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"SSC2: Finnbarr"

FINNBARR

Ah, sit myself down on the tree stump, surrounded by swaying daffodils, facing out of the grove’s shade, seeing the rolling hills, the church spire, the will-o’-the-wisp clouds, that red kite still tangled in those high branches, and of course - Finnbarr, the old windmill.

I could tell you about Kenny O’Hinty, he with the heroic sideburns and interchangable pegleg, how he strapped his missus to one of the windmill’s sails just after he caught her rubbing young Brandan’s bacon when she should’ve been milking the cows. Not many folks can say they’ve seen a buxom wench as naked as a plucked chicken doing forty revolutions like that, screaming blue murder.

I could tell you about Nosey Flynn’s twin-daughters, Maggie & Meg, who claim to have seen a walking scarecrow ring-a-ring-a-rosing it round the windmill’s perimeter one summer’s dusk. They’re 19 a-piece now, and they still swear blind. Are you sure it wasn’t Old Marban the wandering beggar? ‘No,’ they say. ‘No. It had a twig for a nose and straw for hands, and it stumbled with the gait of an undead hollow man.’

I could tell you about the giant spider that lurks in the southern corner of the top level’s shadows. Gary Harrow says he’s seen the monster dig its massive fangs into a stray cat and suck the puddings clean out of its fur. Pale as porridge he was when he told me. What were you doing in the windmill? I asked. ‘I was hiding me nacky mags,’ he said.

I could tell you about the secret passageway that spirals underground to a bandits’ den. They say there’s a stash of pirate’s gold down there guarded by the ancestral ghost of Buck Longshanks, the infamous cutthroat of Dullwater Cove. I’ve rooted about with me walking-stick searching for a trapdoor, but I’ll be damned if I can find owt.

I could tell you umpteen things about the old windmill, or Finnbarr as it is known, but I’ll save them for a rainy day. For now I’m just going to sit here, rest my weary bones in the afternoon rays, natter to the swaying daffs, and just let the old windmill speak for itself…

A very interesting entry. I like the voice of the piece, it's original, and it remains constant throughout. The only trouble with it, is that it is a little frustrating - you tell us the basics of all of these wonderful tales, but refuse to go into further details. I guess it is here that the charm of the piece lies, and perhaps the whole of each story wouldn't be nearly as interesting as the snippets we're given?

I feel all calm and ... nice.
Lubberly.

Thanx-in' y'all.

Lil Ginge wrote:
> ... and I need advice I need to talk to you most handsome
> chappy sharpish! Words of wisdom for the ginger one...

What's this about then?

"how he strapped his missus to one of the windmill’s sails just after he caught her rubbing young Brandan’s bacon when she should’ve been milking the cows"


Hehe, that's the best laugh I have had all day.
Nice work.

Fantastic, a good job.

I love your style. Description, it boasted so much personality - its my taste to a tea!


More Glovey ... and I need advice I need to talk to you most handsome chappy sharpish! Words of wisdom for the ginger one...

Very nice, short and sweet.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I only just found out the new one has been started. Don't know if I'll get a story written now 'cos I'm off to find that tree stump to sit by and listen to someone nattering to daffs :D

Ta. I'm the only one to enter so far.