjoy the odd roll-up But I preferred Old Holburn. Like the babies used to say " It's better to use plastic teats on your bottle, than to share the real thing with a guy who smokes Old Holburn." Keep truckin Pommer. Weefatfella. |
Funerals. (posted on: 08-04-13)![]() It's true. We cry at weddings and laugh at funerals. ![]() Archived comments for Funerals. ValDohren on 08-04-2013 Funerals. Another great read WFF - love your little stories, they are very entertaining. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Val. I appreciate you dropping in. Weefatfella. freya on 09-04-2013 Funerals. Wff: let me tell you how I, a would-be poet, came to read and thoroughly enjoy Funerals. I felt guilty because I haven't been reading and commenting on very many pieces, so today I was determined to read every single posting! Yours surprised me in it's right-on portrayal of working class behavior and topics of conversation. We (the working class) are not given to weighty philosophizing, nor pretentiousness. We are of solid full monty stock, in all respects. Love that film for its interesting and quirky characters, and so too did I become enchanted, amused and won over by your three brothers. Wouldn't mind having a coffee at some rail stop with any one of them. Bet I'd never stop laughing! Shelagh Author's Reply: ![]() Well thank you Shelagh for your wonderful comments. I'll be sure to pass on your thoughts. That was indeed a great day, even though the occasion was sad. Aye, what you see is what you get with my lot. Thank you for cutting by. I hope to hear from you again sometime. Weefatfella. Fox-Cragg on 09-04-2013 Funerals. Hi WFF, another excellent read. Did wonder if at the cafe it was going to be someones liver and a nice bottle of chianti. Joking aside, well captured of how it is not just stiff upper lip and carry on, there is a lot of feeling. Thanks for sharing, Paul Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Paul, for your insightful comment. Aye, strangely, it was an amazing day. The emotions are right at the surface. I think this is the explanation for such a day. Thank you for dropping by once again. It is appreciated. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 09-04-2013 Funerals. I am hooked on your amusing anecdotes, Paul. That was a poor trick to play on Tommy; how did it take it being told of the free bar? Author's Reply: ![]() Ha! Luigi,Tommy is a publican. (The story, The Ghost of Girdwoods bar) He got his money back later on at his own pub. It's just up from the station at Wishaw. The thing with my brothers and tricks is, get in first. I have had my fair share of pranks done to me, I remember the time............now that's another story. Thank you once again for popping in Luigi, it is appreciated. Weefatfella. geordietaf on 09-04-2013 Funerals. Well Jimmy, that was another wee gem. I'm off to get your Wondrous Weavings π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for peeping round the door Taff. I jhope you enjoy the Weavings. I'm thinking of self publishing more 'Weavings' again, sometime in the summer when I can get it all onto PDF. I appreciate your always encouraging comments. Weefatfella. geordietaf on 09-04-2013 Funerals. Downloaded Weavings and already into the first tale. Fantastic reviews. You ought to brag a bit more wee man π Author's Reply: ![]() I'm A wee bit embarrassed by the rawness of the Weavings. It was very early in my attempts at writing. The folk on this site have helped me tremendously, and thankfully still are. I hope I've improved somewhat. Thank you for spending your coin. I sincerely hope you are not disappointed and feel it was worth it. I hope you enjoy them Taff. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 10-04-2013 Funerals. A lot is said on this site (and others) about the right and wrong of writing...the spelling, punctuation, lay out , grammar etc.. and I am sure that its all correct...there is another aspect that most of us look for and that's entertainment. You supply that by the bucket load every time. Thank's for another bucket full. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() You're very kind Mike,thank you very much mate. Weefatfella. japanesewind on 10-04-2013 Funerals. You capture the full weight of the laughter and tears. had to go to a funeral year before last, 800 people there. Unbelievable jesting there was.....seeya.D Author's Reply: ![]() Good God David! I read that as Jousting. Thank you once again D, for your generous comments. Weefatfella. Rupe on 10-04-2013 Funerals. My father made sure there was plenty of booze for his wake, but the place was so packed I could hardly get to the bar. I think that's called irony. I enjoyed this read - a great slice of life. You have a knack of writing so that the reader is put right into the scene, and the dialogue is especially sharp. Good stuff. Rupe Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Rupe, I am cheered by your generous comments. At my Fathers wake, it was his pub. I ended up behind the bar,- working. Now that's Irony. Weefatfella. amman on 11-04-2013 Funerals. Hi Paul. Just found this and so pleased I did. Such a cheerful, laugh out loud story of the way you and yer bros dealt with loss. I wish Welsh funerals were like that. This is so well written, the idiom perfect; you must include it in the next Weavings compilation. The 1st one is sitting on my Kindle and very entertaining it is too. Keep writing, my friend. You have a raconteurs talent for this kind of story. Cheers. Tony. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Tony, for your kind comments and for shelling out for the Weavings. I'm chuffed tae bits. Weefatfella. Kat on 11-04-2013 Funerals. WFF... I hope you're trying to get yourself an agent and/or publisher... if I was one or t'other I'd offer you a contract... ! :^) Loved this and love your work. My stepma from Barrhead would be rolling on the flair... ! Kat x Author's Reply: ![]() Och. Hen! Yi've goat me in a state noo. Thank you very much for your very kind comments. I enjoy Weaving away here for the moment. I doubt if I'm anywhere near ready for proper publishing yet. I'm very happy to sharpen my knives at UKA for the time being. Again Thank You Kat. Weefatfella. |
Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. (posted on: 01-04-13)![]() Another Saturday night in the taxi. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Texasgreg on 01-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Aye! Can I have my bayonet back now? I do hope this was your imagination, Duke... Greg π Author's Reply: ![]() Greg, great to hear from you again. Nope! this is all true, even the punk rockers and the guy laid flat with the take-away. It all adds to a more picturesque life. Thanks very much Greg for popping in. Duke. Weefatfella. Fox-Cragg on 01-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. In short, bloody hell !!! Great account, I guess you taxi drivers up in your neck of the woods have Hummers. Again, another terrific read. Thanks, Paul Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Paul, for cutting bye and sharing your views. You're very kind. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 01-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Quite a story WFF - could have been nasty !! At least your job obviously isn't boring. Congrats on the nib, well deserved. Val Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Val. I appreciate you looking in. Weefatfella. Hekkus on 01-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. An absorbing piece of writing from start to finish. I want to read more of your stuff. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your very kind comments. You're very gracious. Weefatfella. Savvi on 02-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Really enjoyed this and the flash backs you tell a great story very well written. S Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers for your very generous comments Savvi. They are really appreciated. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 03-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Another great story from you WFF. I am so pleased that all turned out well for you. I really think if you strung all these together they would make a great book; with a bit of editing and a glossery of terms and language π ha! ha! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Ha! I already have a set of my earlier work my daughters published on kindle. Weefatfella's Wondrous Weavings. Have a look MIke. Thank you for your kind comments Mike. They are appreciated. Weefatfella. pommer on 03-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. What a great story. I can imagine that the life of a taxi driver is never without its dull moments.I am certain that it can also be quite frightening at times, particularly in large cities.A really absorbing story. I agree with Mike,your stories would make a great book.Well done once again.Pommer. Author's Reply: ![]() It's a hard life driving taxis. We are told by our parents "don't to talk to strangers." we go about picking them up in the middle of the night when they are drunk. Thank you Pommer for your thoughtful comments. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 03-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Paul, another quiet night for you. Or so you make it sound. I am impressed at how you seem to take everything in your stride. A good, enjoyable read. Thanks. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Luigi. As I mentioned at the beginning of the story, most people are fine. If you act as if you are going to get trouble, you definitely will. I keep a smile on my face. That's my greatest defence. Thank you again,for your caring comments Luigi. Weefatfella. ChairmanWow on 05-04-2013 Three Punk Rockers, A Soldier and a Bayonet. Well WFF that was one scrappy slice-of-life. Had me going and wondering what next. Like the way the cabby held his own. Good work. Ralph Author's Reply: ![]() .Cheers Ralph. Sometimes one has no choice. A cabby can't afford to be afraid. All you have to do is, try to control the situation if possible. Thank You For your generous comments they are appreciated. Weefatfella. |
Rabbits (posted on: 29-03-13) Some things are better kept secret. Especially if they're Rabbits. ![]() Archived comments for Rabbits Andrea on 29-03-2013 Rabbits That had me chuckling out loud - frightened the sprog! I don't care about your mistakes anymore, I just love your tales π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Andrea. You've made me laugh noo.. Weefatfella. Fox-Cragg on 29-03-2013 Rabbits Took me a while until pets from Miss Summers came to mind. Good run to the end thanks. Paul Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Paul. Chuffed you enjoyed. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 29-03-2013 Rabbits Another cracker. Thank you. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for dropping by O.P. Weefatfella. Griffonner on 29-03-2013 Rabbits Nice one! I think you changed the subject at just the right moment. π Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers mate. Thank you for your kind comment. I was embarrassed. ( Teee,Heee). Weefatfella. Ionicus on 29-03-2013 Rabbits An amusing tale which entertained me. There seems to be a laugh a minute on the taxi ranks. You should keep up to date with female mores, Paul. Maybe you'd like to read a little effort of mine from 2006: Rabbit Fever - http://ukauthors.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=17229 My Book Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks very much Luigi. I Will have a read at your book. I hope I don't catch the fever mate? Weefatfella. shadow on 30-03-2013 Rabbits This is very confusing - rabbits with fingers? I have a strange feeling I am missing something here - could someone explain (with diagrams if possible)? Author's Reply: ![]() Yes. They have to use their fingers, cause they've mixeduptheirtoesese! One diagram as ordered>>>>> ![]() Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 31-03-2013 Rabbits I don't know what made me laugh the mist here your story or your reply to shadow Ha Ha! Another great tale my friend ( and you won the boss over). Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike. Thanks for dropping bye. Weefatfella. BigIan on 31-08-2013 Rabbits How did I miss this? My mate's wife is forever buying batteries. Ever Ready? Aye, she's insatiable! Nice one weefatfella! Ian Author's Reply: ![]() Aye ever ready right enuff. Glad you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. |
The Ginger Ninja. (posted on: 25-03-13) Ernie was red-headed, five foot seven and built like a bootlace. His ambition was to be a cage fighter. ![]() Archived comments for The Ginger Ninja. Fox-Cragg on 25-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. Very vivid, comes to life and for once getting a view on people from different parts of Scotland, some arder than tuthers. Real good read, with several lol, Thanks. Paul Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Paul, for your much appreciated feedback. The Reference to the' boss'is the lovely Andrea. She virtually ,as far as I can see, runs these shenanigans single handed. Thanks again for reading and commenting. Weefatfella. OldPeculier on 25-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. WFF. If I am totally honest, I have, in the past, struggled with some of your tales from the taxi rank. I found them a bit confusing and I feel they sometimes wander off the point a bit. But this time, I think you have nailed it. It is well set out and free from the sort of clutter that can put simpletons like me off. More like this please. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank You Oldpeculier for you input, I will pay closer attention in future. I'm very pleased you were able to enjoy this one at least. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 25-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. Another great tail from you, I just love them, I'm never sure if I get the right pronunciations but I just don't care! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() I do agree with Oldpeculier. Sometimes the vernacular can be a bit offputting. I am working on it as we speak. Thank you for your always gracious comments Mike. Weefatfella. geordietaf on 25-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. I love these stories. I know the vernacular can cause some problems but I think they add loads of atmosphere. Ernie's character is well drawn. I love the nipples bursting and the Elvis legs. These tales strung together would make a good book. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you taff for your generous comments. I'm really pleased you are enjoying my weavings. I'm tyrying to find a happy medium with the vernacular. To make the tales more readable. Again Thank you. Weefatfella japanesewind on 25-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. It's better in the vernacular, loved this one...D Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much David, for your again, generous comments. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 26-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. HI WFF You have me in stitches. If you are not from Glesga then you have been especially gifted in the lingo. I think you could write plays...I really do. I am useless at giving any sort of meaningful crit on prose but I know what makes me laugh out loud and you do. I think a sense of humour is just the best thing ever. You have it in shed loads. Mrs WFF is a lucky woman. A sense of humour can see us through the worst of times...even the total mess the country is in! there are a few typos etc but I think it's worth a 9 for skill and incredible insight. When I read about this bit "A lifted the Glesca suitcases" I nearly fell off my chair laughing. Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Alison, I know you don't read prose and I thank you very much indeed for dropping in. your presence and your comments are greatly appreciated. I come from Wishaw. Maist Wishae folk are a wee bit nuts. It's the Buckfast, we are breast fed it but only as children. I hasten to add. Weefatfella. RoyBateman on 27-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. You paint a really vivid picture of the sort of character that most of us have come across at some stage - in a world of their own, and maybe that's no bad thing: to find a kindred spirit is lucky indeed! I can just see 'em roaring off into the sunset, at just over 30 but imagining they're doing a ton. Great comic read! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Roy. Coming from yourself these comments are very encouraging. Thank you very much indeed for dropping by. Wot no omewerk? Weefatfella Ionicus on 27-03-2013 The Ginger Ninja. A very amusing tale, Paul. I too don't read prose very often but when I see WFF I'll have to take a look. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() I know Luigi! Thank you very much indeed for your always encouraging comments. Weefatfella. |
Differences. (posted on: 18-03-13) It is our differences that make us unique, we should celebrate them. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for Differences. Mikeverdi on 18-03-2013 Differences. Oh dear! I am rendered speechless. This (I hope) was from your fervent imagination, If not then I trust you had the sense to pick a pretty one π Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Just as the heading says. Plain Daft. I was working yesterday as I passed some sheep the noise of the car frightened them . As they ran, I commented to my passenger. " The one at the front is quite attractive, don't you think? " " Yes", he said," she has a certain something." When I came home. This fell out of my head. I hope you are not too shocked Mike. It's just a bit of nonsense. Honest. Weefatfella. ChairmanWow on 18-03-2013 Differences. "Baaaa-aaaa" means No! (: Author's Reply: ![]() Yip means yes. Just a bit of hilarity Wow. Having a larf. Weefatfella. Kat on 19-03-2013 Differences. I wasn't expecting where this went with Jock, so a clever red herring thrown in, and you've certainly got some good patter and enjoyed the humour. Of course, my feelings were totally with the poor sheep, and graphic as this was, I think you've described something that happens (perhaps not quite as you portray here), and again, I really feel for those sheep... ! I believe in consenting partners. You musy be a fun taxi driver... we need people like you in Germany... haha (I wish I was joking). Kat Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Kat, I think we need to have fun wherever we are. I enjoy a laugh everyday. Some of my passengers enjoy it some are quiet . When they don't talk I don't talk. { Taxi Driver Etiquette ) Thank you for reading and more importantly commenting. It is appreciated. Weefatfella. japanesewind on 19-03-2013 Differences. Funny as hell this, and if my poem "disturbed" you then you have just paid me back, awww man why did I read it, hahahaha......David Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks David. I have to apologise to you. I may have had one Glenmorangie too many last night. Which may have influenced my comments. I hope you weren't exasperated with me. Yours in repentance. Littlerotundchap. japanesewind on 19-03-2013 Differences. Exasperated? not on your nellie, you were a "pussycat". Give me stronger critique where and when i need it and as you "see" it and I will be your faithful servant.............D Author's Reply: Griffonner on 19-03-2013 Differences. Oh my gawd! I shouldn't have kept on reading, really. π But I did, and that is either from a sense of fascination, or disbelief of the technicalities. Erm... that last bit doesn't sound right! We have a field of sheep at the bottom of our drive, and I can assure you it would defy belief if Jock could even contemplate maneuvering any of those scraggy (and smelly) things. I think you deserve points for both the quality of the write and the nerve. π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks G, for your striking reply. It's all in the name of humour. I love a larf, and I can assure you this is all imagination. The technicalities of " Animal Husbandry " are a mystery to me ....Thankfully. Thanks again for reading and commenting and your very generous rating. Weefatfella. orangedream on 19-03-2013 Differences. Speechless...me, and so are the sheep in the field next to my garden, but they did say to tell you, 'Baaaa..." Tina;-) Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your stunned response. No domestic animals have ever been harmed by any part of my body. I love animals! Thank you for dropping by Tina. I hope to stun you again soon. Thank you also, for the Baaa from your friends. Please forward my number to the most attractive Ewe. It is 9555333000. Weefatfella. |
The Road To Lugar. (posted on: 15-03-13) I picked a fare up I could have done without. ![]() Archived comments for The Road To Lugar. Mikeverdi on 15-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. Reading all your 'Taxi Tales' has given me a new respect for the driver's. Not a job I would do in a million years....but I love reading your stories! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers mike, I appreciate you reading my drivel. Taxi driving isn't all bad I've been doing forty tears, so I have millions of stories. Weefatfella japanesewind on 15-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. what a dude to pick up, class tails he spun eh? funny as hell, met a few like him in my time. my mate "spinner" comes to mind first.... "fill yir boots big man" had me laughing good style.........D Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, a complete corcker. I meet them all the time. It's 5am, I'm just leaving to meet some more. Sat mornings can be shady. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment D, appreciated. Weefatfella. Nomenklatura on 17-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. Ah.. Weefa... I see you met the Incredible Bull-Shitting Man. Many of his cousins are out here on the Costas. They board the one way flight to Malaga a builder's mate and arrive as a Master Builder who helped build the Olympic Stadium. You show very well what kind of guy your passenger was. Great idea to use the phone call to underline his (lack of credibility). Well done regards Ewan Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Nom, for reading and for your very kind rating and comments. Aye these guys can be laughed at but this guy did exist and was a wee bit dangerous. Still, with all my years experience I escaped unharmed. I appreciate you looking in. Weefatfella Rupe on 17-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. I don't envy you your job, but as you say you must get some good stories out of it. This works really well, I reckon - the character is built up bit by bit with telling detail, and tension grows with that, which makes the ending a bit of a relief & a good sting in the tail. Rupe Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Rupe for dropping by. I appreciate your comments and yes the phone call helped as you say. I have to admit though,I didn't plan the story, I just told it. The technicalities of story telling, are a complete mystery to me. Sometimes what turns out surprises me also. Thank you again for your kind comments. I'm learning all the time. Weefatfella. Andrea on 17-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. Great tale, Wff! Victoria cross posthumously - haha. I once worked (amongst my many and varied jobs :)) for a minicab firm in London. My god, the sights you saw! (watch those excess commas :)) Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Andrea, for dropping in and for your very kind rating and comments. I do appreciate it. Comma point taken. I'm trying , Very Trying. Weefatfella. Griffonner on 17-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. A really fine tale. It described the 'type' to a tee. π At one time I had a plasterer friend, and if he'd done half of what he claimed he'd have been awarded that Victoria Cross your fare mentioned - several times over! I felt sorry for him in a way. Keep up the good work. (Mind you, as has been said, I don't envy you your job!) Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for dropping by and for your generous comments and rating G. I enjoy Taxiing ,it restores your faith in human nature. I have only recently started to write and I'm learning all the time. Again your time and comments are appreciated. Weefatfella. Pronto on 17-03-2013 The Road To Lugar. Oh how I enjoyed that tale mate. It brought back memories of picking up three drunk guys at a pub all going to different houses. I was left with a big aggressive Irishman muttering about "Britsh bastards." He got out of the taxi without paying me then staggered around the front to my window asked how much piad in full and gave me a fiver tip which was bloody good tip in 1973! It was still an hour before I stopped shaking! π Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers mate. Aye, It can get to you. I always remember, they will shout and rant but very seldom will they strike. All you have to do is try to remain looking strong and they will walk away. Thanks for reading and more importantly commenting it is appreciated. Weefatfella. |
Taxi-ing. (posted on: 11-03-13) A Normal Saturday Night Working The Taxi. ![]() Archived comments for Taxi-ing. stormwolf on 11-03-2013 Taxi-ing. Pure dead brilliant! OMG you've got the gift o' the gab alright. The English may not appreciate the patter but I sure do! Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Thank You Very much Alison. I know you don't read prose often, so I appreciate you having a peek in. Also, for your always kind, comments. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 11-03-2013 Taxi-ing. It looks as if your job is a great source of inspiration for your writing. Your stories are always fascinating WFF though I have to concentrate on the lingo. Author's Reply: ![]() Grazie per la vostra pazienza.Luigi Apprezzo molto la tua cortesia. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 11-03-2013 Taxi-ing. WFF I think the world you live in would provide material for a lifetimes writing. Great stuff again my friend Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Mike, your comments are appreciated. Weefatfella. Fox-Cragg on 30-03-2013 Taxi-ing. I've just got to get into your taxi one day, there is so much going on. And yes I agree with the others you should have enough material for a lifetime. Thanks for these, enjoy them muchly. Paul Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Paul, your comments are appreciated. I wish the whole world would get in my taxi, then I could retire. Weefatfella. |
Stitches. (posted on: 11-03-13) A look back to my childhood. Not as bad as it would seem though. ![]() Archived comments for Stitches. Mikeverdi on 11-03-2013 Stitches. Always entertaining, I hope this is part of your life story and that there is more on the way π Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike, I appreciate you looking in. Weefatfella Pronto on 13-03-2013 Stitches. An' let that be a lesson tae ye! Dinnae bang yer mammy aun the heed ye we scamp! Good write mate brought back memories of childhood tree climbing, knock-door-run, stealing apples and the local copper clipping my earhole! π Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, dae whit yir Maw tells yie son. They were big heavy doors. Three inches thick and bordered with Aluminium. A copper tried tae clip my wee brothers ear, Joe leathered him. Big Boy oor Joe. Thanks for looking in mate. Weefatfella. |
Boys will be boys. (posted on: 04-03-13) The known World at one time, consisted of how far a man could walk and be back home on the same day. Not any more. The world has become like a small town. We can visit the furthest Continent and be back home now, in time for tea. ![]() Archived comments for Boys will be boys. Mikeverdi on 04-03-2013 Boys will be boys. If the stories are even half true you would want to be there. I suspect that there more than that; or you wrote the Arabian nights. Brilliant writing. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your very kind rating and comments Mike, I appreciate it. Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you. I have been tied up this week and have only just gnawed through the ropes. . Weefatfella ValDohren on 06-03-2013 Boys will be boys. All very funny WFF - feel sorry for that poor donkey though !! Excellent write, as always. Val Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Val,for taking the time to read and comment. I do appreciate it. Weefatfella. shadow on 08-03-2013 Boys will be boys. Very funny. I always knew small boys were an alien lifeform. Though maybe you should add a disclaimer: no donkeys were hurt during the writing of this story. Author's Reply: ![]() Well that's true, but 'ass' it was in Iran, it's out of our jurisdiction. Thank you shadow, for reading and commenting. It is Appreciated. Weefatfella. Andrea on 08-03-2013 Boys will be boys. Bloody loved it (as usual)! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you again Andrea. I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. Weefatfella. Hekkus on 02-04-2013 Boys will be boys. Totally absorbing. I must have led a sheltered life; the most we got up to was postman's knock! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your comments H. There are some stories I can't tell. ( Like, Dressing a tailors dummy and hanging it by the neck from the bridge above the main road) Got chased by the polis that night. Weefatfella. |
A Man's Man. (posted on: 01-03-13) Pat Kuralis, the new driver, knew all. We were all idiots and he was brilliant. All his eggs were double yokers. All his woman were beautiful, he was the best at everything......etc. ![]() Archived comments for A Man's Man. Harry on 01-03-2013 A Mans Man. Memorable experience, Weefat. It's buried a little deeply in the idiom, but even a foreigner like me could get the tang of it. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for reading, and commenting Harry. I'm glad it was an experience. Yes it is very much in the Scottish Vibe. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 01-03-2013 A Mans Man. Another great story from the master; Chillies and Dragon Spit... OMG ! Priceless my friend. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike. Master! I wish but thank you anyway mate, it's appreciated. Thank you once again Mike, for both reading and commenting. Weefatfeella. Nomenklatura on 02-03-2013 A Mans Man. Please take these comments in the spirit of co-operation in which they are meant. This is a good story - clearly based on real characters - written by someone with a good ear for idiom and dialogue. You represent the sound of the dialect well on the page. However, you won't get many reading until the end with your layout as it is. Give any dialogue a separate line. Look at this: Exposition goes on (and on). 'That's enough waffle,' someone says. 'What is?' Other bloke replies. Then it's back to the exposition. Resist the temptation to put utterances in the middle of a paragraph. You end up with short paragraphs, but hey, on-line readers have short attention spans. 'Do you see what I mean?' Ewan says. The other thing (I'm sure you've heard it before): telling/showing. You don't need to write "broken by the rank arsehole." You show us throughout the piece what an arsehole he is. You don't even need to mention "diarrhoea" for the denouement. "A tell-tale yellowish-brown smear" etc. etc. would 'show' what had happened, no? I wouldn't bother with describing his departure after that, but that's probably just me. Anyhow, I enjoyed reading this one, because it has the ring of authenticity. Keep on writing Ewan Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Ewan, for taking the time to help and for reading my drivle. I will take on board your excellent advice. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 02-03-2013 A Mans Man. Oh that was cruel WFF - how could you !! Teeheehee. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Val, the guy is a bad ass. I wont go into the details, but honestly. I only wish all of this was true and not embellished. Thank you for your comment and gracious rating. Weefatfella x Andrea on 02-03-2013 A Mans Man. Wff, much enjoyed. I suggest you digest Nom's comment though (although not literally of course), it's good advice π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Andrea, I will take it on board. Thank you for reading and commenting. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 03-03-2013 A Mans Man. What a lot of pranksters you are up there in Scotland, WFF. I got the gist of the story but what an effort to understand the dialect; I am just beginning to make sense of the English language, let alone the Scottish idiom. Author's Reply: ![]() grazie per avermi assistito ed essere stata li` con me tutto il tempo. L'ho veramente apprezzato. I hope i've got this correct Luigi. I hope it says, 'Thank you very much for taking the time and patience to decipher my Scottish weavings.' I am very grateful. Weefatfella. Ionicus on 03-03-2013 A Mans Man. Your translation is acceptable Paul. Mine is as follows: La ringrazio molto per il suo tempo e la sua pazienza in decifrare i miei intrecci scozzesi. Sono molto grato. Cheers, Luigi. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Luigi. Weefatfella. |
Extra Money. (posted on: 25-02-13) Russell needs to make money for Christmas and has a great idea. ![]() Archived comments for Extra Money. Mikeverdi on 25-02-2013 Extra Money. Brilliant! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers again Mike. I'm pleased you're enjoying it. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 26-02-2013 Extra Money. Duke, yer gettin' stronger and more bold all the time! Aye, your writing is so much fun to read when you let yourself be free with the words of color. Still grinning from reading your first and will now have to stop and wipe the tears from my laughing eyes... Greg π BTW-Your closing line killed me! ![]() Author's Reply: ![]() Aw cheers Greg, I enjoyed this one myself. Really glad you had a laugh. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 26-02-2013 Extra Money. Brilliant WFF, your stories are getting funnier, and I am beginning to speak Scottish now !! All set for my hols in Scotland this year. Keep 'em coming. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Wow! Thanks you so much for your very generous Rating Val. I hope you enjoy Alba (Scotland) in the summer and the weather is kind to you. fΓ ilte gu Alba Val. Weefatfella. whatacutebum on 26-02-2013 Extra Money. Loved it WFF, nice one π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Si, also for your very generous rating. Weefatfella. cooky on 26-02-2013 Extra Money. Hilarious, them scottish coppers will believe owt. Author's Reply: ![]() Wow! Cooky, Thank you for the generous and big hearted rating. I wish they would. Weefatfella. |
Parallel Universe. (posted on: 25-02-13) In the wee hours of the morning. There are things known only to Taxi drivers, psychiatric nurses and Police officers. ![]() Archived comments for Parallel Universe. geordietaf on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Fantastic. Love the the little details that give it real grounding. The dialogue is brilliant too. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Taff for your kind comments. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. I just love reading your stories, its a brilliant look at life in the Taxi lane and I love it! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Mike for reading and your kind comments. Weefatfella. Kat on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Enjoyed this. Again, the vernacular and the humour are well done. Nurses know of this parallel universe too... the things that can happen in a psychiatric hospital at the best of times, but then, with a full moon... and that's just with staff. Kat x Author's Reply: ![]() I'm so sorry Kat, of course Nurses are in the loop. Just an oversight on my part. Glad you enjoyed it. Thank you also for your kind comments. Weefatfella. Andrea on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Hilarious, WFF, loved it. Few stray things such as 'His right hand, was pulling the too short t-shirt down to a point' (His right hand was pulling his short t-shirt down to a point) and I'd have written the very last sentence thusly: Arsehole, I thought. But leaps and bound, my man, leaps and bounds π Author's Reply: ![]() Well, am A chuffed or whit? I really appreciate your input here Boss. I have attempted to tidy up my weavings and I'm so pleased you noticed. The arsehole thing, was in reference to what the character was seeing, as he drove away. He had just been mooned. ( Goad A'm gittin bold). I hope I'm correct here. The t-shirt, of course Andrea, I'll make amends. Thank you very much for your very kind and instructive comments, they really are appreciated. Weefatfella Andrea on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Yep, got the 'mooning' bit. Bloody funny (and I do like it the way you've amended now. The 'arsehole' comes first, so to speak :)). Either way, cosmetic stuff now WFF, you are doing so amazingly well I know you can sort the rest out:) Author's Reply: ![]() Shucks!.x. ValDohren on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Great stuff WFF - very funny. Didn't you feel a wee bit sorry for the arsehole though ? Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Hi, Val. The truth is, I spotted the naked guy when he crossed in front of me on the road. I already had a fare and we both laughed at the guy, as he swept past and into the bushes. I never really spoke to him. I made the whole thing up. However I agree he did seem worthy of sympathy but that was my fault. I have always wondered how he got into that condition. Did the husband come home early? Did he have amnesia? Maybe you could help here Val ? Thanks for reading and commenting, I look forward to the answer. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 25-02-2013 Parallel Universe. I'd go for the husband coming home early option - amnesia ? Naw !! Val Author's Reply: ![]() Ha! big fearty!!! Texasgreg on 26-02-2013 Parallel Universe. I'm still a little pissed that ya left me out in the cold like that... Lol, your imagination and wit came through again, my friend! This was my first reading of the day and glad of it. I'll chuckle all morning. Greg π ![]() Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Greg. Great to see the gunslinger back on my page. I've missed him.It's also good to hear from you again my mucker. Hanks furra comments big-yin, A'm fair chuffed. Weefatfella. ( Duke ). japanesewind on 26-02-2013 Parallel Universe. loved it...."fur a laugh mate"...class......D Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you D for reading and commenting. Really chuffed you loved it. Weefatfella. whatacutebum on 26-02-2013 Parallel Universe. Ha ha, that was brilliant! Ehm...wisnae me, wis it? Author's Reply: ![]() Hi Si, Thank you for reading, commenting and your very generous rating. Yes It was you Si but I promised not to tell. Weefatfella. Pronto on 26-02-2013 Parallel Universe. As someone who once drove a taxi in the way-back-when I found this very amusing. Not that that happened to me but some strange folk inhabit the night that's for sure. Great story WWF do write some more! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you P, for reading and commenting. I intend to write as many as I can but I have to wait till they pop into my head. " Beware of the business that walks in the night " . Weefatfella. |
A Chip On The windscreen. (posted on: 18-02-13) The trouble a bag of chips can cause when handled correctly. ![]() Archived comments for A Chip On The windscreen. Kat on 19-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. I really enjoyed this, and now I want fish 'n' chips. Kat Author's Reply: ![]() I'm pleased you enjoyed it Kat and enjoy your chippies. Thank you very much for your comment . Weefatfella ValDohren on 19-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. Guess you were feeling chipper that day - great story, could just picture the scene. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Val. For reading and commenting. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 20-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. You are so good at this stuff, brilliant! Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Mike. I worry that because I get very Little comments, my stuff i must be rubbish but you have cheered me again. Thank you. Weefatfella. expat on 21-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. I've said this before, wff, you've got a real talent for storytelling. The question is... how far do you want to take it? If you're happy enough to post here and keep us entertained, that's great. On the other hand, if you want to take it further (and I know you've put a Kindle set on Amazon), then I reckon the mechanics need a little tweaking in respect of construction, grammar and punctuation. I think it would be critical that your (sometimes raw) approach to writing wasn't interfered with because therein lies your appeal. I've read some stories by well-known humourists that aren't half as funny as yours. Maybe you could offer one of your pieces up for gentle critique. They've already got a lot going for them and you could make them even better with some polishing. π Steve Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Steve. I appreciate your comments and I have sent you a p.m. with my thoughts. TheBigBadG on 22-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. Steve is right - I seem to remember saying something similar about the yarn-weaving back when you were posting stories about the steel-mills. You've either got a great memory for amusing moments and funny friends, or a sharp eye for the absurdities of everyday conversation. You always remind me of my friend (the policeman with the gypsy wedding story) and he's a great raconteur. You're just like I wish Alan Bennett was, in fact. Sure, the mechanics need tightening up, and I realise that can get expensive quite quickly, but the important elements seem to flow out of you with ease. George Author's Reply: ![]() The thing is, things can only get expensive if you have the money to spend, so I don't have that problem. I will try to learn as quickly as I can and make improvements as they become apparent. Weefatfella. Andrea on 22-02-2013 A Chip On The windscreen. Agree with both George and Steve on all points π You're a fine talent, WFF - hone it and make it great π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you also Andrea for your help and support. As I said to George. I will endeavour to improve and keep an eye on what I am being told. Weefatfella. |
A Dangerous Choice. (posted on: 15-02-13) An old alcoholic takes a serious risk. ![]() Archived comments for A Dangerous Choice. Mikeverdi on 15-02-2013 A Dangerous Choice. Will comment after reading part two, Great so far! Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike. Thank you very much for taking the time to read and more importantly to comment. Weefatfella Savvi on 16-02-2013 A Dangerous Choice. A great read, I ca really see these characters and the places they frequent, what happens next ??? S Author's Reply: ![]() Well Savvi part two is here and part three next publishing day. I'm a bit worried about the amount of profane language in the piece but I know it is in context. Thank you for reading and commenting so far. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 17-02-2013 A Dangerous Choice. So far so good - am planning a holiday in Scotland this summer, so better steer clear of this pub !!! Val π Author's Reply: ![]() It's okay Val, just give me a shout, I'll show you around and introduce you to Auld Curdy. Thanks again for reading and commenting |
