Coming down the creaking stairs, thirteen-year-old Mark was sliding his hand along the banister that was well overdue for a fresh coat of paint. His bare feet hated the sensation that the worn carpet created. It felt like sandpaper and dirt rubbing into his soles. Holding onto the shaky handrail he recoiled and came to an abrupt halt as a splinter dug into his finger. \u2018Damn handrail!\u2019 he exclaimed as he examined the depth of the offending spearhead that had pierced him in battle. \u2018Sarge\u2026\u2019 then a cough. \u2018If I don\u2019t make it, tell my wife that my last thoughts were of her,\u2019 he said in an agonising whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You\u2019ll make it soldier,\u2019 he heard the reply. \u2018It\u2019s nasty, but it\u2019s missed vital organs. You might lose an arm though.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He recommenced the descent down the slippery mountain side, holding his wound tightly to slow the blood loss. He had just one goal for the moment: to stay conscious long enough to get to help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He made it! He stood outside the entrance to a land of wizards and goblins. It was an old enchanted door on the side of a rock face. He knew a healing potion or even a friendly magician, might be found here. As he opened the door, the familiar squeak that annoyed him in his world, was heard. He concluded the noise was a signal \u2013 a coded sound – from an enemy goblin letting others know he was there. He was entering a hostile camp slowly, careful not to break even a single twig, as he quietly moved forward. He kept looking both ways in case it was an ambush, and when the coast was clear he crept deeper into the dangerous terrain carefully checking to avoid the goblin platoon that was reported to be patrolling that area. It looked unoccupied for now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He made his way deeper in, and he soon found himself in an old building. He crossed the floor to an ancient cupboard, and looked inside. Mark\u2019s eyes widened as he gazed on all the gold and precious gems imaginable. If he could just pocket a handful, he would be wealthy for life. He put out his hand and plunged it into the treasure. He grabbed a fistful of rubies and began stuffing them into his jacket when a voice spoke from behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018What are you\u2026 why are … What are you doing in here?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mother had come into the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Mum, you\u2019re up. I thought you were, um, napping,\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019m up,\u2019 she said with a slight slur. \u201cBut I have a splitting headache.\u2019 She reached for the Panadol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018And why on earth are you \u2026 are you taking the whole box of, um, Band-Aids?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019m wounded,\u2019 came the reply as he stretched out his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Let me \u2026 let me have um have a look at that,\u2019 came a slow response.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This older female witch \u2013 some called her a herbalist – was examining the offending timber that had punctured his arm. She reached for her magic potion and was soon administering the necessary ingredients to work a healing miracle. Yes: removal of the offending spear was likely to be successful and despite the loss of much blood, he felt more confident that he would pull through. She pulled on the offending length of shaft and it came away. Oh no! Part of the spear head had some off and remained in him, deep in his flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I think I got most of it. I can\u2019t see it properly, I\u2019m um, still tired, I guess. You\u2019ll have to fix it if it still hurts,\u2019 she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018No worries mum. Thanks all the same.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Now give me those rubies so I can put them back in the treasure chest, and get out of here,\u2019 he was sure she said. Mark handed over his pocketful of treasure reluctantly. \u2018I guess it\u2019s a reasonable price to pay the witch for saving my life. At least I\u2019ll pull through now,\u2019 he reasoned to himself, justifying the loss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Here you go, take this,\u2019 he heard, as she let him keep one ruby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the witch went back to her den and returned to her single bed of spiders\u2019 webbing and snake skins, Mark shot out of that cave, and headed straight for the back entrance to that deep underground tunnel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The back door was always sticky and it presented him with the same dilemma he constantly faced. It was the only way out of the booby-trapped lair that he had stumbled into. The dragon was still sleeping at the other end of the chamber. He had to be as quiet as a mouse. He cautiously opened the ancient door with its magical carvings. The tiniest creek sounded like a siren screaming out that an intruder was here. Somehow, unbelievably, the dragon stayed asleep. It was a slow process in case he set off possible deadly traps. Finally, the door opened enough for him to slip through. From the other side he carefully closed the massive oak door, and found some footwear that surprisingly fitted his bare feet. They weren\u2019t thongs. They were magic slippers that gave him invisibility while he wore them. He then descended the thousand stone stairs to safe ground below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The garden tap and hose constantly dribbled fresh water. Washers were never replaced and more than one tap suffered from sialorrhea. But it was not a small trickle in a back garden. It was a raging river that needed to be crossed to get safely out of harm\u2019s way. He still needed to put some distance between himself and that sleeping winged monster back deep in the mountain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With every ounce of effort that he could muster, he forced his way across the river. He coughed and spluttered as occasional mouthfuls of water tried to impede his efforts. But in the end, he made it. He was safe. He reached into his pocket and found that single precious ruby: it was still there. He held it to the light, squinting in the sun, and let the sun\u2019s rays sparkle around it. He was still rich after all! It had not been a wasted effort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Shoving it back into his pocket he made his way through thick bushland. The garden was terribly overgrown and no one ever tended it. But it was not a garden today: it was a thick cruel forest. Mark had to push aside the clinging branches and twin that threatened to strangle an unwary traveller. After fighting the raging river this was no easy task. He was spent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Finally, he could go no further. He collapsed under some thick foliage, and fell asleep.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Coming down the creaking stairs, thirteen-year-old Mark was sliding his hand along the banister that was well overdue for a fresh coat of paint. 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Boats float in the water, tugging against their moorings like dogs on tightened leashes.\u00a0The sun\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Stories"","block_context":{"text":"Stories","link":"https:\/\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/?cat=5"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/annie-spratt-KjxH1eHFb8w-unsplash-scaled.jpg?fit=801%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/annie-spratt-KjxH1eHFb8w-unsplash-scaled.jpg?fit=801%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/annie-spratt-KjxH1eHFb8w-unsplash-scaled.jpg?fit=801%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/annie-spratt-KjxH1eHFb8w-unsplash-scaled.jpg?fit=801%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":3617,"url":"https:\/\/mountainashchapter.com.au\/?p=3617","url_meta":{"origin":3743,"position":1},"title":"A Family Thing","author":"Barbara McCarthy","date":"June 23, 2023","format":false,"excerpt":"Cliff liked his village for the quietness, the peacefulness, and the absence of passing traffic, but mostly he liked the blank brick walls and fences in the main street and the little lanes. 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