Daily Archives: March 23, 2017

White-Skunk seeks medicine VII…

*

… Rice-Bird now knew the thing that Skunk feared and he began to throw his voice in a whistle from Skunk’s back-pack.

“Ugh!” cried Skunk when he heard the whistle and he turned and fled in the opposite direction.

But Rice-Bird threw his voice into a whistle again and again stopped Skunk in his tracks.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” cried Skunk.

But whichever way Skunk fled, Rice-Bird threw his voice into a whistle which sounded like it was coming from up ahead and it was not long before Skunk was exhausted from running in circles without getting anywhere.

Skunk collapsed onto the ground, prostrate. “I am tired,” he said to himself, “it is too much for me to be carrying such a weight on my back, I will hang up my brother, here, while I go on and then return for him later.”

So Skunk stripped off all Rice-Bird’s adornments, for Rice-Bird was again playing dead, and hung him up on a thorn bush.

As Skunk turned to leave, Rice-Bird emitted a low whistle, and Skunk swiftly scampered away from the thorn bush in fear.

With one long, strong, final blast of a whistle, Rice-Bird sent Skunk far and away up the valley at a pace before he finally disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“That’ll teach him,” laughed Rice-Bird, unhooking himself from the thorn bush.

He had lost the beads from around his neck but at least he was still alive…

to be continued

Wind, rain and apparitions

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

It rained. Pretty much all weekend. We did manage a couple of forays out into the hills… but our aim was, on both occasions, pretty specific. With another book underway, we needed photographs. One jaunt saw us terrifying the local teenagers as they came upon a very strange figure… I am not at all sure that we haven’t added a new legend to the folklore of that particular village.

It is already an eerie landscape, particularly on a silver day with the constant drizzle deepening the lichens to a vivid emerald green against the rain-blackened rocks. Quite what the boys made of the whole affair I can only imagine, based upon their shocked expletives.

But, I can imagine some old gaffer sitting by the fireside, telling the paranormal experts fifty years hence, about the day that he and his pals came face to face with something that was half man…

View original post 232 more words