The King Of The Gypsies. (posted on: 11-02-13) A rather scary but exciting fare with the King of the Gypsies for company. ![]() Archived comments for The King Of The Gypsies. TheBigBadG on 11-02-2013 Reflections.The King Of The Gypsies. If this is a true story I can imagine it must have been a pretty hairy ride. True or not though, good tale. Giving the devil a ride into hell, keeping safe mainly by pretending that you aren't giving the devil a ride into hell. It's a natural set up and you carry the atmosphere well with all the burning barrels et al. It feels a bit medieval somehow, actually. Something that might give you a chuckle though: I have a friend who's a policeman and he was keeping an eye on a gypsy wedding one time. Apparently some lady emerges from the reception, all tears and wailing, and tells him there's an argument getting out of hand inside and one of them has a gun. So my friend tries to calm her as best he can, radios through something like, 'Going in to check on an argument. A gun has been reported but no shots fired,' and heads into the reception. About 4 minutes later half the county force turns up, all sirens wailing, doing the full Blues Brothers routine. Turns out the signal wasn't great there and control had heard something like 'Check on an argument ... gun reported ... shots fired...' Author's Reply: ![]() Aye radios aren't reliable. I turned a corner in Bathgate years ago and caught what I thought were burglars in the cinema with my headlights. I radioed control they told the police who put dogs in to get the offenders out. Five were bitten. They were the cinema owner, his two sons and two policemen. Polis are nuts! Thank you George for your story and your comments. Weefatfella Mikeverdi on 12-02-2013 Reflections.The King Of The Gypsies. Brilliant, I enjoyed it from start to finish. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike. I appreciate you taking the time to read and especially commenting. Thanks very much indeed for your very generous rating. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 12-02-2013 Reflections.The King Of The Gypsies. Quite a story WFF - fascinating. Enjoyed reading. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Val for taking the time to read and comment. I appreciate it. Weefatfella. japanesewind on 13-02-2013 Reflections.The King Of The Gypsies. great that, pity you could not have stopped for the finale. Have just got the book "Knuckle" by James Quinn McDonagh. good tale...W.F.F Author's Reply: ![]() I'll check it out. Thank you for your comments David. Weefatfella Andrea on 13-02-2013 Reflections.The King Of The Gypsies. Great stuff WFF! Must say, you're going great guns at the moment π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Andrea. I'm enjoying myself at the moment. Weefatfella. |
Reflections. (posted on: 08-02-13) Sometimes as we go through life we are tested. Sometimes we pass. Sometimes we fail. Reflections. I was sitting in pole position on the Bathgate taxi rank when the train rolled in. The bleep sounded and the doors slid open. The passengers poured out dodging each other easily and dissipated into the town. He suddenly appeared, heading towards me, he was wearing a deerstalker cap and one of those expensive tweed jackets with the elbow patches. He was dressed in tan corduroy trousers and on his feet, were a pair of pointy leather brown brogues. A well-manicured thin pencil moustache grew below his tortoise-shell half spectacles and a red bow tie flashed, in front of his yellow and red checked shirt. He was raising and lowering his walking cane with a flourish as he tipped his head in my direction. I nodded to denote I was first cab. He flicked his cane under his left arm and opened the taxi door. He got in, sat down, and after placing both hands on top of his cane, he ordered, " Armadale driver, thank you." I flicked the meter on and headed west. After going through the Steelyard traffic lights the aroma hit me. 'He's farted' I thought, 'no, there was a strong sharp tang to this odour, and it was getting stronger.' " Have you shit yirsell? " I asked him. " Yes, it's a condition I have, I can't help it, just take me to Armadale" " A condition? I've gote a condition tae mate. Ma condition is, yie don't shite in ma motor. You huv, and yie still want me tae take yie tae Armadale ? The motor's mingin, A cannae take you anywhere mate, yir stinkin oot ma vehicle, and that's before A see the state ae the seat." I drew up to the kerb next to the Armadale bus stop and got out. I walked round the cab and opened the passenger side door for him. ''Right git yirsell and yir shitey arse oot.'' " Yie cannae pit me oot driver I need tae get tae Armadale. How am I gonnie manage that?" " I don't know mate, why don't yie take a run and slide there?" He brushed his shoulder roughly against me in complaint as he got out. I let it slide. He stood inside the bus stop. As I turned, I could see the lady standing next to him, leaning towards him and sniffing his shoulder. She looked him up and down before screwing her face up, and taking a step to the side. I opened the windows and u-turned the cab east. I checked the car over in the petrol station. The seat looked fine. I didn't want to do it, but it was something I had to do to find out if the seat was wet or smelly. Squirming and with my face screwed up, I hesitantly rubbed my two fingers on the pleather seat-pad and sniffed, nothing. I gave it a wipe and scooted the air freshener a couple of times. I nipped into the toilet and washed my hands before heading once more into the breach. The Taxi data pad, on the dash, bleeped. 'Job offer, press any key to accept ' I pressed the middle lucky number eight. The bleeping stopped. The screen now read " Fr-, Acc 109 D.S.P. unit 1, Kelvin Park, Deans North Ind Est....NB > Letter. > Get sig both ends. To- Acquired Finance, 3 Bellend Square S,Gyle Edinburgh...............£20.00.' That's okay its a lovely day, the sun's splitting the trees. The cab smells fine again. I'll have a nice wee drive up the M8 to South Gyle. It will take twenty minutes. That's a pound a minute. Ya Belter. Oh, the Icing on the cake, Allana, the wee Polish receptionist at D.S.P. is the strangest wee wuman. She has the weirdest dress sense. Everything is all mixed up. It's as though she wears what she likes but doesn't bother if anything matches. Somebody must have told her men like thigh high boots with six-inch stiletto heels. The wee lassie staggers about her office like a drunken ice skater. She wears them with cut off denims with the white pockets hanging down her front and her arse hanging out the back. She sports huge belt buckles below her always bare midriff showing a pearl hanging from a short silver chain attached to her naval and low cut blouses with buttons open to advertise her inheritance. Her dyed blonde hair is long, frizzy and wavy, usually with a hair band holding it back from her over made-up spray tanned, red lipsticked and heavy black rimmed bespectacled face. I believe she would be quite attractive if some good friend would have a word. That said, I drove down and pressed the buzzer at the D.S.P. Office. Allana came shimmering out from behind the desk with her stiletto's wavering enough to knock out one of her knees. Her arms were flapping trying to keep her balance, but she had the most endearing smile,while she was saying, " Ees okay, I are coming to you, dee door buzzer ees no work." She opened the door and handed me the letter. " Ees okay now eh?" I thanked her and took the letter. " Excuse me I need to have your signature on this chitty" I elaborated by imitating a signing with my right hand. She flashed that smile again and said, " Okay I sign, where?" She leaned over and with great difficulty balanced the chitty on her boot-covered knee. As she signed, I was lecherously smiling. When all was done I jumped into the Hack and headed for the M8. Twenty minutes later I was parking the taxi on the C.E.O's Space at Acquired Finance in S, Gyle. Carrying the letter I swanned into the building. I know the score with security guys; there were three of them all with moustaches, and standing behind the imposing large half moon desk. I waved the letter at them as I called " A.F." " Aye mate, take the lift, top floor, yie cannae miss it." I jumped in the lift and pressed button 3, the machine took me up to A.F. I always make sure when in an elevator to be certain I'm facing the right way when the doors open which isnae easy sometimes, so I kept turning one way then the other. When the doors opened I was facing the wrong way after all. I stepped out into what could have been a section taken from a primary school corridor. The walls were dark brown on the bottom and pale green from waist height up. A door with a narrow wire meshed glass window was the only means of escape. I peered through the narrow window where a young girl could be seen feeding paper into a machine. I tried the door it was locked. I rattled the door and then knocked loudly, the girl ignored me. I thumped on the door. A bus driver opened it for me. I say bus driver because the first thing I saw as the door opened was his black shoes, followed by his white socks and his black trousers. I took my eyes up to his face where he had the obligatory security man mustache. He smiled and murmured " Awright mate?" He stepped back to allow me to enter the citadel. I replied, "Aye mate fine, I've a letter here and a chitty tae be signed fur." He smiled and pointed me in the direction of an ugly fat guy with an enormous walrus like moustache. He was parked behind a massive desk covered in papers and he exuded an air of complete stupidity. As I looked at this arsehole, I thought, he lives himself. He was wearing a cheap supermarket shirt that was well passed its wear-by date. The colour had gone and now instead of pristine white, it was battleship grey. No woman worth her salt would allow her man out the door wearing that garment. I myself am an advocate of cheap supermarket apparel, I do Primark and even Mat Alan gents and ladies outfitters but the Sweetness would never, ever, allow me to ruin her credibility by sporting a battleship grey white shirt unless it was in the garden and beneath a jumper. The arsehole spoke... " Hey, can you no read?" I ignored that; nobody talks to me like that so he must have been talking to somebody else. " Aye you, you wie the letter, can yie no read?" I walked up to the escritoire and placed the chitty and the letter among the myriad of papers covering the desk in front of him. " Did you no see the signs oan the door ootside?" I controlled myself. Then made the reply. " Listen mate, this is the first time I've ever been here, I might never be here again. The signs on the door, I didn't notice, if there are any signs..." " There ARE.. fu..signs oan they doors, A pit them there. They show yie how tae access the door, tae save me gittin up aff ma ar.. seat every two minutes, an if yie hud read them, Wee Charlie here widnae huv hud tae open the door fur yie." I answered with," look mate just sign that chitty and I'm out ae here. I don't read other peoples notices, they could be lottery bonus numbers for all I know, just sign that chitty and I'm away fae this place and your face." " Whit's your name?" he yelled. I pointed to the chitty. "Are yie gonnae sign that? Cause if yie urnie, A'll jist take it back tae Livingston and say yie widnae take it." He grabbed a pen and scraped it across the receipt. I picked it up and peeled off his segment before handing it to him. He grabbed it out of my hand. I turned and after nodding to wee Charlie the Swiss bus driver, I headed to the door. I tried to open it ....it was locked, I looked around but could see no signs, wee Charlie's hand appeared and opened the door again for me, I nodded to him and he grinned sardonically. I stepped into the small corridor and pressed the button to bring the elevator. As I waited I thought. 'Was that my fault? Could I have avoided that?' The door behind me opened, I turned. It was grey-shirt, " A don't like your attitude mate" he called. I looked at him, my right fist had balled and was twitching, he was a micro-second away from a right hook, just as I was ready to off-load it, I spotted the cameras, one in each corner, my arm relaxed. I heard, 'Ting', the lift had arrived. I turned to the arsehole, the only rejoinder I could think of was..." Look mate, see instead of writin oot signs tae annoy the people in here, why don't yie ask that wee lassie feedin that machine wie paper how tae wash a shirt, cos that wan's mingin". I stepped into the lift. ![]() Archived comments for Reflections. ValDohren on 09-02-2013 Reflections. Well, I guess it just wasn't your day Weefatfella was it !! Met a few arseholes myself so I know just what you mean though. Great read, much enjoyed - very descriptive, ATMOSPHERIC, and funny. Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Val for getting the ball rolling. 61 reads and no comments. I was losing the plot. I should be grateful that at least I'm being read, but I feel if there are no comments it must be rubbish. Still you rescued me from despair Val, thank you again. Enjoyed the ATMOSPHERIC. Phwaaw!!! Mikeverdi on 10-02-2013 Reflections. This is a long way from rubbish, I loved it too. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for your generous rating and comment Mike. I'll have to address this insecurity I have. Cheers mate. Weefatfella. purplespirit on 10-02-2013 Reflections. Except facing some problems reading parts of your English I thought it was a great story and kept a chuckle with me all through. To you of course it has been an extreme test situation and I don't know how I would have to handle this. Thanks for sharing. Purple Author's Reply: ![]() The main reason you would have had problems reading is ,when I write for effect I use Scottish vernacular, this is not easy even for English speaking people to read. I wish that had been the the worst test situation I've been in after nearly forty years driving taxis. I have recently started writing about some of those experiences under the heading Reflections. I hope you will pop your head in from time to time. Thank you for your much appreciated comments. Weefatfella. |
The Harburn Haggis Bash. (posted on: 01-02-13)![]() A more in depth and complete description of the real story behind the Harburn House Haggis Bash. No names have been changed, as all are guilty. ![]() Archived comments for The Harburn Haggis Bash. KristerJones on 01-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. I love this! British eccentricity at it's best π I salute you sir, and your haggis too! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your very kind and much appreciated comments. Weefatfella. expat on 02-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. Brilliant - I could just see Spike Milligan & pals doing this as a TV script. It's genuinely funny, not forced and over-written, as some might do. A perfect story length as well. What a cheery way to start the day off! π Steve Author's Reply: ![]() Steve! You have cheered me up entirely and boosted my confidence completely. Part of why I was missing from the forum for that wee while was, a complete drop in confidence in my storytelling abilities. You have fixed that. Thank you very much mate. Weefatfella. Andrea on 02-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. Brilliant! But what a stench must have emanated! Great vid to go with it, too π Author's Reply: ![]() Andrea, I must say I feel absolutely over the moon. How great does a wee nib make the Weefatfella feel? Thank you very much indeed for your very kind comments........" ya Beezurrr." Weefatfella. x stormwolf on 02-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. Hi Weefats:-) As you know I seldom read prose but you are so generous reading poetry that I wanted to reciprocate...and glad I am that I did! A 'pure dead brilliant' piece of writing which had me laughing out loud (no mean feat I can assure you) Eh, nae used tena lady in here a hope? That's been banned, the scent is too powerful and it drives the haggis mental." You are a natural writer and although I am not any good at giving informed crit on prose, all I can say is I thought it was very entertaining. The only thing I would say is that once you highlight "lure" once in inverted commas, you do not need to do it again as it stands out too much but I might be wrong. Loved the music OF COURSE!!! and saw the whole thing to the tune of 'Cock of the North' Brillaint and more than deserving of the nib Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Alison for your much appreciated comments. I agree with you on the "Lure" thing I honestly thought the same but wasn't sure. I have now adjusted. I read the poetry because I like it and I comment as best I can. I don't always get it but if someone takes the time to share their work, I feel I should at least comment. To do otherwise is akin to shoplifting I think. Thanks again Alison. Weefatfella.x ChairmanWow on 05-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. Funniest thing I have read on this website, WFF. You painted the pictures with just the right tones, nothing overdone in my humble opinion. Ralph Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your comment Ralph I'm sitting here smiling. I enjoy your work also, especially Girl Trouble, so your praise is greatly appreciated. I'm glad you enjoyed. Weefatfella. niece on 05-02-2013 The Real Haggis Bash. An enjoyable read, WFF... never knew there was a creature called Haggis until I read this...now I know π Regds, niece Author's Reply: ![]() I'm pleased you liked it niece. watch out for them there Haggises. Weefatfella. |
The Road tae Pettinain. (posted on: 28-01-13) My sense of direction is deplorable, but even under extreme pressure I can steer a drink into a glass. ![]() Archived comments for The Road tae Pettinain. japanesewind on 28-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. love the scottish inserted into your tale, read it with the accent perfectly, class ending...D Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much David. I appreciate you taking the time to read and for your kind comments. Weefatfella. CVaughan on 28-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Have read your family-orientated jolly account of domestic adventure, such as is life. Carried interest throughout to engage, well told and a happy ending that satisfies and frustrates the abstemious rule of house. The mahogony phrase I had not heard before. Frank Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you indeed Frank, for taking the time to read my meanderings and for your eloquent and articulate comments. Weefatfella TheBigBadG on 29-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Was the mahogany planned for? It looks like a spellchecker got it; the reason I ask is it's the kind of thing I'd say which my girlfriend would roll her eyes at. You've shaped some believable characters quickly here though, which is definitely the strength. These little moments of domestic and family triumph all depend on the combination of characters after all. There's something familiar for me about the sentinel and the bold rebellion against her, reminds me of a couple of family get togethers, aye... I've been thinking as well, and I wonder if you'd get a kick out of Harry's work here. He's got a similar knack for (American) people who feel like they've walked right out of life. You're definitely different writers but my brain wants to connect you two for some reason... George Author's Reply: ![]() Mahogany was definitely planned, it's in common usage in Scotland. Thank you for reading and for your comments. Harry I don't know? Maybe you could help me a bit more with that please. Thanks again George. Weefatfella TheBigBadG on 29-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Duly noted on mahogany - that's my learning done for today. Picking a couple of his at random... Goofy, Ernie and Me & The Twelve Cylinder Packard. The thing about Harry is he can shape a cast of real people very quickly. I think that's the connection I'm going for between you two. Author's Reply: ![]() I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by Poets here on UKA. His tales are well written and easy on the eye. I will be trawling for him in the future. Weefatfella ValDohren on 29-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Fascinating mahogany story WFF - at least you got there, so your sense if direction is a tad better than mine!! Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you Val. For a Taxi driver of so many years I'm a joke. Weefatfella. Andrea on 29-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. I agree with BBG (and Harry) - it's certainly a knack you have there for bringing characters to sparkling life in a very short space of time. It's a very easy-going style (both you and Harry) which makes your stuff eminently readable and enjoyable. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Andrea for those marvelous comments and to be compared to Harry is an honour in itself. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 31-01-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Yes, as others have said, your characters are always too cool and your nationality is unmistakable and endearing to savor as I read. I would still like to hear an audio on your works... Your fan, Greg π ![]() Author's Reply: ![]() Hi! Greg always good to hear from you. Thank you for those amazing comments. I am honoured indeed, that you would call yourself a fan of mine. I am flattered, but I see you as a friend. I have a terrible accent Greg and my illness has, according to Adam, has changed my voice. Weefatfella. expat on 02-02-2013 The Road tae Pettinain. Not much to add here, wff, it's great to see your magnetic accounts back again. You've got a definite talent for storytelling; I'll bet if we spent an evening at your local listening to the day's events, it would be just as funny. If you ever decide to try hard-copy submissions to a publisher there'll be some format and punctuation editing needed but I'm sure the essence would shine through. Cracking entertainment. π Steve Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much again Steve, for your kind and uplifting comments. Weefatfella. |
The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. (posted on: 21-01-13) Tommy would never again forget to switch off the lights in the ladies toilets. ![]() ![]() Archived comments for The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. Savvi on 23-01-2013 The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. Lol I enjoyed this, clever twist at the end I would of preffered a little more show than tell but thats just me. Nice piece. S Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your insightful comment. I agree with you and will amend the piece to suit. Weefatfella Texasgreg on 23-01-2013 The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. ( Amended) Hehe, a promise is a promise. One of my first jobs after serving in the corps was in security. Being the manly sort I am, I was slightly embarrassed to have uttered my surprise too loudly upon discovering CPR dummies in a dark room once. Funny 'un, Duke! Greg π ![]() Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Greg, had a wee bit of difficulty with this one but got there in the end. Thank you for your kind comments. ( Duke) Weefatfella. Savvi on 23-01-2013 The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. ( Amended) Hi Duke The edit really works for me the piece is smoother and carries alot more tension, the walk seem more scary if that were possible. Nice job. Savvi Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your help and your kind comments Weefatfella niece on 24-01-2013 The Ghost of Girdwoods Bar. ( Amended) π ... enjoyed reading this, WFF...it's a good thing you kept your promise... Regds, niece Author's Reply: ![]() You know me niece, I always do. Thank you for your kind comments. Weefatfella |
The Day of The Spray. (posted on: 18-01-13) I had been feeling unwell and decided to take my spray to relieve my symptoms. The Day Of The Spray. I suffer from more than my fair share of health related problems but the most prevalent, are respiratory and my daughter Jen, who is a nurse, is always worrying about me and asking after me. I can hear her as I sit here, saying. " Remember Dad, if ever you feel really down or unwell, take your spray, it will give you a wee lift, and you will feel much better, but try to use it sparingly and you will get better use from it." I took this on board and promised myself I would only use the spray, if I felt I really needed to. I had dropped the Sweetness off at her God's house in Bathgate and I was feeling really unwell. My head was thumping, I was nauseous, my back was sore and I was feeling really awful. On the drive back, I remembered Jennifer and the spray. "That's what I'll do, when I get in, I'll take that spray and all will be honky-dory." When I got home, I made myself a coffee and took the spray from the cupboard, I sat down and when I had finished my coffee, I read the label on the side of the bottle. ''Spray twice below tongue.'' This I did, it pole-axed me. Immediately after I used it, I slumped in the chair as though Mohammed Ali had chinned me. The world was spinning and a strange, rolling and thrumming noise was pervading everywhere. I had triple vision and I could hardly breath. My body wouldn't answer my commands, when I turned my head, the world was revealed in still shots, which flickered, as I dazedly and dumbly watched. I remembered the Sweetness would be waiting in Bathgate for me. I would have to go and get her, but how could I drive in this condition? I checked my watches. It was 11.fifteen. I would have to go. She will be standing waiting and I didn't want the usual row if I was late, but again, should I drive in this condition? What could they do if I was stopped? I'm on prescription medication, if breathalysed it will show negative, I can't lose, it's raining and my wee wife is standing waiting. I stood up and waited till the room settled, then I staggered to the doors and made my way out onto the spinning planet. On reaching my car, which is a black cab, I was shocked to see that two of my colleagues had parked right beside me and as the cars were side on I couldn't differentiate with registration numbers, so I pressed the key- fob to determine which black-cab was mine. They all flashed, I tried the nearest one and got in. I turned the key, when I looked out of the windscreen over the three bonnets, the road was like a swollen river, swaying and eddying before me. I bravely entered the flow. I indicated right at the Kaim Park roundabout and heard a loud and long car horn from behind me. When I checked the rear view mirror, there was a line of cars stretching back as far as the eye could see, I must have been travelling at about two miles per hour along the main Edinburgh road. I sped up Kirk road and along Marjoribanks street and on into Bathgate. The Sweetnesses were waiting and after I stopped they jumped into the car, " Paul, you look absolutely awful". " well shanks furr shat, I sfeel a wee bit duzzzzy and my vision isnae reawy fwhit it shood be. Do I sounds a fwee shit weirdly?" "Oh no, you shouldn't be driving. How did you manage to even come in? When did it come on? Whit's bliddy wrang wi yie?" This conversation was in my opinion going nowhere. If I didn't begin to drive, neither would we. We made it home without incident (I think) and Theresa took the keys from me and locked the cab. " What has happened to you Paul? You look really ill and you're staggering" " I shwas feeling like shit so I took the shpray" " what spray? Och wait till I get you in," She roughly grabbed my arm and steadied me into the house, where she lowered me into my chair. The offending spray was brazently and unrepentantly, sitting on the unit next to my chair. Theresa picked up the evildoer. " Is this the spray you used?" " Aye, Jennifer said if I shwaz feeling down that would pick me up" " This is nitroglycerin spray Paul, for your heart, in the event of a heart attack this will immediately lower your blood pressure and slow the heart down, to prevent or minimise damage to the heart during the attack. You have in effect, switched yourself off." With the other medication I am on, the effects of the nitro-glycerine had been enhanced, I was lucky to have survived. The problem had been interpretation of Spray or Puffer. I have a lung condition called Methotrexate Pneuminitis, which affects my lungs and I take an inhaler in the morning. The puffer or spray is if I need a wee lift after exertion. I was lucky the wee lift wasn't feet first oot the bloody door wearing a wooden Jacket, with men in long black coats and sad plastic faces. Spray. Or Puffer? ![]() ![]() Archived comments for The Day of The Spray. amman on 18-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Really enjoyed this WFF; made me larf and no mistake. Remind me never to get in your cab!! Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Ha! there's a load of embellishment here. I did take the spray your honour but the effects were, lowered blood pressure and a wee bit tiredness as a result. Nothing like that. Have to preserve my licence don't ya know Taff. ( Apologies) Thank you for your comments much appreciated. Weefatfella. Andrea on 19-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Could have sworn I commented on this yesterday! Odd! Never mind - a bloody fun read anyway WFF π Author's Reply: ![]() You have so many to get through, It's no wonder. I don't mind when I get comments just as long as I get some. Thank you Andrea for your comment, it is, Appreciated. Weefatfella. xx franciman on 19-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Definitely a fun read which I enjoyed. I think it could do with a bit of paring and maybe tidying up? If you would like proper critique, I would be happy to do it by p.m. if you were interested? cheers, Jim Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much indeed Jim for your Kind request but I feel my work is best presented as it is, rough and raw. I make no pretensions as to my level of technique but I enjoy tremendously what I do. I hope people get something from my weavings and it gives them a laugh, that's why I do it. As a fellow member niece advised me,... " Only write for yourself, then what you write is free from influence" That's what I want to do, that's what pleases me and I hope with this freedom I can please other readers. Thank you for your very kind comments Jim. Weefatfella. Romany on 19-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Blimey! You got off lightly I think. I take a puffer - your inhaler is definitely a PUFFER, not a spray! Author's Reply: ![]() I know, thank you for your comment it's appreciated. Weefatfella Texasgreg on 20-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Took me a little while to get to ya Duke, but here I am. I'm just sorry that I've been so busy lately. I always love yer stories and this is no exception. I'd really like to hear recordings of them as I bet you're a gifted orator. Greg π Author's Reply: ![]() Brilliant Gregg, Always makes my day to hear from you. Hope you are keeping well and thank you as always for you kind comments. Honestly. you don't want to hear me speak. I have a very thick Lanarkshire accent. Which according to Bill Bryson ( Tales from a small Island) is the most difficult accent for people from the States to understand. I will remain a mystery in that department. If you don't mind. Again thank you for your very gracious comments. Duke....Weefatfella. niece on 24-01-2013 The Day of The Spray. Glad that you are safe, WFF...it's a good thing that you look at life lightly...the world would be a better place if more people did that π ... great to see you posting again and do take care... Regds, niece Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you niece for you kind comments. I'm very fortunate the women in my life look after me well. Always good to hear from you. Weefatfella |
Wullie and Wilma. (posted on: 14-01-13)![]() I have been fortunate to live across from the daftest guy I know. Observing him was a constant joy. He has moved away and I am less for it. Wullie and Wilma. It was 11.30 on a Saturday night; I paid the driver and stepped from the taxi outside my house to see my neighbour Wullie Morton. Maybe see him wasn't the right thing to say Wullie was obscured by a massive shell like object on his right shoulder. With every precarious step Wullie took, the shell threatened to draw him to the ground. Wullie was very drunk and on his way through the public park, he had taken one of the park benches, along with maybe fifty plus pounds of concrete, which was hanging from two of the legs. The ungainly weight on his back must have easily been about ten stones. To carry this drunk, along with a Fish supper, was a legendary achievement. I have looked at Wullie with improved respect ever since. The reason Wullie had stolen the bench was to gain brownie points from his attractive but demanding wife Wilma. They had just that year purchased their council house and Wilma wanted a nice wee spot to sit in the sun. There were two obstacles in the way of this plan. One was they had no seating; well Wullie had now solved that problem. The other was there was a huge maple tree in their south facing garden. The tree was putting the garden in permanent shade, much to Wilma's chagrin. Wullie phoned the council and asked to have it removed. He was advised the tree was listed and he had better be careful, if anything happened to the tree from now on, he would be held responsible. They came to a compromise and Wullie was allowed to trim, or lop the organism but he'd better be careful. He and the tree were now being watched. I live across from Wullie, which for me is a bonus. I have a ten-foot square glass sliding door, which allows me a great view of his shenanigans. I sat down one Sunday morning in my chair and made myself comfortable. Across the path from me Wullie and Wilma's red headed but not too bright brother Robert (no hair just a red head. Chick Murray) were beginning to attempt to open up the back garden for sunbathing. They were armed with a chain saw, a ladder, one of those sliding aluminium contraptions and various lengths and thicknesses of rope. Wullie had donned safety goggles and thick hide elbow length gloves and the brother was responsibly wearing a yellow hard hat and hi viz jacket, I was suitably impressed. Wullie looking the part wrapped a thin coil of rope round his right shoulder and after placing the ladder against the bough of the tree, he shakily began to climb, I was enthralled. On reaching a thick limb, Wullie secured himself bough-side and unrolled the thin rope which he lowered to Robert, who tied the chainsaw to it and Wullie drew the machine up the tree using the ladder as a ramp. I was very impressed. I was now sitting on the edge of my seat, captivated. They would tie a thick rope to a branch, Robert would take the strain and when Wullie sliced through, the cutting was pulled away from Ian the next door neighbour's fence to land safely in Wullie and Wilma's garden, all very professional. I was starting to get bored. I knew Wullie however and I also knew I wouldn't be disappointed. Wullie was now beginning to get fed up, they were three hours into the job and although a huge pile of branches was lying in the garden. The task was taking forever. Wullie began to take short cuts. He was now cutting thicker and longer branches and with Robert pulling harder and putting more strength into his work they were getting away with it. Soon Robert began to tire and two or three branches just missed the fence. I made myself another coffee. When I sat back down Wullie had climbed higher up the tree and was tying the rope round a very large limb. If this branch had been in the ground it would have been a formidable tree in it's own right. Wullie was head down and arse up into the job, he was tired and sweating and clearly wanted to see some sort of result for his work. Things from my perspective were improving. The very thick, long and heavy limb was being sliced into, sawdust was flying everywhere, and Robert was picking his nose. A loud crack! Was heard and the limb split and tore itself away from the bough of the tree. Wullie was catapulted ten feet up the tree where he thankfully grabbed onto a thick branch, which was for the moment holding him. Robert on hearing the loud crack had scampered. The limb fell to the ground; the fence was smashed into kindling, which flew spinning dangerously all around. Ian the next door neighbour's garden shed disappeared among the limbs branches, the only evidence of a shed being there at all was the flying paint tins and a whirling lawnmower, which was in a ballet dance with a bicycle, pirouetting over the fence behind and disappearing into infinity. A pair of shears had embedded themselves into the side of the tree. I was in fits, Wullie was in shock and Robert was nowhere to be seen as Wilma stepped out the back door and into the garden. The upshot of all this was, Wullie had to buy Ian a new shed and lawnmower, along with a new fence. Wilma had her sunshine and time marched on. I looked out the window maybe three weeks after the tree incident to see Wullie, armed with a six-foot fence-post, which he was presenting to a hole in the ground, and attempting to hammer in with a 16lb heavy long shafted hammer. He was having difficulty; the post just wouldn't go in. He left the scene and enlisted the aid of his wife Wilma. She was clearly afraid, she knew her husband. The last thing anyone would want to do in my and Wilma's opinion, was to place their head anywhere near Wullie armed with a heavy hammer. I could hear Wilma talking to him " Right Wullie you be careful here. When I nod my head, you hit it.... eh! The post Wullie, no, no, I can't do this, I don't trust you." " Fine " He lifted the post and petulantly stormed away, he returned a few minutes later, he had nailed a two-foot long strap of wood to the post for Wilma to hold, putting her out of harms way. Wullie again retreated to return with a kitchen chair, he stood on the chair and His dutiful wife handed him the hammer. Wilma again grabbed the post, using the wood strap she inserted the post into the hole in the ground, she steadied her feet and nodded her head, Wullie spat on his hands and rubbed them together, he reverently lifted the hammer and began to swing it like a pendulum in a wider and wider arc, when he reached the perfect apex he made a swing worthy of Thor himself. When Mjollnir struck the post dead centre, the post took off and flew twenty foot into the air, followed by hundreds of gallons of fresh water which shot up in a fountain fifty foot high. Wullie,Wilma, the hammer and the chair, were washed away spinning together downhill past the tree, I was on my feet to see Ian's new shed turn slowly to the right, where it then began to bob up and down as it followed Ian's back fence downhill and away. They had hit the water main. Willie and Wilma moved away shortly after that and I must say, I do miss them. ![]() Archived comments for Wullie and Wilma. roger303 on 14-01-2013 Wullie and Wilma. Welcome back WFF! A right good laugh, as always! Keep 'em coming. Roger Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your kind comment Roger. It's good to be back. Texasgreg on 15-01-2013 Wullie and Wilma. Good Lord! I hope this is your imagination, Lol.... Super funny story to make your return with, Duke! You never disappoint me. Greg π Author's Reply: ![]() Hi, Gregg, It is in fact partly true, so close to the truth I had to get permission from my eldest daughter Angela, her best friend Donna is the daughter of Wullie and Wilma Obviously not their proper names. Pleased you enjoyed it I have fixed the problem you referred to. Again thanks Gregg. Mikeverdi on 16-01-2013 Wullie and Wilma. Simply brilliant, I loved your story. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much for your kind comment. Glad you enjoyed it. Weefatfella Andrea on 17-01-2013 Wullie and Wilma. Hahaha, brilliant WFF - loved it and great to see you posting again! Author's Reply: ![]() Wooohooo! Andrea you have made my day. Thank you for the nib I hope I deserve It. Absolutely over the moon! Weefatfella. Andrea on 17-01-2013 Wullie and Wilma. How do you know it was me? π I ain't the only nibber, y'know... A great comeback anyway π Author's Reply: Thank You Maam.x |
The Brothers.... Grim. (posted on: 15-10-12) Two brothers, one hard working, the other a waster and a thief. The Brothers Grimm. Gerry Steel and his estranged wife Maureen, left the West End bar in Wishaw and made their way to the Commercial Hotel across the road. As they walked in, one of several topers' standing at the bar greeted Gerry, ''Hi Brian,'' Anyone who has brothers knows when this happens, to save time, you take the call for your brother and just say Hello. ''Hi. Eh, Eddie?'' ''Ma names Tam.'' ''Aw, hi Tam. How are yie?'' ''Aye A'm fine.'' Gerry and his wife carried on through the bar and into the lounge. After getting a drink they sat down to discuss their at that time, failing marriage. Gerry had made a stupid mistake and Maureen had asked for space to think. They were trying tonight for the sake of their two children; to talk things over and hopefully set things back on track. Gerry nervously took out his cigarettes for a smoke, when he opened his matchbox he noticed he had only one match left. With the difficult conversation to come, he asked Maureen for leave to go and get more matches. He left by the side door and walked over to the Belhaven Cafe next door to the West End. After buying the matches he came out of the cafe and instinctively walked straight across the road and in through the Commercial front door, again he was greeted by Tam. ''Oh, hi Gerry, how are yie? Yir brother Brian's away intae the lounge.'' ''Oh, is he? Thanks Tam, I'll jist go in there then.'' ''Oh, aye, yiz huv the same taste in Jackets a see.'' Observed Tam, as he waved his pint at the departing Gerry. Things didn't go well with Maureen and she stormed out in tears. Gerry, infuriated with himself, sat and watched her go. He finished his pint and decided to drown his sorrows. After checking his wallet, there seemed to be thirty pounds missing. Gerry always knew how much he carried and it was only since moving in with his mother and waster brother Brian, that things weren't always right in the money department. It was always a tenner before, which wasn't worth causing a fuss over, but with things going badly with Maureen, Gerry was going to take his ire out on his thieving brother Brian. After all, he had never worked and was always sponging off him or his pensioner mother; Gerry was going to have to throw a couple of right hooks at his brother. Brian always drank in the Imperial. Gerry made his way there. He threw open the door of The Imperial bar and standing at the bar with fresh pint in hand was Brian. ''Ya durty thievin bastard, you stole thirty pounds oot ma wallet, I'm goin tae lift yir heid right aff yir shooders.'' ''A'm no the basturd you are, you're the auldest and anyway A never touched yir money ya bawbag. If it's a battle yie want, bring it on, A'm jist in the mood fur yie.'' '' Hold it, hold it," said Libby the barman. " If you two brothers are gonnie go furrit, take it oot the back.'' He opened the back door, ringing the bell for the two brothers to begin. The back yard of the Imperial is covered in red ash, broken glass, puddles, old cars and dog-shit. Gerry was giving Brian the hiding of his life and after knocking him down through a puddle and up against an old Volkswagen beetle's rusted wheel; Brian held his soaking and dog-shit covered hand up. ''Right, right you win, I'm sorry.'' ''Sorry is nae guid tae me, I'm no finished wie you yit, I've mare tae gie yie.'' ''Naw, yie huv tae help me up, please.'' ''Aw, please is it? Fuckin please noo, efter A've knocked the shit oot yie, it's please?'' ''Aye, yie really huv tae help me up.'' '' Why?'' ''Cause A'm wearing your Jacket.' Replied Brian. Archived comments for The Brothers.... Grim. Mikeverdi on 15-10-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. Love it !! The ending was priceless. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mike, glad you enjoyed it. Weefatfella. Andrea on 15-10-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. Hahaha, brilliant - loved it! Never thought I'd say this, but the accent's great too π Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, we'll huv yie oan the porridge yit. Hanks fur yir comments, Appreciatit. Weefatfella. Andrea on 16-10-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. Whaddya mean? I have me oats every morning! Author's Reply: ![]() Ohhhh Myyyy. ValDohren on 16-10-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. LOL very funny WFF !! Val Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for reading and commenting Val. Weefatfella. expat on 21-10-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. You've definitely got a knack for these short vignettes, WFF! Some capitals popping up where they don't belong but that's trifling stuff. Looking forward to your next story, Steve :^) Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Steve appreciate you popping in. Thanks mate. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 24-11-2012 The Brothers.... Grim. Playin' catch up. Aye! What did I tell ya? You have story-tellin talent, my friend... Greg π Author's Reply: |
