Short Stories

[silky]

THE EXPEDITION
By John A Silkstone

“Captain,” bellowed the General.
The Captain, sitting at his desk, knocked over his chair as he jumped to his full height of two metres.
“Yes General sir.”
“Ha! There you are. Assemble the men on the parade ground and stop hiding behind that candlestick, I can’t see you.”
“Yes sir, right away sir.”
Leaving the chair laying on the floor, the Captain picked up his cap and swagger stick and marched out of the office.
After buttoning his immaculately ironed tunic over his large round belly, the General looked at his reflection in the full-length distorted mirror. His one metre sixty turned to one metre eighty. What a fine figure of a man he thought, as he turned to leave the office.
The parade ground was the large open market square by the city’s main gate. The Captain, having mustered the troops, now watched out of the corner of his eye for the General to appear. On seeing the General, he called the troops to attention. Placing the swagger stick under his left armpit, he grasped its large silver knob in his left hand and marched across the square.
Halting three paces away from the General he called out. “The troops are ready for your inspection sir.” At the same time he gave the General a smart salute.
Returning the salute the General inquired, “Inspection! What inspection?”
“Your inspection sir, you always inspect the troops when you call a parade.”
“Yes yes Captain; that would normally be right, but not today. Today is different. Today… we are going out of the city.”
“Out of the city! You can’t mean that,” exclaimed the Captain; his eyes wide open in astonishment. “Why only the farmers go out of the city, and they only farm by the city wall. If we go out there we could be eaten by an Eleroseros.”
“Rubbish Captain utter rubbish, there’s no such thing as Eleroseros, that’s something the mothers tell their children to stop them playing on the city walls. Anyway, not only are we going out of the city, but we are going to march to the world’s end, and look over the edge.”
“Look over the edge! The men won’t like that sir; I think you should ask for volunteers,” squealed the Captain in a high voice, as he turned white with fear.
“You’re quite right Captain. I’ll only take the ten most stout-hearted fellows there are.”
“Ten men! You can’t have ten men; there are only nine men in the whole army.”
The General smiled, “Good, I’ll take those nine and yourself to make up the numbers. It’s ever so good of you all to volunteer like that.”
“But General Sir...”
“No buts,” he said, cutting the Captain short in mid sentence, “let’s get started.”
At that moment, the mayor entered the square followed by more of the city residents.
“I say General, what’s this I hear? You’re deserting the city? Taking away the troops? Who’ll defend us if you go?”
“Defend you! Why the city’s never been attacked since the day it was founded, so you don’t need defending, do you?”
“But General…”
“Tut tut your worship, you sound more like my Captain every day. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you say, the men and I, are going to the end of the world. Open the gates Captain we must be away.”
The General, marching at the head of his troops, lead them through the city gates. They in turn were followed by the now curious city folk.
The baker, walking at the side of the mayor asked, “How far is it to the end of the world?”
Smelling the aroma of fresh baked bread on the baker’s apron, the mayor pointing forward with his finger, “See that tree over there, the one on its own, by its self, and no others with it? Well, from the city wall, all you can see beyond that tree is sky. So that must be the edge of the world.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the baker.
Just short of the trees, the troops started to slow down by taking shorter steps. Halting the troop, the General did a smart about-turn to address them.
“Come on now you men, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You there corporal, you’re not afraid are you?”
“Me sir, no sir, not I sir, I would follow you to the ends of the...,” here his words faltered, “You know what I mean sir?”
“Good man, I knew I could depend on you. I’ll give you a medal when we get back.”
“A medal sir, for me, oh yes please sir that would be fantastic.”
The rest of the troops remained quite, shuffling from one foot to another and none of them looking in the General’s direction.
“Well men, here is my plan. I will go forward to the tree and you lot can follow me later, okay?” getting no answer he continued, “Well then, here I go.”
The General marched the last few paces to the tree. Standing at its side he peered over the edge of the world.
The troops and city dwellers, gasped in amazement at this brave deed. The General turned to face them, and with beckoning arms, he waved them forward. He gestured so wildly that he lost his balance and fell backwards over the edge of the world.
The soldiers looked at each other in stunned silence. The city women burst into tears and the mayor cried, “I knew it, I knew it… I knew he’d fall over the edge.”
The Captain called for quiet and in the stillness that followed. A voice, faint, and far away, was heard to be calling.
“Helloooo, youeeee, can you hear me?”
The Captain, now on his belly, crawled forward to look over the edge of the world. He couldn’t believe his eyes. What he saw before him, was a long slopping grassy incline that levelled out at the bottom, into a flat meadow. The meadow was covered in wild flowers and a small stream meandering through it. The General was attempting to ascend the grassy slope but lost his footing and rolled back down again. Turning head over heels until he came to a stop at the bottom. Picking himself up, he dusted off his uniform, feeling the gritty dirt beneath his hands.
Looking back up the slope he saw the face of the Captain peering down at him.
“Hello Captain, come on down, roll over and over as I did. It’s wonderful, marvellous, absolutely fantastic.”
The Captain, now joined by everyone else, called down to the General, “No thank you sir, you come back up here, it’s safer.”
“I can’t, every time I try, I roll back down again. It far to steep for me to climb.”
“Then how are we going to get you back up again?”
The General thought for a moment then hit on a great idea, “Order the men to remove their shirts, tie the arms together and I can use it like a rope.”
Removing their shirts, the troops tied all the arms together and the corporal handed the bungle of shirts to the Captain. Keeping a firm hold of one end, he tossed the shirts down to the General, who tied the other end around his large waist, the General started his ascent.
The troops, standing in a line, began to pull on the shirts to assist the General in reaching the top.
“The strain’s too much,” yelled the corporal, “the shirts are going to tear!”
“No they’re not.” shouted the Captain, “they’re just stretching a little, keep on pulling.”
Now back on top of the world. The General was having his hand shaken by the mayor, “Well done General well done. I knew all along that you could do it, you’re such a brave fellow.”
The troops also congratulated the General on his great feat of bravery, by patting him on the back.
Happy and smiling, the General and the residents set off back to the city with the Captain and the troops bring up the rear, their now elongated shirt sleeves, trailing in the dust.

