*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1957151-Tower-Heights
Rated: E · Draft · Other · #1957151
Short Story Competition Entry October 2013
I was working in my kitchen one day, when I became aware of an old man on the lane outside. People passed by my house all the time, and they caused me little disturbance, but then he had turned and let himself in by the gate. From the long rifle slung over his shoulder, I guessed he was out hunting., but as he made his way to the open door, I saw no sign of any rabbit or bird hanging from his belt. He looked weary and hungry, so I offered him a chair and some food and drink, for which he seemed grateful. He leaned the rifle against the wall outside, sat down and spoke to me as he ate.

'I always think that one good turn deserves another. Do you think that?' He peered at me with bright enquiring eyes. His voice was thin as the wind that whispers in the willows, and whether it was time or hardship that etched those lines onto his face, he seemed as ancient as the oaks. I smiled and said that I had always endeavoured to follow a similar principle in life.

'My journey is a long one, but don't ask me where I'm going because I don't know. It always perks me up to meet a good-hearted soul like yourself. You've done me a good turn, feeding me when I was almost fit to drop, and I'd like to return that favour. Times are lean, so I have nothing solid to hand over. If you are in agreement then I'd like to tell you a tale instead.'

I was happy enough with this arrangement, so I sat him down in an easy chair and listened to his storytelling, which went like this.

-o0o-


In the mountains above a certain valley there is a cavern in the rocks caused by some long-gone earth movement. It is famous now for having been developed into fancy holiday apartments for rich people in the big city, and a road has been pushed through the mountains from the valley below so they can drive their big cars to the door. For a time though, the only way up there was by goat track, and the cave was inhabited exclusively by a wise woman.

Her main selling point on what passed as a tourist trail in those times was that she offered a fair exchange to anyone who presented her with a gift. She would reciprocate by granting one wish and for a while everyone was happy that their wishes always seemed to be granted and all was harmonious. She fell from favour however for a bitter dispute with the democratically appointed and pompously named Council of Valley Fathers (not that the members were exclusively male), who saw the development potential of the cave but were baulked by the sitting tenant denying any access to the Council who wanted to go in, poke around, measure up, and generally develop it to suit the needs, not just of the old woman but those of the few hundred other old people who might one day turn up at her door.

An unpleasant period followed. The Council claimed that even if you could call a cave a property, the lady had no legal title to it, and by rights the council could just take it over. An underhand campaign was started. It was insinuated that the elderly resident was in fact a witch, once known for her charity but now grown bitter and vengeful with age and with a fat book of spells at her evil fingertips. People also began to say that she was a fraud and that their wishes had never come true. Nobody remembered a single person who had woken up after a visit to the cave to find a new car in the drive or a fat cheque in the post, or for that matter any of the material goods they hankered after. In fact, even the crops were beginning to fail and expensive feed was having to be brought in to keep the animals going. 

-o0o-


The Chairperson of the Council, sitting at a splendid mahogany desk and surrounded by oak panels, was confiding his thoughts to his clerk. The quietly-spoken young man, whose job it was to listen to the Chairperson all day long and know when to take notes and when to put his pad and pen away, recognised immediately that this conversation should not be a matter of record.

'This is such a nuisance. Can't this woman understand that she stands in the way of progress? The valley is all used up, we need new cash coming in from outside. The 'Tower Heights' development will make some people rich and we... they are not going to let this old hag get in the way.'

He stood and paced along an expensive Oriental carpet, smoking an expensive cigar made in the Caribbean, emitting clouds of indignant smoke as he spoke.

'Just hypothetically speaking here. If this cave was inhabited by a fierce wild animal, what would we do? Why we would shoot it. But that wouldn't look good. No. So we could have a contest instead. See who could rid us of the beast. Then let one of the contestants shoot it. That way the public ill-feeling would be on the hunter. We after all didn't say to shoot it, just get rid of it.'

The young man spoke up.

'So you are looking for someone to either persuade this woman to leave the cave, or to make her disappear? What would be the prize for winning this contest?'

'Prize? Money. Maybe a small slice from the public purse. Enough for them to make a life outside the valley.'

'I'll do it.'

The important man blustered for a while but finally agreed to let the young clerk have the afternoon off – as it was Friday – and that he should report on progress on the Monday.

'There will be a nice fat bonus for you if you succeed.' Then, he snorted at the back of the retreating youth. "No job if you don't!' 

-o0o-


The young man had grown up on tales of the wise woman in the mountains since childhood. He lived with his Parents and Grandparents in a house that would appreciate the injection of that bonus. Hurrying home, he picked up a sack of potatoes. Hefting this onto his shoulder, he took to the mountains and found the cave where he immediately offered his burden to the witch. For a monster, she was unusually conversational.

'A most unexpected gift. I can never get much to grow up here. It is a shame that your Valley Fathers or whatever they call themselves could not see fit to offer me anything in all their visits. A gift is always appreciated, especially food. People were so much more generous once.'

He could see that she was clearly very old, and when he asked about her memories she spoke of times before the people came to farm and live in the valley, of ancient travellers who would pause at her camp fire and leave food for her. They discussed the news from the valley below and he was surprised to learn that she was well acquainted with his grandmother's generation. She was clearly saddened when he mentioned that many of these older folk had died. She spoke happily of when whole parties of people would come to bring offerings to her, whilst she would grant them good fortune or a decent harvest.

'People had simpler needs in those days. But shall I tell you a secret?'
'Please do.'
'I have no more power to grant wishes than you, or anybody else. The soil in the valley was rich, crops were abundant and the people got prosperous and enjoyed good health and a long life. This has nothing to do with me. But I was grateful for the company, so I carried on granting wishes in exchange for the food. Then came your parents generation, Bringing trinkets and baubles that I had no need for and asking for cars and homes in return. What could I do? In the end they gave up on me and stopped coming. And now the good days are over and they are blaming me.'

He thought for a while.

'You know that they mean to take the cave from you by any means?'

'I know that. It has come to the point where people intend to take out what they want without first putting anything in. To tell the truth I had come to a decision before you came, but it is nice to have someone to talk it over with. I have decided to leave the mountains and go on a journey of discovery. I hope to find a place where people are more accepting and don't want more than they deserve. I am going to have to be in disguise, as people will just try to take advantage of an old lady.'

-o0o-


'How long? How soon?.' The Chairperson was impatient to get something moving on the Council's plans.

'A month from today she will be gone.'

The young man travelled up each weekend to speak to the wise old friend he had found. On the third occasion, he found no trace of the woman.

-o0o-


'And so,' said the old huntsman. 'I disguised myself as a huntsman and set off to explore this fine country on my own. I do find people such as your generous self from time to time and this keeps me going. The young man who was so nice to me got his bonus and a promotion and lived long and happily. Now if I can take my leave of you, I will be on my way.'

With that, he thanked me for the meal and bid me good fortune. He picked up his weapon and went on his way.

1660 Words
© Copyright 2013 JeremyBuxton (rjbuxton at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1957151-Tower-Heights