Plenty Of Fish. (posted on: 12-10-12) A step beyond lonely hearts. Plenty Of Fish. I drew onto the rank in the town centre, Charlie was at his boot pouring himself a coffee. He looked terrible. I leaned out the window and called, ''You awright?'' ''Aye I'm jist burnt oot, I had a visitor last night, Goad she's nearly drained me aw the gither. I can hardly move, ma legs and ma hips are killing me, must be wie aw that thrustin.'' As he said thrustin, he held his hands out wrists up and thrust his hips suggestively, a wee woman looked over as she passed and sneering at him called, ''away and behave yirsell ya durty wee bugger.'' ''So who was your visitor then?''' I asked as I stepped out of the Taxi ''Ae, aw naebudy jist a lassie.'' ''Cumoan Charlie it wiznae jist a lassie when she's got yie in that state.'' ''Och, I've been on ma own furra while noo and that hoose is awffie quiet when A go hame. It's always jist me and the telly.'' '' Whit are yie sayin then, are yie lonely?'' Charlie took a drink of his coffee, I could see his eyebrow lifting and even behind the large coffee mug he had a mischievous wicked grin. ''Naw A'm no lonely, A'm hoarny.'' ''Aye, well yi've always been that Charlie, so, where did yie meet the nympho then?'' ''Plenty of fish'' ''Whit's plenty of fish?'' ''It's a web-site yie join. Yie put a photo ae yirsell in, and yie write a wee profile, age, whether yir hetero,gay or convertible and yir location. Woman contact yie, or when yi'r on the site yie can contact them, as the wee meerkat says simples.'' ''Aye so there are no strings attached, jist a meeting of bodies rather than minds.'' ''Aye, it's awright fur you standin there, but when you go hame y'iv gote yir wife there and she's gote you,but when A go hame, well, A've already said it's quiet.'' I could see his point. The following Monday I again drew onto the centre rank and there again was Charlie, I got out for blether. ''Well, were yie fishin at the week-end?'' ''Fishin fur fuck sake mate a wiz trawlin.'' '' Trawlin whit dae yie mean ya wee hoarny bugger?'' Charlie came over all-conspiratorial. ''A went oan the plenty of fish site oan the Thursday, and I spotted a nice lookin wuman . Even knowin that women always choose a photo that's years out of date but they use it anyway. Yie jist add the years oan as best yie can. We arranged tae meet in the Arse and Honcher at eight o clock on Sat night.'' The lady turned up, and Charlie having her photo was able to recognise her. When she walked in, he waved and smiled. She came over and Charlie bought her a drink. They sat down, during this period of acceptance; either party can without prejudice terminate the assignation with no questions asked. They both agreed to continue with things but would have a wee get to know each other drink, all very civilised, until. After the third drink the wee wuman asked, '' Eh, Charlie, there could be a wee change of plan if you are the man I think you are?'' ''Aw is that right? Said Charlie, "and whit would that be?'' '' How wid yie fancy a mιnage a trois?'' ''Och A'm no hungry and A'm no intae foreign food, A quite like a wee curry but Italian food gies me a sare gut and a fart a lot wie it.'' ''Naw ya arse, three in the bed, that's whit mιnage a trois means.'' ''So who's the three in the bed goannie being?'' ''Wid yie fancy Mother and Daughter?'' Charlie looked at her, she was a fine lookin women and he had no doubt her daughter who could only be in her thirties at the least, would be just as easy on the eye, excitedly he stood up. ''Right ya belter let's go. Yi've gote me aw excited noo, taxi fur Charlie.'' The taxi stopped outside the house and they went in. Charlie was asked to stand at the bottom of the stairs while she went up to waken the third party, he watched as she stopped at the first bedroom door upstairs and knocking on the door she called, ''Mother he's here.'' Archived comments for Plenty Of Fish. Mikeverdi on 12-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. I have heard the joke before, but never told as well as that. brilliant !! and I still wasn't ready for the end. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for the kind comments. I'm going through a dry patch at the moment. I thought this might fire me up. Apologise for the old joke. I'll be back. Weefatfella. roger303 on 12-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. as ever WWF you brighten my day. Heard it before but you told it brilliantly and I enjoyed a good laugh. Sort of ending that would happen to me! Thanks for posting it. Roger Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your kind comments Roger, I'll have to get my thinking cap on. I apologise for the old joke. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 12-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. You don't have to apologise it was brilliant. As an old comedian used to say 'Its the way you tell them' Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again Mike. I'll batter oan regardless, nae doobt A'll come back fightin. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 12-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. Loved it WFF, all the more with the added zest of Scottish dialect. Val xx Author's Reply: ![]() Thank You Val, you're always very gracious. Weefatfella. Andrea on 13-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. hetro, gay or convertible - great! (although 'hetro' should be 'hetero') Some cracking turns of phrases you've got though π Loved it. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Andrea No sooner said. Thank you for your always constructive comments, they are appreciated. Weefatfella. expat on 14-10-2012 Plenty Of Fish. Your short pieces are a 'first read' for me each publishing day, WFF! Sure, the joke's an old one but it's still a howler in this story. And this bit: 'How wid yie fancy a mΓ©nage a trois?' 'Och a'm no hungry and a'm no intae foreign food.' Nearly sprayed my beer over the screen! π A great read and the dialect is the icing on the cake. Steve. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks very much for your very kind comments expat. I'm on a bit f a dry patch at the moment but I'm confident I'll get there . Your Comments have helped. Thanks again. Weefatfella. |
New Freedom Chapter Eight. (posted on: 08-10-12) Leathig Despairs. Water dripped incessantly onto the cave floor, it was dark and oppressively dank, with shadows... flickering over the undulating wet sides of the cave. The stomach turning reek of urine and feaces pervaded the close air. The oil and hemp torch,lying at an untidy angle, had been stuffed into it's receptacle and dripped black molten pitch onto the bars of the sconce which fell gathering into a mess on the slimy uneven floor. The black oily foetid smoke retreated from the yellow flame onto the ceiling. Leathig opened his swollen eyes, he was naked, hungry and afraid,sweat ran down his face seeping into his long grey beard making it itch.Something scurried close to his elbow, he gasped, he could just see the long tail of the rat as it receded over a leg bone lying on the floor. His hands were tied behind his back, his left leg was uncomfortable below him and was beginning to cramp. He tried to move to make himself more comfortable, he couldn't, the leg was tied tightly with rope to his right knee. No matter what he tried,whatever position he tried to move into, the cramps increased. He groaned and called out weakly, a dull echo answered him, he attempted rolling over on his bound arms, no, he was tied to a rusted ring on the wall, He called out in anger 'release me', no answer. Footsteps, who's coming? The glow of the torch stretched along the roof getting closer, someone coughed, clearing their throat and spat noisily on the wall. The scrape of heavy boots on the floor and a huge shadow behind a flaming oil torch threateningly approached. 'You awake priest? Open your eyes, breakfast'. A tin plate bounced off his bare foot and rattled on the stone floor, the contents spilling. The jailer placed a metal cup down,it made an empty hollow sound as it touched the rock. He couldn't see, the flame of the torch was being waved in his face going from side to side. 'How can I eat? My hands are tied', he asked the shadow 'use your mouth', the jailer laughed, repeating it to himself as he and the flame receded. He turned the corner, keys rattled, a door creaked and slammed, the lock turned, with that, the turnkey was gone. Leathig searched again for any spark of power he might utilise to escape this pit, he found nothing but a slight red flicker of malevolence, as he reached for this, his stomach lurched, he would have been sick but his stomach was empty. While retching, he leaned back on the wall. ' Where is the comforting Angel I was promised? Where is my hope and succour lord? He appealed to the stains on the black filthy cave roof,' ' Lord,' he screamed, ' why have you forsaken me ?' Leathig lowered his exhausted head to his chest and slipped into hopeless despair. The Arch-demon Asmodene sat in his hall, the room was huge, with large deep fire-pits giving shadowed and flickering illumination, large oil-lamps hanging on long chains, along with huge smoking torches lit the cavern. The chamber was six hundred feet in length, with marbled pillars reaching 200 feet into the vaulted ceiling, cherubs and imps were in combat on the ceiling high above. The dancing shadows choreographing and animating the carvings. Huge winged Gargoyle heads, with tongues protruding, topped the pillars. Standards and shields crossed with weapons, swords, pikes, lances and deadly spiked maces lined the walls. From the heavy Iron studded double doors to the south, the floor was raised on three levels increasing in height until reaching the Demon, sitting on his iron chair in front of a massive flag bearing the hexagonal double triangle, one facing up the other facing down, the sigil of Satan lord of Hell. Clasped in his black taloned fist, was an orb, dark green, nearly black, a swirling mist covering the entire face of it. The Demon gazed seeing Leathig in his cell three floors below. The priest was nearly ready, he was in despair, he had lost faith in his God and soon the demon seed inside him would start to convert his human genes to demon genes. He would soon be ready to take up the role Asmodene had prepared for him, The Demon needed a leader for his army and Leathig after his conversion would be the perfect choice. The Demon stood up, two black Azazel eyed him warily and moved from underfoot, Astorath and Asmodeth his mate, had been sitting at the Demon's feet like cowed dogs. They wore black boiled leather armour which fitted tightly, with spikes round the neck and wrists and embossed muscles all over, giving the appearance of great strength and fitness. They were large and strong, over six foot tall when on hind legs. Black in colour with thick yellow horns either side of their foreheads. The horns thick at the base ribbed and twenty inches in length, were curved and tapered to a point. They had huge teeth curling either side of their massive maws. Their hairy feet were hoofed but with long razor like claws sticking out either side. When Leathig was recruited, these'' faithful dogs'', would be his constant companions and protectors. They slunk slowly with heads down towards the wall and safety. The Demon walked purposefully towards the iron door, his boot-heels tapping his progress. On reaching the iron door it opened. He left the hall and descended the winding stairs to the ''Chapel'', on entering, a Troll dropped to his knees in supplication. 'Master I am almost done, he exclaimed. The green Troll was tall and slender, with two horns at the front of his forehead, his arms were very long reaching to his knees. He had a wide mouth, with too many long and pointed teeth behind his thin blue lips, his sharp pointed nose with flaring nostrils protruded beneath his large yellow eyes. Held in his clawed hand,was a tear drop shaped orb, blue and green coloured with a sharp pointed base. ' If the master would condone to empower the orb, the task would be completed?' the Troll hissed. The Demon grabbed the orb from the Troll and scratched his talon's into the surface. He breathed over it, vapour rose and coiled, heavy and smoke like, 'Give me the staff,'' the Demon ordered. Leathig's staff was floating in a tar like vitriol pool, steam was rising and a grey vapour swirled and caressed the staff like a sickness. The Troll waded waist deep into the liquid and pulled the staff out, he grimaced as it burned his claw and dripped acid onto the floor. The Demon took the staff and holding it between his knees he forced the sharp base of the orb into the top of it. The staff resisted. Asmodene Arch demon, opened his jaws and roared while shaking his head. He called out in a strange language. A horrible and vile incantation. The air in the ''Chapel'' chilled, the Troll cowered, his eye's rolling, casting glances all around, while the floor of the ''Chapel'' Lurched. Again the Demon called out, and slowly the orb's pointed base parted and invaded the staff head. He forced the orb deeper into the split until only the round part could be seen, reaching out he grabbed the Troll and pulled him closer. 'Mercy master,' cried the troll. Asmodene grabbed the Troll's arm and ripped off his claw, tearing it away from the elbow. The Troll screamed. He crafted the claw into the staff so that the fingers curled round the orb. The Troll's skin, bone and muscle grafted onto the wood of the staff, and became part of it, gripping tightly and holding the orb firmly in place. The Troll scurried away nursing his torn and mutilated limb, dripping what passed for his blood on the floor, he whimpered. ' Be still, said the Demon 'it will grow back soon enough. He raised the staff it rippled with evil. Asmodene sneered, 'Oh yes, he said, a good job and well done. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Eight. Mikeverdi on 09-10-2012 New Freedom Chapter Eight.{ Formerly Demons Lair. } Mr Weefatfella, I loved every word of this, so much that I am thinking of taking up Golf instead of writing!! Thanks for this one lol. I will look for the rest now. Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much Mike for your kind comments. I have been waiting for a comment on this. Thanks for getting the ball rolling. Weefatfella. ValDohren on 09-10-2012 New Freedom Chapter Eight.{ Formerly Demons Lair. } A gripping story - can't wait for the next instalment. Love a bit of gore !! Val π Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks Val. Sorry I'm late with this reply but I've started back to work ( maybe a wee bit too early) and I'm shattered when I come home. I'll get there. Thank you for your comments. Weefatfella |
The satyriasis. (posted on: 05-10-12) ' Hawd oan tae yir underwear Aggie, fur there's a bull cumin intae the field ae Kilcagie oan Seturday nicht.' The Satyriasis. Young Jim, would come into the howf at the Lanarkshire steelworks on a Monday morning, and regale everybody with his tales of sexual conquest. Much to the annoyance of Jock the welder, Who would berate Jim at every opportunity. ''I'll tell yie wan thing son, Yie can spin a yarn I'll give yie that.'' ''Whit yie talkin aboot Jock. Dae you think I'm kiddin yie oan? I can assure yie, If I say it happened Big-Man, it happened.'' ''Aye well, if that's the case, can yie git me a wuman ? Fur I've been withoot the fairer sex for a while noo, and I could fair go a wee bit ae attention fae wan ae them. Dae yie ken whit I mean son?'' ''Aw aye Jock but yir a lot aulder than me and I widnae know any wuman ae your vintage, except maybe Aggie.'' Jock perked up, ''Aggie?'' ''Aye, Aggie fae the Star Inn, she's aboot ages wie you. She's always in the Star oan a Seturday. Git yir arse in there big-Man. Buy Aggie a drink, and Boab's Merrit tae yir Aunty.'' Jock got up to take his tinny to the sink to rinse. He turned round and pointed with the can at Jim. ''You better no be huvin me oan young-yin, cause this bastirt will be in the Star in... Where did yie say it wiz?'' ''Kilcagie?'' ''Aye, Kilcagie, I'll see aboot this Aggie oan Seturday.'' He rubbed his hands then clapped them together with excitement. '' Hawd oan tae yir underwear Aggie, fur there's a bull cumin intae the field ae Kilcagie oan Seturday nicht.'' Jock stood waiting at the bar. The barman, Cooky, was preparing a cocktail for Aggie. She was torturing a tall barstool; Jock checked the legs of the stool to see if they were bowed. Aggie looked to be at least 18 stones or thereabout. She had long straggly and curly hair, dyed incredibly black, which fell level with the bottom of her ribs. You couldn't say waist, there was no evidence of one. She was wrapped in, a black and white polka-dot dress, which terminated a few inches above her knees but while on the stool, was revealing what she termed to herself her, 'Haud-me-in.' This was an elastic, with plastic, piece of women's attire designed to reshape or at the very least, re-align the wearer, into near enough the shape of a thinner her. The Haud-me-in,was toothpaste-tubing Aggie's body, and as the adipose tissue couldn't go down. Aggie was the proud possessor of a remarkably huge dιcolletage. It was the latter that had Jock excited. Cooky handed Aggie her refreshment and turned his attention to Jock, ''Aye, hello, whit are you havin ?'' ''Eh, A pint of heavy please,''said Jock. Cooky poured the pint while Jock stared down Aggie's top. ''Have you lost something son? Because if you have, ye'll no find it doon there.'' ''Naw, sorry hen, I was just thinking, it was just passing thoughts, that's aw.'' ''As long as it's no wind yir passing, that's okay. Eh, Cooky '' ''Aye Aggie, whatever you say,''answered Cooky, as he shook his head and raised his eyes from the same cleft. ''I've not seen you about here before, asked Aggie, are you from Kilcagie ?'' ''Naw, I'm from Bellsend, I just fancied a wee change.'' ''Wee change of whit? Scenery, cause the way your starin doon at my necessaries, your lookin for mair than a change ae bliddy scenery.'' ''Well the view is lookin good frae here,''said Jock smiling. ''Aggie laughed and said ' Bellsend, are they all like you there, strong and manly, and quick with the banter?'' ''Naw jist me. Eh, did you know that I can tell the day a woman wiz born jist by feelin her breasts?'' ''How's that possible?'' said Aggie, sneering in disbelief. ''Im tellin yie, I can dae it, and I've never been wrang yit.'' Aggie started to draw in air. Cooky moved out of the way, in case pieces of elastic or buttons broke free and came his way. Aggies huge chest inflated. While holding her breath, she proffered her assets to Jock, who had a good feel around before dropping his hands to his side. Aggie deflated her huge chest and demanded. ''Well, whit's yir answer?'' Jock took a sip from his pint and said, ''Yisterday,'' Aggie burst out laughing. ''Ya fly durty basturd, git me a Pink-Gin.'' That was that, Jock had pulled. They spent the rest of the night together in the pub, which cost Jock a small fortune. The bar closed and they went outside, Jock flagged a passing Taxi. Later, in Aggie's house, after the first wee intimacy; a slurp at each other's faces while Jock played the guess the weight game with Aggie's breasts. Aggie leant down and patted Jock's lunch-box, while saying, ''I'll just away and slip into something more comfortable big boy, you make yourself at home.'' She returned a short time later wearing a boa, Basque and fishnet stockings with suspenders, and long black leather boots, with stiletto heels. In her hand, was a black leather whip, which she was waving about with a maniacal expression on her face, saying, ''Oh, you naughty boy.'' Jock was up and out like a greyhound from the traps. Archived comments for The satyriasis. Andrea on 05-10-2012 The satyriasis. 'She was torturing a tall barstool...' - brilliant! You have a way with word alright, WFF. What a tale. And yes, I'm getting there with the accent π Author's Reply: ![]() Andrea, please forgive me I really thought I had replied to this, I never do that sorry. Thank for not just 'popping your head round' but for making a comment. I knew if I kept throwing in the Aye's and yirs yie wid git there. The secret with accents is the spelling which is imprecise but when chosen must be maintained. Thanks Again Gaffer fur yir magic comments. Weefatfella. roger303 on 05-10-2012 The satyriasis. Brilliant WWF. Aggie could be the character in a poem I wrote yesterday entitled "Obesity". I thought the punchline to the breast feeling was going to turn out to be as in an old joke I know, but you proved me wrong. Thanks for posting it. Roger Author's Reply: ![]() Thank You Roger. I was in a foul mood coupla nights ago and decided to cheer myself up, Along came Aggie and Jock. In a mirror Dinghy, ready to turn about .....Leo. Thank You for your kind comments. You'll have to tell that joke one day. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 06-10-2012 The satyriasis. Well, I thought that was pure dead brilliant! It may be difficult for some to get the patter but it had me in stitches. Hilarious and very well written. A winner! Alison x Author's Reply: ![]() My God Alison, coming from yourself it's Praise indeed. (Is 'Mortified' a Scottish word ?) Thank You very much. I'm fair mortified. Weefatfella. I never noticed the Nomination. Thank you Again Alison. I'm Humbled and cheered. amman on 06-10-2012 The satyriasis. Very funny and very good. Love the ending. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks again amman. appreciated. ValDohren on 07-10-2012 The satyriasis. Well, it was a struggle, but I got there in the end - very funny write. Think I need to spend more time in bonnie Scotland ! Author's Reply: ![]() Aye, Well hanks a bundle hen, am ower ra moon that yiv'e taken the time tae lit me ken yie hud taken a swatch at ma drivels. Fur yie like a've sent thae twa guys tae see yie furra cairry oan. Yi'll be gittin a sair nut wi aw this Scoattish patter gittin drapped roon aboot yirsell. Weefatfella. Yes, well thanks a great deal Madam. I'm over the moon that you've taken the time to let me know You had perused my meanderings. I've proffered a small distraction by the two famous gentlemen above, for your delectation. In an attempt to offset any cephalalgia you may have experienced as a result of being hard pressed by my overuse of Scottish vernacular. Weefatfella. Kat on 11-04-2013 The satyriasis. Loved it! Well done on a good write. Love the vernacular. You deserve to go far... ! :^) A nom for the anthology from me. Hope to get your taxi number from you when I'm back in Edinburgh living from next month... can't wait for the banter... haha. Kat x Author's Reply: ![]() Sorry it's taken so long to reply Kat but I missed this entirely. Thank you very much for the nomination and for your generous comments. Incidentally I don't work in Edinburgh I work in West Lothian. Thank you again. Weefatfella. |
New Freedom chapter Seven. (posted on: 05-10-12) Abandon hope all ye who enter here. Through me you pass into the city of woe. Through me you pass into eternal pain. Through me among the people ye are lost. The wheel of the cart bumped noisily, crushing the pebbles as it crawled over the deep, rutted ground. Thin, bent sycamores hanging over the small embankment, gave little shade from the cooking sun. Leathig stumbled, the chains on his feet were linked to a leather girdle on his waist. His staff was being used as a yolk. His arms were wrapped round the staff, with his wrists shackled to the same chain linked through the girdle. When he tripped, the whole system threatened to pull him down. The troll captain hurried over and grabbed the end of the staff, steadying him. He was tall for one of his kind, nearly six foot and broad. He wore black beaten copper armour. Muscle had been etched into the chest plate. A horned helm covered his fat and very ugly face. He had wide yellow eyes and a short fat nose with flared nostrils, his thin lips couldn't contain the filthy mouthful of file sharpened and rotten black teeth. "Careful Sweetling, you don't want to mark that pretty face, he wouldn't like it.There's not long to go my pretty and he don't want you marked." He grabbed a mittfull of Leathig's hair and pulled his head from side to side, before slapping him hard on the face. " Ragnor, get up here". A thin, even uglier troll came running, his loose armour clinking as he ran, "I'm here cap'n wot'ja need ?" "Make sure this meat doesn't fall, if there's a mark on him I'll put two on you." "But cap'n, how do I stop him fallin ?"The captain ignored him as he walked away. The troll kicked Leathig. "You better stay on your feet, if you fall you Demon's bastard I'll stick this in yer." He showed Leathig a three foot long and very lethal looking scimitar. The cart slowed, turning into a narrow track between large rosemary bushes, Leathig was pulled along. They stopped at the entrance to a low cavern. Torches lit the walls, but the weak light didn't penetrate to the floor. Two sentry trolls were sitting inside at a fire, on seeing the party entering, they stood up, the taller of them spoke, " What do you want here,? Go away we're busy enough wiffout you shit eaters giving us any more to do." The captain lowered his head and sighed, when he lifted it, he walked purposefully to the taller troll and drawing his battleaxe, he swung. The heavy half moon bladed weapon cleaved the troll's head in half, from his helm to his chin. The black troll blood, exploded,from the skull, the grey brains shot out like muccus covering everything, Leathig felt the warm spray on his face. The captain, well practiced, followed the body as it fell, placing his booted foot on the dead troll's chest, he levered the axe head out of the cloven skull and as he spun, he called, " open the door rat-meat or your next.'" The surviving sentry hurried to pull a lever hidden in the cave wall. To the left a part of the wall rolled back revealing a long torch lit passageway, with carved steps going down. ' Release the priest from the cart, and hold him tightly, if he escapes I'll have you all fed to the Grimvold. ' They began the descent into the dimly lit cavern. Leathig with the weight of the chains hampering him kept slipping on the wet and slimy steps. The captain stomped impatiently back and grabbing Leathig's head with one hand, he pushed him back into the wall, where he covered his mouth and nose, Leathig's head began to spin and his body began to convulse, the last thing he saw was the snarling face of the troll captain as he again lost consciousness. Leathig coughed, he was under a heavy fast flowing natural shower of hot spring water, He was naked. The two trolls were sniggering while they pulled him from the flow and rubbed mud all over his skin, then they pushed him back in again to rinse it off. '"That's right priest, he'll want you clean, he likes his girlies spotless does the Lord." They pulled him by his wrist chains, along a smooth walled passage. The torches here were brighter and better maintained. A red door stood at the end of the passageway, which was guarded by a huge black thrall, he was thickly muscled and carrying a heavy spiked mace. He spoke," Leave him with me maggots, I'll deal with him from here." He opened the door and dragged the naked priest inside " Please, no more, what's happening?" Leathig struggled but the man's strength was too much, he threw him through the open door, Leathig fell on the floor .The room was brightly lit with large animal head shaped clay pots, which hung brightly from every corner, a huge wheel with several light pots attached hung from the centre of the roof. Tapestries portraying naked men and women fornicating in all sorts of positions covered the walls. Plush Persian carpets softened the stone floors. A sinister cylindrical shaped apparatus sat on wheels in the middle of the floor. The big black man pushed Leathig towards this. Taking the chain from Leathig's right wrist, he threaded it through a ring on the bottom of the cylinders base, he did the same with the left. After parting Leathig's feet he attached a leather strap to each ankle and secured his legs to the base of the contraption. The man walked calmly round to the front and taking the rings of both chains he waited. Leathig's back was beginning to cramp, he appealed to the man, " Please, my back......." The chains were drawn quickly and an excruciating pain shot along his spine. He heard the door opening. The look of dread on the man's face was enough to let Leathig know someone or something of great significance had entered the room. The thrall cowered down with his eyes closed, sweat began to bead on his forehead even though the temperature in the room had dropped dramatically. " Ah, Leathig, I have waited for you for such a long time but never mind, you are mine now and we will work together to do great things." This grating voice, interspersed with low breathy growls, was like stones grinding on bones and when he spoke, the air chilled. "I want to be released," cried Leathig, " please, let me go." "You are free Leathig, I am setting you free, with my essence inside you, you will grow and be like my son. There is no greater gift I can give you ?" " I want to go to my people, please, let me go to my people." " That is my plan Leathig my son. You, will return to the Hebrew's in glory, at the head of a great army and together, we will destroy this hated covenant." Leathig felt a sharp pain on the top of each shoulder. The Demon had sunk his talons into Him, to hold him in place . The thrall, still with his eyes closed but now breathing heavily pulled harder on the chains. Asmodene,entered Leathig. The pain was unbearable, both physical and mental. This was unendurable, but it continued. Leathig screamed,The pain was excruciating. It went on and on. The thrall pulled the chains tighter, as Leathig struggled harder, calling on desperate strength to try to escape this unimaginable situation. The pain in his mind was even worse. How could he enter the kingdom of heaven now ? He had been sodomised, the rules were clear. He would never see the face of his God again. He had been sacrificed to this Demon. Leathig wailed and fell into despair. The Demon after ejaculating his seed into Leathig, eventually withdrew and left the room. Leathig lay over the cylinder and shed bitter tears. All he believed in had been violated. All that he was, had changed: he was defiled. The black servant released the chains and almost had to carry the priest into his holding cell. Leathig was tied and chained to the wall. The thrall left him to his suffering. Archived comments for New Freedom chapter Seven. amman on 06-10-2012 New Freedom chapter Seven. Very interesting part of the story WFF. Poor old Leathig, he can't win. can he. All the tighter with fewer characters to keep in mind. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you very much amman for commenting.......at last!...............I'm losing confidence in this but the problem is. It's very early in the story, there are many characters and I'm the only one who knows where it's going. I'm very grateful for your help in this amman so I will sodjer oan. ValDohren on 07-10-2012 New Freedom chapter Seven. Sounds like a scene from Lord of the Rings - I've got a couple of trolls in my lounge which I brought home from our trip to Norway a few years ago, don't know whats in their heads, never tried cleaving them open ! Interesting story, presume there is more to come. Author's Reply: ![]() Yes This is chapter 7 Thank you very much for reading Val. I'm getting to the point where I think this must be rubbish. Although I get plenty of reads. Sorry for Kinda twisting your arm. So I sent Stan and Ollie as a Thank you. Thank you for commenting on my gibberish, Weefatfella. |
A Philadelphia Lawyer. (posted on: 01-10-12) ![]() A Philadelphia Lawyer. Big Wullie put his right hand out and moved his index finger rapidly up and down mimicking a bird's beak. This combined with a known grimace, directed me to move the forty-ton ladle a bawhair to the right. The pouring holes were only five inches wide. As the ladle emptied into the mould the centre of gravity was shifting. The weight of the wheel combined with both handles was drawing the pour holes away from the centre of the funnels. The weight of the wheel and stoppers caused the ladle to tip and only half of the forty-ton load of metal was in the mould. If the pour missed, the molten metal at 1600+ Centigrade would go wherever it cared to, with no way of stopping or containing it. The seven or eight suits floating round about the 'big-job', as it had been called all week didn't know this. If they did they wouldn't have been so unconcerned. I jagged the control to the right once, then as has to be done, again on the top swing, to maintain balance and to stop any shaking. Wee Francy, with the moving of the ladle could now be seen and for some reason he had the usual smile on his face. It took me a few seconds to work out why. The Big-Job was exactly that, and like all jobs over twenty-five tons. The big-job Wee Francy knew had been plated underneath. This was a safety measure with side effects. When the job was being filled, plated jobs always created a build up of gas. The bigger the job was, the more gas. With more gas trapped, the louder and more frightening the bang when it ignited. Ignition usually took place about halfway through the filling process, in fact about now. Jock Hyslop, the Foreman, standing quite a bit off replaced his earmuffs and assumed his normal stance at casting, arms folded and pipe full on. Wullie changed hands on the ladle and was nervously twitching his feet; I closed the window to keep any dust out when the gas did go off. Wee Francy was taking his eye off the job to appreciate the soon to open pantomime curtains. The vents from the bottom half of the mould had already ignited and were flaming away creating a false sense of bravado in the naive jacket, tie and trouser brigade. After seeing and surviving the vents they were emboldened and began to encroach again, when the gas went- BABANG! A few of them jumped straight legged up in the air (I'm sure one guy left his trousers behind) and while levitated their wee legs went like Catherine wheels and their faces contorted into grotesque demon like effigies. Their hands shot out in front of them. On landing they pushed each other out of the way to escape. It wasn't a case of women and children first these guys were all big girls blouses. Wullie and Francy were smiling in the midst of it all, pointing with their foreheads at the next escapade of the pinstripe fraternity. The dust settled, the blouses went away to tell of their great escape. We finished the pour and emptied the slag from the ladle. I took the empty vessel away and dropped it next to the tipper lorry to be emptied by Francy in the morning. I looked back down to the casting pits, Wee Francy was pretending to shovel the suit spoor from where they had been standing when the bang went off. Wullie was pointing to his right remembering another incident in the saga as they made their way to the howf. I cimbed down the ladder and joined them. Wee Francy clearly wasn't happy. ''Whit's wrang?'' ''Aw see that fanny'' he said, pointing to Wullie. The problem was the foundry we were in was not Armadale Foundry. It was the new English foundry. We had been here for two weeks teaching the English how to make stainless steel...in Sheffield. We were scheduled to work the weekend but Wullie had called it off. Francy wanted to work to get a bigger holiday pay for the break he had booked on his return. In Francy's mind Wullie had buggered that up. The upside was we had two days off and we would go for a much-deserved drink that night. It was a strange evening. Francy was refusing to drink, it turned out his hormone level had risen (he said) and he must have a woman that night or he would end it all. His Healthy wife was too far away and with the new shirt and trousers he had on he couldn't fail. We called a taxi and headed into the Crown Inn in town to start the three of us off. Near the end of the evening, Francy went missing. He had nipped out for cigarettes to the garage across the road from the pub. He was standing in the rain behind a big Sheffield lad who couldn't make up his mind what he wanted. ''Pot noodle please love, Yeah, riginal.'' The assistant would wander off and return with the asked for item. ''Eh, packet of roast beef sandwiches please luv.'' Off she would go again, she came back and proffered the sandwiches. The guy looked at them and shook his head saying, '' No love these aint got English mustid on im. It's the ones wiff mustid dear.'' Francy frustrated anyway,lost the plot. ''Haw you, ya big fuckin arsehole. Can yie no make up yir big stupit mind whit the fuck yie want. Then ask the wee lassie tae go and git it. Tae save me standin like a fucken eejit, in the pourin bastartin rain.'' The big Yorkshire lad was shocked; he had never met a guy so small with such a big mouth before. ''I'm gonna take your fuckin head off you old Jock Fuck wit.'' Francy went mental. ''Auld! Auld! Fucken auld is it? Listen ya big baldy prick. There's two minutes left in me and they're gonnie be the worst two fuckin minutes ae your fuckin life.'' Francy stepped to the right while palming the big guy's shoulder, which turned his body round, bringing his big Sheffield face in line with Francy's triple Glasgow kiss. The onslaught knocked the pot noodle and roast beef with mustard fancier out cold. Francy stepped over the body and attempted to leave the scene. He walked right into a police car and didn't get released till .3-00 am. He got a taxi home but had noticed the lights on in the Globe Pub across the road. After using the secret, chappity chap. The barmaid and owner the lovely Trudy allowed the wee-man in for more than a drink. She said goodbye to the locals but when Francy started to drink up she told him, ''it's alright dawlling stey a bitte longer, ave a drink wiv Trudy.'' Francy couldnt believe his luck. However, later on in the bedroom, Trudy was having second thoughts. As every suitor knows, if the lady doesn't lift the knee to facilitate the removal of her small garments the fair ride is over. No more fun can be had. For whatever reason, this was the predicament Francy found himself in. ''Aw cumoan Trudy babe yie cannae stoap noo Trudy Baby.'' ''Oh, Francy it's moy Charlie, e's at sea on that oil rigg workin his bolocks off. All to look after lil-old Trudy an I'm lyin ere wiv you, it's not fair is it love?' Francy turned into a Philadelphia lawyer. While maintaining momentum in the foreplay, he argued. ''Trudy, if yie go intae park yir caur in a parkin space and then change yir mind because it's too dear, well yie huv never parked in that space. Yie huv just stuck yir heid in. Thats aw A'll dae.'' ''You what love?'' ''I'll just stick the heid of it in Trudy, that's all, just the heid, I've never parked.'' ''Oh,Yeah, do you Promise Francy?' This as the knee bent and Francy restarted the merry-go-round. ''Och Aye, said Francy. I'll only put the heid in. I promise.'' He mounted the bouncy castle. The train went full steam ahead through the tunnel. There's an old expression used in Scotland. 'Never put a tack where a nail's been.' Francy compared to most men was a nail. He filled her completely and had no more to give. Trudy moaned. ''Oh Francy Darlin, put it all in.'' ''Naw. Naw.Naw,'' said Francy. ''A promise is a promise.'' Archived comments for A Philadelphia Lawyer. roger303 on 01-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. Crackin' as ever WFF. Not so sure what the Sheffield boys would say about the stainless steel though! Cheers Roger Author's Reply: Thanks Roger. Appreciate the Comment. Imaginations a great thing. Weefatfella. Andrea on 01-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. " Never put a tack where a nail has been." - hahaha, brilliant! Great yarn as usual... Author's Reply: Thanks very much for your comment Andrea. Yi'll be gittin yased tae the accent bye noo. Greatly Appreciated. Weefatfella. Mikeverdi on 02-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. Thought I would catch up on some other places on the site and came across this---- brilliant !!! Mike Author's Reply: ![]() Thanks for your Kind comment Mike. Weefatfella. niece on 03-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. π ... Good one... Regds, niece Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for commenting Niece. Weefatfella. amman on 03-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. Nice one WFF. This is the stuff you are good at. Enjoyed. Cheers. Author's Reply: Thanks again amman. I enjoy these writes but Freedom won't let me go. Sometimes it's the story not how yie tell them. Weefatfella. expat on 07-10-2012 A Philadelphia Lawyer. Some great turns of phrase here and the dialogue colours your characters in better than a description. Is some of this based on your past? - it's got an authentic ring to it. Especially liked the bit about making the suits jump! A very enjoyable read. π Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your Kind comments expat. Greatly appreciated. Weefatfella Pronto on 19-02-2013 A Philadelphia Lawyer. I lioke it mate who among us have not 'worked away' from time to time? π Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers Mate, thanks for reading and commenting. Weefatfella. |