[4 french hens]

Here's one I wrote for my webb site, where there are plenty more from other authors. I was hoping to feature a travel story about Richards Jogle but I think he's been to busy to submit it to me as yet.
www.fenlandwriterscircle.com


You Never Know

Today I am going to dig the vegetable patch. It’s going to be hard work. We’ve had a long dry spell and there is no moisture in the ground. The grass is brown and the ground is hard as rock. I’m contemplating using my powerful rotavator, but I think even that might just bounce of the surface.

This is my new vegetable patch as I’ve recently moved into a new house where all the garden is laid to grass. The neighbours can not remember it any other way in the forty years they have been here.

I’ve marked out the patch with surveyor’s spray paint, and yesterday evening sprayed it with the hosepipe, but it remains hard as rock. I’m looking at the ground and have decided it’s a no-go, especially as heavy rain is forecast for the weekend.

One of my hobbies is metal detecting and I decided that while waiting for the ground to soften in the rain, I would go over the patch to see if there is anything interesting in the ground.

I prepared for the metal detecting by spray paint marking the area into one metre wide lanes, then with a new set of batteries in the detector I worked down the length of each lane. Each time the detector beeps, I spray a cross on the ground at that point, to come back when the ground is a bit softer after the rain but before I rotavate it.

When I got to the last strip, and about half way along it, the detector gave out a much louder buss than usual. This is normally a sign that there is something large buried at that point, probably near the surface.

This time I marked the spot with a circle surrounding the cross, then I realized that my forehead was wet with sweat and that I was feeling a little odd. I also noticed that my hands were beginning to shake a little. Although my brow was sweating, I actually felt quite cold.

I swept the detector over the remainder of the strip and marked a few small buzzes with the usual small cross, then I went in doors to prepare some lunch noting with some satisfaction that the sky was beginning to cloud over and that the clouds were getting very dark in colour.

Over the next two days it rained heavily continuously, causing some minor flooding in the garden. Because the ground had been undisturbed for at least forty years, it was very compacted and the sudden downpour had nowhere to runaway and I made a mental note to go over the remainder of the grass, spearing it with a fork to aereate it in order to give excess water somewhere to go.

The day after it had ceased raining, I went out with my spade and a small hand trowel to investigate where I had marked the large, circled cross. The ground had softened enough for me to use the spade to remove the grass as a turf and then I passed the detector over the spot again, and this time the buzz was even louder. I felt a tingle of excitement and wondered what was buried under the earth?

I pushed the spade into the earth and it hit something hard and metallic, so I abandoned it and used the trowel to remove a small scrapping at a time. I soon revealed a square of metal that was flat and plane but not very rusty and I gently prised it out of the ground.

As I lifted it out of the earth, I noticed underneath it, another piece of metal, oval in shape, about two inches long. Using the trowel, I scrapped away the earth around it and found it to be about a foot long going down into the ground. I tried to pull it out of the hole, but it would not budge. It seemed to buried vertically in the ground and as I scrapped away some more earthI uncovered an ornate cross piece.
I will admit to trembling with excitement at this point, as I grabbed what was obviously a handle and pulled it hard. I felt it move slightly and using both hands and using the power in my legs, I pulled it out of the ground, from where it came quite slowly.

What I had in my hands when I stood up was a sword, and at first I thought it was broken, because it was only short, but the point was there and true to either side of the axis of the blade.

Now I was really shaking as I thought it may be a complete Roman sword and with the ornate handle it had to come from a high ranking officer.

The local museum identified it as Roman and as a ceremonial sword and my find soon made the national news. I eventually received a large sum of money and the sword underwent testing and dating. It was declared genuine and the most complete example of its type ever found. Now on display in our local museum, it is attracting huge numbers of visitors to the museum every year.