28 Apr


roast beef dinner photo: Roast Beef 800px-Sunday_roast_-_roast_beef_1.jpg  There was a light mist swirling between the trees in Thistledown Copse. Fairy Gobsmack was slowed by it as wisps and wasps fought with each other to greet a dawn that wasn’t coming.

In fact, they fought with each other to greet a dawn that couldn’t come. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Willow Witch’s watch had stopped, and she hadn’t noticed, and everyone in the Copse knew that Willow Witch controlled most of what happened just about everywhere.

So the light mist swirling between the trees in Thistledown Copse were swirling in darkness. And not just any old darkness, when there might be a hint of starlight or a smudge of moonlight or the tell tale mischief of the odd glow-worm’s private parts. No, this was total, eye-watering darkness.

“It might always be like this,” moaned Fairy Gobsmack, seeing the truth for what it was and feeling suddenly depressed, which was out of character for one as eternally filled with joy as she was.

“I’ve got some roast beef,” grinned Willow Witch, “a nice plate full of roast beef with a decent sized Yorkshire pudding plump in the middle of it, and some roast taters too.”

“That’s plain greed,” Fairy Gobsmack told her, “and there’s one thing I can’t abide and that’s a dark night and greedy witches in it. In fact, I doubt there’s anything worse under the known sky, so there!”

“It’s only dark because my watch stopped,” scoffed the Witch, sounding as cruel as everyone knew her to be.

“Then start it again!” snapped the Fairy. “Go on! Give it its tick-tock back!”

“I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t,” curdled Willow Witch. “You see, it’s a sundial watch and there’s no sun. So it’s stopped. What I need is the dawn…”

“Which won’t come on account of your watch being stopped,” sighed Fairy Gobsmack. “It’s just one gigantic circle of misfortune.”

“True,” smirked the Witch. “I’ll tell you what. Give me some gravy and I’ll set my watch going…”

“Without sunlight?”

“I’m a witch, if you hadn’t noticed, and I can do anything with or without sunlight. So how about some gravy to go with my nice plate of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and roast taters?”

“I’m condemned to wander the copse for ever and ever in the darkness of the darkest ever night, for I have no gravy, not to eat myself and certainly not to spare,” groaned the Fairy. “Ask God. He created everything. You’ve read he did in the Good Book. He’ll give you some gravy if that’s what you want. Then it’ll all be over for once and all.”

“Bah! God! He’s nothing but superstition, a silly concept devised to put us women in our places, and I don’t believe in any such superstition, for they don’t exist!” snapped the Witch.

And as her voice faded into an echo of itself she popped out of being, as did the Fairy Gobsmack and Thistledown Copse and every magical thing and being everywhere.

And the sun came suddenly out as a ferocious voice barked “let there be light”…

© Peter Rogerson 28.04.15


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