New Freedom Chapter Five. (posted on: 01-10-12) ![]() Joshua and Michael rode up from the shore onto the plain of Sinai. The long trail of people determinedly followed the pillar of cloud now waiting at the foot of the great mountain dominating the horizon. As they cleared the dry Wadi Joshua spotted the warning sign. Two human heads now skulls, had been impaled on crossed spears standing proud of a weather beaten long hide shield, erected on top of a ten foot high well constructed pile of stones. The message placed here by whoever felt they owned this land was alarmingly clear to Joshua and Michael, the silent sentinel declared beyond doubt. ' This land is taken'. They rode closer to examine the structure. Michael dismounted and walked over to the base of the monument, he knelt down and lifted one of the stones before saying, ' It is well maintained some stones look to have been added recently. ' Michael replaced the stone and remounted Azania. Joshua slowly scanned all around, there was no sign of any enemies. The column headed purposefully towards the mountain. The land was dry and dusty and another cloud rising behind the Hebrews was making it very clear to anyone watching that a large force was traversing the Sinai plains. The Hebrews stopped near the base of the mountain and began to erect their homes and look after their livestock before lighting the cooking fires. In order to survive anywhere, the animals needed to have priority, they must be taken care of first. Joshua and Michael still concerned, carried on towards Shemuel and Kemuel who were half a mile away corralling the horses. As they approached, Kemuel riding a black mare rode up to meet them, ' Joshua, Michael, good to see you both, as you can see my father's cart is here, we have plenty of fodder for your animals, if you speak to Gemalli he will assist you. Oh,' he said smiling, ' your beautiful daughter Hanna is helping with the corral I will tell her you are here.' ' No. We wish to speak with all of you, if you don't mind please, this is important.' They made their way to Shiphtan's cart to feed the horses before gaining their assistance. As they approached a man was checking one of the draft horses hooves he waved saying, ' Hello I am Gemalli, I have feed here, bring the animals to the rear of the cart, dismount and I will check them over. ' 'How do you know so much about horses ?' Asked Joshua as he dismounted. ' I worked in the stables before we escaped the Egyptians, I was more than happy when I saw these animals had also gained their liberty. I have known these horses some of them, since I was a boy.' The others arrived. Joshua told them his concerns regarding the warning pile of stones. He spoke of the cloud of dust which would give away such a large movement of people and could be seen for miles. ' We are not ready for this. We are too vulnerable, any determined small force could devastate our ragtag host in a very short time.' Hanna, Joshua's eldest daughter stopped him by holding up her hand. ' Father you speak of a cloud of dust revealing our presence, we have followed a huge pillar of cloud for many weeks now and have survived. Not only that, but at night our location is emblazoned over the skies for all to see. I think you are right to fear for our safety but I believe we have been looked at by enemies and have been judged to be too many to attack at once. I agree though, any attacking enemy would with a close look determine our weakness. You are right we should put some plan into force for our assured future.' After discussion it was agreed they would corral the horses here and would leave a few men to look after the herd, the others would join up with the host and make Leathig and Aaron aware of their fears. They left together, Hannah looking small riding beside her Father and Michael's huge horses. She rode well for someone you would assume had never been near a horse, never mind being an accomplished rider. She had been a dancing girl in Ramese's court. Forced to dance for hours at a time, sometimes all day and most of the night, just to please visiting dignitaries to the Egyptian court. Ezrah the emissary from the northern city of Jericho was captivated by Hannah and had asked Rameses if he could have her. He was denied his request but was allowed to court her to sweeten any deals that the Pharaohs Diplomats might need to make, he had taken her hunting and riding, this was where she had found her seat. She also was very proficient with the Egyptian bow. This could be seen strapped to her back. She also strangely, had a full quiver of arrows on a belt round her hips. They reached the encampment in time to hear Aaron beginning to speak to the people. He was standing on a large flat rock with his staff raised. He began. ' People of the covenant, hear me. The lord our God has delivered us from the Egyptians. We have seen him smite the Egyptian horde who would have taken us back to Rameses and enslaved us and our children. We have been delivered. The Lord God of All has instructed us to build a city here at the foot of his holy mountain. Here he will protect us until we grow strong enough to look after ourselves. As he spoke the column of cloud dissipated and a strange white substance round and biscuit-like began to fall from the sky. When it came within reach the Israelites cupped their hands and opened their robes trapping the strange bounty. Some tasted it, those who did felt immediately invigorated and began to shout ' It is food from God, eat your fill and praise the almighty.' Aaron caught a piece and put it in his mouth the taste was bland but he could feel the goodness washing through his body 'a food from heaven indeed' he thought. Not only were the people eating this wondrous manna as it fell like snow, the animals were enjoying it too. The Hebrews were gathering the manna from the ground and the rocks, from wherever it was falling, they were storing the wafers into whatever vessel was available. The fall soon stopped and they cleared it from the ground, now and again looking up for more. Shiphtan guided the cart over to the rock and invited Aaron to board saying, ' this is like a ship in a sea of humanity, we can steer a path through the crowd to wherever you want to go with ease. Seeing Joshua and Michael with his niece Hannah, Aaron waved asking,' where are Leathig and Jacob ? I have lost them on the way here, there are too many people, I cannot see on this flat plain that is why I stood on the rock but as soon as I did the host came forward and I felt I had to comfort them.' ' Michael answered I am in touch with my brothers always there is a message from the Almighty.' We should meet with Leathig and Jacob at his tent. Leathig is getting Impatient, if you wish Aaron, I can transport you there immediately.' ' No I will go in Shiphtan's " Ship " it is early afternoon and I would enjoy the ride.' He stepped off the rock onto the cart and turned his eyes to the carter. Shiphtan was short and thin but wiry, he had sharp features but despite being middle-aged, he still retained his thick black hair, which he wore in a ponytail tied with a leather thong. The hair reached half way down his back. Aaron asked ' Why this huge cart?' Shiphtan, while holding the reins of his four massive horses in both hands, threw his head back laughing and replied ' I slaved in the distilleries of that bald skinny and bad-humoured Pharaoh for twenty years lord Aaron. I refined his oils and distilled his perfumes for his beautiful concubines and his many wives. The heat from the fires and the humidity from the steam in that place was insufferable. When I realised I might escape that 'Hell on Earth' and when Leathig asked me with my sons to reallocate the Pharaohs horses. Well, when I seen this beauty next to those huge draught horses, I decided right away that if we are delivered out of Rameses, I and my two boys would be traders and If we had this size of cart we could do an awful lot of trading. I went to the distillery and loaded all my stills and equipment on to this cart. Why not trade in perfumes and unguents ? I also wanted to get my alcohol still, my elixir is nearly just as I want it, a bit too strong but nearing the palate.' would you like to try Lord Aaron ?' Shiphtan lifted a ceramic amphora from it's hiding place somewhere near his feet, he pulled the leather bung out and handed the amphora out to him, Aaron sniffed the bottle, a sharp but not overly unpleasant odour swept up his nose, he drew back quickly screwing his face up. Shiphtan holding the bung in his hand said ' Take a drink just a small one, go on, ' he urged smiling, Aaron tipped the container to his mouth and took a mouthful, the liquid poured into his mouth, it had a sharp but clean taste, he swallowed. The hot bitter unfamiliar sensation caught his throat making him cough and splutter, he put his hand to his mouth and coughed again, in between the barking Shiphtan while laughing was slapping Aaron's back lightly, pretending to clear an obstruction. Aaron handed the bottle back wiping his lips and saying, ' let me know when you've perfected your elixir and I'll try it again.' 'I will,' said Shiphtan ' as he took a long swig of the elixer and while smiling at Aaron, he ran his tongue over his lips and smacked them loudly, before inserting the bung and storing the amphora back in its hiding place. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Five. Andrea on 01-10-2012 New Freedom Chapter Five. Mein Gott, WFF, you are prolific! Going to come back to this when less tired π Author's Reply: ![]() No problem. Thanks for peering round the door. Weefatfella. amman on 03-10-2012 New Freedom Chapter Five. This fits in neatly between chapters 4 and 6. Interesting, full of detail but needs tidying up in parts. Keep truckin'. Cheers. Author's Reply: ![]() Cheers amman. I'm no writer but I'm enjoying pretending to myself. I don't know how far this is going to go but I'm hanging on. Thank you for your encouragement, it's always appreciated. Weefatfella. |
New Freedom Chapter Six (posted on: 28-09-12) The shape-shifter, Quilibet, captures Leathig on the sides of Mount Sinai. Shiphtan began to steer a path in between the scattered tents. Leathig and Chamuel appeared, flanked by Raphael and Uriel who were walking determinedly in their direction. Shiphtan stopped the cart, he climbed down and removed two sacks of grain, he began to attend to his mighty horses. ' At last you have come Aaron, the Lord has sent his messenger Gabriel, who has told me we have to attend the Creator on the mountain today. Leathig turned and pointed to the mountain now at his back and bemoaned, ' I don't see how we can possibly climb that edifice today, especially now that it is shrouded in cloud and by the time we make the ascent it will be get.... Raphael stood in front of Leathig saying ' have no fear Leathig we can transport you up the mountain in an instant; time is not the issue here,' Jacob interrupted, he took Leathig aside to examined him. ' Brother are you feeling sick I see something wrong. I'm not sure without a good look at you, but you certainly are not yourself , your eyes are opaque and sunken, your manner is irritable.' The priest turned his back on his brother declaring, ' We have no time for this nonsense, the Creator is waiting.' Leathig turned to Raphael, ' if you can do what you say, do it now please.and quickly.' The Angels invited the three men to the hidden side of the cart where they wouldn't be observed. Aaron looked to Sinai. The mountain was backlit by the coming twilight and was draped in a dark, ominous and thick churning cloud falling halfway down the sides, and becoming darker towards the peak. As he watched a double fork of lightning pierced the cloud, immediately, the thunder reverberated. Uriel was standing before him with his arms outstretched smiling, the Angel, concentrating, lowered his head, and when he lifted his head and his face met Aaron's, he was transformed. This was Urie as he was seen in Paradise. His whole body shone with a translucent alabasterine brilliance, he was taller, and more imposing, but exuded caring affection, his wings enclosed Aaron and all went quiet. They materialised on a narrow track beside the others, on the cloud covered mountain. Jacob was speaking quietly to Leathig who was shaking his head. When they reached hearing distance, they heard him say. ' At least let me try, I have been given amazing healing powers, I can do much more than before, It's just like an infection. You have been infected by evil, perhaps I can remove it ', he raised his staff. Raphael put his hand on Jacobs, pushing him away. ' You cannot take the risk Jacob, there is a chance The Evil-one may be able to pass his corruption from Leathig into you, Satan has corrupted Leathig through his staff, the staffs are symbiotic and can only be used by their owners. To anyone else the staff would only be like a shepherd's crook and with the same abilities.The Angel continued, ' when I took you under my wing for transportation, during the journey, I, with whoever is being transported, return to my own world, my own place in time, let us say Paradise, I couldn't reach there, the journey was terminated, and as we are all linked we aborted to the same place, this track. just a short way ahead through the mist the Creator awaits. Turning to Leathig he said, ' I'm sorry Leathig but you can't continue on to speak with the Lord, He knows of this as he knows all things, go back, return to your people we will attempt to find a solution for this. The High priest turned miserably away with his head bowed and trailing his corrupted staff behind him, he began the descent to the plains of Sinai and his people. Leathig, tiring, headed towards a flat rock below a thin willow tree to catch his breath. The evil coursing through him. He held his head and rubbed his forehead clearing the perspiration. A darkness covered him,feeling cold, he shivered. He lifted his gaze after hearing a soft exhalation of breath. Sitting calmly on a rock across from him, was a young man clothed in long flowing white robes. They seemed to ripple and shimmer like mist in moonlight, one second he was there, the next gone. Leathig cleared his eyes. The strange youth sat motionless, watching him with an ambiguous smile. His skin was pale, as though bloodless, his piercing eyes were the strangest ice blue. The white cowl of his robe framed his child-like face. The boy smiled, showing long sharp pointed teeth, the incisors two inches long and very sharp reached his lower gum. His long wet forked tongue snaked out, before quickly receding. Leathig was mesmerised, his confused eyes caught the flight of a white dove, it circled overhead, then flew to the young man, landing on his open left palm. The youth stroked it lazily with his thumb, all the while smiling and holding Leathig's eye's with his. He trapped the dove's thin neck between the finger and thumb of his right hand, and quickly, with a sharp crack and a cry from the bird, he snapped it's neck, then he lifted the bird to his mouth and with a crunch, bit it's head off. The birds blood poured out of his mouth staining the boys lips and mouth and running down his chin. The boy changed. He became larger. His skin darkened and became the colour of blood. His features became sharper and his once ice-blue mysterious eyes, became a sinister black. He spat the birds head towards Leathig, it bounced off his chest, the blood staining his robe. The priest jumped to his feet in alarm, the spell broken. Quilibet, instantly closed the distance between them, holding Leathig from behind so strongly he couldn't move, he was paralysed. Again that awful stench was all around him choking him, he couldn't find the air to breath, he couldn't move a muscle and mercifully with that terrible odour invading his lungs Leathig lost consciousness. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Six Texasgreg on 29-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Six Aye! So the purity of the Dove's innocence and trust was betrayed by an evil that was alluring? That was the best part for me, but am still reading with hopes of being excited and appalled. Keep 'em comin', Paul! Greg π Author's Reply: ![]() This piece has suffered from length of submission. The next piece if you remember is Demon's Lair Chapter Seven. This Chapter may not be so Angelic. Thanks again for your reading and more-so commenting. Weefatfella. (Duke). amman on 30-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Six Hi WWF. I found the writing in this chapter to be tighter with some shorter sentences actually enhancing the flow. Still think you need to work on that aspect. The narrative certainly held my interest throughout. Plenty going on. Looking forward to the next chapter. What happened to chapter 5? Cheers. Author's Reply: Hi amman, Chapter 5 needs a complete re-write, I am doing that as we speak but I'm having great difficulty. As you know my forte seems to be the short humorous tale. I have one poking at me every time I sit down just now to do Freedom. I may have to give in. Thank you for your helpful comments. Weefatfella. |
Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. (posted on: 24-09-12) Plenty ae reads forty wan bit nae comments. Yie throttle yir brain and yie whirlpool yir napper. Yie hope whit comes oot twill be sparkly and dapper. Yie batter it aw doon, tryin fur an interestin natter. Yie git nae response, seems yir prose disnae matter. Try harder tae be fancy, pit a worm oan fur bait. Try tae be mair funny, yie might no huvtae wait. Try everyhing an awhing furtae open that gate. Try tae be neutral and impartial, don't ever rate Yir maybe no smert enough fur this writin lark. Yir no fae a posh place wie a big fancy marque. Yir born near a foundry,the wrang side ae the track. Yir no wan tae be invited, yi've no gote the spark. Best it is jist tae leave it and jist haud tae yir task. Best jist tae be candid, tae jist come and jist ask. Best fur yirsell, furtae be nae pairt ae that masque. Best tae hawd yir wheesht and jist be the pasque Archived comments for Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. roger303 on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Yi've got the spark all right. Cleverly done! Author's Reply: cheers Roger Yie Try Yir Best, tha's aw yie can dae. Thanks for your gracious comment, it's the first time I've ever tried ' poetry ' Weefatfella. stormwolf on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. he he Well done Weefats! π Some write both prose and poetry and some stick to what they feel they do better. Good on you for branching out and giving us a laugh. Alison x Author's Reply: I couldn't resist it. With no comments after forty one reads, I must confess I lost the plot just a tad. In defence of prose writers Alison. I was up the ladder and dropped my chamois, I had tae climb down and get it, I wrote the poem while getting my breath back before climbing back up. Thanks for the comments. Weefatfella. stormwolf on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Oh! I never saw that you had no reads....and after 41 reads! it's just demoralzing. I do not really understand people who read and dont have anything to say... To me, there are some who have incredible writing ability that can home right in on mistakes or places where a plot, say, can be tightened up. That is one of the main reasons I seldom read prose. However, I do think it can be very off-putting when we see many have read our work and nobody or few say anything. If we do read, comment and people do not take the time to reply, that puts me off reading someone again but you contribute widely ...anyway, keep a haud o yer chamois. Alison x Author's Reply: Sorry I took so long Alison, I really thought I had replied. Thank you for your sentiments and the windaes are done. x amman on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. You write very fluently in this vein. A clever poem; yir plenty smert enough fur this writin' lark. Cheers Author's Reply: ValDohren on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Wonderful Weefatfella, very funny - taxed mae wee brain a bit, but got there in the end. Love it !! Best - Val Author's Reply: ![]() Thank again Val for the comment sorry for the time Lapse. Weefatfella Andrea on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Very droll, WFF π As I said on the forums (re Storms' 'Twat' question), I'm not exactly sure how it works (you'd have to ask Sunks as he sorts that out for me - Twatter is quite beyond me!), but it seems to mean that some readers have been 'Tweeting' you, which sends your piece out to all 500 UKA Twitter followers (and they might well re-Tweet it), meaning you get many more reads and much more exposure (but obviously not that many comments). Wouldn't worry about it too much, tbh, at least you're getting read widely! So if YOU enjoy a piece hit that Twitter icon! Author's Reply: Are you saying people from here are putting my stuff on twitter? Oh My. strange. Andrea on 24-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Well, it could be people from here, and it could also be people from the UKA Twitter followers who received the link to your piece through their own account. That's why we have a Twitter icon π Author's Reply: It's fine Andrea, Isn't that why we do it? Thanks for taking the time to help and explain. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 25-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Aye Duke! Ya got the spark and the smarts, just hold back them farts, lol. You're such a card, whether it be poem or prose.. Yes, some twit may tweet ya, but don't let it beat ya. This is my stopping-off point for tonight, but I assure you that I'll finish reading and reviewing everyone before too long. π Super! ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Thanks Greg, always good tae git a salute fae yie. Keep-em Loaded. The long colt not the farts. Thanks fur the comment appreciated Duke Ionicus on 25-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. A good and incisive comment, Weefatfella, even though I to exercise my Italian brain to understand the Scottish brogue. I can sympathise with you regarding the lack of comments and it so much worse when you see other pieces getting plenty and you are still registering zero. It doesn't mean that your writing is worthless but I get so despondent that I delete my entries when that happens. Author's Reply: Grazie Luigi, sono stato veramente infastiditi da tutta la legge 41, con due osservazioni, che mi ha sconvolto. E 'stato allora che ho deciso di prendere la mia rivincita sui poeti. La poesia risultante era la mia risposta. grazie per aver trovato il tempo di commentare. Weefatfella. Yie acceleratore yir cervello e idromassaggio Yie yir napper. Yie speranza di Pentecoste viene twill oot essere frizzante e azzimato. Yie la pastella aw Doon, cercando di pelliccia un natter interestin. Risposta git Yie nae, sembra questione prosa yir disnae. Prova piΓΉ difficile tae essere di fantasia, un pit oan esca verme pelliccia. Prova tae essere Mair divertente, Yie potrebbero non huvtae aspettare. Prova everyhing un furtae awhing aprire quel cancello. Prova tae essere neutrale e imparziale, non mai tasso Yir forse no pelliccia smert abbastanza questo allodola writin. Yir non fae un posto di lusso wie un marchio grande fantasia. Yir nato vicino a una fonderia, il lato ae wrang pista. Yir non wan tae essere invitati, non yi've Gote la scintilla. Migliore Γ¨ jist tae lasciarlo e jist Haud tae compito yir. Miglior jist tae essere sincero, tae jist venire jist chiedere. Miglior pelliccia yirsell, furtae essere nae pairt ae che maschera. Miglior tae hawd yir wheesht e jist essere il pasque As you had difficulty deciphering the vernacular, I have taken the liberty of writing in your Mother tongue. I know you will be very aware that I have used Google Translator as the interpretations are notoriously awful. hope you had a giggle........Weefatfella. Weefatfella on 25-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Just to make it easy for anyone (ME) to compare the two languages sorry three languages. thank you Grazie--Cheers---Thank you. Yie throttle yir brain and yie whirlpool yir napper. Yie hope whit comes oot twill be sparkly and dapper. Yie batter it aw doon, tryin fur an interestin natter. Yie git nae response, seems yir prose disnae matter. Try harder tae be fancy, pit a worm oan fur bait. Try tae be mair funny, yie might no huvtae wait. Try everyhing an awhing furtae open that gate. Try tae be neutral and impartial, don't ever rate Yir maybe no smert enough fur this writin lark. Yir no fae a posh place wie a big fancy marque. Yir born near a foundry,the wrang side ae the track. Yir no wan tae be invited, yi've no gote the spark. Best it is jist tae leave it and jist haud tae yir task. Best jist tae be candid, tae jist come and jist ask. Best fur yirsell, furtae be nae pairt ae that masque. Best tae hawd yir wheesht and jist be the pasque Author's Reply: Ionicus on 25-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Hi Weefatfella, thanks for the effort you put to translate your comments into Italian but the trouble with the Google Translator is that for some words it offers multiple choices and you have to know the language to pick the right ones. I have translated the above into Italian and back into English. The result is not perfect as you can see but understandable: Weefatfella Hello, thank you for making the effort to translate your comments in Italian, but the problem with the Google translator is that for some words that offers more choices and you have to know the language to choose the right ones. Author's Reply: Grazie Luigi. Pelequin23 on 25-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. excellent poem very cleverly written π Author's Reply: Thank you very much pelequin23, Greatly appreciated Weefatfella. niece on 26-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. I'm hoping I understood this the right way...write for yourself, don't write to impress...the one truth all creative people should follow but most don't π ... good one, WFF... Regds, niece Author's Reply: I had submitted a rather long piece over 3000 words, Which received 41 hits with no comments so I went off on one. Sorry plenty of comments now though. Thank you again niece for your comment. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 26-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. Aye! One last for posterity... Myself, I don't mind too much if people don't comment as the subject may not be their interest, but this is what bothers me: When I take the time to read their material and comment, I expect a response. If I see that they deliberately go around me to respond to others, I delete my comment and never read their material again. Not being rude or "getting even", just using the sense I have to avoid getting upset. Good job, my brother from another mother! Greg π Author's Reply: There yie go Greg. 15 comments tae this. Well the plan worked and I'm happy for it. I still love this Forum. I got a wee bit upset with the comment thing but as The' Moll ' rightly pointed out, it could be twitter.Thanks for showing your posterior at the beginning of your comment . I will refrain from such frivolities. Always good tae hear fae Yie Big-Man. Keep the High baws low. Weefatfella Mikeverdi on 28-09-2012 Sorry fur being a cheeky bugger. I have not read your Opus Magnum that prompted this one but I can appreciate the sentiment that brought it about. I am afraid it took me longer to decipher than it took you to write it! Plymouth westcountry accents are not the best. It was a great write and I much enjoyed reading it Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your kind sentiments. Although it was essentially a gripe, I have been pleased by the result, it did more than I intended. Albeit it's early bells I can see a recurrence. I don't really mind. My Great Work is more of a self indulgence. I'm enjoying playing with it (it keeps me busy) and it saves me using visual chewing gum. Thank you for taking the time to comment. Weefatfella. |
The Raconteur. (posted on: 24-09-12) A story of one-upmanship from the Lanarkshire Steelworks. The Raconteur. I was operating my overhead crane ninety feet above the loading banks in the Lanarkshire Steelworks. Below me were five lines of Lorry Trailers waiting to be loaded with universal beams for the construction industry. I had started to lower the 25 tonne load of beams at the pre marked girder on the catwalk on the way down. The bay increased in depth evenly three times on the way down to the banks and some wily old crane-driver had taken the step of marking a yellow cross on the girder at that point. Lowering the load at full speed while passing the yellow cross would drop the beams to a perfect height over the lorries without staggering the load, giving the impression of a perfect and conscientious crane driver. An illusion. I would do it to give me time to roll a cigarette. The two slingers released the chains I set the controls to hoist and raised the chains from the trailer. As they were coming up I checked my watch, 9.20 am, I was day shift and the tea break was half past. I took the crane to the right hand side of the bay bringing me closer to the howf (Amenity, a clean environment health and safety orientated for workers to eat in,) but I would have to cross behind the rolling mill, a dangerous route as the red-hot beams came out at speed. I took this route many times as I gained an extra five minutes onto the twenty-minute break. I again escaped injury and after opening the outside door, I headed into the rain. A few auld-heids were already heading to the howf and as I was jogging in I passed auld Paddy. ''Hoi, young-yin, fill ma tinny fur me and I'll gie yie some ice cream, I've gote some in the oven fur yie.'' The tinnie's were all kept hanging on marked nails in a cupboard and auld Paddie's was near to mine, I filled the auld guys tinny saving him from having to queue. When he walked in I pointed to his tea-can, sitting full and steaming on the table. The auld fella waved and smiled as he drew his haversack of his shoulder and sat down to his piece. Piece time in the amenity was an experience. The patter of the old guys was amazing, full of banter about the football, the old firm, whatever was on the telly or in the news. Auld Paddy was a master of the patter. He, didn't only tell jokes, his forte was stories. He would tell amazing and enthralling tales of wonder. The guys had heard the stories a hundred times and never tired of them. When things went quiet someone was sure to say. ''Hey! Paddy! Tell us a story.'' Paddy always obliged with something. One day, the worst thing possible happened to Paddy. A new guy started in the banks. A plater from Greenock called Jimmy. The problem was, Jimmy told stories too and all Jimmy's stories were fresh and new tales from the famous Clyde Shipyards. When Paddy tried to talk somebody would say, ''Paddy, steady man, wheesht, there's a man trying tae talk here'. Auld Paddy wasn't happy at all but it didn't take the old guy long to get back on top. The old Gaberlunzie (Storyteller and licensed beggar) had thought long and hard over the weekend about how he was going to reinstate himself as the top raconteur. On the Monday at piece time the auld bugger made his gambit. When all the men had eaten their piece and were starting to fill their pipes and roll their fags. In that quiet two minute window. Paddy proved himself the master. He opened with, ''Got myself a water-bed at the week-end (he directed this straight at Jimmy) top of the range. Yie canny buy a better waterbed any where in the country.'' ''Yir a liar.''Countered Jimmy, ''How much did yie pay for it?'' ''Five hundred quid ' answered Paddy.'' ''Now I know yir a liar''said Jimmy, ''Cause I bought a Water-bed on Sunday and it cost me a thousand pounds, the salesman told me, there is no water-bed anywhere better than this wan. No waterbed anywhere else can even come close. This bed is top of the range and state of the art and don't let anybody tell you different.'' Paddy, the master, lifted his roll-up and drawing his moist tongue along the glue, offered, '' has yours got tropical fish?'' Archived comments for The Raconteur. niece on 24-09-2012 The Gaberlunzie. I know those types...can talk and talk and hate to be interrupted π ... but never seen two such people together...good story, WFF...your stories flow so well π Regds, niece Author's Reply: Thank you niece, it's actually nearly true. Strange thing is if Maggie hadn't closed the Steelworks, some guy would have been writing about Auld Weefatfella. Thanks for your Comments. niece. Appreciated. roger303 on 24-09-2012 The Gaberlunzie. Like Auld Curdy you have the patter! Once the wife interpreted it for me I thoroughly enjoyed it! Thanks again. Roger. Author's Reply: Cheers Roger. thank you for commenting. Weefatfella. amman on 24-09-2012 The Gaberlunzie. Ha ha, very funny. Thanks for the tour of the steelworks and the entertaining patter. Cheers. Author's Reply: Hi, amman The tour was to show the illusion, Curdy's whole thing was an illusion. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment greatly appreciate. 'Lang may yir lum reek.' Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 25-09-2012 The Raconteur. Aye! Had a one-up fer ya on that one, but too much of a gentleman to post it... Keep the funnies commin' Duke! ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Thank you Greg. As you know your comments are very much appreciated. BTW, walked two hundred yards today, Ya belter, gettin there. The Sweetness hud a wee tear in her een. thanks again Tex. Duke. Andrea on 26-09-2012 The Raconteur. Hahaha, brilliant! Good ol' Curdy, eh? That'll learn 'im...young whippersnapper! Great tales you tell, WFF π Author's Reply: There is one running around right now but it's a wee bit risquΓ©, and ma lassies would maybe be disappointed in me. Maybe one day. I'm wrapped up in New freedom at the moment. Glad you enjoyed it. The polis cannae check yir tyre tread if you're going too fast can they ? (commas) hush. Thanks for your kind comment Andrea. Weefatfella. expat on 25-11-2012 The Raconteur. Great stuff, wff - how can anyone top Curdy's comeback! Another lively sub - have you got a story mine in your back garden. π Haven't seen you around for a couple of weeks - hope you're keeping OK. Steve Author's Reply: |
The perfect answer. (posted on: 21-09-12) My Auld Da had become the victim of sectarian abuse. ![]() The Perfect Answer. Auld Joe opened the door of his pale green 1951 Austin A30 salloon. For some strange reason this model of car and it's corresponding van, only seemed to come in this rather sickly looking shade. The vehicle was the bottom of the range with no whistles or bells. It was very noisy while driving but it was reliable and replacement parts were cheap, easy to fit and could be obtained in the local coop or butchers. It was Friday morning the sun was shining and Joe was in a good mood. His wife Cathy my Auld Maw, had joyously informed him as they shared a wee dram the previous evening, that she was now carrying their fourth child, my wee brother, who would later be named Joseph after of course Auld Joe our Father. Auld Joe went through the ritual for starting these finicky wee machines. He pulled the choke halfway, depressed the accelerator once (if you depressed twice the bloody thing flooded) and turned the key. The 803 cm engine coughed into life, My Da lit a senior service cigarette and drove the two miles to Wishaw and McIvors Meat factory for another gruelling blood-filled 12- hour day of chopping the heads off of pigs and boning out the meat. As if this wasn't enough to contend with, there was Billy McGovern. McGovern was a typical west of Scotland sectarian bigoted bastard. He had a very small brain balanced with a huge arse and an even bigger mouth. It wouldn't matter what side he was born into, Blue or green, he would act accordingly, berating and ridiculing the opposite faction, believing it to be his God given right, a god whose house he never visited, except for funerals or weddings. These animals throw abuse at people all day and pretend it's banter or good-natured fun; it is in fact the opposite. My Father picked another pigs head from the box and made the first cut from the centre of the forehead straight down to the pigs nose, he said to anybody who might be listening. ''Aye A gote a wee bit ae guid news last night, the wife Cathy is expecting again, I'm fair chuffed, the more the merrier.'' The bigot McGovern, Piped up with. ''Fur fuck sake Joe how many brats huv yie gote noo then?'' ''Well wie this wan that'll be four why Billy?'' ''You papes want tae behave yirsells, are yiz trying tae take over the world? I know the Big Man (God) said multiply and fill the world but you Catholics are trying tae dae it oan yir own, Can Yie no wear a condom? Aw naw yie cannae. The auld Pope said yies huvnae tae use contravention, so yie cannae use a french letter. Tell yie whit, jist pull it ower yir wumans heid and tell her tae blaw intae it and that'll pit yie aff her, eh, big Johnnie-heid running aboot.'' He looked around to see the effect his superior wit had with his audience, some men were laughing some just looked embarrassed. Auld Joe rose above and said ''I like weans and if a weans gonnae come it's no ma place tae stoap it. Me and Cathy are happy about it and by the way McGovern, I'll huv as many weans as I and my wife see fit and anyway, am I not right in saying that you and yir wife don't have any children, as yet?'' Mcgovern lowered his head and quietly said ''Wilma disnae want any kids,she says they're noisy and expensive and they're mair bother than they're worth.'' ''So is that your way of saying that yir baws don't work, eh Billy, so you're no jist an orange-man yir a jaffa.'' This type of conversation was typical of the meat factory. My father took the first opportunity he got and left the factory to work at Ravenscraig steel works. He was happier even though it was continental shifts and he had to often work the weekends. During this time my father's friend Bill Donnelly who had a butcher shop in Motherwell, had been informed by the District Council his business would be compulsory purchased to make way for the new one-way system and pedestrian precinct which was planned for the town centre. The compensation would reflect the shop turnover so Bill asked my Dads advice. Auld Joe came up with a mutually advantageous plan. They would buy carcasses from the abattoir, butcher them in Bill's shop, and vacuum pack them into meat parcels, which Auld Joe would sell from a van at the Ravenscraig gates.They would share fifty fifty after tax and all would be legit, with the proceeds going through the shops till. This would result in the shop showing a higher turnover and the compensation would be raised reflecting the profit. They made a veritable fortune. They couldn't keep up with the demand. They made money hand over fist. My auld Da splashed out on a brand new 1959 mk 2 Ford Zodiac. The car was stunning. Red, with a broad white go faster stripe down each side. It sported white walled tyres and had flashy chrome trimmed visor over the windscreen. A beauty, it had three forward gears, a plastic or Bakelite handle moved between three highly polished chrome circles below the steering wheel to change the gears. I bloody loved it and so did auld Joe. He would take the opporchancity to drive it, just to do that and show off. With his shirt sleeves rolled up, the window down and with obligatory senior service burning away in his hand, he would cruise around looking in shop windows to admire himself and his wonderful machine while passing. He was out showing off one summers day, of course he had the window rolled down and had stopped at the traffic lights at Motherwell Cross. He was sitting In the middle lane, waiting to go straight ahead. ''Is that you Joe?'' He heard from the beat up old van sitting to his left with the faded advert of McIvors Meat on the side. Auld Joe, looked to the driver, it was Billy McGovern. ''Oh Hi Billy. How are Yie?'' ''Aye fine Joe, Yirsell?'' ''Och Aye Billy I'm enjoyin the weather, it's a fine day fur a wee drive, dae yie not think so?'' ''Och aye Joe. That's a lovely car yir drivin, is it yours?'' '' Of course it's ma car Billy, I don't run aboot stealin cars yie know'' ''Where did yie git the money tae buy a car like that fae? Did yie rob the chapel?'' '' Naw naw Billy, me and Cathy hud anither four weans. Family Allowances paid fur this.'' The lights changed and my father and the zodiac rode off into the sunset. ![]() Archived comments for The perfect answer. roger303 on 21-09-2012 The perfect answer. The old Austin brought back memories of driving my dads A35 around some wasteground, when I was a kid. Was never keen on the Zepher or Zodiak, "Dagenham dustbins" as dad would describe them. Enjoyed it very much. Thanks. Regards, Roger Author's Reply: Thanks Roger, though I must say the quality in those old cars was way above the trash we drive today, what with the lying computer purely designed to bring you in to the franchise garage so they can slip the plug in, delete the light and charge you Β£100 smackeroonies. Incidentally next time you're in the garage look at the mechanics, no sorry Technicians. No grey hair, the garages won't pay the wages. The experienced mechanics all work in back street garages belying the adage. I have always found the back street garage if you are careful and go by word of mouth, to be a better service and much much cheaper, just a thought. Thanks for your comments. appreciated. Weefatfella. Andrea on 22-09-2012 The perfect answer. Well, you did ask for critique, so here's one of your paragraphs: Auld Joe went through the ritual for starting these finicky wee machines. He pulled the choke halfway, depressed the accelerator once only, if you depressed twice the bloody thing flooded, and turned the key. The 803 cm engine coughed into life, My Da lit a senior service cigarette and drove the 2 miles to Wishaw and McIvors Meat factory for another grueling blood filled 12 hour day of chopping the heads off of pigs and boning out the meat. and my version: Auld Joe went through the ritual needed to start these finicky wee machines. He pulled the choke halfway and depressed the accelerator once only (if you depressed twice, the bloody thing flooded) and turned the key. The 803cm engine coughed into life. My Da lit a Senior Service cigarette and drove the two miles to Wishaw and McIvors Meat factory for another gruelling blood-filled 12- hour day of chopping the heads off pigs and boning the meat. Honestly, I'm only trying to help and I do love your story-telling ability. Such a shame if people 'switched off' due to difficulties deciphering π I remember those cars, too. And yes, always a vile puke-green colour. Mind you, I remember when all cars were black (pre-dinosaur times) Author's Reply: Thank you Andrea I have adjusted as instructed. I also can see what you mean. I do learn quickly. Thank You for your Help, I'm getting there. Honest, your critique is not just appreciated, It's required. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 23-09-2012 The perfect answer. ![]() Aye! It may not sound like it, but really it's true. Personally, I'm a peaceful guy, but sometimes a punch in the face just feels like the right thing to do. π Super Job, Duke! Greg π Author's Reply: You come to accept the stupidity of it all. The bigots in Scotland have no Idea at all of the history behind it. (IMO, the Stewarts buggered it all up). I told An SNP supporter who is also sectarian ? of the blue faction, ' If Scotland votes for Independence you will lose your beloved Union Jack' ' Why?' He said. Unbelievable you couldn't make it up. The other side are just as bloody stupid. Thanks again for your insightful comments Ali.- Greg. The Duke. |
