Author: leeharding

“I see you’ve come again, my queen? But pray, why do you always leave your king behind on your travels?”

“Out of my way, Sir. I have no dealings with the Blacks.”

The queen stopped by the foot of the knight’s steed. In the fading light, the black beast’s nostrils flared and its breath billowed to edge her back.

“Such a talented and powerful woman with the White kingdom at her disposal yet she ventures into our stronghold alone. Some would call it foolish…”

“And some who call it are fools,” the queen replied.

The Black knight peered through the slit of his visor at the damsel below. Her beauty often beguiled the unwary. Many times through their checkered past he had fallen to her charms. He chased her and pinned her yet it was always a ruse on her part. The White soldiers lay in wait and though he hacked and slashed they knocked him off his horse leaving him to flee the battle.

“A fool is one who dares face a knight of the Black realm unarmed.”

“You assume I carry no weapon?”

“Unless a dagger is cloaked beneath your garment the only weapon you possess is your sharp tongue.”

“Sir Black, you underestimate me.”

“Perhaps in the past, for you also possess a sharp wit. Yet your mind is no match for raw strength. You have found yourself trapped, alone and defenceless.”

“I have faith to protect me.”

“Ha! You put your trust in God? Do you think He will reach down and pluck you into the air?”

“We shall see.”

“Might of beast and brick will always triumph over silly prayers and fruitless promises. I have a legion stationed at my castles. With one word I could wipe the Whites away.”

“The Blacks are mighty indeed yet their place is always second.”

The knight raised his visor and sneered. “Tell me why I should not cut you down?”

The queen glanced around but saw no help was near.

“Because you are a man of honour. Just like your brother was.”

The knight froze on his saddle.

“It is a pity. Such a noble and valiant warrior but his end was honourable.”

“Who…who did this? Tell me!”

The queen saw the rage in the knight’s eyes. His steed pawed at the dirt, ruffling the soil to the harsh beat of his master’s heart.

“Your brother fought with dignity until his dying breath. I grasped his hand as he was taken from this world. He spoke his final words into my ear.”

“Woman, I am warning you. Tell me who murdered my brother.”

The queen continued unabated. “It was a mere whisper yet those words will forever resound in my mind.”

The knight’s fury faltered. “What did he say?”

“You wish to know if he spoke of gallantry? Of serving the noble house of the Blacks? You demand that his last desire immortalize you as his sole heir, to uphold the family honour? Yet your brother’s last release was none of these.”

The knight’s fury ignited. He drew out his longsword and held it high.

“Damn you, woman. Reveal what my brother said or I will strike you in two.”

The queen knew that her time was up. Only faith could help her now.

“As I withdrew my dagger from his chest he said that life was a game and we are all but pawns.”

“No!”

The knight swung with all his might. As the blade swooped it stopped. The steed buckled as it tumbled to the ground, its legs cut from beneath it. The knight’s body was crushed as the horse cried out. Standing behind them, the white robes of the bishop were stained by their blood.

“As I said, Sir Black, faith has come to save me.”

The queen nodded to the bishop to make the kill. The knight’s form went still.

“Checkmate.”

“You ever wonder when your last breath will be?”

“Shit, Stan, that’s morbid for a Monday morning.”

“It could come on a Monday morning. Or a Tuesday. Could be the same day of the week I was born. Wouldn’t that be strange?”

“Pass me the cigarette.”

I took another drag while Luke fumbled in the cold to warm his fingers.

“I swear it’s getting colder every year. Bloody climate change.”

I breathed out and watched as the smoke from my lungs joined the mist of our breath. Luke whipped the cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

“Look at it go, Luke. We’re here for a moment, form into something that we think’ll last forever and then PHEW.”

I pursed my lips and blew. The smoke and mist that had tangled together evaporated to non-existence. Luke shook his head.

“Humans aren’t designed to dwell on their own existence.”

I gazed at the two cups of brewing tea by our feet. Their little lives struggled to be seen as the steam rose to meet the breath from my nostrils.

“Isn’t nostrils a funny word?”

Luke sighed and took another drag.

“Makes me think why I find it funny? Why are some things hilarious and others just stupid? It’s a bit like swearing. Who chose those words to be bad words? Who decides these things?”

“Probably some committee somewhere,” Luke said while lifting his tea.

“And who gave them that right?”

Luke shrugged, trying not to burn his throat as he swallowed.

“We accept things too easily in this life. We never question. If anybody dares to raise their hand then everyone else throws them out of the group. Why is that?”

“Beats me, Stan.”

