Snake Eyes

It was that failed intellectual and meddlesome nose-pokerinner, Leopold Prattle. He held his scrawny, pale arms up and his black robes, inappropriate for such a hot day, slid down to his shoulders revealing his unwashed armpits. The hubbub faltered and lost its lack of direction altogether. Eager ears tuned in for what would inevitably be disinformation.

“Thank you, everyone. Now, what we have here is a simple case of dragon breakdown. We could all use a decent meal, so I proffer we cut the dragon into family sized morsels and roast them at tonight’s feast.”

“What feast is that?” shouted a member of the crowd.

“Our first ever ‘Feast of the dragon’. We shall give thanks to the Great Father for food in times of hardship.”

There were cries of ‘Aye’ and ‘so be it’ and ‘Great Father be praised’. A few villagers sank to their knees and raised their hands to the sky in gratitude. I suppose they must have been the really hungry ones. I had to say something before the whole situation got out of hand.

“Hold on, everyone. Just a moment please…” They were all happy. No one was listening. “OI, YOU LOT. SHUT YOUR NOISE.”

The mob fell silent, not altogether amused to have their excitement and praise interrupted. Leopold Prattle, the stinkiest priest ever to infect Long Lofting looked even less pleased to hear my voice.

“You’d better have something very important to add to this matter, Delly Duke.”

“As it happens, I do. That isn’t a dragon. It’s a demon. I cannot advise the eating of its flesh.”

There were intakes of breath all around the crater followed by a mass wrinkling of noses. Was that the first time they’d noticed the smell of corruption? Then came the rippled murmurs of horror as the crowd’s mind flipped into negative again. People drew away. Leopold Prattle saw the effect of my words and he looked ugly over it.

“Nyev, nyev, nyev,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance. “Villagers, Delly Duke is a renowned busybody and breeder of discontent in the community. You can be certain his words are pure deceit and viciousness. The inaugural ‘Feast of the Dragon’ will go ahead as planned. We shall all have full stomachs and glad hearts.” He bunched his elongated fingers into what passed for a fist in the priesthood and punched the air for emphasis. The effort was uncomfortable judging by the way he winced. No matter how hungry and debilitated the Long Loftingers were, they didn’t exactly cheer. I’d sown the seeds of uncertainty and I’d done it a lot more efficiently than Blini Rickett and Puff Wiggery could plant cabbages.

“Please listen, all of you,” intoned the puny priest, “I can assure you with the Great Father as my witness that this fallen animal is a dragon and that we can gorge ourselves upon it this very night.”

I had to say something.

“Wait, everyone. My learned manual clearly states that this is a demon.”

I opened the little red Ledger to the correct page and held it up for all to see. It was useless. They could see the drawings but hardly any of them could read. Leopold Prattle had both the Great Father and hunger on his side. The people sided with him.

As the larger men of the village planned a way to haul the body from the crater and the children began to run around in excitement at the prospect of a meal, the mothers cried tears of happiness over the Great Father’s blessing.

I stood back and watched the rest of the crops in the field turn black as invisible waves of oppression cascaded off the fallen fiend. I took a sip of my milk but it had rotted to a scummy yellow gall that made me retch. I emptied it onto the diseased field and was relieved to overhear that they aimed to drag the creature to the opposite side of the village for butchery.

Bumcakes

I was also delighted to note that the demon’s corruption hadn’t reached as far as my croft. Stepping through the thigh high gate I saw my corn, green and healthy, my yams apparently unharmed. The chickens looked unaffected, they scratched the dusty ground and jerked their heads as usual. Mary the goat regarded me through mischievous eyes—far too reminiscent of the eyes of the malevolent beings depicted in the Ledger. Living next to Blini Rickett and Puff Wiggery might have been entertaining but it was proving to be dangerous, too. I stomped up onto the porch and through the back door.

Velvet was about her kitchen chores and though it was still morning I could smell the promise of lunch. She turned when she heard my footsteps, knowing straight away that something was wrong.

“What’s the matter, my pet? You look fair vexed.”

I set the empty cup down on our table.

“I don’t know where to start. Rickett and Wiggery are idiots. Prattle is a jumble-headed interferer. Everyone else is so hungry their brains have dried up. And a large demon has fallen into next door’s field.”

“Oh, now don’t be such a grumbler, Delly. You’ll feel better when you’ve had some lunch.”

“What are we having?”

“Corn patties with an egg on top.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a loaf of bread.”