An introduction
As you go round on a merry go round. The smiling, cheering faces around you blur and merge. All the happy faces become one grotesque behemoth of smiling mouths and crinkled eyes. You can make out traces of forms but everything moves and no matter how you might strain your eyes. You will never see the sense amongst the carnival of laughing madness.
The Author pauses
And here the author pauses his pen, he humbly wishes. As a chef might about his dishes. to want to know what you thought. Were his works competent, good or bad? how could he improve it a tad? Any advice would be thrice adored, any comment treated as a lord and the criticisms are welcome too, so say what you think, please do. For its ever so lonely in this dank cellar... writing is all the writer can do as the teller. Of this tale most peculiar...
Chapter 1. Why is Daddy not back?
"Why is Daddy still not back?" asked young Timmy to his turnip, a bulbous ugly thing. From one angle the turnip looked like an old bearded man, from another it looked like a lion and from another like a rotting corpse.
"I don't know Jimmy, the War is kind to some men, to others it is mean." replied the Turnip in a whisper.
"My name's not Jimmy," said Timmy, "I'm Timmy".
"But the name carved in my back is Jimmy. And I know for the cuts are deep and my juices still ooze from the top most curve of the J" said the turnip.
"Jimmy is my brother and he's dead." said Timmy.
"When are you going to bury him?" meowed his cat, "I wouldn't mind if it wern't for the fact that he stinks up the place like a rotten fish, and speaking of fish I wouldn't mind a few at this present time."
BURY ME, said Jimmy in Timmy's mind, calling from beneath the floor boards.
"Be quiet! All of you! With this racket I cannot hear the Choir Master's judgement!" shouted Timmy. Then when silence was restored, he turned and faced the Choir Master. A duck in body but for a head, a clockwork ticking mechanism that ended in a miniature wooden cottage.
The others waited expectantly for The Choir Master's judgement was final. The clicking noises increased and slowly the door of the miniture cottage opened and large black spiders began to climb out. They clambered out and crawled among the gears and cogs then scattered on the floor.
"It seems The Choir Master thinks we must reclaim Daddy from war." said Timmy, popping a passing spider in his mouth and enjoying the feel of it climbing up his nasal passage.
"But the war is mean unless it gets a present." said the turnip.
"Then we must bring it a gift" said Timmy.
BURY ME, said Jimmy in Timmy's mind, calling from beneath the floor boards.
"The war likes death" said the cat.
The Choir Master clicked and whirred and this time from its cottage, a child's hand emerged and groped for air. Then tired it fell limps and hung there, until something dragged it back into the cottage with a mass of ticking, then the cottage doors closed.
"What an excellent idea!" said Timmy in excitement, " We shall bring the war death as a gift... and what could be more symbolic of death then a corpse." So saying he peeled back a floorboard and dragged out his brother.
BURY ME, said Jimmy in Timmy's mind, held in Timmy's grip.
"Not yet," said Timmy, "There's still more work for you to do."
"You have to be a gift for war." said the cat.
"To please it and tame its mighty wrath." whispered the turnip.
"So that I might get Daddy back" said Timmy.
The Choir Master ticked in agreement, releasing a swarm of buzzing flies from its cottage to wish them good luck.
So in this way, Timmy, his dead brother Jimmy, his turnip and his cat. Headed to meet war to see if he could get his father back.
YOU ARE READING
Merry Go Round
HorrorClockwork Ducks, Gambling with Body Parts, Destroying Cities, a Parade of Monsters, Carniverous Clouds and lots of Death. All told in loving rhyme and joyful prose, a twisted fairy tale of perverse proportions. The Tale of Timmy as he Travels Throu...