New Freedom Chapter Four. (posted on: 21-09-12) Coming fast behind were the Egyptians , mounted on their chariots, racing over the smooth floor getting closer, some although out of range were excitedly but fruitlessly firing their arrows. The Pharaoh himself in the spearhead. His face contorted, his armoured fist raised, holding a javelin in anticipation of exacting his revenge on the hapless Hebrews whom he thought he had now at his mercy. As they neared the foot of the mountain, they could see the camp of their people. The smoking cooking fires were scattered all over, twinkling like the reflections from a sparkling jewel, glinting in between the myriad of tents and carts as far as the eye could see. The smell of meat roasting and the sound of people talking and singing and the strangely comforting sound of flutes and whistles mingling with the wash of the Red Sea surf, belied the feelings of the Angels and men as they looked out to sea. The Pillar of fire showing the way was standing aflame in the middle of the sea, adamantly and indefatigably pointing the way to the triangular peak of mount Sinai,stolidly silhouetted against the setting sun. They looked for and easily found Shiphtan's Large cart ,Joshua placed the stone on the edge just inside and Jacob climbed up into the cart, covering the stone with his cloak and taking a large empty amphora from behind him, he passed it to Joshua and asked him to place it on the ground behind the cart. He struck the stone and the clear blue water flowed freely and quickly into the large receptacle. Joshua began to call,' Water, come quickly come here for water '. The people came carrying all types of containers a long queue quickly began to form. Jacob and Joshua were prepared to stand all night with the Angels who were being given inquisitive looks by some of the Hebrews, because of their strange Armour or maybe by their foreign appearance but most of the people were only interested in filling their water skins and flasks. Michael seeing the men were tiring said ' Go you two and rest, my brothers and I have no need of sleep, we will deliver the water to your people while you rest and when they have had their fill, I will come for you Jacob to strike the stone.' The two took the advice and made their way between the tents and fires to their respective families to spend the night. Aaron eventually found his old horse chewing happily away at some straw that had been left on the back of his cart. His tent had been erected and when he looked inside Elisabed was stirring a stew pot with a wooden spoon, the spicy aroma pervaded the air in the confined space. He pulled the tent-flaps back and stepped in. She spun around and stood up, still holding the stirring spoon which was dripping with gravy. ' At last the wanderer has returned. Aaron, before you go disappearing with Leathig and Jacob would you please take care of your horse and erect your tent. My sisters and I have helped you tonight but please... ' Aaron raised his hands silencing her.' Elisabed I apologise but Leathig wouldn't wait and after all it wasn't just anybody I was going to meet was it? They both smiled nervously before she asked ' have you had supper Aaron?'' I'm not hungry' he replied, ' Let's go outside and walk, I have a lot on my mind and could do with the company'. Elisabed placed the spoon in the pot, she took the pot off of the fire and placed it on the dirt floor,before they both stepped outside. As they walked, Elisabed linked her arm through Aaron's, when she did this he turned to her and they both looked lingeringly into each others eyes. She rested her head on Aaron's shoulder as they threaded their way past the large queue of people filling their water carriers and continued together to the beach. The surfs silver rolling edge caressed and washed the shoreline with a soft hush. Many of the people could be seen swimming or wading in the cool calm sea. The water for some way out was shallow. Aaron leaving Elisabed close to the beach, waded out in fruitless hope that it might be shallow all the way across but it quickly began to get deeper and the waves were beginning to rise the further out he went, very quickly he had to return to shore. He turned his back on the insistent pillar of fire and when he reached Elisabed he took her hand in his, he sighed saying,' lets go back, I'll deal with this in the morning ' . They walked back in silence old Cyrus the horse nodded his head and snickered in acknowledgement as they approached, Aaron reached in to the sack in the cart and gave a dry looking apple to Elisabed, she inspected the fruit and and after brushing it off on the palm of her hand she offered it to the old horse, he chewed it quickly and Aaron, while rubbing Cyrus's nose, said ' thank you Elisabed for your company this evening and for preparing the meal.' Elisabed yawning replied ' your welcome Aaron we have a tiring day tomorrow it seems, I will need my sleep. Goodnight Aaron,' she kissed him chastely on the cheek and walked the short distance to her family tent. Aaron brushed his hand along old Cyrus's long nose and a few seconds later retired to his tent. He lay down and slept fitfully on his pallet till dawn. He was shaken awake by the Angel Uriel. ' We have to make a start Aaron, the Egyptian army is nearing and can't be far away, Rameses is force marching and coming upon us fast. We need to rouse the people and you have work to do.' ' Oh yes Uriel I only have to turn the sea into a huge flat rock and allow my people to run across it.....' . Uriel held both his hands up and shaking his head he put his hands on Aaron's shoulders, immediately Aaron was calmed, he nodded his head and apologised to the Angel, ' I do have faith, and this duty will be done, let's go and see what can be accomplished.' They both quickly broke down the tent and stowed it in the cart. They hitched the horse to the cart but they couldn't move, the way was blocked with people standing around or sitting in their heavily loaded carts. Men were shouting for Leathig and Jacob to tell them what to do. The column of cloud could be seen out on the sea dispassionately waiting. Leathig appeared suddenly through the crowd with the three Angels, people were calling his name and tugging at his robes looking for answers, he placated them as best he could and the Angels diplomatically held the crowd back. He spoke, ' Aaron we have to go now. Come, we can look at the situation and see what can be done but We have to be doing that now, Rameses will be here sooner than we think. ' With the Angels protecting them both, they made their way through the host to the sea shore. Shemuel and Kemuel, Shiphtan's sons, along with Hannah, Joshua's daughter, and several mounted men they had recruited, had been herding the two hundred horses and now were holding them on the beach. The animals were corralled behind an easily constructed but effective enclosure of loosely sunken wooden posts linked by drooping rope which could be raised and reset releasing or containing the herd quickly Their father was checking the trappings on the four dray horses harnessed to the huge four wheeled cart. Jacob who was helping him, waved and began to walk towards them. ' Good morning ' he said greeting both men at once, ' Are you able to make a pathway? As Leathig said. ' he asked Aaron. ' I Shall try Jacob but the people will be afraid to cross and I can only imagine how excitable those horses will be once the sea lifts, if Indeed I can move it at all. Michael and the Angels appeared. ' Don't worry about the horses we will ride the lead mares and alpha stallions across the others will follow while we instil calming and pacifying thoughts in all their heads. They will cross passively and with the people of the host seeing this, it may have a reciprocating and positive effect on them and we all may make a quick journey with minimal difficulty. Joshua looking very much the warrior rode up on one of the large draft horses with the other trailing behind on a halter. Michael acknowledged him and pointing to his mount asked Joshua. ; May I, Joshua nodded his head acquiescently. Michael took the horses head between both his hands and whispered very quietly into the massive horses ear. He massaged both of it's long pointed ears between his fingers and thumb while he crooned soft melodic words in a strange language. He rubbed his cheeks softly along the side of the horses head. Joshua could feel the animal relax significantly below him, he patted the animals neck and asked the Angel to perform the same effect on the other horse, this he did. Afterwards Joshua asked Michael, ' I have been given these wonderful beasts by Shiphtan, he thinks I am too big and heavy with my armour for a normal horse, I wish to make a gift to you of Azania, will you accept ? I am riding Abaddon his brother. If you wish Michael, you can have either ?' Michael smiled warmly saying ' I thank you Joshua, Azania, would be too large an animal for me to ride in normal circumstances but as your riding companion and counsellor I must accept your gracious offer Joshua, because to accompany you on a lesser animal would be folly indeed.' They both shook hands on the deal laughing as they did. Michael asked Joshua ' what are your plans during the crossing ? ' ' I will be at the rear to protect our people and make sure no one is too afraid to go on, if it appears that is the case, I will encourage them to go forward. Aaron and Leathig stared impotently at the sea for a few minutes before Aaron had an inspiration. He slipped his staff from it's sheath on his back and purposefully pointed it at the ground. The blue crystal came to life, glowing and pulsating with a deep blue light. Aaron next focused the staff at the sand close to the shore. The ground began to shake and shudder when he raised both arms. The earth slowly began to rise, the sand and shingle slipped noisily away revealing hard grey bedrock. A ramp began to form, growing noisily, with a long low rumbling groan. The rock complained as it grated on itself and began to push up in a long shallow gradient with the sea lapping at the base.The incline reaching twenty feet in hight, with a short flat platform at the top. Leathig and the Israelites stood quietly, in awe, as Aaron calmly crossed fifty feet to his left and began the amazing process again. This time making a ramp and platform for Leathig. He silently returned and climbed to the platform he had created for himself, accompanied by Uriel who stood behind in support. Aaron raised his glowing staff above the waters. He looked across the gap to Leathig. Then turning towards the water he confidently drew on the power of the staff creating the conduit to the Creator. The Power flowed from the staff positively, gaining more power than he thought possible. The staff held it easily, He reached with his mind for Leathig and he could feel the high priest's fear. ' I am with you Leathig don't be afraid we can do this'. He raised his left arm in Leathig's direction, a deep glowing azure wave of light crossed the gap and into the crystal in Leathig's staff, intensifying and invigorating both. Leathig's confidence soared. Aaron used the high priests staff as an extension of his own. He instructed him through their link to begin to fold the sea back to the left before clearing the sea bed to enable the thehost to pass freely and easily. With both staffs raised, Aaron concentrated on his knowledge of the consistency and weight of sea water and the way it bucked and rolled. The sea was resisting him, he drew more power and thought deeper thinking and remembering. The sea began to roll back, as it moved he could feel the enormous weight of it, like a living thing it pushed back again and he thought, this is the nature of water, it flows and ebbs. He began to work with the ' beast' when the water moved to the right he aided it, when moving left he resisted. He passed this revelation on to Leathig. The task became suddenly achievable. The sea began to lift and the liquid walls began to rise steadily and uniformly on both sides. A wet uneven path with deep troughs and rising hillocks began to appear between the huge undulating walls. Aaron concentrated now on the rough sea bed, he scanned all the way along and smoothed the sea floor to enable the people to pass. The seas parted and held all the way to the opposite shore opening the way to the pillar of cloud standing doggedly waiting. The noise was deafening. The water was complaining loudly and pushing against it's captors, fighting hard but the two men aided with their staffs grimly held on. They could see Jacob standing on the cart staff in hand compelling the people to follow. The four Angels riding on the lead horses began to steadily walk forward into the corridor the herd of horses strangely and calmly followed. The Hebrews now under Jacobs light compulsion began to enter. The noise of the water being held back was astounding. The sea being impossibly contained by the two men on the ramps, was rolling and beating against the restraining force. Washing over the roofless sides, spilling on those below and threatening to burst forth, drowning everybody. The Hebrews looked frightened and ready to panic. The long ungainly column of the host, a mixture of carts and domestic animals with their owners who, only a few short weeks ago were slaves, stoically persevered. The Hebrews were determined they helped and encouraged each other, and acting as one massive but confident entity, they pooled their resources of courage and strength and with dignity they endured the passage and soon were climbing the hill at the opposite shore more than seven miles away. Joshua, mounted on his huge horse and trailing the other behind, entered the huge incomprehensible hallway with the last of the Hebrews. Leathig and Aaron holding their staffs high maintaining the impossible corridor, walked onto the flattened sea bed. Holding the sea walls up all the way. After walking the length of the impossible passageway, they reached the other side. The Angels with Joshua had kept the column moving, following the pillar of cloud onto the plains of Sinai. Aaron and Leathig turned to close the gap in the sea. Coming fast and bearing down hard, were the Egyptians , mounted on their chariots, racing over the smooth floor getting closer, some although out of range were excitedly but fruitlessly firing their arrows The Pharaoh himself in the spearhead. His face contorted. His armoured fist raised, holding a javelin in anticipation of exacting his revenge on the hapless Israelites whom he thought he had now at his mercy. The two men climbed higher up the seashore, when they reached the top and looked into the gap the Egyptians were nearly halfway across. Rameses with hundreds of chariots and riders with the horses lathered and out of breath were still bearing down. Aaron faltered, he could feel the weight of the sea threatening break from his grip.' Hold', he begged Leathig through the link. We have to hold, they will kill us all if they get across. We are defenceless against them, we have no army. The desperate situation called for no other outcome. We have to hold the walls as long as we can Leathig, once we have the Egyptians trapped within the corridor, we will release the force from this end, drowning them all. Leathig acknowledged saying ' May the power of the Creator fortify us and help us to endure.' Powerful angry white horses reared noisily at the gap, attempting in vain to jump the gap between the two walls. Frothing and pulling against the containing force, Aaron and Leathig held on. The surf strained and pulled. Huge flutes of white water spun and rose higher and higher building up momentum, threatening to burst forth onto the sea bed. Still the two men held and when all the Egyptians were encompassed between the soaring sea walls, Aaron quietly sent 'release.' As one they let the power go, the walls fell. The sea crashed on top of the Egyptians smashing them with the weight of tons of water, whirl-pooling and rolling into deep pits tumbling back up to the previous height and crashing down again and again, pulverizing and drowning every one of the Egyptians, men and horses alike, none were spared. The two men in silence looked on, the sea very quickly became smooth again with light waves rolling and bobbing on the calming, rolling, surface. Leathig spotted, an Egyptian shield, three feet wide, round and studded in bronze, being forced ashore and washing on the beach, the only evidence of the army of Rameses ever having been there. It was now very quiet with a cool steady calming breeze. It was hard to believe what had just happened. He descended the hill and began to walk back towards the sea to retrieve the shield. Aaron joined him, he wanted to say something, but with the deaths of hundreds of men and animals on his mind no words came, he could see Leathig felt the same. The two men walked towards the sea and the ominous shield now bobbing back and forth being washed by the waves. Aaron bent to pick up the targe and a loud scream filled the air, he turned to see Leathig levitating off the ground, his back arched at an impossible angle as though someone or something was attempting to snap him in two. His face was contorted in agony he was screaming in pain. A rotting and stinking aroma had filled the air, a smell of sulphur and wrongness, a putrid stench, choking and filling Aaron's stomach. The atmosphere was heavy and forced him to the sand, his stomach filled with bile,'what was causing this?' He turned to the sea, a skull like effigy had formed above the water and a horrible blood red fist ,had Leathig in it's grip, squeezing the life from him, shaking him and if not stopped would soon kill him. Aaron raised his staff, immediately a clear sharp light streamed towards the skull, easily pushing through it's defences and breaking the strength of it, depleting and dissolving it, turning the thing into the sea melting and breaking it's hold. As it began to melt into the sea a long thin pole came out of the water spinning end to end, when it bounced on landing on the beach they were amazed to see it was Leathig's staff minus its blue orb. Leathig dropped to all fours on the sand gasping. The miasma began to clear and soon the air was sweet again. The four Angels too late now, came running down the hillside. They helped the priest to his feet, ' How are you Leathig ?' Chamuel asked, Leathig nodded and gasping for air, began to gather himself, ' In the name of all that is holy ' he breathed, 'I thought my life was over right here, that was disgusting. I don't know what it was, but let's leave here now before it returns.' He reached for his staff lying in the sand, he picked it up but dropped it quickly to the ground, as if it had burned him. It feels different it feels wrong.' Then he realised. 'The orb, the orb from my staff has gone.' He began to search, dropping back to all fours scraping back the sand in desperate panic. Chamuel knelt down beside the priest, he placed his hand on the priests shoulder, saying, 'Leathig, if the orb was here I and my brothers would sense it's presence. The orb has been taken Leathig, come, we have to leave this place. Leathig's mutilated staff lay with a corrupting and unhealthy red taint seeping into it. Unknown to even the Angels. The taint was being transferred through the symbiotic link to Leathig. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Four. Texasgreg on 23-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Three. Hehe, can just hear ya tellin' Adam the story by a campfire, (with a pot of stew, of course). Best leave out the green skull. I lernt that lesson with my son when he was young. Had ta run monsters outta his closet before he went to bed. π Keep 'em commin', Duke! Greg π Author's Reply: Weefatfella writes: Thanks for the Comment Greg. I appreciate the piece is exceptionally long but 41 reads and only one comment. Are they just skimming ?. Perhaps they don't want prose here. Sorry to sound so petulant. Thank You anyway Greg.....Again. amman on 23-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Three. Hello WFF. This definitely deserves more reads and comments but, perhaps, would be more digestible if posted in two parts. It seems to be that readers are more inclined towards poetry than prose, as I too have discovered, but we are what we are and write accordingly. Anyway, I've gone back and read the previous 2 chapters and like the continuity and flow of your narrative. Thought the 1st chapter and to some degree the 2nd were much tighter (I think you mentioned that the 1st has been amended). Some language redundancies which will no doubt be sorted in the editing process. Also, a few sentences need shortening. However, your characterisation is excellent and overall an interesting and readable take on the biblical story. Look forward to further episodes. Cheers. Author's Reply: Thank you very much indeed amman for taking the time to comment on my very long piece, your insightful commentary will be acted upon. I have only been writing since Jan this year and my confidence is low. Texasgreg keeps buoying me up and I am very grateful to him for that. I need critique to move forward. Thank you again. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 23-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Three. Aye! Can only reiterate Tony's statements and add that all subjects aren't to the taste of others. I too have felt the sting of silence. In cases such as those, I merely determine that I must re-present in a fashion more enjoyable to a general audience without losing my meaning. Don't think that's the case here though. It's a really cool take on biblical history, IMO. I think more editing before release and smaller chunks would be the key. Just my opinion...personally, I'd read anyway, but would be helpful for me. I do really like your style and stories... Greg π ![]() Author's Reply: Cheers Greg. Yo always have the knack of saying the right thing. |
New Freedom Chapter Three. (posted on: 17-09-12) A History of the Scottish Nation. The large cart rumbled and bucked along the dried river bed leading from the east gate. The low, hard and grey small hills, interspersed with copses of stunted sycamore and mulberry bushes, broke the horizon. The ground was hard and pitted but the going was flat and seemed to continue like that for miles, better for the carts and horses than rolling sand and the people made good progress. They were heading towards a triangular peak clearing the horizon to the south west, Mount Etham. The overhanging cloud kept the air cool, and this turned after dark to a soaring miraculous pillar of fire, lighting the way and giving off heat, in the cool desert night-air. Leathig left the cart, and mounted on a black stallion, he rode the length of the slowly moving column. The people looked tired and some called to him as he passed, asking for rest and water. He closed his ears and continued on towards the roaring pillar of fire. He reached Joshua, who was riding behind the pillar keeping his distance and sometimes staring up in disbelief at the power of the creator, to sustain such a wondrous thing. Leathig had to shout over the roar of the flames to be heard, ' Keep up the pace Joshua I want to put as much distance between us and the Egyptian army as possible, If we are caught here we stand no chance and will soon find ourselves back in Rameses making bricks'. They continued for forty days and nights without rest and finding themselves short of water, the people began to bicker at the pace and to complain of thirst. At the foot of mount Etham, on the shores of the Red Sea ,Leathig halted the host and instructed them to make camp with their backs to the mountain. Leathig called for Joshua, Arron and Jacob to accompany him onto the mountain. 'The lord has asked to meet with us on this mountain I don't know why, but when he calls we must attend.' The four men began to climb a narrow well used goat track up the steep incline, the ground was hard but the gradient, although steep, didn't seem too difficult. They climbed in silence until they came to a small wooded glade with green grass framing a small lake and with an island in the middle. A large white tent could be seen erected in the middle of the island. Two Angels dressed in very white robes, guarded the entrance. A highly polished wooden bridge led across to the island and an Angel called Gabriel dressed in white robes accompanied the four into the tent. Inside was a long wooden table set for a banquet. The Hebrews had never seen such extravagance. There were foods here they had never seen. There were fruits of all colours and sizes, meats and vegetables, wines and ales from every country that is, and as they found out later, ever was and was ever going to be ,in this place time didn't exist. The Angel invited the men to sit, as they did the Creator appeared on the middle and most ornate chair. He was dressed in white and was wearing a magnificent flowing beard, his long white hair reaching to his shoulders shone with health, he was smiling. Leathig was invited to sit on his right, the place of honour. Aaron was to sit to the left of the Creator beside Joshua, who had a strange moonstruck look on his face. To the right of Leathig sat Jacob. The other places across the table were taken up by eight Angels, they were Michael. Uriel, Gabriel the messenger,Chamuel, Raphael,Raguel, Raziel and Camael they were here as a show of strength to the Hebrews, to make the coming revelations possibly easier and to give the men strength of purpose knowing they would have help in their future endeavors. When all were seated the Creator opened his hands to indicate to begin. Aaron ate a piece of meat, as it entered his mouth the flavour washed over his tongue and he could feel energy rushing through him, his eyes opened in surprise. The angel Uriel spoke to him, I am Uriel and the Lord has asked me to be your attendant and adviser in the coming trials against the dark one, I will guide and protect you if I can from all harm. These meats and fruits are from the Garden of Eden and are the first of their kind. Their flavours and energy giving nutrients have never been diluted, that is why their goodness can be felt so strongly. As he said this all at the table nodded in agreement and continued to eat with gusto. Another Angel spoke looking over to Joshua, Michael the Archangel introduced himself, he reached over and touched Joshua's hand. I am Michael I am instructed to assist you and teach you the way of the warrior, I have weapons and armour which You will be given and I will instruct you in their use, you will need these skills in the coming conflict. never fear I will be with you at all times. The Angel Chamuel sitting across from Leathig spoke to the high priest I am Chamuel, I have been instructed to assist you Leathig, for you have the greatest of all sacrifices to make. I will comfort and succour you in your trials for the greater good, do not fear, this is as it must be and we will triumph in the end. The Lord will tell you of this later. Hold to your faith Leathig, for you are beloved of God. Leathig looked to the creator and He stood and Invited him to follow. They all three went outside. The Creator walked toward Leathig and put his arms around him and rested his head against his, he kissed Leathig's cheek and said into his ear, ' the rules are set in place Leathig, I am bound to the same rules and parameters of this universe. Where there is good there must be evil, all things need to be balanced, where there is order there is chaos. I am the creator of all things, I have set the rules and what I have set in place I cannot and will not change. The consequences would be catastrophic. I have seen in the future that the Lord of Chaos and darkness, the Lord of Evil, has set his hand against you, you have thwarted his plans by bringing your people out of bondage and his evil eye is upon you Leathig. His plans are set and I cannot stop him. I can however try to make it bearable for you, with preparation and help from my angel of succour and love Chamuel. I will prepare and strengthen you against his attacks. Enter the life giving waters here and we will begin. Leathig stepped into the water, the Creator held him by the shoulders and pushed him below the surface. The water felt warm and he could feel the energy flowing through him. His staff began to glow with a stronger and clearer deep blue glow. His body began to feel stronger and more youthful and the words of the creator could be heard clearly advising him that he was loved and cared for and that the trials to come would eventually end and he would have his place in the kingdom of the Lord forever. He came to believe the trial was as the Lord said inevitable and it would be an honour to endure and eventually win for his people. He became resolute and accepted his role in the coming battles with Satan the Lord of Darkness. He was allowed to rise and with tears in his eyes Chamuel helped him back into the tent. his friends surrounded and comforted him when he sat down. Leathig held his hands up and said ' we all have a part to play in this fight and I will play mine as best I can'. With that said, he Lifted a goblet of wine and drank deeply, this action had the affect of closing the conversation, which they all gratefully accepted. The Angel Uriel stood and invited Aaron to follow him outside he finished his tankard of ale and stepped into the sunshine. The creator was already in the water, he held his hand out inviting Aaron to enter. He stepped into the pool and the creator, holding his shoulders, pushed him gently below the surface. Immediately the water felt welcoming and comforting, he also could feel the energy flowing into him and could hear the voice of the creator in his mind. ' You Aaron are of the line of the first men, you are a direct descendant of Adam, Noah and Abraham, the Kings of men. You will be crowned by the people as their king when you cross the sea below this mountain' 'How are we to cross Lord, we have no ships?' he heard himself ask. ' You have no need of ships, You will be given the means within yourself and your staff to create a pathway across the sea to Sinai,where you will establish a city where your people will grow and prosper, before continuing on their journey to the land I have prepared for you. Work with Leathig in this and it will be accomplished. ' Now behold'. As soon as he heard these words the faces of his ancestors appeared in his head and all the accumulated knowledge they had acquired in life was given to him, not only his ancestors but the faces of his children and their children in fact all the progeny of his line and all the accumulated knowledge they would attain was registered in his mind. He was aware of atoms,protons, mathematics, physics in fact all the knowledge of the human race for millenia to come was gifted to him. His brain could hardly hold it all. He asked the creator why? Why all this knowledge?'. 'You have been given this because in order to manipulate the universe with your staff, which I have empowered to its greatest degree as a conduit to my power. You can only change what you have the knowledge to change, you must know the consequences of that change, throughout your place within this cosmos. This is why your mental capacity along with your span of years has been expanded you will live a very long time Aaron but I will need you as my representative on this planet. You will have to change your name many times in this world to continue with my work and yours. You will know what do when those times come. leave the water now and attend to your friends my work here is almost completed. Aaron stepped out of the water he looked around, he knew the names of all things and their composition he knew with the power of his staff he could accomplish almost anything. He walked deep in thought into the tent. He acknowledged his friends and filled a tankard of the good ale and sitting down, he drank deeply. Michael stood now and invited Joshua to follow him Joshua stood and with a frightened look on his face he followed Michael out of the tent and into the water with the Creator. As his head went below the surface he heard the voice of the Creator saying ' fear not Joshua you have been chosen as the right hand of Aaron who is soon to become your King. You will be given great strength and a stronger frame in which to utilise this strength, you will be taught the use of many weapons and the use of and manipulation of armies. You will maintain the law for my people and yours and you will give peace and instigate trade with the many nations you will come into contact with. I will give you the ability to see the strength and failings in men and woman in order to deal with them both in conflict and in alliance. I will instil confidence and belief in yourself and your abilities. The changes that are made here are made from the beginning. Only those who are here will know there has been a change at all, those who know you will have always known you as you are now, it is the nature of things. I will hand you over to Michael for your teaching in these things. He was turned around and when he lifted his head out of the water the Creator was gone and the Archangel Michael held his shoulders, he was pushed under again and now the voice of Michael was in his head. He was taken through the various moves with all weapons, especially a long heavy type of sword he had never seen before, it was nearly six feet long and double handed, with a double blade. He knew he would have to wear this weapon with a baldric holster on his back and with Michael's teaching, this became his weapon of choice. He also trained with spears, bows, axes, lances, in fact he became very proficient in the use of all weapons and the manipulation of armies. The defense tactics and attack tactics, he was trained to be a master in all things military. When it was over he left the water and he also entered the tent. Aaron stood and stared at him. ' why Joshua you have grown and you seem very powerful I am glad you are my friend, as he said this he slapped him on the shoulder and handed him a tankard of ale, Joshua smiling took it and emptied it in one long quaff, after wiping his mouth he laughed out loud and sat down looking round at his friends all appreciated what was happening and Jacob stood up. The mood became serious again and the men watched as Raphael the angel invited Jacob to go with him to the water. The Creator again was waiting in the pool and when Jacob entered his head was quickly pushed below the surface, he heard the voice of the lord in his head. ' Jacob you are being given the power to heal and to cure illness and sickness in your people. You will be given knowledge to diagnose and cure diseases never yet encountered, you will have your lifetime expanded and you will retain youth for many years to come.With the knowledge you will have you will teach others to help you in your work. I will give you the stone of life giving water, this stone will help you to both quench the thirst of your people and will give you clean water to cleanse their wounds and as a life enhancing drink. Build a temple in my name at Sinai and house the stone and your house of healing there. Go now with your staff and new knowledge of healing and return to the tent with Raphael your Councillor. Jacob left the pool with the angel and entered the tent, he sat down and contemplated all he had heard trying to take all of it in and to accept his role in this coming conflict.His friends seeing Jacob deep in thought left him to his musings. After they had eaten and talked with their respective partner Angels they were asked by the Angel Gabriel to step out side. The Lord God Of all was standing next to a rectangular stone it was black marble with red flecks and iron handles at both ends. ' This is the stone of the water of life I promised to you Jacob, strike the stone once and the clear sweet water of life will come forth, on the second strike it will cease, take this stone and place it in between my temple and the new house of healing to be built in the new City of Sinai.As long as the Covenant is kept between us the water will flow.' Michael The Archangel then spoke to Joshua ' come with me Joshua and I will give the Gifts and weapons you were promised.' Joshua followed the angel into a before unseen cave, where after a short time he returned wearing long black leather boots with metal heels and red boiled leather Armour., a thing unknown at that time. In an ornately carved scabbard hanging from a silver and red leather belt embossed with Angels armed with flaming spears and swords, a bejewelled pommel could be seen, when Joshua drew the sword the weapon was exquisitely formed, it had a four foot long shining steel blade, a material that wouldn't be invented for thousands of years, the sword was very sharp and double edged, a longsword and very lightweight, Joshua held it as though he had owned it for years, he looked at it and weighed it with his eyes, after two sweeping cuts from right to left he sheathed it fluidly and smiled at Michael, who returned a knowing nod, in mutual appreciation of the quality of blade that it was. The Creator then called to Joshua, in his hands he held a six foot long broadsword, it also was exquisitely made. The blade was black and made of tungsten and nickel with canneled sharpened edges. The heavy pommel held a deep blue sapphire, which glowed strangely darkly, like a smooth polished surface and exuded tremendous power. The double handed grip was cross laced in black leather down to the wide cross-member, which represented angels wings. The very long double and very sharp blade had runes etched on both sides all the way to the very sharp point. The Creator offered the sword to Joshua saying, ' this is the "Flame Of The Covenant", this weapon has been forged for you and you alone Joshua, use it well. When fighting the hordes of Satan this weapon will come into its own, that is the reason it was made, the demon horde cannot stand against this sword or its wielder be resolute and unafraid. ' Go now all of you back down the mountain, I cannot interfere in your dealings with the Lord Of Chaos but I can move things sometimes in your favour. Joshua slipped his broadsword into the scabbard in the baldric on his back and took up the handles of the stone . The Hebrews along with their Angel aids who were now wearing Armour and with the now powerfully built Joshua carrying the stone, they walked slowly and methodically down the mountain to their people and their fate. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Three. Texasgreg on 18-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Two. Ya know duke, I'm not much of a sci-fi guy, but this is a cool take. Hope your mind isn't wandering whilst driving, LOL. Super good! ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Thanks again Greg. I am writing in comfort just now knowing I can change anything when I see fit. this somehow gives me confidence. I hope you noticed I made the changes you advised in the previous chapter, it worked a treat. Thanks again Greg. Once I part the Red Sea the whole story opens up and I have carte-blanche to with as I please. You Know I appreciate your comments Greg. 'Filll your hands you son of a bitch' niece on 20-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter Two. Very nice, WFF...may need to work on the conversation et al later...but that's secondary...getting the first draft done is more important...enjoyed !!! π Regds, niece Author's Reply: This Is pouring out and I agree with you niece, I'm having no trouble at all with situation and plot but the dialogue is killing me.My characters are all one dimensional. it's heart-rending. I'll get there after all as you so rightly pointed out....first draft. thanks for your help. Weefatfella. |
New Freedom Chapter Two. (posted on: 17-09-12) A possible History of the Scottish Nation. Ten weeks before the Exodus,Leathig and Jacob had approached the palace of the Pharaoh. The guards attempted to stop them entering the inner buildings 'begone slaves,Turn around, you cannot enter here'. The soldiers drew their weapons ,Jacob pushed a thought towards each soldier, stopping them in their tracks and after sensing further into the palace, every guard was similarly struck, as though asleep, their eyes were open but their minds were Jacobs. With no further interruption the two men continued on toward the pharaoh.They marveled at the extravagant drapes and furnishings as they made their way through the Palace. Statues of Egyptian Gods and animals stood on plinths reflecting brightly on highly polished black marble floors There were richly coloured mosaics depicting the Pharaoh himself riding his golden chariot with javelin in hand and wearing his golden armour. All around the walls were hieroglyphics in vibrant colours banded in gold and ochre. There were squares of carved rock depicting ancient Egyptian victories in battle. Silk sweeping curtains in pastel shades hid alcoves leading off from the main hallway with guards posted carrying the scythe shaped Egyptian khopesh.A wide stairway with ebony dark wood bannisters topped with gold caps swept in an arc up to the second floor with similarly armed guards at the bottom denying access. Down a narrow hallway Behind blue satin drapes, a silver door guarded by two spear-men could be seen.The door held a representation of a pale blue fish blowing water into a large golden amphora being balanced on the shoulder of a beautiful and naked serving girl. Obviously the Baths. The two guards stared ahead unseeing. Leathig using his two hands parted the guards and entered the Pharaohs bath-house. The room was tiled from floor to ceiling in pristine white. Large sweeping red silk drapes covered the walls, A golden chariot complete with horses and two occupants, the older being Rameses holding the controlling reins of the two golden horses signifying his control over upper and lower Egypt. The other rider his first born son firing a short bow. The horses were rearing with front hooves raised in triumph. The statue stood on a double golden plinth to the right of the fifty foot square and five foot deep bath.To the left was a lifesized golden elephant standing between two geese with front legs lifted and spraying a shower of water into the bath. The Pharaoh was naked in the water with several naked concubines in attendance, washing and pampering him. As Jacob and Leathig made their entrance the Pharaoh screamed, 'What evil is this, begone from my presence' he ordered as he climbed the marble steps leading out of the bath. He grabbed his robe from one of his concubines and threw her to the floor. Leathig raised his staff, a thin blue shimmering light eased slowly from the orb inside the filigree on Leathig's staff surrounding the Pharaoh in a pale blue mist holding him still. ' The only evil in this place comes from you Pharaoh, I have been commanded by the Creator, lord God of all, to ask you to free my people willingly, let my people go and no harm will come to you or your people, resist the will of the Lord and it will not go well for you''. ' I know of no God but Ra' replied the Pharaoh as he pulled his blue robe about his thin weak looking frame ' Who is this Lord? I have never heard such madness and I, ruler of all Egypt will not let my Slaves go. I will begin to build a new and larger pyramid, I will make the slaves work twice as hard for their food, begone ' He waved his arm in dismissal ' This is your answer? asked Leathig? ' Go ' bawled the Slave-master out, out of my sight!'. Jacob and Leathig left the Palace releasing the hold on the Soldiers when they were beyond the walls. Leathig told Jacob to go home he would go and communicate with his Lord as instructed. He walked for five miles into the desert to the pre- arranged meeting place. Leathig sat on a rock and prayed to his Lord telling him what the Pharaoh had said. The air began to vibrate and a clear blue flame floated in front of him. ' Raise your staff over the Nile on your return', the flame commanded.' Tell your people not to drink from the river or the cisterns, for I will have turned the water to blood. Do not drink from the river for seven days, on the eighth day it will be pure again. This is to show the Pharaoh that I have dominion over him and all peoples. After seven days go to the Slave-master and ask him again, I await his answer'. Nine more times Leathig spoke with the Pharaoh asking him to free his people and only after eight horrible plagues and the death of all first born Egyptians including the Pharaoh's own son and heir,did he accede to Leathig and the Creator. ' Go ' he screamed ' get you, and your infernal people, your stubborn God and all of you leave now.' The Pharaoh turned away and Leathig spoke. ' We will leave at dawn and by the east gate '. The now compliant Ruler nodded his bald head and waved his hand in dismissal , Leathig left the palace. Now, on the top of the gate he and Jacob watched the last of the Hebrews leave Egypt.' hold the compulsion for a while longer please Jacob, I have a plan bearing fruit as we speak' Leathig said this as the two priests made their way down off the gate. The dust had settled and Leathig stood leaning on his staff and smiling at Jacob. ' Well we did it, we are leaving this infernal city, Thank the Lord indeed for his help but we are not out and safe yet' Jacob nodded and said ' it is a beginning Leathig we will strive and work hard and with those ability's and with the help of God we will accomplish our goals, Have faith and pride in our people and we will succeed'. A soft rumbling filled the air and a mounted horseman in the middle of a dust cloud could be seen approaching the gate at speed, it was Shemuel Shiphtan's son he was mounted on a magnificent black stallion. In has hand he held a long rope which was attached to another horse, coming up behind was his brother Kemuel riding a white dappled mare, he also was holding a rope the boys were both still in their teens, along with their father they had raided the stables of their horses taking 200 in total. Shiphtan came rolling round the corner in a long heavily loaded four wheeled cart being pulled by four massive dray horses and with two more tied to the rear of the wagon. He waved at the two priests and drew alongside in a sweep of dust, the horses whinnied and stamped their feet.The two boys continued to herd the horses. Leathig held his robe over his mouth to protect himself from the dust, he waited till the noise died down and the two hundred horses were safely through the gates before asking Shiphtan, ' What is this?he asked pointing at the cart, I only asked you to steal the horses'. ' We will need to trade to survive' said Shiphtan so I have taken this cart and these magnificent animals to begin just that and if we don't trade, we can carry more in the desert till we find our new home'. A smiling Leathig and Jacob climbed up onto the cart and they followed the herd of horses through the gates. At the other side Leathig dismounted from the cart and turning towards the gates he raised his staff. The crystal at the tip began to glow and the huge gates began to close. When both sides locked together with a bang, a stern faced Leathig took the glowing staff in both hands and rapped the heel of the staff sharply on the gates. The gates buckled from their wheels and with a grating sound the hinges fused, effectively sealing them closed. Behind the gates inside the city the beard on the statue of Rameses split and fell to the ground, followed by the crook and the flail. Leathig remounted the cart and signalled for Shiphtan to follow their people into the waiting desert. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter Two. franciman on 17-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter one continued. Hi there, I'm a fellow Scot so I am intrigued by your premise. I think we need to see some connection up front, to keep our interest. if not then we need more dynamic dialogue: the story so far is too well known otherwise. Sorry to sound negative. The writing is good, but it needs to engage the reader more. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: You are spot on Jim, I have to lay the theme. My story doesn't really begin till after the Red Sea. ( See Demons lair) I in my mind i take over from there.I am working on the Idea no one knows the Story. Maybe a bit Naively.Still I batter Oan. Texasgreg on 18-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter one continued. Aye! Donβt fergit ta have manna poppinβ outta magic bagpipes, lol. I think after talkinβ to Jim, youβre wrapping your head well around it. Awaiting follow-upβ¦ ![]() Author's Reply: niece on 18-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter one continued. Yul Brynner came to mind till you mentioned "thin weak looking frame" ... nicely written...look forward to the following chapters π Regds, niece Author's Reply: |
