Old man Cratchett

Cratchett used to tell Edward that he wasn’t from round these parts, that he was from some place far away; that he’d travelled a lot.  He told stories about places he’d been, people he’d met; things he’d seen.

“If you’d only been there!” he’d say, with a smile on his face, eyes glazed.  He’d shake his head and look over at Edward.  “Someday boy, someday you’ll leave here, go travelling, and then you’ll find out for yourself!”

Cratchett said that he was born a ŝtono simio, a stone monkey, born in the misty mountain forests of Hejmo.  Edward always thought the old man looked like a monkey, with his wrinkled skin and his deep brown eyes.

Edward burst into Cratchett’s workshop, face red, breathing in ragged gasps.  The old man looked up from his work in surprise.

“I’ve…found…I’ve….it’s in the…it’s in the junk yard…it’s a…come see…come with me…!” Edward panted.

Advertisements

About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using Stumbleupon.com, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
This entry was posted in Creative writing, Wickes Chronicles and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Old man Cratchett

  1. Love it.. Open to individual interpretation. Perfect.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s