“Maybe it’s fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of where your breath goes when it disappears. If we can’t see it or make sense of it then we ignore it.”

“Then I’m going to be scared of you until I drink my brew.”

Luke took another sip and wrapped his hands around the mug to keep warm.

“I suppose it’s like having a voice,” I said. “Words are a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, so to speak. Revolutions start when somebody dares to open their mouth.”

“You better not start another strike, Stan. Christmas bills need paying, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Who cares about work? Who cares about the mundane? We should be caring about what comes out of our mouths.”

“All that comes out of your mouth’s hot air.”

“My point exactly. Everything we do in this life is like a breath of hot air on a cold Monday morning. We’re all just passing steam, Luke, just passing steam.”

Luke tilted onto one side and his face squeezed shut. The noise from his rear reverberated like a dying trumpet.

“Or passing gas,” he said and laughed.

I smiled. “I suppose our prayers to this world can come from two places after all.”

“Mummy, I’m home.”

Mildred forced her way inside. The door fought back as the tower of toppling newspapers refused to budge.

“Millie?”

Mildred blinked with the lack of light. She flicked the switch but nothing happened.

“Mummy, where are you?”

“What?”

“I said where are you?”

“In here, didums.”

Mildred felt around the hall table but all her hands could feel was the rough, wiry coat of the stuffed poodle. She pulled away as she grazed its canines.

“I can’t find the candles.”

“You can’t sign the sandals?”

“No, Mummy. Can you switch on the light?”

“You’re right, didums, two stitches to the right.”

Mildred lifted one foot and pushed it out. The tip of her shoe found a stack of mouldy boxes. She waved her toes around until she found a clearer path and stepped forwards.

“Mummy, it’s getting dangerous in here. You might trip.”

“I’m well aware of the drip, Millie. I’ll call for a plumber.”

Mildred sighed. She tucked her cape into her waist and slowly made her way along the hall. She had to turn sideways to bypass her mother’s wheelchair and old accordion, neither of which wheeled or wheezed anymore. Hopping over an open suitcase, she heard a rhythmic creaking and her mother singing.

“My little Millie, shirt’s so frilly, none so silly, as my little Millie.”

Mrs Ruddle tittered to herself as her daughter battled into the living room. Mildred merged with a dozen other shadows and soon was lost within the maze of junk.

“Did you enjoy the film, didums?”

“Yep. And guess what happened on the way home?”

“Oh, tell me, please.”

“I saved a cat from a tree.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My little Millie is a superhero after all.”

Mrs Ruddle beamed as she rocked in her chair. Her fingers flew as the knitting needles danced in her hands. Mildred used the noise as sonar. She pushed out her arms like a mummy trying to find her Mummy and stumbled on. Bric-a-brac strewn along the threadbare carpet caught her ankle but Super Mildred used her keen sense of balance to prevent herself from falling.

“I wish you would keep a light on in here.”

“Don’t need it, didums. Now that Binky’s passed on – may God bless his tiny soul – I don’t have to leave my chair to let him out for a wee.”

“But you still need out to wee, Mummy.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs Ruddle put down her knitting. “I’ve had an idea.”

Mildred finally made it through the labyrinth of leftovers to stop by her mother’s rocking chair. Her eyes were beginning to adjust and she saw her mother lift something onto her lap.

“I told you my precious things would come in useful one day.”

Mildred wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It looked like a bowl of sorts. A foul whiff wafted.

“Mummy, that isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

“Does the job perfectly. No need to go upstairs now.”

“But a sieve won’t work. There’s too many holes.”

“That’s why I plugged them up. Blu-tac to the rescue again.”

Mrs Ruddle put down the soaking sieve as its contents washed onto the rug.

“So you saved a cat?”

“I did and everyone saw. I got to show them my outfit and climb a tree and everything.”

“I’m so proud of you, Millie. Thirty-years-old and a real-life superhero. I only wish Binky were here so he could lick your face well done.”

Mildred wiped her cheek as if the dead dog’s tongue was still slobbering there.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, didums?”

“Uhm, there’s that thing we need to discuss.”

“No.”

“But Mummy…”

“I said no, Millie. A thousand times no. No, no, no!”

“It would be far better for you…”

“Don’t want to listen.”

“…and safer…”

“Nah-nah-nah-nah.”

“…not to mention cleaner. There’s lots of other people your age too. And the food’s delicious.”

The rocking chair creaked at breakneck speed as Mrs Ruddle thrust herself forwards and backwards with her hands over her ears.

“You wouldn’t have to pee in a sieve and you can see the lake from the house.”

“Binky hated it. Said it wasn’t for him.”