The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them (posted on: 14-09-12) Is this how it all began? The Whereaphuckizi Tribe. The red sun rose slowly, spreading out with a liquid orange glow highlighting the umbrella shaped baobab and acacia trees. It cast long sweeping shadows reaching towards a lone hyena, which was spooked by the encroaching blackness. The curious animal followed it sniffing the ground. The sun continued to rise bringing the plateau into bright relief, showing the bushes and trees in all their reds, blues and yellows. The red and yellow clouds flowed slowly and sedately along, completely aloof and continued quietly about their business. The new day had begun. A new era for the human race was just beginning. Men of the Wherraphukizi tribe ran on into the plains. They wore nothing but a leather loincloth and they all carried three spears a sharpened and fire hardened hardwood dagger and a bow with a quiver of three-foot long arrows. They all were of similar height of around five foot seven. The grass almost six foot high and heavy with seed was being pushed to the side as the homosapians loped strongly through. Kambo their leader climbed up on a rising flat boulder to get a view over the grass, the wide expanse of the plains met his eyes. There was a sea of long grass all the way to the horizion, in between, were various trees. Frankincense, whose sap was used for medicine, the Boabab tree, which carried water and the leaves were good for soup or just as a food, in fact all around Kambo could see his larder. The red tinged dawn created a beautiful watercolour effect across the grass turning the waving seed heads from grey to red to purple. The long pink clouds floated serenely and magically below an orange sky, silhouetting the rocks and trees, and reflecting sharply off the small lake in the foreground. Here, troops of elephants were washing and towers of giraffes were slaking their thirst. A vulture landed lightly on top of an acacia tree. A particularly wispy long yellow cloud floated quietly past framing the large bird. A lion roared, a hyena let out a long maniacal laugh, which seemed to echo forever before slowly dying away. Kambo sitting now on his haunches could just make out a dust cloud in the distance, he raised himself up to see over the grass, yes, coming this way was a herd of something, to his mind, food. He scouted round over to the left, half a mile away was a shelf with bushes and trees an ideal spot to defend against predators and would be a good safe vantage point to attack the coming herd. Kambo knew by the lie of the land the herd would skirt the small lake using it to protect one side of the herd and similarly would use the shelf of the plateau in the same manner. He signaled to the men and in single file they loped toward their target. They climbed onto the shelf and waited for what seemed an eternity. Eventually the stampeding herd approached dust and noise filled the air. It was wilder-beast they were traveling fast running and jumping high to escape their attackers. they were being hunted on either side by at least two lion prides who were looking for weaknesses to exploit. The hyena were barking excitedly and running alongside the lions hoping for whatever came their way. Kambo raised his spear and peered through the dust the wilder-beast were running and jumping high below him in a blur, he focused on one beast, he lined up his spear and holding his breath he threw, but missed. He waved his hand behind his back and felt another spear slipping into his hand, this spear felt smooth and sleek, he knew it belonged to Kinyanno. He made the best spears and when he weighted it in his hand he knew he wouldn't miss with this one. He chose another running beast and while holding his breath again he threw the spear. It pierced the shoulder of the unfortunate animal and went right through to the heart, killing it mercifully, instantly. The Wheraphukizy tribe would have meat tomorrow. The men managed to bag another two wilder-beast, which they butchered on site. They left nothing; bones were bagged for soup stock. The marrow sinews were used for all sorts, including bowstrings and ties for moccasins. The hide would be used for clothing. They built drying racks and placed meat strips to dry. The larger cuts were wrapped in the hide of the animals, to keep them fresh and for easier carrying. The process of butchering and skinning took all day. As night was coming, the men gathered thorn bushes and rocks to make an enclosed fire. Within a sleeping coral of piled high thorn and Acacia branches, along with the fire the thorns would deter any large predators. This would allow the men to sleep safely in the bush. They would sleep here tonight and head back to their village in the morning. They lit the fire within the rocks, which also would warm and give out heat. They ate supper of dried meat and some leaves and premixed food paste. They talked for a while before sleeping. Kambo informed Kinyanno 'you make wonderful spears, I knew when your spear was handed to me today I would hit my target, I, as leader of the tribe, want you to stay behind in the village and make spears. With you making those good spears the men will have more success in hunting,' He looked over to Makota 'you my friend make really good bows and accurate arrows; you will also stay behind and only make them. We will give you a haunch of meat for every five spears or bows you make.' Two months later the price of spears was two haunches of meat and the price of bows and arrows were double that and so the world of capitalism began. The men innocently lay down to sleep. The sun set slowly in the west. As it fell, it took back all it had given in the dawn. The sun slowly dipped under the horizon, retrieving it's shadows and leaving the men on the plateau with their self belief that capitalism was the way to go. Sadly even the dying sun didn't want that. Archived comments for The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them amman on 15-09-2012 The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them Enjoyable story WFF with a nice twist at the end. I'm one of 4.5 million New Zealanders who are always being asked 'wherthephukisnz'. Cheers. Author's Reply: Cheers Amman thanks for the comments. Andrea on 15-09-2012 The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them Yep, pretty daft alright π Really enjoyed. Many people ask me wherthephukisnl - such an obscure, tiny country, hardly worth mentioning... Author's Reply: Thanks Andrea, Shh, My Daughter Angela put the Commas in, Shh she's, A Primary school, teacher, Ahem Taps side of beak Andrea on 15-09-2012 The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them Did she? I thought I noticed an improvement π Author's Reply: Safact. whatacutebum on 15-09-2012 The Wheraphukizi Tribe started it. Blame them Very nice work. Spears are a bit over- priced I feel though. Can get a cheaper one for 1 haunch of meat at meatstretchers π Author's Reply: Aye Si, Capitalism run riot. A seen a sign in Leith wance ' joints r us ' don't think it wiz meat tho. thanks for the comments Si. |
When Paul met Harry. (posted on: 14-09-12) I had become the victim of prescribed medication side effects, at their worst degree. When Paul Met Harry. I have suffered Rheumatoid Arthritis for the past four years. The only life-changing thing for me was remembering to take the bloody tablets. The number of times I've snuggled into bed and gotten really comfy, only to remember I have to go back down stairs to take the bloody things. My medication was changed from sulfasalazene, to methotrexate, the latter is for some a great help and relieves their symptoms but for me it was a nightmare. I had no consultation with this new drug, although I have since been advised this was essential and me not getting the consultation played a great part in my now serious and debilitating condition. As the main side effect was breathlessness. I also have been suffering for some time with Emphysema and C.O.P.D. Both these diseases have been taking my breath for years and my family know to expect me to stop and rest while we are going about in the world. This has been a common feature of my personality for years and my wee grandson Adam, who is five, now finds chairs for me in shops etc. The big change happened suddenly. I had been on methotrexate for two months, with ever increasing dosage, when I began to slow down; I put it down to my normally breathless condition. The boys on the taxi rank had noticed the change in my breathing and began to mention it. Some even had the temerity to challenge me to compete against them in the hundred-meter dash. This was the driver over sixty who wished to make a point of how unfit he thought I was. Some other drivers over a certain age would come up to me on the rank and tap-dance in front of me, to somehow enforce their supposed fitness in my face. All part of the taxi rank banter which I knew, was done in good part, and which I fully enjoyed. I was now becoming very breathless, especially in the mornings. Theresa, my long suffering Sweetness, took it into her own hands and made an appointment for me with my GP. After a chest examination the doctor immediately phoned my rheumatologist, who advised me to discontinue with the methotrexate and make an appointment to see her ASAP, this I did but never made the appointment. The following Sunday, I was driving back into Bathgate to pick my wife up from visiting her God, when the Mobile rang. ''Harro eez rat meester Howrthone?'' I thought it was one of those shady calls asking me to buy something; I nearly dumped the caller. Just as I was about to, I heard, '' Ris ees douctar, kooliiwalliieeedooda. I'm carring fram the Waster Geneerul Hospingtal and I waant to see you as sooon as poosabule. I have mood enn apentment'' He was calling from The Western General and was obviously very concerned about my possible medical condition. He wanted to see me on the following Friday, I never made that appointment either. I soldiered on through the following week, my breathing was getting worse, I was informed by my GP that emergency services had been made aware that I might call, and to have oxygen ready, Etc. Even knowing this, didn't really alarm me, I put it down to arse covering on my GPs part. Thursday morning, I was hanging over the sink while sitting on the bath, trying to shave prior to going to work, when I realised. 'For Goad sake ya nutcase yir dyin here, git in and see Theresa, tae see whit she thinks' It was 5-30 am. The sweetness was out cold, I walked into the bedroom and she woke, she jumped up and switched on the light ''Fur Goad sake You look terrible, sit oan that bed the noo'' I, with petted lip, sat down and a tear slipped from my petulant eye. My Sweetness would look after me now. I allowed her to run the show from here. She picked up the phone and called my daughter Jennifer, who is a nurse and worries like hell about everything to do with her mother and myself. She advised NHS 24 and they were called while Theresa informed my daughter Angela who lives in Wishaw who would also be very worried. The NHS 24 operator, when given all the facts, contacted Dr Raj. Who I must say was absolutely brilliant and quickly diagnosed double Pneumonia. He ordered a blue light ambulance and phoned his driver to bring in the oxygen. I was hooked up and we waited the short time until the ambulance, noisily, and with lights flashing and all whistles and bells ringing, arrived screeching to a halt. They wheeked me out to the vehicle, where I was again hooked up to oxygen and examined fully, before being quickly transferred to hospital. At the hospital, I was accepted into A+E where double Pneumonia was verified. They wheeked the breeks off of me, and a trainee doctor attempted to access my wrist artery with a very mobile and sharp needle, after six attempts and a huge amount of discomfort, I asked the wee soul to stop, and go get someone who knew what they were doing, before I remembered my old karate training and began to practice on her wee nose. They transferred me to medical admissions ward 22 where I was propositioned by a rather easy on the eye young female doctor from Dubai. No sooner had my Sweetness and family left the room while she fitted a cannula to my wrist, when she cheekily took the opporchancity to offer me casual sex. ''While your family are out of the room'' says the brazent hussy. ''Have you had casual sex or used a dirty needle recently?'' I was gob smacked, a doctor asking me this. She must have known I would have to decline, I was in no fit state for frolics, especially with one so young, and my family just outside the door for Goad sake, so I diplomatically declined. I was judged to be very seriously ill with Pneumo Cistis in both lungs, a very dangerous, incipient, and serious condition. Which was caused by hypersensitivity to the prescription drug methotrexate. The disease was still actively attacking my lungs. Seemingly this condition was very rare and I was One In ten Million, Aye Right. I was taken to the high dependency unit where I met a doctor dressed in greens, who frightened the life nearly right out of me. ''I am Doctor so and so'' he informed me, ''I'm from intensive therapy downstairs, I've been asked to speak to you and get to know you, in case I need to take you down and switch you off.'' Whatever he really said has become a blur. I only heard Ventilator, a machine that breaths for you and 'switch you off,' I was informed that not everyone returns from those depths, so I was petrified. He continued, now in my mind to be twirling his mustachio and rubbing his hands. I'm sure he had count Dracula's hairline, with the face of uncle fester from the Adams Family. He gibbered on for some time but I had switched off. I was on 98% oxygen and could only maintain saturation of 83%. The muscles working my lungs were under extreme pressure and were tiring. I was in a very bad way indeed. An alternative to the Ventilator was the C pap mask or Continuous positive airway pressure mask. The mask is tied on very tightly and the oxygen is pumped in at a high enough pressure to inflate the lungs, allowing the muscles to rest. I was asked to try this for ten minutes. I wore it nearly constantly for almost a week before the doctors prized it away from me. I would have done anything to keep away from that bloody casket shaped ventilator. Sorry thing was, my wee pal and grandson Adam, after seeing his auld Papa with the mask on, wasn't happy at all, I tried to reassure him with the divers hand signal of thumbs up but my wee pal wiznae huvin it. He had a wee sad face on the whole visiting time; after I removed the mask he perked up and gave me a wee smile. He went home and came downstairs with his own Darth Vader mask; he chapped the lounge door, my daughter Angela his mum said, ''Come in'' Adam switched on the Darth Vader heavy breathing on the mask and called ''Mummy! Your Daddies here.'' Wee shite. It was during this extremely traumatic time, my daughter Jennifer introduced me to my very good friend Harry. Harry is a heart shaped and very fluffy and vividly pink cushion. Whenever a hole appeared in my pillows to cause me the least discomfort, Harry had the perfect shape to fit in and fill the gap to relieve my stress, he did this, I believe, automatically. Tom hanks in castaway had Wilson I have Harry. He is at this very moment at my back providing the same level of care. I was moved from ward to ward as I made my recovery and Harry stood by me all the way, people always commented on him purely because he's pink and fluffy but I am secure in my sexuality and so is Harry. My saturation levels were now improving, and while on 10litres of oxygen I was holding at 90%. My doctor came in to examine me and expressed his pleasure at my continuing recovery, so much so, that he decided to show the improvement to his accompanying student doctors. He leaned over and switched off my oxygen, he then began a question and answer game with his students, which lasted much longer I believe, than even he expected. I was going blue in the face and began to buck and thrust, my body was being starved of oxygen, I was seeing stars and began to wave my arms about, no one took any notice. I coughed loudly and farted, this caught the doctor's attention and he began to make his apologies ''Oh Mr Hawthorne I'm terribly sorry ('switch the fucking oxygen oan ya nutter I'm dying here'). I was so busy teaching'' (Will somebody switch the bloody Oxygen oan, Hey cummoan fur oany bloody favour') One of the students pushed her way across and switched on the oxygen eventually, saving my life, I drew enough air to fill the Hindenburg twice over, while making a noise like a balloon with a squeezed neck. I gave my saviour a thanking smile; she smiled knowingly back and patted the bed. The doctor was still making his apologies, for all he knew I had died. They all quickly left the room and I, who had been selectively constipated since my admittance found myself, because of my near death experience, in grave need of a bowel movement. I hated the thought of asking the very young nurse for the commode; after all she looked to be about twelve years old. I bit the bullet, I had no choice, it was coming whether I had the use of the facility or not. The nurse left the room to allow me to attend to my ablutions. She had used the lazy option of slipping the bedpan on top of the commode, and not the proper way, by fitting the pan into the slides provided in the bottom of the chair. This has the unfortunate effect of, when one is using the facility, the pan has no depth, the stool attempts to regain entry to the bowel. It hits the shallow draft and turns around like a walnut whip and tries to go back in, a most uncomfortable feeling, and easily avoided by the more attentive nurse. I shoogled and shook, in a grave attempt to create more space for the five day old defecation but there was too much material and I filled the bloody thing to the brim. I was so embarrassed I tried to hide its existence from the world with paper towels and body spray. After being thoroughly ashamed of having the audacity to empty my bowels in the first place, I jumped off the commode and began to use the towels for their obvious function when I thought an appearance by the nurse was imminent. I prematurely pulled up my breeks just as she walked in. I sat on the chair and realised I hadn't completed the wiping job. The wee nurse had thoughtfully brought a basin and towel for me to wash myself with. I was ecstatic. The arse-wiping job could now be completed. I washed my nether regions first, before I suddenly realised, I could go no further, another hard lesson learned in the school of hard knocks. Wash yir arse last, if you only have one basin of water. I recovered enough to be moved to ward 21 where I, surprise surprise, met a really nice plumber from South Queensferry with exactly the same condition as me, making a lie of the ten million to one theory. Allan was two steps ahead of me in his treatment; I looked to him to gauge my recovery. Then my eyes packed in, I couldn't see a thing in front of me, all was a blur, The laptop my daughter Ang had lent me was useless to me, I was now cut off from the world of the healthy buggers. My good friend Anton, who brought me in a much-needed roll on sausage from his wife Theresa's Snack van, thankfully visited me on a regular basis. The roll, on consumption, was rapturous; Theresa makes a mean roll on sausage. Many of my friends from the taxi trade visited regularly which was a great source of comfort to me. My immediate family never really left my side and were attentive to my every need. The Doctor I was under was very holistic in his approach and left no stone unturned, he gave me great confidence in his obvious abilities and expertise and I was grateful to have him as my consultant. I am now at home and suddenly, believe it or not while writing this, my eyes have found their focus and I fight on. Archived comments for When Paul met Harry. Texasgreg on 14-09-2012 When Paul met Harry. A long stay in Hospital. Here ya go, Duke. Keep practicing and you'll get it. Remember to paste from the html code and remove everything from the left of and including blank> Your pride shines through well in this pic! ![]() my wee grandson Adam, who is five, now finds chairs for me in shops etc. I was propositioned by a rather easy on the eye young female doctor from Dubai. He went home and came downstairs with his own Darth Vader mask Harry had the perfect shape to fit in and fill the gap to relieve my stress, he did this, I believe, automatically. another hard lesson learned in the school of hard knocks. Wash yir arse last if you only have one basin of water. I am now at home and suddenly, believe it or not while writing this, my eyes have found their focus and I fight on. Duke, the touching moments and super humor you weave in this story are brilliant, IMO. I like the last line best! Hang in there, bro... ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Hi Greg, I tried to send a wee photo of my wee grandson Adam and His auld Papa, both wearing the kilt but when I did it deleted my previous comments. I still will use your Desire Mantra and I still batter on. Always enjoy your Insight and your pictures Greg. Thanks again for all. Andrea on 15-09-2012 When Paul met Harry. What a tale, WFF! Sorry to hear you've been so ill. Still at least you haven't lost your sense of humour π As Greg says...hang in there. Author's Reply: Thanks Andrea and my daughter wasn't available for this one. I soldier on no bloody choice. anyway as I said to Greg, Laughter is the best medicine. Thanks for indulging me Andrea you know I value your Critique. niece on 17-09-2012 When Paul met Harry. Get well soon, WFF. It's good that the symptoms were diagnosed in the nick of time...Didn't realise it was ill-health that kept you from UKA...but great to have you back. Keep writing...I enjoy your posts a lot... Regds, niece Author's Reply: Thank you niece. It's great to be back. I have a wonderful family who wouldn't let the wind blow on me. With their love I shall Prevail. Thank You niece for your always kind comments. |
Are You Illiterate? (posted on: 17-08-12) Never look a gift horse. Are You Illiterate? Corporal Geordie Campbell and his sidekick private Davy Gemmell, crawled slowly through the long grass. It was 9 am on Sunday 15 August 1673. The warm sun was drying the dew; a cloud of low ethereal mist was rolling silently across the steep hillside. They searched the undulating and sometimes dramatically dropping countryside.The land was populated with small copses of beech and oak intermixed with chestnut and maple trees, all of which could shelter a small Conventicle. The Pentland hills resting below a clear blue sky seemed to the eye to be very far away, a good sign of a continuing long sunny day. Campbell removed his mitre hat and pulled his Musket forward as he tried to reach over the crown of the hill, better to see if any guards had been posted, seeing none he stood and suddenly dropped back down to his knees, ''Davy, there under that spreading oak about twenty ae the bastards, a shoal ae fish right enough, oh and there he is Meenister Grey that auld torn faced cleric, A'd love tae catch that auld goat.'' ''Oh aye Geordie, but look yonder, behind that big chestnut tree. See the horse? That's a fine lookin animal and weel looked efter. It's shining man.'' The horse had been tied to the tree far to the right of the Conventicle, just behind a small hill and Campbell thought, invisible from the small crowd of worshipers. He examined the congregation more closely trying to see who could be the owner of such an expensive piece of livestock. There she stood with bible in hand. ''Oh aye, oh aye, bold as the nose oan ma ugly face. That's Pottishaw's wife standing there, aw holier than thou and twice as brazent.'' ''Aye A think yie have it right Geordie.We'd better take her and that auld bastard Grey if we can' he answered, as he began to prime his musket. ''Hold it the noo let's think oan this'' said Geordie. ''If we take Grey and Pottishaw's wife tae Edinburgh, how much are we gonnae make?'' ''Weel that's easy. Fur the lkes ae that auld meenister, we'll git maybe £3. Fur pottishaws young wife,'' Davy put his dirty finger to his filthy chin and licked it, ''Eh, £2 a hink, aye £2 and nae mair. Sodjer Miller and Wullie Forsyth dragged in an auld Lairds wifey maybe six months ago, an aw they twa gote wiz £2, A don't think the age ae the bastards matters.'' ''Ok.'' Agreed Geordie. So £5 pounds fur the pair, not a bad days work Davy but think oan this.'' ''How much will the laird ae Pottishaw gie us fur the safe return o his bonnie wee wife eh? How aboot that?'' Said Geordie smiling widely and sticking his tongue out between teeth like a burnt fence. ''Whit dae yie mean? If we grab his wife, all she has tae say is we abducted her. Aw naw Geordie yi'll huvtae come up wi a better plan than that, if yie want me in,'' Davy complained, shaking his head. ''We'll take the horse'' said Geordie, ''if we take the horse, Pottishaw, who will know his holier than thou wee wuman likes tae pray oan a Sunday, and he's probably already told her that one day she could be captured wi the likes ae us. Well, that day has come.Auld Pottishaw will be mair than happy tae bargain wi us and give us a good price fur oor silence, maybe £10 or £11 but we will need tae git that horse first.'' With the plan in place the two dragoons back-tracked to fetch their own mounts, then mounted, they took a wide route round the hill coming up behind the chestnut tree sheltering their prize. As they approached the horse a young boy of around fifteen stood up from the tree trunk but seeing the two dragoons were clearly armed. He bolted. Davy dismounted and untied the animal. He threw a halter round it's neck and handed the rope to Geordie who, smiling, turned quickly and led the prize back up the hillside. Davy pointed his musket at the youth's receding back, the fleeing youth let out a scream and dived to the ground. Davy laughing galloped after Geordie. The worshipers seeing nothing carried on praying. The two men now in possession of the horse ,galloped off to Pottishaw. Outside the gates of the manor house they removed the saddle, which had the Pottishaw coat of arms embossed on the blanket and repeated on the saddle knee. Geordie carried the saddle towards the house. He stopped at the back door and pulled the large chain twice. A bell could be heard from inside. The door opened, a kitchen maid wearing a cloth over her dark hair and flour on her face and hands, popped her head out saying ''Aye who are yie? What dae yie want?'' ''A'd like a wee word wae the Laird if yie dinna mind hen, A huv sumthin he'll want tae know aboot, go and bring him now,'' he ordered. ''Oh, are you some kind ae Earl or maybe a Duke or sumthin that A wid caw the Maister fur? Away yir jist a common sodjer and whit are yie dain wi her Ladyships saddle? '' ''Caw yir Maister afore a go away, an yie find yirsell in deep smelly shite ya wee scurl.Cummon noo,sherpish.'' (scurl is an unsightly healing scab over a wound. ) The door closed and a few minutes later the wee 'scurl' returned. ''Yi'v tae bring yirsell in and leave the saddle here on the scullery flair, the Maister will see yie in his study.'' Geordie nodded and headed through the large kitchen but he kept hold of the saddle, after all, if he dropped this he had no cards to play and ' he wiznae daft', he thought to himself. After a few wrong turns he found himself at the study door, standing inside was the imposing figure of James Carmichael Laird of Pottishaw. ''In yie come put my property down and tell me why I shouldn't call the guards and have you shot?'' ''Naw yir Lairdship a dinnae think that's a good idea. Ma freend is ootside yir walls wie the fine horse that wiz wearing this saddle a few minutes ago. The same horse we found tied at Handaxe wood, where your lovely wife wiz illegally attending a Conventicle under the direction ae that auld Presbyterian cleric, Meenister Grey. Wan day a'll huv him tae.'' ''Right, are you illiterate?'' asked the Laird. ''Whit kinda question is that? Ma auld maw wiz merit, but ma faither buggered aff when a wiz a boy, but A hud a faither Sur an that's a fact.'' replied Campbell angrily. ''No man, No, I asked can you read? Can you decipher the written word if it's placed in front of you?'' ''Course A can, why, pit sumhin doon tae me wie writin oan it and A'll tell yie whit it says in a wee minute, but it's been a long moarning an a'm not feelin too great the noo. A gote stung wi a wasp a coupla days ago an ma een husnae quite gote the focus it yist tae huv. Things are jist a wee bit blurred yit, why?'' Pleaded Geordie. ''How much do you want for you and your accomplice's silence?'' ''A'll be straight wie yie Yir Lairdship, £15 ought tae do it. Aye that's a good days work, Davy and me agreed oan that, £15 Scoats and we were never here Sur.'' ''By your uniform I can see you're a Dragoon cavalry man. How much do you think that fine horse of my beautiful wife's is worth?'' '' A fine specimen like that Sur, and a Stallion ungelded. Maybe £30 Sur, if A could be so bold to say it, and not find you displeased Sur.'' Geordie offered. ''I paid £60. He's from Arabic stock and worth every penny'' ''Take the horse to Lanark, and sell him at the market there, but leave the saddle here it was a birthday present, what do you think?'' said Pottishaw. ''Aye that's a good horse, and A'll no deny his worth, but if A take a thoroughbred animal like that tae market, naebody will believe A gote it honestly. A'll be arrested an maybe take your wifes place hingin fae the gallows in Edinburgh's Grassmarket.'' ''Good point,'' agreed the Laird,'' you're obviously an astute man.'' Geordies eyebrow lifted at that, but he let it go. ''I'll write you a bill of sale, with that, no one could say it wasn't yours.'' countered Potttishaw. ''What's your name and I'll write it out?'' He said this as he sat behind his imposing walnut desk and opened the top drawer containing his writing equipment, quill, inkwell, paper and sealing wax. His stamp was sitting proudly on top of the desk. Geordie gave him the required information and the Laird signed his Bill of sale with a flourish. He folded the paper into an envelope shape and after placing the paper in a silver tray, he melted wax over a candle and poured it over the join of the Bill of Sale and again with a flourish and a loud bang making Geordie jump, he sealed the bargain and the envelope. He offered the Bill of sale to Geordie, who shaking with the excitement of earning more than six months wages in one day even after sharing £10 with Davy, took the paper and quickly walked out of the house never looking back in case the Laird changed his obviously weak mind. Outside the two men danced around hugging each other unable to believe their luck. They mounted their horses, secured the 'fine beast' again with the halter and headed trailing their prize, the 16 miles south to Lanark. By the time these two rogues got to Lanark, it was 7.15 pm and the market had closed. They found an Inn, and after settling the horses in the livery stable, they went inside. The Inn was bright and cheery with oak tables and stools. A fire was burning warmly in the large hearth and a wonderful aroma of good beef being cooked, filled their hungry nostrils. They both sat at a table and a comely buxom lassie swinging a towel and smiling, approached the two dragoons. ''Whit will it be boys? Drink? Or a bowl ae the finest stew in this or oany other shire? Or both? We huv the best ale in Scotland.'' ''Aye that'sh a fact.'' This booming statement came from the bar. It was the Landlord. He was massive, at least seven feet tall, with a huge head of black hair growing above the biggest nose the dragoons had ever seen. It must have stuck out at least six inches, hooked and with flared hairy nostrils. It sat beneath two huge brown eyes covered with exceptionally long curling eyebrows, below this proboscis, were two thick purple lips, the bottom lip partially covered by two long and sharp buck-teeth. He was the ugliest bastard the two dragoons had ever seen. His long beard was pleated and had wooden spikes through it. The reason for which, they had no idea and were afraid to ask. ''Can wie huv jist whit she said? A bowel ae beef stew each, and two tankards of ale, if yie dinnae mind.'' ''Cummin up, whit bringsh you dragoonsh tae Lanark? A believe the Coventiclesh are quiet roond aboot here, we don't hear of oany oanywie. Oh excushe me, my name ish William Wallashe and I'm the proprieter of thish, The Push it Inn. Finesht Inn in Lanark. If A don't shay sho mashell.'' The two dragoons were happy to tell Wallace of how they had gotten the better of Pottishaw and how they would make a small fortune in the morning at the market selling the Arabic pedigree and thoroughbred horse. The Landlord frowned on hearing the story. ''A bill of Shale, you shay? Do you have it?'' He ashked. ''Aye, We dae.'' Geordie pulled the paper with the seal still intact from his pocket. '' Huv yie not read it man? Yiv'e come all thish way without reading the damned thing. The sheal ish shtill unbroken, how do you know it's a Bill of Shale? Can any ae you two read?'' The two dragoons looked at each other and shook their heads. Geordie handed the paper to Wallace. The Landord took the 'Bill of Sale' in his massive hands, he delicately for such a big man, broke the seal and carefully unfolded the expensive and perfectly folded paper, some of the wax fell to the floor and slipped in between the cracks in the flooring, Geordie bit his lip, he could hear Davy breathing hard close to his ear as their excitement rose. Wallace slowly unfolded the paper and began to read...The note began.... These two rascals have stolen my horse..................... Archived comments for Are You Illiterate? amman on 18-08-2012 Are You Illiterate? Hi WWF. Great story; totally engossing. Loved the dialect (although had to read slowly at times). Saw the denouement coming; good job they gave the bill of sale to the Landlord. Cheers. Author's Reply: Texasgreg on 18-08-2012 Are You Illiterate? Funny 'un Duke! ![]() Same could go for the gift snake... ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Andrea on 22-08-2012 Are You Illiterate? Another great tale, WFF - must have missed this one before! Author's Reply: niece on 23-08-2012 Are You Illiterate? π ... that was a fun read, WFF... I do love your funny tales ... Regds, niece Author's Reply: |
New Freedom Chapter One (posted on: 13-08-12) A history of the Scottish people as I see it. New Freedom. Chapter One. The sun had blessed this day with a warm clear light, the shadows as busy as the people. The noise was deafening. Aaron, grinning, stowed his bedding in the cart, and slid his staff into its sheath behind his back, he picked up his short mallet and began to dismantle his goat- hair tent. He did this quickly, pulling out the holding pins bagging them, then peeling off the hide sheets, then, after rolling and folding the stiff material he lashed it to keep it together before stowing it in his cart. He returned and gathered the poles from the tent frame examining them closely and placing them all together in the middle of where the tent had stood. He made bundles of the poles according to size and tied them together; as he hoisted them onto his shoulder he caught sight of Elisabed. She had been busy packing her family tent with her two sisters Hanna and Miriam, on seeing him, she pushed her long dark hair away from her face with the back of her hand, and while flicking her head, she looked towards him from behind her elbow. She smiled, her teeth sparkling behind perfectly shaped lips, which were slightly parted showing seductively, the wet tip of her tongue. She had pasted terracotta eyeliner over her eyelids and thin blue lines beneath, to highlight her impossibly blue eyes. She flashed those eyes at him, a timelessly effective gambit. He felt like he was being mesmerized. All sorts of emotions came over him, feeling dizzy, he shook himself, and freeing himself from her onslaught, he returned the smile. She laughed as she swaggered towards her cart to store the poles, her sisters slapping her on the shoulder, all enjoying the game. All around people were loading their belongings onto packs and carts; he walked to his own cart and placed the bundle beside the tent skins. Apart from his tent, now stowed, he didn't own much. Pulling back the covering revealed, an old short handled axe, a sack with some fruit, bread and assorted spices and flavourings, an old pot, bashed and dented, a pile of laundry, and wrapped in a towel, a change of clothes, covered with his dead fathers old cloak, warm but still serviceable. Not much to begin his new life with but he knew everything would change. He could see everyone smiling and eying each other excitedly. Aaron, after taking an apple from the cart, walked to his small paddock where he kept his horse. As he approached, the old stallion whinnied and dragged the dust with his left foot, the right had been hobbled to keep him from wandering. Aaron freed him after giving him a piece of fruit and rubbed his nose. They both walked to the cart and Aaron hitched the horse, he hoped the old boy was up to the coming journey but then again was anyone. The donkeys were braying and complaining under the heavy loads. Everyone had to leave by the east gate as soon as possible. He jumped onto his cart. After placing his staff next to him, he flicked the reins. 'Go on' he called, as he threaded his cart into the flow. The sound of cartwheels squeaking and groaning and animal feet stirring the dust, got louder and the air above, began to hum. Men, Women and children, with cattle and sheep, goats, horses and donkeys pulling carts of all sizes, loaded heavily with all the belongings of the Hebrew people headed toward the east gate. Aaron could see them moving in one long dusty, twisting line ahead, like a writhing, fluid snake. The Egyptian soldiers with glazed eyes were staggered at either side of the throng, weapons drawn but hanging limply at their sides. The cart moved off the dust road of the slave camp and onto the cobbled road of the Egyptian east quarter. To either side were the brown rectangular mud- brick built houses of the Egyptians. They each had two large front windows for air and light, but today they were closed and barred. There was no sign of anyone, the doors were all shut fast and the roofs where the children would normally be playing were quiet. The host filed slowly and noisily past. The shadow of the huge wall of the city of Rameses first city in Egypt, home of the Pharaoh, began to run beneath Aaron's wheels. He looked to the huge wall, fifty feet high and made of solid stone. A ten foot wide walkway went all the way round the city, with watchtowers and a parapet on the outside for defence by archers. These walls and watchtowers were abandoned. The huge double doors of the gate were wide open, they were rectangular and made of solid oak which was very rare in Egypt, enforced with huge bronze belts five inches wide, and stretching from one side to the other. They were held in place at intervals with iron rivets six inches wide and hammered nearly flat. The foot of the gates, sat on iron wheels set in rails for opening, three sets of wheels each were needed for these huge and heavy barricades. The inside of the gate was flanked by two massive representations. On the left was the vividly coloured statue of Amoun. The God was wearing a crown with two ostrich plumes, one blue, the other yellow, which reached high above his head. On his chest was a bright red breastplate; he was holding a staff in his right hand. At his feet were depicted a ram and a goose. The statue reached nearly to the top of the gate and the long bearded God, stared accusingly down. On the right was the Pharaoh Rameses. The statue showed him sitting on his throne wearing the two crowns of upper and lower Egypt, to symbolize his complete control of all Egypt. In his hands he was holding the crook and the flail, representing his power over his subjects, on his forehead he was wearing the ureaus, the cobra, ready to attack any who had the temerity to oppose such a powerful King. Aaron watched the snake as he passed. Imagining it striking, he shuddered. In between these imposing statues, defiantly standing on the wall, with the sun silhouetting them and their shadows stretching long into the city, were Aaron's uncles, High Priest Leathig and his brother Jacob. Each man held a long thin staff in his right hand. The orb at the top of each staff was pulsing with a bright white light. The priests were holding their staffs high and concentrating to maintain the force. This force from their God was allowing the people to flee from the Egyptians. Aaron would take his rightful place as King of the Hebrews and with the grace of God would make his people powerful again. Rebuilding, and maintaining their status on this earth, as the chosen people. They would reach the land God had provided for them and living in peace, would be free for all time. The Covenant would be reformed. The shadow of the gate was closing over him and the air sang with the power from Leathig and Jacob's staffs. He expected to see the bricks vibrating. The power was so strong. The long coil of carts, beasts and humanity came through the gate. The people were heading into the desert carrying everything they had. Leathig had instructed them, to steal the gold and jewels of the Egyptians as payment for generations of bondage. This they had done, along with horses and donkeys and all they could carry with them. The people were singing and praising the Creator. Men, women and children, dogs, cats and goats, all manner of creatures bred for milk, beef and mutton, along with chickens for food and eggs. The Hebrew's were heading to claim their own land, a land they would have to conquer, a land of milk and honey, but first they had to escape the Egyptians. They had few weapons and any they had, had been stolen from guards stilled by the power. That power now being used by Jacob, to control and contain the emotions of the soldiers. The same power being used by Leathig to control the minds of the slavers people, who stood around in their houses as if dreaming, staring into space or asleep very deeply in their beds. The Pharaoh was at this moment in his rooms mourning for his dead heir and wishing the Hebrew dogs as far away as possible but these mourning and repellent thoughts would soon change Leathig knew, to overwhelming anger and a desire for revenge. Leathig wanted to get as far away as possible from this place, to make his people go as fast as they could. Joshua Leathig's son, mounted on his black horse had been instructed to lead the host behind the pillar of cloud created as promised by God, showing the route the Hebrews had to follow. This cloud trailed above and behind cooling and shielding the Hebrew host from the hot desert sun. The power gifted by the Creator was all they would need in the desert. They had to, and must, survive. Archived comments for New Freedom Chapter One Andrea on 14-08-2012 New Freedom Chapter ONE. Oh, I read about this somewhere. no that long ago! An Lia FΓ il - see, I knows me Gaelic π Good tale, WFF (but if you do just one thing, please, in very last sentence, put a comma after 'to' and 'must'. It took a a few secs to work out what it meant :)) Author's Reply: Thank You Andrea. As always constructive and diplomatic. I was a wee bit feart tae pit this oan efter the last doin A gote but the critique was the perfect temperature. I have made the perfect changes you suggested. Thanks again Andrea for taking the time to do so. I'm pleased with (Good tale). Weefatfella. whatacutebum on 14-08-2012 New Freedom Chapter ONE. Very interesting WFF. I hope you are going to continue this..... π Author's Reply: Yes I certainly hope so Si. Thank You for your kind words. Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 15-08-2012 New Freedom Chapter ONE. Aye! Good 'un so far. I do get just a bit confused in parts...most likely due to structure. For me, it would be easier to read something this long if structured into paragraphs. Cool story! Keep 'em comin' Duke, ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Thanks Greg, As usual you're very kind. I will restructure as suggested. Cheers Mate Weefatfella. niece on 16-08-2012 New Freedom Chapter ONE. Enjoyed reading this, WFF...very visual and entertaining...look forward to more π Regds, niece Author's Reply: Thank you niece that was exactly what I was going for Thank you for your always kind comments. \weefatfella bluepootle on 13-09-2012 New Freedom Chapter ONE. I found myself interested in this tale. A good start to something. I think maybe you need to run your sentences into paragraphs so it flows more easily. Your story really starts at, "The sun had blessed this day with a warm clear light, the shadows as busy as the people. The noise was deafening. "... I'd suggest thinking about cutting everything that goes beforehand. Start with a bit of action and love interest, and work other stuff in later, for a great hook. You're very descriptive in your writing, but I think maybe you overdo it in places. Readers don't need to know every detail. I tend to choose one or two details that are directly relevant to the mood I'm trying to get across, and let the readers fill in height, weight, facial features, clothes, etc. Hope that helps a little bit. I do want to know where it goes next! Author's Reply: I re read and thoroughly agree with you. I still have a problem with the love thang, I really want to refer to it but not to take it too far. My whole idea is the history of the Scottish People and their origins, based on the declaration of Arbroath and the existence of the Stone of destiny.Albeit loosely. |
