Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1761579-Castleman
Rated: E · Other · Satire · #1761579
Just a silly little something I wrote to decompress from some emotional writing.


“Well, my boy, here it is. Your castle and best of all you get to name it.”

“Oh father, thank you for the castle! How wonderful it is. Whatever is it made out of?”

“Stone, my boy, stone.”

“Oh, yay, then I shall name my castle Stony.”

“That’s a splendid name! The Castleman would be much impressed.”

“The Castelman, father? Who is the Castleman?”

“Here let me sing a few bars from a song I wrote about the Castleman.”

“Can it wait, father? It’s winter going on and I’m a might bit chilled.”

“Funny you should say that my boy, if you look out…no not that way, my boy. That’s just the train station. Unless you plan on getting off at Sunshine, don’t ever take that train because Forever, is a long, long ways away.”

“Oh, father listen to the whistle blow. What a spectacular sound it makes.”

“All Aboard! Sunshine.”

“Sunshine sounds like a lovely place-especially in the winter.”

“Yes, yes, but back on track, my boy.”

“Oh, father, you made a funny.”

“The Castleman is not a laughing matter. Everything and I mean everything leads back to The Castleman. Your precious Stony would be nothing but a pile of rubble. The sound of the whistle you so admire would be silenced. Sunshine would be called Solar Eclipse. Those men over there lighting the fire and starting the coal on the train they would no longer exist.”

“Oh, father, The Castleman must be very important indeed. Please tell me more-but not in song if you don’t mind.”

“Not even a few bars?”

“Not even a few.”

“Well, my boy, if you look in this direction you will see the ocean.”

“And ships! Look at the ships on the ocean in winter as it goes on, father.”

“Will you stop interrupting, my boy. My memories are starting to get crowded with all your chatter.”

“I’m sorry, father. I do love ships.”

“You are forgiven, my boy, for your boyish ways. But The Castleman may not be so forgiving if you don’t zip the lip.”

“Consider them zipped, father.”

“Look out at the ocean and listen to the warm wind as it blows. What do you hear?… My boy, it wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

“I hear…I hear…I hear…All Aboard Forever!”

“The warm wind, my boy, not the ships captain. What do you hear the warm wind saying?”

“Forever…forever right a nude A is horn. I don’t get it, father.”

“Heavy sigh, no. For every night a new day is born.”


“Yes, wow. And that is why The Castleman is The Castleman. And why everything leads back to him. For every night a new day is born. The Castelman is the night and he is the day and he is you and he is me.”

“I am The Castleman, father?”

“Well, not really. Like the force he is just with you, my boy. But you can call upon his wisdom whenever you want.”

“Father what’s that sound?”

“Oh, it’s just the sound of a gun being loaded.”

“Shall, I call upon The Castleman as to what we should do, father?”

“No need, my boy. Run like the dickens!”

© Copyright 2011 Josie Cloos (mammie 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/1761579-Castleman