Mildred stopped herself from disparaging the late third member of their family.

“You can’t live here forever, that’s all I’m saying.”

Creak, creak, creak.

“Mummy?”

Mrs Ruddle had returned to her knitting. She was now singing a new song.

“Bad little Millie, wants to kill me, won’t let me wee-wee, bad little Millie.”

Mildred threw up her hands which almost toppled a stack of chairs. Then she had an idea. Feeling her way around, she found the path back and left the room.

“Ruff-ruff.”

The sound made Mrs Ruddle stop in mid rock.

“Ruff-ruff-ruff.”

“Who’s that?”

Mildred hid behind her cape and the stiff frame of the stuffed poodle. The taxidermist had ripped them off but Mildred hoped her plan would justify the exorbitant fee.

Mrs Ruddle rubbed her eyes. No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

“Binky?”

Mildred stood out of sight behind the chairs and shook the dead poodle’s neck up and down.

“Oh my little Binky. I thought you were dead.”

“Ruff-ruff…I’m in doggy heaven but I can’t be at peace.”

“Sweet didums, what’s happened?”

“Knowing my mistress is all alone in the dark..ruff-ruff…she needs to be with friends.”

“But I have Millie.”

“Grrr…you need friends your own age. You need to move on. You need to leave me and this place behind.”

Mrs Ruddle covered her mouth with her hand. “I could never leave my home.”

“Listen to Mildred…ruff-ruff. She knows what’s best…listen to Millie.”

Like a ghostly apparition, the poodle ascended to float in the air. Mrs Ruddle gasped as her beloved friend gave one last bark before disappearing behind her things.

“Binky!”

Mildred waited for a full minute before emerging. Her mother had her fingers stuffed in her mouth and she was rocking.

“Mummy, are you ok?”

Mrs Ruddle looked up and saw her daughter. She reached out her arms. Mildred ran to hug her.

“It’s okay, Mummy. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Author’s note: in my defence I’ve been watching a lot of League of Gentlemen recently.

Mildred Ruddle left the cinema with a smile on her face. Superman had saved the day. She tried to emulate his “truth, justice and American way”. Like Clark Kent, Mildred also wore glasses and when she removed them something special would occur.

As she walked through the park her trench coat whipped in the wind. Being above average weight she wheezed as she struggled up the hill. A sudden gust blew open her trench coat revealing the red symbol beneath. She quickly covered herself and looked around to make sure no one had seen. If her enemies knew her true identity they would endeavour to use her superpowers for evil.

Up ahead a homeless man sat against a tree. He nodded his thanks as Mildred gave him five dollars. Out of nowhere a black stream zoomed by his ear. It clawed into the bark of the tree and vanished up into its leaves.

“Buttercup! Come down here. You know I can’t reach you from up there.”

Mildred turned to see an elderly woman hobbling towards her. Her arm was outstretched to a high branch where a dark little moggy perched watching her.

“Buttercup, we don’t want the firemen to come again, do we?” the elderly woman pleaded.

The tramp craned his neck at the commotion. The elderly woman was visibly upset. She tried lifting her walking stick to reach the cat but Buttercup merely observed her.

This is it, Mildred thought. This is my chance to show my superpowers.

Stepping back from the scene, Mildred ran around a bush and took off her glasses. She unbuckled her belt and the trench coat opened revealing what was underneath.

“Don’t worry, madam. Super M is here to save the day.”

The elderly lady gasped as Mildred strode into view. Though she had little money, Mildred thought her costume looked the part. Sewn together from old dresses, the flowing red cape and blue and red top shone in the sun. The shorts were a little tight, though, and Mildred tried not to fidget as she wobbled to the base of the tree.

“Buttercup is as good as rescued, madam,” Mildred said with her hands on her wide hips.

The elderly lady and the homeless man both watched as Mildred lifted her foot. She tried to set it into a notch in the bark but her thigh was stopped by a large roll of fat on her stomach. Undeterred, Mildred leaped high to grab hold of a low hanging branch. With a mighty roar, she lifted herself up and lashed out her legs to grip the trunk. Sweat poured down her face but Mildred was determined. She gripped onto another branch and somehow managed to climb the tree.

“Good day, Buttercup. It’s time to be returned to your owner.”

Buttercup eyed the strange stranger as Mildred proceeded to climb towards her. It was a long way down but she couldn’t reveal her ability of flight yet. No, the world would watch that on TV one day. Mildred reached out her hand. The cat was a fingertip away. Come on, she thought. Everyone’s watching.