The Return of The Stone of Destiny. (posted on: 06-08-12) The Stone of Destiny returned to Scotland after 700 years in exile. How do you show due respect to such a revered and ancient artifact? The Stone Of Destiny. The Abbot looked out the window; it had started to rain reflecting his mood. He'd just had word from a rider that the English had been sighted on the Tay making their way to the Port of Perth. The flotilla of twenty ships with a huge galleon flying the three lions, the royal standard of England, accompanied and escorted by a land force of around fifteen thousand, would travel the 30 miles easily in two days. ''Mcleod, git yir arse in here.'' He could hear the shuffling of the steward's ill-fitting habit brushing the cobbled floor as he made his way in. The door was pushed slowly open as the thin monk answered. ''Yes dear father how may I be of assistance?'' He was the fifth son of the Earl of Fife and as bright as two in the morning. He'd been brought here along with the substantial donation of 1.000 Scot's merks. This was more than enough to maintain, and ensure his presence at the Abbey. The boy had the annoying habit of sniffing while wiping his very long thin and hooked nose with his sleeve; he was doing this as he shuffled into the room. ''Go to Cannon Murdoch, and ask him to come to me immediately, go straight there and not through the kitchens.'' The monk disappeared. The messenger had come from Thomas Randolph Earl of Moray with the warning to keep safe the Stone of Destiny. To remove it from it's plinth on Moot Hill and to get it away from the Abbey, and the hands of Edward Plantagenet. The English had sacked Berwick Upon Tweed. The report said that 17,000 were slaughtered and the Honours of Scotland were now in English hands. Longshanks had come for the stone to establish beyond doubt, that he was overlord of Scotland. There was a knock on the door before it quickly opened. ''Dear Abbot, how may I help?'' ''Never mind that shite James. The English are on the Tay. I've received word from Randolph, we have to preserve the Coronation Stone and replace it with something that looks old and worn but not too dilapidated. Put it on the plinth and get the real stone out of here.'' ''To where?'' ''I don't know...wait, that cave at Dunsinnan. To the east, the one the boy fell in. In there, place it and cover up the shaft with something and make sure you mark it. We don't want to lose the bloody thing.'' Murdoch did as ordered, swapping the real Stone with an old 'distinguished looking' drain cover. He hoped this stone would fool the Sassenachs, albeit it was the wrong size, shape and colour. The original stone, as every Scotsman knows, is black marble with ancient Latin writing carved round the outside, saying. 'Ni fallat fatum, Scoti quocumque locatum Invenient lapidiem, regnasse tenetur ibidem.' 'If the Destiny proves true, then the Scots are known to have been Kings wherever men find this stone.' There is no such inscription on the stone the English stole. Edward 1st, King of England and self-titled Hammer of the Scots, took the drain cover to Westminster, where he commissioned a Coronation Chair to hold it. The English kept this Scottish artefact for seven hundred years. On St Andrews Day, 30th November 1996, 10,000 people lined Edinburgh's Royal Mile to witness the Stone of Destiny return to Scotland. All the Clan Chiefs of Scotland were invited to attend this glorious and historic event. They were asked to treat the occasion with the respect due this ancient Scottish relic, and to dress accordingly, meaning full highland dress. The hierarchy, as far as clans go in Scotland, places the clan McLeod first, and at the ceremony, all would look to McLeod of Mcleod for guidance on how to greet the stone. Clan Chief McLeod was 81 years old and in good health. Like all Chiefs he'd been picked up by limousine that morning and brought to the General Assembly Hall of the Church of Scotland, on the Mound behind Edinburgh's High Street. Where along with every other chief, he was given whisky. Shortly after and before breakfast, he was given more whisky. The chiefs all discussed the coming event over breakfast of porridge and strangely full English, accompanied by more of the amber nectar and were in unanimous agreement. They all would give the returning drain cover the respect due to the original stone, if returning to it's proper home. In what manner that respect would be made apparent, they'd no idea. Everyone decided they would look to old Mcleod for guidance. After being given more malt, they were asked to go outside to greet the coming artefact. The Pipes and drums of the Black Watch could be heard coming up Edinburgh's Royal Mile. Tourists and Scots hoping for a glimpse of the ancient relic returning from exile in England, lined the streets. It was being carried on the back of an army jeep; the significance of this was lost to the BBC and ITV news teams. Why not in a grand carriage with the Royal standard of Scotland proudly flying beside the older Saltire? Escorted by Highlanders dressed in Kilts and wearing claymores, glowering at the tourists as they passed. With the Royal Scots Regiment firing gun salutes every hundred yards to signify its return. This may have happened for Lia-Fail but not for the old drain cover. However, the clan chiefs would keep to the bargain and accord the stone the proper due respect. The front of the castle's esplanade was cordoned off to allow the chiefs space to appreciate the stone and not to have to mingle with the tourists. All looked to McLeod, as the stone approached. Old McLeod dropped suddenly to his knees and touched his forehead to the cobbles. The chiefs, to a man, followed suit. Angus McDonald, two paces downhill from old McLeod, turned his head to see what to do next. Coming slowly down the hill, was a foul smelling liquid, comprised of whisky, bacon fat, baked beans and sausage. Which was flowing, floating and rolling towards him, making its inexorable way between the cobbles. It was the contents of old McLoed's stomach; he'd passed out creating the precedent for greeting the Stone of Destiny. Archived comments for The Return of The Stone of Destiny. niece on 06-08-2012 The Return of The Stone of Destiny. A nice twist, WFF...I'm assuming that parts of this story are true (if not all of it) as it's listed in faction...a fun read...:) Regds, niece Author's Reply: Most of it is true. The rest is what if. Enjoyed this myself ,it never ceases to amaze me how these stories of mine seem to write themselves.Thanks niece. Texasgreg on 07-08-2012 The Return of The Stone of Destiny. Aye, Duke! Been lookin' fer the ancient rock of a hard place, myself... Been tryin' to take time to look at more lengthy pieces than poetry as of late and glad I have. You're always a fun read. ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Aye cheers Greg.Glad you had a laugh. SugarMama34 on 09-08-2012 The Return of The Stone of Destiny. An interesting piece with some good humor woven through it. I enjoyed the read π I guessed some of this is fact, which I liked and found compelling. I guess the whisky may have had a part in the stream of cooked breakfast lol. The only thing that stood out to me in this would be the lines; The boy had the annoying habit of sniffing while wiping his very long thin and hooked nose with his sleeve, he was doing this as he shuffled in to the room. Would you really need to tell the reader that it was a habit? Maybe just show what he is doing instead. I hope you don't mind me mentioning it. Sorry for the late reply, been busy here in the house and now is the only time I have managed to have a bit of peace to read your submission and comment. Lis. x Author's Reply: Thanks Lis, I was looking for depth in the story and the Character. Trying to evoke the way of life in the Abbey; Attempting to create an ongoing relationship between this guy and the Abbott . The habit, combined with the price his father paid to keep him in the Abbey along with the way the Abbott treated him, I believed did this. I'm new I can learn. Thanks for your Comments and critique. SugarMama34 on 09-08-2012 The Return of The Stone of Destiny. Oh and Congratulations on the nomination π Fab stuff π x Author's Reply: Oh sorry I missed this. thank you once again.Lis . Weefatfella. |
Trapped. (posted on: 03-08-12)![]() Two Mining Villagers bemoan the small gene pool of their Village while trapped in a mine cave-in. My Winning piece for 1st of July weekly challenge set by Bradene. "Goad 'A'm Hungry, whit A wid dae furra a16 0z steak wi aw the trimmings, onion rings and chips, aw that's whit a could go right noo," Charlie mused. "Right, Ma turn, Cottage pie wi cabbage, loads ae cabbage, wi a salty broon gravy', said Davy smacking his lips. The lamp flickered again, the pit walls could be seen seeping with water, running down to pour away in a stream six inches wide. They had been trapped for two days, the roof had collapsed sealing them in and one of the lamps had gone out, the other was weakening. The sound of the mine rescue guys could be heard drilling and boring, getting reassuringly closer, cheering the trapped miners. "Right fur yir sweet noo?" "Eh,Profiteroles." "Prowhitaroles?" "Profiteroles, its choux pastry wi chocolate pasted oan wan side and served wi cream, it's magic." "It wid huvtae be magic, pastry fae a shoe, fur fuck sake, Davy. How can yie git pastry fae a shoe?" "It's no shoe pastry, it's choux pastry, C.H.O.U.X it's French, ya fuckin wahoo, huv you never left Pumpherston?" "Aye, A went tae Ayr wance, tae the seaside, aw Davy, A hud never seen the sea, it's absolutely mahoosive man". "When A seen that big body Ae water, A wanted tae be a sailor. A sailor oan a big boat goin all over the world, a girl in every port, that wid be me." "Ha, Yie wid need tae git an awffie lot ae port intae a lassie afore she wid go wi you ya ugly bastard," said Davy, as he punched Charlie on the leg. "Ugly is it? Yir no sae braw yirsell." "A'll huv yie know ma Mammie says A'm good looking." "Well goin wi the look ae yir Faither, she's nae Judge." "Aye true, ma auld Da's goat a face like a cat's arse. Mind yie, your Maw, fuck sake, your Maw, whit a face." "We need mare new genes intae this village, we're aw ugly bastards." Just at that, the face of a mine rescuer peered in from the blockage. "See whit a mean, whit an ugly bastard he is." Archived comments for Trapped. TheBigBadG on 03-08-2012 Trapped. First off, couple of rogue capitals/spaces and you need an apostrophe in 'were aw ugly bastards'. The odd couple thing works really well though. There's something about the accent you use which really lends itself to these short comic scenes too. You get the sense that the conversation has been going on long before the cave in and will last long after. It means you can make genuine and plausible yarns very efficiently. All very enjoyable. George Author's Reply: Thanks George. Pleased you enjoyed it. I've an awffie bother wie punctuation. Appreciate the critique. Andrea on 03-08-2012 Trapped. You'll be delighted to know that I'm not going to bang on about punctuation again π Loved it! Had me in stitches (hope it was meant to!). Accent a little bit tricky initially, but I got into it quickly, which is saying something for such a short piece. All in all, as George says, a really enjoyable and funny (in the nicest sense) read. I'd have given you a 9 is it wasn't for yer...er....ahem...y'know π Author's Reply: Andrea, Thanks again. One of these days I'll git it bang-oan. Anither nib. Ya belter, feel great when I get wan ae thame. Thank you very much for your Critique. Nomenklatura on 03-08-2012 Trapped. Yep, the accent works well and I can recall many conversations like it when I've been north of the border visiting relatives! Author's Reply: Thanks Nom. Much appreciated. cooky on 03-08-2012 Trapped. Lovely write and the accent gave the scene a quality, which transcends the werite. I like this. Author's Reply: Thanks Cooky. Appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. niece on 04-08-2012 Trapped. Did struggle with the dialect a bit...was worth the struggle though...absolutely hilarious...:D !!! Regds, niece Author's Reply: Thanks Niece. pleased you enjoyed it. I loved the egg. Greatest felicitations Weefatfella. Texasgreg on 05-08-2012 Trapped. Started out makin' me hungry! Havenβt taken the time for a steak for weeks now. I guess "ugly" is a relative term...meaning if your relatives are ugly, you're probably screwed, LOL. -joke- Good job, Duke! Greg π Author's Reply: Thanks Greg. I enjoyed this one myself, it just popped out, as the Bishop said to........ ValDohren on 17-09-2012 Trapped. Great write - took me a while to get to grips with the dialect, but very funny stuff LOL !! Struck me as being an archetypal kinda conversation ! Author's Reply: Sorry it's taken me so long Val.I'm losing it Thank you for your kind comments and for taking the time to do so. |
Shooting Banditos. (posted on: 03-08-12) Get off your horse and drink your milk. There he is, just behind that cactus. I could see the shadow of his sombrero on the hot sand covered earth, giving away his location. I couldn't get a shot in from here, which meant neither could he. I removed my Sheriff star. Any reflected flash from the sun would give me away and could get me killed. I tucked my Winchester rifle into my chest and rolled from the boulder shielding me, along the hot sand and into the shelter of another large rock. Rattle-rattle, hissssisss, the snake warned,the rattlers head was up, it's two eyes focused intently on me while the tail vibrated, shaking quickly from side to side, it's forked tongue slipping in and out threateningly between two very large pointed fangs. It was large for a rattler one bite and I was a goner. I used the rifle butt, slamming down hard on it's head stunning it, then drawing my Bowie knife I cut off it's head. I carefully threw the head away and stuffed the carcase into my pants. There's good eating in a rattler. Peering out from my hiding place I called. 'Give it up Sebastion, you've only four shots left, come back with me, Judge Goodfellow will hear you straight, he's a good man. you know it makes sense'. No reply. Sebastion, had escaped from my office this morning. He'd jumped Kincaid my Deputy when he brought breakfast to his cell. After stealing his gun, he pistol whipped him and stole his horse. I'd chased him into this dead-end. I'd been counting the shots. A colt 45 holds six rounds and he'd shot twice. As the bandit tried to run up the hill, the noise of the rolling screed and subsequent dustcloud betrayed his whereabouts. He was running scared now, climbing and scratching his way up the hill, dodging from side to side, I raised my rifle sighting on a large boulder ten feet in front of him. I fired. The crack loud in the silence echoed all around. The bullet struck the rock above the Mexican and a thin plume of dust rose straight up in the dry air. The bandido dived, hitting the ground he turned and fired twice as he slid back down the hill,desperate shots, nowhere near me. The dust and pebbles followed as he slid down behind another large boulder. Two shots left. I ran crouched, to another hiding place and slid in behind the boulder raising dust of my own as i attempted to out flank him. I scanned the area poking my head slowly round, rock particles stung my face, I ducked quickly,that was close. One bullet left. I climbed up the side of the sharp jagged rock, with that last shot Sebastion had given himself away again. I reached the top and could see him just behind the boulder, breathing heavily, more through fear than exertion. Taking careful aim I fired. The bandit kicked then lay still, blood oozed from his chest his sombrero flew up, spinning into the air, Sebastion, bandido, comanchero and outlaw leader lay dead. I raised my rifle and pumped it into the air while shouting at the top of my voice 'Yee-haaa' . I twirled the repeater round in a circle re-cocking it and fired again. I climbed down from the roof of the garden shed, I was seven and a darned good shot. Then I heard my Fathers voice. He had been watching me from an upstairs window. 'Away ya stupid bugger that you are, git in the hoose and stope acting like an eejit, go on away in and behave yirsell'. Embarrassed, I slunk in through the back door. Archived comments for Shooting Banditos. Andrea on 04-08-2012 Shooting Bandidos. May I make a couple of suggestions? First of all, you could contract more, as I think it reads more smoothly. For instance 'I had' could be 'I'd, 'he had' could be 'he'd' and so on. You do it sometimes and not others. Consistency my dear WFF π Also, I don't think you need '...repeating rifle' after 'Winchester' as most people know it's a...er...repeating rifle' π At the most 'repeater' would do, I think. 'Betraying dust cloud' is a bit clumsy imo. How about something like 'as the bandit ran up the hill, a dustcloud betrayed his whereabouts'? Well, you get my meaning π Taking careful aim I fired. The bandit kicked then lay still, blood oozed from his chest his sombrero flew up, spinning into the air ,Sebastion, bandido, comanchero and outlaw leader lay dead... Taking careful aim, I fired. The bandit kicked, then lay still. Blood oozed from his chest. His sombrero flew up, spinning into the air. Sebastion, bandido, comanchero and outlaw leader lay dead. I hope you don't mind my suggestions (and they are suggestions only) but you do tell a bloody good yarn (and are coming on in leaps and bounds), but correct use of the dreaded punctuation, can improve it a hundredfold, and it would be such a shame if people are put off because of it. I, for one, thought it a great little piece, and I didn't even see the ending coming! Author's Reply: Thank you Andrea for taking the time to help. I know I need it and I take it on board. I want to be all I can be , as I'm enjoying this tremendously. The critique is always diplomatically done and I fully appreciate it. I need to be fair to myself and the writing. I am trying (very). Thank you again. I have taken your excellent advice and I agree, the piece reads better. If I'm allowed to be cheeky, no one spotted the heading (get off your horse and drink your milk) that was a clue to my intent. Thanks Andrea. Texasgreg on 05-08-2012 Shooting Bandidos. Duke, ![]() Aye! The simple Texan was too caught up in the yarn to notice the above. I'll give you some hints-A colt .45, (also known as long colt, which is what I happen to carry for everyday use), is much larger than a .45 acp and holds 5 rounds as result. If given time, a bad guy...or good guy, will reload to throw off the opponent. All rattlers have parasites, so be sure to cook thoroughly. Your story gave me a real good grin and hope to see more of the sort. Love your inner-boy's imagination. ![]() Greg π Here a picture to show you size of Colt .45 vs. other loads. ![]() P.S. I use a 9mm for backup in case I'm assaulted by a little feller...-joke- Do carry depending on where I'm going, though. ![]() This is mine- .45 colt, (long colt), 2" snub nose. No, I'm not a freak. Just an average Texan... Hard to tell size of round as I reduced picture size for viewing, but note round vs. length of hand grip which accomodates an adult man's hand. Know I've edited my response a few times now, but be patient w/me, LOL. It is Bandito, BTW. Yes, I noticed the "Get off yer horse and drink yer milk" right away. That's what got my attention. Author's Reply: Thank the Lord I contacted you........I was supposed to go and get part of my arse removed due to severe itching. After reading your advice on Rattlers and their parasites, I located a magnifying mirror and spotted the bastards. There they were setting up house in my unfortunates. One was so big he was smoking a cigar and drinking whisky. With file, gas burner and illuminated tweezers, I got rid of the buggers. Thank the Lord I'm double Jointed. ___________________________________- Greg, I would be terrified to own a gun. I've a rotten temper and would have shot some fucker long before now if I owned one. Thanks for the gen on photos I will have a go at some point. |
The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. (posted on: 30-07-12)![]() A lost tale of wanton lust both sexual and vengeful. Duncan Campbell looked from behind a chestnut tree along the mist shrouded Bangour Road, he was still a good distance behind. The Autumn mist coming from the Forth hid him, as he sneaked behind the young woman.She held the empty reins of two Irish deer-hounds in her hands, which she playfully swung in time to her quiet crooning of what Campbell took to be a Highland love song. It was the seductive swaying of her enticing hips that drew Campbell to be here this late afternoon. He was intent on having this wench, whether she wanted him or not. Last evening at dinner, he watched as Jeannie, dressed in a very low cut gown, revealing her ample and mobile bosom, danced and cavorted with The Prince,laughing and curtsying, while swinging and thrusting her hips provocatively,showing off her ample charms. At one point, when she thought no one was watching, he watched, as she adjusted her clothing, pulling down her dress and adjusting it,to lift her bosom, revealing more of her charms. 'She was a harlot' he thought to himself, 'a slut with ambition, ambition that would get her no where'. The Young Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart, was only toying with her and would bed her, and shed her, as the Aristocracy always did.She was only the daughter of a Highland Laird and no prize for a future King Of Britain but he would tame her ,he would have her soft voluptuous and willing body writhing below him, he would be her Prince. The hounds barked playfully and ran on into the mist, only to turn back when Jeannie McGregor, daughter of Gregor McGregor Chief of that Clan and Earl Of Alpine called them. The dogs had done well Yesterday and had helped to bring down two massive five pointed stags and three large boar for last nights dinner. The McGregor's had played a vital part in the victory at Prestonpans against the Hanoverians and The Young Pretender, wishing to honour her Father, had asked for his company on this important visit to Bathgate, the original seat of the Royal House of Stuart. Jeannie her father's only daughter, never left his side. Now three weeks later at Caputhall or Deans House, the home of well known Jacobite, George Holmes Norval, Baron of Caputhall, Jeannie, unaware of her follower, called the dogs to run and herself chased after.She turned right and ran downhill towards the bridge at Drumcross, her red hair long and wavy, flowed behind her.Suddenly, from nowhere, a stag jumped high in front of her clearing the path and disappearing with a crack of branches into the forest. The well trained dogs caught the scent and chased noisily and at speed after the deer, running into the trees and away. Jeannie stopped, she knew she had no chance of following them,so she continued to walk now, downhill to the bridge. The dogs would chase the deer till tired and with no one to kill the beast or spur them on, they would soon return to Deans and their place at the fireside. Campbell sneered to himself. He had routed the beast when he tried to cut the corner to get in front of Jeannie. While cutting through the trees he had startled the deer and much to his amazement the stag, by taking the dogs away, had solved a major problem for him, making his task easier. The Lord he now knew was on his side. He watched with excitement rising, he could feel his heart pounding. His breathing getting heavier. Jeannie wasn't turning back even though darkness was falling. She continued on down towards the bridge, still crooning and sometimes skipping, he could see her hips still swaying and her full breasts heaving beneath her clothing.He smiled in anticipation. Campbell followed hidden by the twilight and the close trees, covered now in a grey wet mist. At the bridge, she stopped and leaned on the parapet with both hands, looking down to the fast flowing stream. Now was his chance. He stepped out from cover, 'Hello Jeannie, a cold night for a beautiful wench like yourself to be out alone, aren't you afraid someone might try to do you harm?' I,-- I wasn't alone, she blurted, 'I had the dogs with me but they ran off after a deer, they'll return soon Sir,-- Blackie, Sharky, here boy's, come bye,'she called. He pounced, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back, Jeannie was strong ,she began to turn towards him, he could smell her sweet perfume and could feel her hot breath warm on his ear. He twisted with all his strength bringing her arm round behind her and bending her over the bridge-side, he could feel her firm buttocks beneath her clothing,as he pushed her arm higher she cried out in pain. 'stop, stop, what do you want? Let me go' she pleaded but when Campbell, his breath coming fast and with what she could feel pushing now behind her and when he licked her cheek and bit her ear, Jeannie became terrified, she slumped in dire fear. Campbell threw her to the ground tearing her dress and after forcing her legs apart, he roughly and mercilessly violated her. When the deed was done, he guiltily helped her to her feet. Jeannie was very quiet, her head hung low and she was sobbing. Turning on him suddenly, she swung her dirk towards Campbell, who being a hardened veteran of many cattle raids and street fights caught her wrist and disarmed her easily. He turned the long knife against her, grabbing her long hair, he bent her head back and drew the sharp knife across her throat, the blood spilled over her bosom and the light of life left her beautiful green eyes. She fell over the side of the bridge and a slap was heard as she hit the water ten feet below. Duncan jumped after the body, he landed lightly in the fast but shallow water and dragged Jeannie's corpse to the side, where in the soft wet mud and shingle, he quickly buried her. Campbell was part of the young Pretender's army, he carefully walked back to Deans house and entered the kitchen. lying warm next to the blazing log fire were the two dogs, still steaming from their chase and licking their nether regions, oblivious of the fate of the woman who lay beneath Drumcross Bridge, their names still on her dead lips. Much was made of Jeannie's disappearance but with no clues to what happened and the army being short of time had to move on and Campbell went with it, onto Culloden Moor where he met his death by musket shot. Jeannie was a restless corpse and would make herself known in her own time. That time came one year later. Rab Singleton, resurrectionist and long carriage-man, greased the cast-iron gate of the churchyard and looked up toward the Livingston Inn, the candles burned brightly inside the windows and drunken singing could be heard from within. The door was tightly closed against the chill October night, he scanned the road for watchers and seeing no-one, continued about his dirty business. He had already unlocked the old padlock and needed to open the gate quietly, as it was so close to the Inn he didn't want to attract attention or to be seen going into the graveyard at this time of night. He opened the gate slowly, drawing it back and forth to work the Goose-fat. It moved easily and most importantly silently, he closed the gate and returned to his cart. The Horse had been unhitched and left hidden half a mile away in a copse on the side of the Almond River, in the care of his accomplice, Albert Scrymgoure and his one-eyed Jack Russell dog Cyclops. Rab Singleton, was commonly Known as Goliath, because of his tremendous size. He was six foot seven inches tall, with huge and wide shoulders, his hands were twice the size of a normal man and he had a vile temper and an even worse reputation. His head was massive with a neanderthal brow and a long hooked nose, set above a full set of long black beard and mustache. The giant carrying a long handled shovel and two hemp sacks, returned to the gate and entered silently into the Graveyard. The night was dark and visibility was poor, ideal circumstances for this macabre business. He stopped at a newly filled grave and began removing the earth. His practiced technique gaining him quick access to the prize below. When he reached the coffin he stepped into the grave and using the side of the shovel he levered off the lid, he threw the shovel onto the edge and leaning into the coffin slid his hands underneath the body and lifted it easily. He put the body in the sack and after throwing it quickly and easily over his shoulder, the ghoul carried it to the cart and placed it gently inside. Damage to the body would reduce its worth. He returned to the open grave and filled it in. He resurrected another body and with both bodies stowed, he pushed the cart out of sight and covered it with branches, hiding it, until he returned with the horse and his accomplices. Half an hour later Goliath and his two partners with their gruesome cargo, headed along the Deans road, passing Tailend Loch, bound for Holy Robins Inn, where they intended to spend the night, before heading on to Edinburgh's College of Surgeons in the morning. A light rain was falling as they headed through the Chestnut and Hawthorn trees lining the old Salters road leading to Drumcross. As they turned onto Drumcross road, Cyclops started to yelp and bark, he was clearly afraid,his tail was between his legs and he was pushing himself against Goliath's leg looking for comfort. A sharp slap across the ribs and a flick of the giants hand throwing the dog hard against one of the sacks was all the comfort it was going to get. 'Be still ya mutt' yelled Goliath,' wheesht yir yelping or you'll go in the sack wi the deid, cos that's what you'll be DEID'. The dog knew to be quiet he had suffered Goliath's anger before, Scrymgoure remained silent as always. As they approached the bridge, strange blue lights seemed to float and fly silently through the air, appearing at random, some quickly and some very slowly, like bats or birds swooping, now hovering, before shooting off into the sky. The three sat in the cart transfixed by this light show which began to dissipate leaving suddenly to reveal, a woman, very thin and dressed in white. She turned her head towards them, the air chilled and a strange green mist began to swirl slowly around her. The apparition had pale grey features with deep sunken eyes, her thin wispy hair clung to her skull, sticking to the long open wound round her neck, which still seeped with dark blood, which was being absorbed into an old satin dress hanging loosely from her thin skeletal shoulders. The lady raised her hand and pointed at the two men saying in a very guttural voice, 'Yie have corpses in your cart i see, and yie have plenty room for another. Below this bridge my mortal remains lie. disinter me and deliver my bones to the grave of my Father Gregor McGregor, Earl of Alpine, who lies with my two brothers, all killed fighting a lost cause at Culloden and yie shall have this ring'. She lifted her left hand to show a large gold ring with a cross of diamonds protruding from a bed of emeralds, easily worth enough to pay for what she was asking. Goliath terrified, stared at the ring and imagined its worth and even though afraid, he began to nod his head in acceptance of the wraiths request. The ghost floated towards the cart, her hand outstretched, she stopped very close, Goliath could smell the scent of the grave from her, a scent he knew only too well. He opened his palm and the specter dropped the 'payment' into his hand and was gone. The night was silent and the rain fell lightly on Goliaths face, he lifted his hand to wipe the water away but it wouldn't open, the hand holding the ring was closed tightly as if cramping, he had to concentrate hard before he was able to eventually open the hand allowing him to wipe his brow and bring himself to his senses. Shaking, he wrapped the ring in his filthy handkerchief and put it inside his coat pocket. The dog whimpered and crawled below the sacks in the rear, Scrymgoure was trembling and tears were running down his face. 'Go', screamed Scrymgoure, get us off this accursed bridge'. Goliath snapped the reins, the horse pulled too quickly, his hooves slipping on the wet road before the cart lurched forward and up the long tree covered hill to the Bangour Road and sanctuary at Holy Robins Inn. They ran the cart into the stables at the back, quickly unhitched the horse and closed him into a stall, then after covering the cart with a tarpaulin,they composed themselves and walked into the Inn. A log fire was blazing in the fireplace, an old Gaberlunzie ( Storyteller and licensed beggar ) dressed in his obligatory thick blue coat, was stoking the flames with an iron bar. The room was smoky and dimly lit with candles and reeking oil-lamps. Thick wooden stools and benches sat beside roughly carved tables, occupied by shadowed drinkers, who lowered their clay pipes and stared bright eyed at the newcomers. The eight or so drinkers filled the small room. The Landlord, James Ferguson, looked the two weathered men over with a knowing eye, 'Goliath and Scrymgoure, whit brings you two grave-robbing bastards intae my premises this late in the night'? Goliath stared the big man down and answered, ' whit dae yie think we want here in this rat infested shite-hole? make it a tankard of guid ale for a start, then maybe a flea infested bed, like the last time I slept in this stinking hovel. I've been scratching a new hole for my arse ever since'. This was said as he and Scrymgoure sat themselves in a space made available by men who moved away from them, turning their backs and moving closer to the fire not wanting to be in their company. Cyclops growled at an old collie sheepdog which rose and cowered away with head held low, allowing him access to the better spot at the fireside. Ferguson came from behind his bar saying, 'I have one room at the back Yi'll huv tae share wi that gibberin idiot there at the fire' pointing at the Gaberlunzie, as he slid two foaming battered tankards of ale onto the table. Goliath dropped three Scot's merks, the landlord scooped them up and walked back behind the bar. The Gaberlunzie removed his long pipe from his mouth, cleared his throat and spat into the flames. Later in the back room the old storyteller spoke up, 'Goliath, I have been dragging this auld frame alang the roads for many years and I know a frightened face when I see it, you two, when you came in here the night, had that look, did something happen on the way here'? 'Shut-up and go tae sleep ya smelly auld bastard or I'll put you to sleep forever, Yir bodies auld but still worth a shilling tae people I know and they widnae ask me where it came from'. The Gaberlunzie, well practiced at wheedling out tales from people, persevered at great risk but his age may have helped him and before the night had gone, he was in possession of all the gruesome and terrifying details. Details which would keep him in beer and bed for sometime to come. The tale of The Grey Lady as he called it, was told in every way-house and Inn from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Singleton sold the ring for a good price, the money from the sale being enough to set him up in business, selling milk and eggs around the Lothians, which he did for five years. One night he was delivering eggs to Dechmont a village close to Drumcross, on the way back he dropped in to Holy Robins Inn. He hadn't been near the Inn since that fateful night, and as he stepped over the threshold, the Landlord recognizing him, called out. 'Well here we are boys, this monstrosity that's walked in the door, is none other than the famous Goliath, I say famous, because maist men only go into a grave once, this evil bastard standing before you, is in and oot mair often than a randy buggerers bell-end'. The men sniggered and stared at the newcomer expecting a response. Goliath glared at Ferguson and after spitting on the floor, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He could hear the laughter behind the closed door. Angrily he jumped into his cart, he whipped the reins hard and the horse pulled quickly away, trotting along the Bangour road and before he noticed what he was doing, he was heading down the hill to Drumcross bridge and darkness had fallen,- too quickly. The cart approached the bridge, the blue lights again appeared swirling and pulsing, flying here and there fascinating Singleton. Standing in the middle of the bridge cloaked in a green mist was the Grey Lady. She seemed to Goliath more solid than before, more intimidating and her face was angry. 'Ah you have the nerve to return to me Goliath, bold you are for a grave robbing coward. Come ' she said. She raised her bony arm and crooked her finger, the cart without the need of the horse or the wheels to turn, drew silently nearer to the angry wraith. Goliath stared at the horse, it seemed to be asleep but still they drew nearer and nearer, stopping level with the keystone of the bridge and right in front of the corpse that was Jeannie McGregor. She floated silently, her eyes never leaving his, and stopped at Goliath's side of the cart. He couldn't move, he was paralysed with fear and he could feel a cold sweat on his forehead. The Ghost leaned in to the face of the frightened resurrectionist and said, 'You made a pact with me to take my bones from here to Culloden. You took this ring', she held her hand up to his face, the diamond and emerald ring had miraculously reappeared on her finger. She suddenly, and with great strength, grabbed his head with her right hand while pushing the ring hard into his left temple. ' I lay a curse on you Robert Singleton, you will not last the year, your evil ways will deliver you to the Hell-fire that awaits you. Goliath awoke at dawn, he was still sitting in the cart which hadn't moved since Jeannie had stopped it in the middle of the bridge, he gathered himself and shivering badly, he made his sorry way the three miles to Bathgate. He went home, but as he entered his house, his wife Morag asked ' Rab, where have you been? I was worried and what has happened to your face? what is that welt on the side of your head? A deep red cross was impressed into his left temple, the exact shape of the diamonds from the ring, this 'mark of death' put there by the Grey Lady, stayed on his head for weeks, before eventually disappearing. Four months later Goliath had taken to the bottle, his business and his marriage suffered badly and he had gotten heavily into debt. As a last resort, Singleton in dire need of quick money, had resorted to his old profession of resurrectionism. He left the house and after two days he hadn't returned,Morag informed the village factor, who sent men out to search for him. Aware of his past life they searched the cemetery. There they found him lying below a large and heavy headstone. Goliath had been removing a body from it's resting place, when the wet soil had slipped, the stone toppled onto the hapless resurrectionist, killing him instantly. When the stone was lifted off Goliath's head, a deep red welt corresponding with a carved cross on the headstone, could be seen exactly on the place the mark was placed by the Grey Lady's diamond and emerald ring. Jeannie at last had justice. Archived comments for The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. Andrea on 30-07-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. What happened to this, WFF?? Author's Reply: That's it now ....sorry. Well it is a ghost story woooooooo. Andrea on 30-07-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. Oh, it seems to have re-appeared - how ghostly! Author's Reply: Thanks Andrea. Whoopeee a nib Ya belter...............love it. niece on 01-08-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. WFF, this was absolutely amazing...well told...at 3000+ words, there was nothing superflous...excellent story-telling indeed... Regds, niece Author's Reply: Why Thank You Maam. I'm Honoured. Texasgreg on 03-08-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. Aye! Weren't too much extra stuff either, Duke...LOL ![]() Super stuff! ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Thanks Greg. That Logo is nearly as good as the egg. Fair chuffed. BATEMAN on 19-10-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. A good read Weetatfella, was expecting more at the end though:( (sorry). xxx Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for taking the time to read and even more to comment. I agree with you about the ending but facts are facts. Weefatfella.xx Weefatfella on 19-10-2012 The Grey Lady Of Caputhall. ![]() Thank you for taking the time to read and even more to comment. I agree with you about the ending but facts are facts. Weefatfella.xx Author's Reply: |