A small crowd had gathered. Two little boys with baseball bats gawked up at the rotund woman in a silly costume trying to grab a cat. The elderly lady’s mouth dropped open as Buttercup took a clawed swipe at the crazy lady but she didn’t back down. With a sudden leap, the nutcase in red had Buttercup by the collar.

“I’ve got him, I’ve got him!” Mildred shouted. Buttercup was hoisted by the neck into the air like a trophy and waved to Mildred’s adoring fans. The cat hissed and clawed as she made her way back to the tree and started her descent. Shimming down, Mildred wiped away the flood of sweat from her forehead and presented the cat to its owner.

“No need to thank me, madam,” Mildred said as the elderly lady went to speak. “It’s all in a day’s work for a superhero.”

With that Mildred ran off towards the bushes. She put on her trench coat and donned her glasses and waltzed back to the scene.

“What, what did I miss?” Mildred panted. “I heard a superhero saved a cat? Did I miss her?”

The homeless man, the elderly lady, and the two little boys said nothing as Mildred wiped the sweat from her brow. A red cape was clearly visible dangling by her ankles.

“I hear she’s called Super M,” Mildred said. “Maybe next time I’ll get to meet my hero.”

And with that, she turned and walked off knowing that her job here was done while Buttercup tore up the tree again.

---

Author’s Note: Mildred is actually a character in The Pan Piper

The End

I blink but all I see is white. It’s like I’m in heaven but my body is frozen in time. I’m shaking but not from fear. My arm is sore with what looks like welts in the skin.

Where am I? I turn and see a dark shadow bounding towards me. Is that a wolf? I try to run but it’s too slippy and I fall as the cold and teeth of the beast rip into me. My final cries are deafened by my own voice.

‘Where is everyone and how in the hell did I get up here?’

The Start

“Welcome onto the stage…”

The magician shoved the microphone under my nose. I blinked, blinded by the spotlights and the stares from the front rows.

“Uh, Stan.”

“Great to have you volunteer, Uh Stan. Or is that Stan Uh as in Stan Uh and take a bow?”

His grin gleamed like the polished ivories of a grand piano while the audience gave a courteous laugh. I wasn’t sure whether to join in so I just nodded. His assistant Suzie lead me to the side while the spotlights converged on the Great Galzon.

“While trekking through Tibet as a wandering vagabond I discovered an ancient temple buried deep within a snowy summit of the Himalayas. There I entered a monastery of monks who had unearthed the secrets of the gods. By gaining their trust I shared in their sacred knowledge and tonight I want to reveal that mystery to you.”

The lights split into two as the curtain behind us raised. A tacky mock-up of a rugged mountain range appeared. Two ledges made of plasterboard lay on either side of the stage and between them was a drop into an abyss.

“Those monks faced starvation amongst the blizzards and ravenous beasts. To reach the valley below they had to risk their lives by travelling over the mountaintops. Yet utilising their magic arts they discovered a way to traverse over space and time in an instant!”

He snapped his fingers into the microphone which made me lurch in surprise. Suzie held me fast.

“Tonight I will use those incantations to vault our volunteer. He will reappear fully formed more than twelve feet away in a moment of time.”

The Great Galzon spun on his heel to face me.

“Stan, we have never met before tonight?”

“Uh, no,” I stammered.

“And you have complete faith in my abilities to evaporate your body…”

“Evaporate?” I began but he continued:

“…then reform it in precisely the same condition over there?”

Before I could speak Suzie ushered me onto the plasterboard while Galzon skipped to the other ledge. He dropped to one knee before drawing up a black, velvet curtain. Suzie did likewise but the curtain stopped at my waist. Galzon pressed his finger to his lips to quieten the crowd.

“I have only attempted this feat with live animals. Most of them reappeared in one piece.”

Suzie dug her nails into my arm as I tried to leave.

“Stan on the count of three, then? One. Two. And three.”

Suzie whipped up the curtain shielding all the light. A split second later and it was bright again. Except she was no longer holding my arm.

The applause thundered as I stood there bemused. The Great Galzon dropped the curtain at my feet and strutted out to take his bow. Suzie waved from twelve feet away on the other ledge while I waited for someone to explain what had happened.

All alone now in the Great Galzon’s dressing room, I stood by the dressing table while the autograph hunters finally left. Suzie shut the door while Galzon removed his hat.

“So what happened?” I said.

Galzon wiggled to get out of his outfit. “What do you mean, Stan?”

“Don’t put on an act with me,” I said. “What happened tonight?”

“You’re here in one piece aren’t you?”

I placed my hands on my hips, reassured they were still there.

“Where did he go? He was supposed to meet us backstage by the trapdoor.”