Jump For Joy. (posted on: 23-07-12) A night at The Hole Int wall in Bowness Winderemere. ![]() I opened the back door of old Bessie my black 3 litre Avantgarde Mercedes Benz. The leather of the seats filled my nostrils, I love that smell. After placing the small case on the seat, I picked up the haversack containing the' lubrication'. A bottle of Bacardi, a bottle of Smirnoff, two bottles of Sauvignon blanc for the Sweetness and a bottle of diet cola for mixing. I secured this important piece of luggage on the floor behind the passenger seat for safety. I walked round, opened the drivers door and slipped into my favourite seat in all the world. I smiled at the ' Target button' on the bonnet and inserted Chuck Berry's greatest hits into the CD player. Just as chuck spotted Nadine, the Sweetness climbed in beside me and put her handbag on the floor at her feet, after popping a bag of kettle crisps on the consul next to the automatic gearbox, she carefully placed her shades while checking the vanity mirror, she flicked her fringe and said ' right, let's go'. Off we went. Off the M8, I indicated left at the roundabout at the bottom of Boab's Brae and joined the M74 for Carlisle. Theresa changed the CD for Neil Diamond's The Jazz Singer and 'love On The Rocks' took us along the M74 at an easy 80mph. I selected cruise control and ate a kettle crisp. Utopia. We entered England just over an hour later and started the same old panic when passing Lake District signs, North Lakes, South Lakes, Kendal, Morecambe, ' Keep going you haven't missed it,' I told myself. Then after what always seems a long time, here it is, Kirby Lonsdale. Cruise control off, indicate left up the hill to the roundabout, turn right: Windermere 16miles, 'Ya belter, wont be long now'. Onto the Brantfell Road in Bowness, sharp turn left into the Royal Oak car park and check into the pre-booked room 10. Room 10 in the royal Oak, has a large bay window and as seating for breakfast is tight, the pub will serve breakfast to that room. I always book ahead as I enjoy the breakfast in my own time, at the window. We unpacked, poured a drink and sat looking out the window before wandering up the street for lunch. Back in the room later, I had a wee kip while The Sweetness watched Emmerdale and fixed her barnett. I showered and dressed and after a coupla wee Bacardi's, we wandered out and into The Hole int Wall. Old blue and white floral patterned ceramic potties and pewter tankards hang from the oak roof beams. The old bar is thick oak with bar towels scattered here and there to catch the drips of one of my favourite beers Hartley's XB. Various animal heads of deer and boar stare down accusingly from the walls. A boastful and proudly caught large dried fish, is framed above two ferrets fighting in a glass cage. The seating is old but serviceable and comfortable. I ordered a pint and a large glass of Sauvignon for the Sweetness. We sat near the back to enable us to see all that was going on, I drew deeply on the XB, the wonderful cool soothing ale slipped down easily, as Stan The Man, the famous Lake District guitar player and all round entertainer, pushed his way through the door. Obviously struggling while carrying too much gear. I jumped up and held the door to help him. 'Oh hello, how are you'? He said and 'thank you', ' I'm Fine Stan, can I help?' 'No it's fine, I'll manage, will you give us a song later'? He asked. 'Oh no I don't think so' I answered, embarrassed. I have a rather bad habit of singing while in my cups, some say I'm not half bad, while others just smile condescendingly. The Sweetness and me visit the Lake District often and have become known by some of the drinking fraternity. I had no intention of singing that night, but then again, it was early. The atmosphere in the pub was comfortable. Stan had fired up his guitar and his not too bad voice, was crooning the 'Eagles, Peaceful Easy Feeling' which managed to just be heard above the low hum of quiet conversation. The lighting was dim but easy, and a quiet contentment filled the room. I was on my fifth pint of XB. The bar was pleasantly filled with like minded topers. A vision materialised inside the door. It was Joy. She had long straight blonde hair reaching down to her very thin waist. She was nearly wearing, a long silk dress, tight fitting, thankfully, very tight fitting, tailored and with a low cut front, showing her remarkable buoyant and gravity defying breasts, which didn't jiggle they shook, and I'm certain the right breast winked at me. Joy hadn't quite recovered from the chilly April evening which was joyously evident. She stepped into the room swaying, her athletic thighs, were revealed through the long slit of her dress, high up, showing a hint of suspender belt and stocking top. Her coat was draped over her shoulders, and draped down to below her firm bottom, each round buttock, making its presence known, by thrusting at the coat, every alternate step. Joy, her head held confidently high, wiggled toward Stan, her lucky lover. Every step a seduction. As she neared him, she stopped near a pillar, she didn't remove her coat, she disrobed, letting the coat slip from her shoulders and on purpose dropped it. As she bent straight- backed, to pick up the coat, the silk of her dress, caressed her perfectly shaped buttocks, slipping in between her cheeks, perfectly framing the firm round spheres and falling seductively into the crevasse. There was no evidence of panties. She hooked the coat on the pillar and glided toward Stan. After kissing the air beside his cheek, she pirouetted toward the bar, where the barman handed her a prearranged long fluted wine glass. Joy, holding the elegant wine filled glass twirled and placed those amazing buttocks on a tall bar stool, where she continued to pose for all. I took another draft of XB and got up to speak to her. I couldn't control myself the devil made me do it. It must be some kind of jealousy I was suffering from. Maybe she was too much in control of the whole room and even though I admired her, along with every other man in that place I had to do it. I stood beside her at the bar and said-- 'excuse me dear, you wont have noticed, but you've stood in shite. Archived comments for Jump For Joy. lallylello on 23-07-2012 Jump For Joy. Made me laugh out loud! I love your turn of phrase, makes for very easy reading. I am a fully paid up member of the Punctuation Police, though, and I do think you need to tame your commas: they like to turn up at random which breaks the flow. Also, there was a lack of close speech marks so it was hard to tell when the speech ended. Very funny, though. I look forward to reading more of your stuff. Lally Author's Reply: Thanks Lyle I'm afraid I'm not very good at punctuation. I try though. Thanks for your comments they are appreciated and I definitely need the critique. Andrea on 24-07-2012 Jump For Joy. Hahaha, you may not be all that in the comma department, but you certainly know how to tell a tale! Much enjoyed! Author's Reply: Thanks Andrea, I really have to knuckle down and nail that punctuation thing. Texasgreg on 24-07-2012 Jump For Joy. I didn't know what you were talking about in terms of lubrication, but I think you may have done that subconsciously unless you always use that term. π Playin' with ya, Duke. Can I say funny fantasy? Sure I can! ![]() Greg π Author's Reply: Cheers Greg. appreciated. Chastheone on 26-07-2012 Jump For Joy. That was a funny tale but I concur about the lack of punctuation in some instances and overdoing it in others because it makes it difficult for myself and people like me to read with the proper rhythm thus spoiling the narrative effect if you get my meaning which is a shame because you have some great stories to tell. π Chastheone. Author's Reply: This, with a critique with no punctuation whatsoever. OK. Thank You for your input. Chastheone on 26-07-2012 Jump For Joy. So you got the irony! π Author's Reply: niece on 30-07-2012 Jump For Joy. π Enjoyed the story, especially the ending...someone had to tell her, afterall... Regds, niece Author's Reply: Aye,Pride comes before a fall appreciate the comment. Thank You. shadow on 10-03-2013 Jump For Joy. Well, this gave me a laugh and no mistake. What is it about women called Joy? Loved the description -'nearly wearing a long silk dress'. Author's Reply: ![]() I got to know Joy and her lucky lover Stan the man. As far as I know they still frequent the pubs in Bowness. A nice couple, and Joy still loves herself. Weefatfella. |
Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. (posted on: 15-06-12) A Worldwide precedent. Angus Ogg McDonald Chief of Clan McDonald, sat in front of the huge fireplace in the great hall of Inverlochy Castle, warming himself and quietly contemplating. He was pleased, it had been a good harvest and the Clan had plentiful supplies of root vegetables, wheat, oats and barley stored away and soon most of the cattle would be slaughtered and salted for beef through the coming season. The clansmen were at this moment, rounding up the beasts to bring them to Inverlochy, for just that purpose. A long wailing low note was heard, followed by another two. Angus jumped up and opening the door, was met by his wife Aine, 'Angus, I heard three calls, the men are under attack' 'Aye Aine, I have ears and I do know what three blaws means.' He kissed her forehead saying, ' ' I'm heading to the stables now.' 'You can't go. The chief never goes. What would happen if you were killed?' 'There is no man upright who can best Angus Ogg McDonald. The last five men who attempted that, are rotting underground as we speak, and three of them tried it together. Wheesht your tongue wuman. I'll to see to this myself.' It was true, three Campbells, Ewan, and his brother Callum, along with their cousin Rob, had ambushed Angus at Carn Mor Pass. Angus was returning home with only a light escort of Clansmen but not expecting any trouble, had sent them on ahead. The Chief wanted to enjoy the beauty of the pass and to revel in his memories of his Father. They both used to race each other over this pass, the victor getting the bigger slice of old Bonnie's apple pie, Angus was always resigned to the smaller piece. This very thought passed through his mind, as two mailed and heavily armed horsemen blocked his path. 'Hail,' Angus called. The men remained silent and drew their longswords. Angus slipped his plaid over his shoulder revealing his claymore, a long double edged sword, resting on his left hip. He loosened the studs of the scabbard and stiffened his back, while pressing his knees into the sides of Eacchain, his war horse. These practiced actions awakened his trained mount's battle response. Both were now ready to fight. Angus's senses quickened, he heard movement behind, as the man facing him made no response, he was certain it was an attacker. He feinted left but the pony turned right, the attacker's head appeared at the perfect angle to be met by the claymore as it cleared the scabbard. The sword sliced cleanly through the man's neck, decapitating him in a spray of warm blood. His riderless mount startled, whinnied and darted off up the hill-side. Angus spun right again, swinging his weapon and catching the other man on the wrist, halting his downward strike, disarming him. Eacchain, barged into the other horse, pushing and biting, the smaller pony shied, throwing it's rider, who landed winded, on his back. Angus dismounted quickly and threw himself at the fallen man, stabbing his claymore into his chest. The third man dismounted and drew his weapon saying, 'I am Robert Wilson Campbell, those men you have butchered are my kin. 'I Sir am, by the grace of God, Angus Ogg McDonald, Clan chief of McDonald, Lord of Lochaber, Lord of the Isles,and the Hope of the King of Scotland, Prepare to die.' The Campbell stepped forward meeting the Clan's Chief's dirk, which was pushed firmly through his right eye, and fully into his brain, killing him instantly. The Clan Chief, cleaned and stored his weapons before riding back to his Castle at Inverlochy. Now, the Clansmen lead by their chief, rode quickly toward the holding ground, fifteen mounted and well armed troops. The night was bright with the new moon and visibility was perfect. A clear, clean, and sharp frost sparkled off the trees beside the bridle-path. making lighter, the mood of the men who passed. They climbed into the hills, swords and dirks at the ready. Half a mile further and over the rise of a small hillock, the noise of men shouting and the clash of metal on metal was heard. Angus crested the hill to see before him, fifty highlanders engaged in mortal combat. To the left, corralled in a large dry-stane enclosure, stood cattle, protected by his Clansmen, with claymores drawn. The Chief raised his right arm, palm open. Immediately his men stopped and his signalman sounded his goat horn. Angus cupped his hands to his mouth and called, 'Is that Ross Campbell, sheep-shagging Bastard and Ragged-arsed Chief of Clan Campbell, I smell below me?' The fighting stopped, all men parted and turned toward the Chief, who, mounted on Eacchain, and his ancient claymore raised, slowly and deliberately, rode down into the battleground. This was a very strange occurrence . Tradition and custom was. If two Highland Chiefs meet in Battle, all other men have to step aside to leave the two Lords to either, make a deal, or if they fight, it is to the death, with no quarter asked or given. The two young Lords met in the middle. Campbell was a thickset brute of a man, six foot tall and wide shouldered, with a broad bull chest and long dark matted shoulder length hair. He carried a hand and a half Bastard Longsword. Swaggering he walked toward Angus and challenged, ' Dismount McDonald, and face me like a man, If you have the heart that is' 'Heart is it? Heart, retorted Angus, You who gave your black heart to your lover and now carry a lock of her wool round your neck. Oh I'll face you Campbell'. It was rumoured Campbell wore a gold chain bearing a locket, with the legend " I LOVE EWE" engraved on the rear. Campbell grimacing at the insult, charged, Eacchain, reared and stepped back, covering Angus, who jumped clear, as he landed, he struck a boulder, which threw him to the ground, he rolled to his feet, Campbell sliced at his head, cutting the Chief from the left temple to the bottom of his right cheek and splitting both lips. Angus countered with an upthrust, which entered beneath Campbell's light armour. The sword pierced his lungs and heart killing him instantly. Angus covered in Campbell blood, lowered the dead chief to the ground. Custom was, that now defeated, the Campbell men became McDonalds and after swearing allegiance to their new chief, their lands and stock were now part of the victorious chiefs holdings. Angus returned to his Castle where his wounds were stitched together, but not well. He was left with a puckered top lip, which became a nuisance while eating. Highlanders in the middle-ages, used a sharp knife to cut meat from the haunch. The eater, would lift the meat and bite into it, while straining on the meat, the knife was used to cut a mouthful away. When Angus did this, he constantly cut his top lip, he persevered for some time but eventually he had to give in. He instructed the cooks at Inverlochy, to prepare the food in such a way, that knives would not be required. The food was put on plates and some meat mixed with onion and spices, was inserted between two slices of bread, allowing it to be lifted by hand to the mouth. Knives for eating, would never again be used to eat by the Clan McDonald and that is why no cutlery is used in McDonalds restaurants to this day. Copyright © Weefatfella Archived comments for Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. madmary on 15-06-2012 Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. This brings back memories. I used to read Angus Ogg. as a child. Good story. Well writen. Author's Reply: Thank You again. I hope you are enjoying the weather in Spain. Today June 16th it's chucking it down. cooky on 16-06-2012 Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. A well written tale. I never knew the connection with the restaurant though. Author's Reply: Andrea on 17-06-2012 Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. Nice one Fats - enjoyed! Author's Reply: amman on 26-06-2012 Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. Hey. I missed this first time around, but then I'm as guilty as anyone; the longer pieces tend to be ignored. Well written and enjoyable. Is that true about McDonalds restaurants or is it a tongue in cheek comment. Cheers fella. Author's Reply: Thanks Amman, I appreciate you taking the time to read my 'Slavers' and that, is what this is Slavers, it's complete nonsense, though I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. ChairmanWow on 27-06-2012 Angus Ogg Lord Of the Isles. Action packed fun. There were some typos with quotation marks, i think. Enjoyable stuff. Ralph Author's Reply: Thank you wow. appreciate critique. I am on a mission now to clean up my work. pleased you enjoyed it. |
Atlas Foundry. (posted on: 11-06-12) While sitting bored in the crane high above the Foundry. Atlas Foundry. At North British Steel Group Armadale (Atlas) foundry. I was employed as an overhead crane-driver and was sitting 100 feet high above the Foundry, bored in the cabin of the crane, which was encased in glass, for all round visibility. Hanging below me on chains was a mould -cope (top half), which was being painted by two closers. This process could take up to an hour, so to relieve boredom I had the habit of looking out to the Foundry below me and I would pick someone to visually follow around. Thus instigating memories of that particular character. Coming into view half way down the foundry bay was Jimmy Lindsay a closer, (Lightning Lindsay, Master Craftsman) Jimmy was a married man about 40-ish tall and he always had a ready smile. His wife June and his two daughters seemed to be constantly in his thoughts, he was clearly a devoted husband and father. The Menzies family, the managing director being Macbeth Menzies, who although in his eighties, still kept a tight hand on the reins, owned the Foundry. The family habit was to submit the up and coming male family members into the Foundry to learn the business from the bottom rung up. Giving them an all round feel for the Company, this was done incognito but the poor souls were found out soon enough, either by their manner or their public schooled posh voice. We were having our piece break one afternoon when round came some visitors led by Gavin McDonald the sycophantic Foreman from the dressing shop, He was wearing his customary cheap suit and was paying attention mostly to a tall and athletically built young man around twenty who had shoulder length blonde hair. No wonder he was Scott Menzies old Mac Beth's grandson. Jimmy had lifted his head from his book and on seeing the group from behind exclaimed. 'Aw see the blonde thing, who's that?..Oh Aye- she wid get it'. 'That's a guy ya numpty,' he was told by no-one in particular. 'Well if that's a guy he wid still get it, Jimmy said. It wasn't long before the guy who would get it, was in that position. Unfortunately the Company decided to start the Menzies boy in our department. Jimmy had the boy terrified. At every opportunity Jimmy would caress Scott's hair and say ' Aw! yie keep it awffie nice son, are you sure yir not a wumman? And before walking away, Jimmy with a leering smile would pat Scott's bum. Scott played his part well and shrugged it off for the good humour that it was. He worked hard and soon became friends with everyone, but things soon went pear-shaped. Scott was splitting a mould after cast, taking the clamps and wedges off and putting them in a bucket, as he bent down to place the wedges, Jimmy shouting 'Darling! Mounted Scott from behind and with his arms round Scott's stomach he began pumping and thrusting suggestively into his nether regions, just as Gavin McDonald and Macbeth Menzies rounded the corner. What a shock for old Macbeth who as far as he knew was witness to his favourite Grandson being butt raped in his own Foundry. The difficult explanations were accepted later and with the help of Scott, were seen for what they were, Foundry banter. My attention was now drawn to wee Francy at the furnace; he had found a large copper ball cock the size of a football and was kicking it around. With the noise of the furnace covering the grating sound as the 'ball' rolled along. Big Wullie thought it was a real ball and was making it known to Francy by his head movements, he wanted a header, he was thrusting his head back and forward like a chicken. Francy was smiling and nodding, He bent down and lifted the ball with both hands and lobbed it at Wullie, who jumped slightly and headed the 'ball'. The look of surprise on Wullies face was priceless as the blood ran down his forehead. Francy turned and laughing made his escape into the dressing shop with Wullie catching up. Walking along the path between the casting pits was the company metallurgist Jimmy P. He was a great guy for sport trivia and used to compete locally in pub quiz games but Jimmy, I knew, wore a wig. It was the latter attribute that caught my attention on this occasion. Jimmy was heading up to the offices to make a report. He was wearing on top of his "syrup", a hard safety hat and because he worked at the furnace this hat was fitted with ear- muffs and a large visor to protect his eyes from the furnace- flash. Jimmy also unfortunately wore dentures and glasses. This in itself and on the face of it,would not have caused any problems and would not have attracted my attention but he was carrying in both hands a large compilation of note-books and written papers all of which he was carefully balancing, also nothing out of the ordinary. What caught my attention was, Jimmy was in the process of holding back a sneeze, which if let loose,would be a catastrophe. I waited eagerly as the battle between Jimmy and nature proceeded, of course Jimmy was always going to lose and when he did the resulting chaos was hilarious. His head shook once, twice, shot back involuntarily and the sneeze exploded! There was paper everywhere, his glasses and teeth shot forward landing six feet away,-the visor closed and slammed down on his chin, pulling the hat and wig off his head. The 'syrup' hooked onto his jacket button hanging there like a babies bib while the hat bounced and rolled along the ground chasing after his dentures. Poor Jimmy stood there bald as a coot surrounded by sheets of A4 paper, some still flying around like butterfly's while others flitted down to land beside open notebooks. Taking a step forward Jimmy crunched on his glasses, his head again went back, while he opened his arms in defeat. Jimmy was devastated. I was in fits. The men signalled they were finished painting and I lowered the cope. Archived comments for Atlas Foundry. Andrea on 12-06-2012 Atlas Foundry. Can't help feeling sorry for poor ol' Scott π And honestly, that vision of Jim's teeth... With work (especially on punctuation and grammar) these snippets could be really, really good. Author's Reply: Buschell on 30-11-2013 Atlas Foundry. How much of this is true? Great yarn spun, you know how to tell 'em! Thought I'd give this one some love...Always nice when someone dives into the ol' back catalogue, aveagoodweekend! Darren. Author's Reply: ![]() Thank you for your kind words Darren. This was my first write. I hope I've improved. Weefatfella. |
Through The Trees. (posted on: 11-06-12) A Strange A-Fare. ![]() Archived comments for Through The Trees. ruadh on 11-06-2012 Through The Trees. This reminded me of a drive through Fife. There was a thick fog to boot and you couldn't see past the bonnet of the car. I have never been so scared in my life. Enjoyed this. (One thing I would recommend is to break your sentences up so they're not so long. Using the commas make it harder to read.) ailsa Author's Reply: Thank You for taking the time to comment. I have not long begun to write and I will adhere to your advice. I am very pleased you enjoyed the piece, it gives me hope. Andrea on 12-06-2012 Through The Trees. For someone who hasn't been writing long, Fat, you do a sterling job π Much enjoyed. Agree with ruadh about the commas - short and punchy is the order of the day! Author's Reply: royrodel on 12-06-2012 Through The Trees. is there any taxis in Lithgie ? Author's Reply: Aye! But theyr'e fae Fawkirk. madmary on 19-06-2012 Through The Trees. (Revised).Was Bathgate Hills. What a scary story. I love the way you built up the tension and kept me on edge waiting to see what happened. A bit like Edgar Allan Poe. My favourate line was the one about the trees trying to grab the cab. Really liked it. Mary Author's Reply: |
D.Day. (posted on: 08-06-12) The Germans had cracked the code. How was Eisenhower to communicate on open mike? This story isn't true but it should be. D, day. We have all heard of this historical day from WW2 and the outcome and eventual victory of the Allied forces in Europe but very few of us know the inside news, or secrets. In this short story I will reveal one of the amazing facts of the historic Normandy Landings, Codenamed Neptune. A few days before, it was made known that the Germans had broken the radio code which was to be used at the time of the invasion. The logistics of which were astounding. The air borne invasion was to take place at midnight on the 6th June with 24,000 British, American, Canadian and Free-French troops followed by the 6,30am amphibious landings with 5,000 ships and 160,000 troops. The Commanders had no time to use another code system and with the invading forces already massed on the opposite shore, to hide the intent of the Allies was an impossibility. Eisenhower the Overall Commander was, to say the least, a tad apprehensive. To speak on open mike with the forces under his command, frightened the life out of Dwight and he asked for assistance. No one came forward to help but one of Eisenhower's batmen, was Sergeant first class steward, Francis Travers and for most of the time he kept his own council but while clearing away the tables full of the clutter used by Generals and Majors at war councils,Francy who hailed from Elgin and whose Mother tongue was the ancient Doric, could see the General was at a loss. 'Fit fur yie wurrit aboot Sur? a see yur niddin tae Gang yer ain gate but sharely I, fur fit suits, wid gae yie a haun Sur, fur yia canna fund an answer'. The general was gobsmacked he couldn't understand a word he stared at Francy for a moment, then slowly, ever so slowly like fire catching on wet tinder, the smoke cleared and the solution to his problem burst into flame. 'Are there any other people who speak this language soldier?' he asked Francy. 'Ach Aye Sur, Fin the aal cock craws, the young eens learn an I did'na come up wi the last load o hay an fir dinna try tae tell ma ye canna blaw an egg. I've deen it mony a time, it's na lik a dina ken a bee fae a bull's fit, A will sharely funoot fits wrang an soartit furrye, aye! that a wull Sur". The Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces, when Francy's reply was translated, was ecstatic. 'Wonderful!" he said "Fantastic, Francy, you have solved my problem and have probably saved the lives of thousands of ally's here today. 'There will be a promotion and maybe a medal in this for you'. 'Weel a coudnae haud the cat and play with the kitten,wur best a luteet oot. It's a steady drap that wears the steen.' A message was sent to all forces to send any Doric spikkin loons to Headquarters to be given a crash course in radio operation. They were subsequently placed at all strategic points to facilitate the logistics of the Normandy Landings. The opening message of the invasion was.. 'Jist aw yis haud yir wheesht the noo, fir am spikin tae tha Loons aboot, hing in noo fir It tak's a lang speen tae sup we a Fifer,...Wull hae thone Germans Caad aff thur stotter's! Sa aw thae Boatties, Haud the hannel tae the lum!.... With that the Invasion began the German Loons and Quines were flummoxed. Loons are men and Quines are women, in the old Scot's Doric language. Archived comments for D.Day. wordthug on 08-06-2012 D.Day. Like it! Interesting parallel here, WFF, Native American Indians used their language in code and in radio transmissions to stop WW2 Axis forces understanding communications. Gotta admit that the occasional Glaswegian has left me baffled. π Anyways, I reckon you could make more of this story. Just bare bones as it is. First person viewpoint, maybe? alex wordthug. Author's Reply: Yes.wordthug. The film 'Windtalkers' was the inspiration for this story. I agree with you it is very short but I'm a taxi driver and have been for forty years. I normally don't have long to spin my yarns. Thanks for taking the time to comment it is appreciated. Andrea on 09-06-2012 D.Day. Yes, nicely done. Echo Thug's sentiments. Had to struggle a bit through the accent too, but nonetheless an enjoyable read π Author's Reply: Thank you Andrea, you are very gracious. Texasgreg on 09-06-2012 D.Day. Kinda like the bewildered stare I get from britons when speaking to 'em face-to-face. That's why I prefer to write. I can use my translator, LOL. I liked it,"weafinefella", (reference poem "ode to obesity"), yet wish there was just a bit more. I do understand your brevity, though. ![]() Texasgreg π BTW- I understood every word. π Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comments Texasgreg. I got the idea from the film WINDTALKERS. I use brevity because I'm a taxi driver and people are not normally in my cab long enough to elaborate. |
Bride and Groom. (posted on: 08-06-12) A Prank Goes Wrong. Bride and Groom. I had finished filling the charge bucket with scrap, using the magnet crane at the Atlas Foundry Armadale and after checking the time,I climbed down to go to the howf for my piece. As I passed the scrap bay, something caught my eye. 'What's that?' I thought, "is it a holy statue?" I climbed down among the scrap and pulled out what turned out to be. A catalyst of chaos. It was a strange artifact of the sex industry, known as a ' bride' and 'groom'; ten inches long and four inches wide. On one side demurely presented, was to all intents and purposes a bride in white, holding a small posy of flowers. On the opposite side was a grotesque rubber penis, complete with large veins and purple German helmet, at attention and definitely ready and willing for business. As I examined this abomination, it seemed to empathic-ally throb in my hand. The purpose of this 'thing' I would assume, is to reflect the mood of the female owner. The bride being NO!, the penis being emphatically Yes! The phallus definitely stood, on an eight inch by two inch rectangular box, which had a switch. Inside the member was a bulb, which could be switched on to communicate the mood of the 'bride'. The husband or partner on entering his lovers boudoir and seeing the illuminated proffered aspect, would be in no doubt of his partner's expectations. I carried this emotive instrument into the furnace howf (Amenity) to have a laugh with my workmates. where all the expected, surprising and unexpected suggestions as to what could be done with it were exhausted. Wee Francy, the wag of the team, was overly excited by it and as I should have known, this would have serious consequences. Francy removed the phallus from the base and using a heated welding rod, created a jap's- eye in the head of it. All Furnaces need to be water cooled and a radiator is built into the walls of the outside of the furnace to provide this. The water is pumped round and can be viewed at the trough for contaminants. Francy sniggering, filled the penis with water from the trough, he sealed the end and stuffed the object inside his overalls with the head protruding from the appropriate aperture and with the 'groom' presented to his audience, (which was wee Dan the closer,) gave the impression of him taking a leak into the trough. With this huge appendage in place it also gave the added advantage of improving his status in the alpha male standings. Wee Dan, on seeing the enormous 'penis', removed his pipe from his mouth and called "away Francy! Yiv'e no gote the erse tae caw the wan y'ive gote". Unfortunately wee Dan was not the only person in the audience: Sadie, the seventeen year old wages clerkess had just turned the corner and on seeing Francy relieving himself with his amazing weapon, let out a scream of horror, turned and ran off to escape and preserve her maidenhood, Francy just stared with his jaw wide open, the offending object dropped into the trough with a plop!. I, as shop steward was called to try and sort out the whole affair. Francy and myself walked up to the offices to see the Manager Tam Crozier, bringing the bride and groom along in mitigation. 'Fur Goad's sake!' said Tam 'whit were yie thinkin aboot man, that wee lassie is in tears. I think we have tae call the polis this is a sexual assault fur fuck sake'. 'Hold on, Tam' I pleaded, I produced the offending phallus in mitigation. Tam said "Whit the!-- holy fuck?-- whit is that thing?........ All was explained. Francy kept his job and wee Sadie was shown the culprit. All seen the funny side but the Bride and groom vanished from Wee Sadie's desk............ I still don't know what happened to it. Archived comments for Bride and Groom. Andrea on 09-06-2012 Bride and Groom. Could do with paying some attention to punctuation, and there are also a few stray capitals which shouldn't be there (Bride, Penis, etc), but another humorous little slice of life from the Atlas Foundry π Author's Reply: Thank you Andrea. I'm new at this and I sometimes get carried away. Gaztop on 13-09-2012 Bride and Groom. My grandad was from the Gorbels. He used to tell me tales like this and it had me in stitches. This tale had me falling about laughing! Nice one. Gaztop Author's Reply: |
A Healthy Wuman. (posted on: 08-06-12)![]() Another tale from the Atlas Foundry Armadale. Monday morning and Wee Francy came in twenty minutes late at the Atlas Foundry Armadale. 'Aw aye!. Decided tae turn up did yie?,--- ya wee shite, said the charge-hand Big Wullie. 'Fuck off, answered Francy' I'm Knackered"-- 'Yir Knackered!- Hungover mare like, countered Wullie,' When yie go tae yir bed, yie should sleep, ya hoarny wee bugger. 'Aye, a would but yie know Cathy, she's an awffie wuman and really healthy, She's gittin oan a bit noo but she still has an awffie sexual appetite"...... 'Well it'll take mare than a wee moose like you tae soart it, yelled Wullie. ' Aw dae yie think sae?, lit me tell yie!. Ya big arse, me and Cathy, went seven times last night, afore she wid let me sleep", Francy boasted. 'Seven times? Seven times oan the nest in wan night?, away Francy, theres no wan guid hump in yie and seven times wid kill a wee guy like you, so git yir arse intae that ladle and git it cleaned oot fur the heat the day and make sure the stoapers don't run oot or I'll Know the reason why. Francy with his head down, headed toward the chosen ladle, to prepare it for holding and pouring the molten metal into moulds later that day. At piece time, later in the howf, Francy was seen to be staring into space, while holding a cheese sandwich in his right hand. Escaping his reverie he, looked at his cheese sandwich and shaking his head, sighed, 'seven times, Goad, seven times, whit a wumman!".. 'Aw fur fuck sake, shouted Wullie 'are you going to keep saying that pish aw day? And after throwing his hands up in the air, he stood up and stormed out of the howf, shaking his head. Francy didn't keep saying it all day, he kept saying it all week, much to the annoyance of Wullie, who, by the end of the week, was raging mad. Wullie and Francy had kept this competitive relationship going for years. They both lived in Armadale and had attended the same school; Primary as well as Secondary and Big Wullie had been trying to dominate Francy all his life but with no success. Even in the measure of their manhood, wee Francy had Wullie beat, It was Francy who should have been called Big Wullie. In fact if the truth was known, the battle had been won by the wee man, years ago. In the showers after work, that afternoon, just to keep up the impetus, Francy had laid another ambuscade for Big Wullie. Carrying my soap and towel, I headed into the communal shower. The showers had no partitions; it was a large tile lined room, with shower points all round the walls. As i walked in I noticed, Francy was under the shower with his cap on, ' Yiv'e goat yir Bunnet on in the shower ya eejit" I said, Francy waved his finger in front of his mouth with a conspiratorial look on his face. I knew to keep quiet. In came his victim Big Wullie 'Francy, yi'r losing it mate, yiv'e goat yir bunnet oan in the shower, said Wullie. Francy, after removing his cigarette from his mouth answered, 'Naw av'e No. Aye yie huv" yelled Wullie. "Naw A huvnae" Francy answered. "Aye! yie fucken have", exclaimed Wullie; angrily. " Naw A fucken huvnae" replied Francy,-- "It's yours!" The following Saturday night, Big Wullie waved cheerio to his mates in Coppies Bar at the top of the hill in Armadale and headed downhill for the Regal Bar at the cross-roads. On the way down, who did he meet but Francy and his "healthy wife" Cathy, who were walking up to Coppies. 'OH, hello Cathy and Francy, Good Evening, greeted Wullie, 'Evening Wullie" answered Cathy, 'how are yie? 'Aye fine, said Wullie "yirsells, Cathy?, 'Aye we're fine, answered Cathy. .Wullie continued. 'Aye! Cathy, as yie know, I'm not wan tae mention another married couples business but that man of yours has pestered me all week, with an outright lie." 'A lie!" Cathy was incredulous. She looked at her husband questioningly,Francy dropped his head. Turning to Wullie she asked " Whit lie would that be Wullie?" Wullie answered 'Cathy, he told me the reason he was late for his work on Monday morning, was because you and him had been going at it all night, Seven times he said, I never said it Cathy,, that man of yours told me, Seven times, there yie are, whit huv yie goat tae say tae that? Cathy glared at wee Francy, then, back to Wullie. 'Wullie your right, he is a liar and I'm mortified that he would lower himself tae that level. Seven times ma arse, it wiz EIGHT!!!.... Wee Francy grabbed his wife and kissed her on the cheek. 'Come oan Hen, there is mare of the same tae look forward tae the night. With that, they sauntered up the hill leaving Big Wullie astonished. Archived comments for A Healthy Wuman. ruadh on 09-06-2012 A Healthy Wuman. It's always the little ones lol. Gave me a giggle anyway. ailsa Author's Reply: Thank you ailsa, much appreciated. Andrea on 09-06-2012 A Healthy Wuman. Bloody awful that foundry sounds π Gave me a chuckle too... Author's Reply: Thank you for taking the time to indulge me. Andrea. The Foundry wasn't a bad place to work, hard heavy work but we had plenty of laughs. Incidentally, when taking a sample from the furnace, the operator has to use a heavy steel pole with a cup on the end. This weighs approximately 70lbs and is ten feet long, I have done it hundreds of times with no help from anyone but when wee Francy had to do it, Big Wullie would put his shovel at the end of the pole and take some of the weight to help wee Francy. When this happened, I just used to smile. Thanks again. |
Mandy's Hot (posted on: 04-06-12) It is prudent to wash your hands! Mandy's Hot. While never being a very good Football player in my youth, I, however, enjoyed more success as a coach. I coached boys and men in an amateur capacity. in all aspects of the game. The camaraderie and banter, I thoroughly enjoyed at all age levels. While coaching an Amateur team with players, aged twenty to thirty - ish, in my hometown of Bathgate. I came across a situation, where it would be prudent to change the names, to protect the guilty. The goalkeeper, say-' big Norrie ', had turned up at the game with his kit-bag over his shoulder, nothing unusual you would think but big Norrie hadn't trained on the previous Wednesday so, was not eligible to play in that game. " Eh whit's the bag fur Norrie?" The big guy squared his shoulders off, and with a slight mischievous grin, he answered. ''Am I right in thinking, that, if a player had missed training on a Wednesday, making him ineligible to play the next game but the said player, namely myself, had a very good reason for missing training and if that reason was accepted by yourself and the majority of the team. The player could play?" ''Aye! There is that provision." Norrie held his open palm out, to indicate he may have an acceptable excuse. "Right boys!, look-in!," I called to everyone. "The big fella here, thinks he has a good reason for missing training on Wednesday, which would allow him to play in today's game." All the players, who at that moment, were in various stages of changing, as one, all sat down to listen. I nodded to big Norrie. His gambit was-- " Well yiz all know my wumman Mandy?'' he began, (Mandy it has to be said was stunning, she had all the qualities a healthy mature heterosexual male dreamed about). The men all nodded, "Right!!" He continued. "I was leaving for training at 6-30pm on Wednesday and I was standing at the front door of me and Mandy's house. As some of you may know, in my place, if you open the front door, there is a small landing and the stairs begin there and go right up to the bedroom?'' All the team with no exceptions strangely, nodded again.. Big Norrie, Lowering his eyebrows stopped for a second. After giving himself a shake, he carried on regardless. "I opened the front door and just as I did, Mandy called from the top of the stairs.'' "Eh! Where are you off-tae big man?" 'The Fitba Training darlin". " Mandy opened her dressing gown, aw fur Goad sake guys, she was wearing the sexy- gear, aw! She wiz lookin amazing! With fishnet stockings,stilettos and basque. I had no choice lads. I closed the door, as any of you guys would have done and headed up the stairs to attend to my duty." All the team, again with no exceptions raised their hands in supplication. The big Guy had wangled it. As one the team chorused, " Git stripped Big-Man, yir playin.'' Big Norrie though, wasn't finished for the day. All the guys got changed and headed out onto the park for the pre-match warm-up. I was busy preparing the injury and first aid bag. In the bag, I had three 'MAGIC' sponges: One for the cold water bucket, for cooling down knocks; one in a sealed bag, soaked in TCP to clean cuts and one, wet sponge, for pre-cleaning wounds, along with various unguents, cooling and or heating sprays. The big man was busy rubbing liniment into his legs to heat them, as it was pretty cold out. The Ointment he was using, was wintergreen. A particularly virulent concoction, used to heat and re-leave muscles and certainly an ointment one would not advise to use anywhere near a cut and definitely under no circumstances near the eye, or any part of the body with nerve endings. While he was massaging the unguent onto his legs and in my estimation, over applying the cream. He kept look |