Freddie Galzoni tore off his fake moustache and spun on his chair.

“Stan, your twin brother probably got himself drunk and split. Don’t worry about it. He’ll turn up somewhere.”

I blink but all I see is white. It’s like I’m in heaven but my body is frozen in time. I’m shaking but not from fear. My arm is sore with what looks like welts in the skin.

Where am I? I turn and see a dark shadow bounding towards me. Is that a wolf? I try to run but it’s too slippy and I fall as the cold and teeth of the beast rip into me.

Why am I alone and how in the hell did I get all the way up here?

I walk along the bridge. It’s raining, the river gushing in torrents beneath me. Through the darkness, I notice a car parked up ahead. When I get closer I see there’s no driver. I hear crying and as I glance over the side I see a young man on the ledge ready to jump.

Back off otherwise I’ll do it, he yells.

The rain rattles down around us and the river has flooded its banks. I remain where I am and keep silent. The young man watches me but sees I’m no threat. He turns to the river but can’t seem to focus.

Why are you here? he shouts.

I ask him the same question. He snorts. Says I wouldn’t understand. I say I probably wouldn’t, never been known for my brains, but something seems up.

Off? he says and shakes his head. This morning I lost my job. When I went home early I found my wife in bed with my best friend. I dragged him out and put him through a wall. My wife called the cops and now I’m wanted for assault.

The young man is gasping. He can’t go home and has no one to turn to. So he turns to the bridge.

I listen as the rain pours down and the river rushes by. The young man waits for me to reply and gets annoyed when I don’t. He asks me again why I’m here. I tell him he doesn’t want to hear my problems. He says I’m right and turns back to the river. I stay put. He’s shivering. Okay, he says, just tell me.

I ask him if that’s his car. He nods. I say I have a best friend too. He had a car just like yours, all shiny and red. Red ones go faster, I say. He looks perplexed. What’s that got to do with anything? he says. I nod at the pillar beside him.

My friend was drinking like usual and never wore a seatbelt. Thought they were sissy. Except for some reason that night he did. When the car crashed the belt bit into him as the bonnet ripped apart. Broke three ribs and took a year to recover.

So why are you here? the young man asks.

I give a sad smile. My friend wasn’t the only one in the car that night. He insisted nobody wore a seatbelt while he was driving and that included his beautiful wife and two little girls. Ally and Polly died in an instant but Doris, well she ended up in there.

I point at the gushing torrents. The young man looks down and nearly loses his footing. I jerk out my hand and grab his arm. He holds fast to the rail and shrugs me away. I stand back but I know he’s listening.

My friend tried to battle it for years, the guilt I mean. But every night their screams stopped his sleep. Not even the drink could drown them out. On the anniversary he’d come here. He’d stand on that exact spot you’re on now and he’d stare at where his wife flew through the air.

The young man didn’t dare look at the river again. But why are you here? he asks.

I guess I’m the only one who cares enough to try and stop him. Tonight’s the anniversary. It happened on the stroke of eight. Every year he comes walking along this bridge, steps over the rail and stands on that ledge. He keeps a photo of them in his jacket pocket and takes it out to kiss them goodbye. But every year I’d come to stop him from doing what I’m guessing’s in your heart to do too.

The young man checks his watch. Where is he then? It’s almost eight.

He’ll be along soon, I say.

The young man isn’t sure what to do. I see a mixture of emotions through the rain and tears.

Son, it isn’t any of my business but are you going to jump or not? You see my friend may try somewhere else if he sees your car. Besides, you’re young enough to meet another woman, make new friends and get a job that you love. Maybe even raise a family like the one my friend lost. It’s too late for him and I’m not sure even I can save him tonight. Let’s not fill that river with more bodies than needs be, eh?

I reach out my hand. The young man’s eyes flit between me and the river. His fingers entwine my wrist. I grab hold and drag him onto the bridge. The rain eases. The young man is kneeling and crying into his palms. I place my hand on his shoulder.

Go and check-in to a nice hotel. There’s one down the road. I take all the cash from my wallet. Here, that’ll help you get back on your feet.

He wipes away the water from his face and rises to take the money. As he stumbles to his car he stops and turns.

You saved my life. I hope you can save your friend again.

As he drives away I turn to face the other end of the bridge. There’s no sign of anyone. I walk to the spot of the accident and rub the metal railing.

Seven years ago tonight.

I reach into my jacket pocket. There they are, all smiling, all alive.

I step onto the ledge and hold the picture of my wife and children to my lips. With one final kiss goodbye, I jump leaving the bridge behind forever.

THE END