Discworld and Member Articles
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Written by TheJackal
Sunday, 28 August 2005 |
Nearly two hours earlier, Nemoy had crossed Friar’s Bay and was getting off the ferry. A local man told him that Sleepy Falls was no more than an hour’s heavy riding away. Nemoy’s horse looked tired so he didn’t go too fast. Nemoy did not exactly love his horse, but there was a certain fondness amongst them. Jessie was his companion on the road.
Nemoy thought some more about what he would do when he found his mysterious attacker. He would probably rough the guy up a little beforehand, and then find out why exactly the guy wanted him dead.
A more immediate matter of pressing importance was the densely wooded area which Nemoy had now entered. Places like this did nothing to calm Nemoy’s universal fear of bandits. Every bend could bring with it a danger, lurking in the shadows, waiting the perfect moment to spring forth an attack.
So far however, the only sounds to be heard apart from the gentle cloppity clop of Nemoy’s horse on the hard, beaten out dirt track, was the occasional chirping of some bird or another, whose name Nemoy did not know. Or at least, the sound that it made.
Things would probably have gone on like that until Sleepy Falls, were it not for the man Nemoy espied hanging upside down from a tree by the roadside. This not being an every day occurrence, Nemoy quickly demounted his horse to check on the unfortunate soul.
The man looked to be unconscious, if not dead; a speedy examination of the stranger’s jugular revealed a pulse. Not dead then. Although, in saying that, the man must have been hanging in that position for hours, maybe days; it felt as if all the blood in his body was now lighting up his face, like a beetroot.
The man was not unconscious after all, and Nemoy’s presence seemed to rouse his senses.
‘Ww…what’s going on? Who are you?’
‘My name is unimportant for now. You need some assistance.’
‘Oh God,’ said the man, ‘am I still stuck in that bloody tree?’
‘Yes, your right foot is caught where two branches meet. It’s too far out of my reach so I’ll have to climb up a bit to free your leg. That is, if you want me to?’
‘Why the hell would I not want you to? I’ve been stuck in this bloody tree for only the Gods know how long.’
‘Well, how am I meant to know if you are not, in fact, part of some religious order who does this type of thing. I wouldn’t want to come between a man and his religious endeavours.’
‘Religious endeavours? Listen mate, get me down now from this bloody tree.’
‘Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me if you fail some group initiation test for leaving early,’ Nemoy said whilst grabbing hold of a low-lying branch and swinging his body upwards. Twelve seconds later and the job was nearly done.
Nemoy placed his hand on the man’s trapped shoe but stopped before releasing it. ‘I’m going to free your foot now. It is a good eight feet to the ground, so I’d advise you to cushion you head with your arms.’
The man did just that and Nemoy released the tree’s grip. The man landed with a thud sound worthy of any Foley artist, and his artistic fall and roll might have received an eight point two for style.
‘Thank you,’ said the newly freed mystery man.
It was the first time the newly freed man had not used the word ‘bloody’ in a sentence so Nemoy took the compliment well. ‘Don’t worry about it. What were you doing there in the first place?’
‘It is a bit embarrassing. I jumped from a branch higher up, near the top.’
‘What would you want to do that for?’ asked Nemoy.
‘Oh, don’t get me started on why. I am, I shall let you know, the world’s most unlucky man. You name it and it has happened to me.’
‘Aw, come on, you can’t be that unlucky,’ said Nemoy sceptically. ‘I mean, it’s all about probabilities and improbabilities. Some things are statistically likely to happen, and some are not. Luck doesn’t come into it.’
‘Oh yes? Well, have you ever had the measles?’
‘Yes, had them’
‘How about temporary blindness, not on a sunny day, but in a storm?’
‘No, never had that one.’
‘Ever been struck by lightning?’
‘Lightning you say? Can’t admit I’ve had the misfortune.’
‘Well, I have. August fifteenth.’
‘What, all on the same day? That’s impossible!’
‘Yeh, that is what everyone says. It happens, okay. All the time. If something is so improbable that someone out there thinks it cannot happen, I guarantee that by the following Friday, I’ll be in a hospital somewhere telling the doctors all about how it wasn’t quite as bad the second time.’
‘So you were just going to kill yourself then? By jumping off a tree?’
‘No, I didn’t jump just anywhere. I was going to hang myself; got an especially strong rope and all.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘Branch snapped. Fell a good fifty feet, bounced off some tree limbs on the way down (which is very sore, I can tell you). Finally landed upside down not eight feet from the bloody bottom. The first few hours were the worst. Thought someone would come by, see? Then I lost all hope and things started looking up. Went a bit mad there yesterday. Thought I saw a tiger. Nearly shat myself.’
‘Er, good thing it wasn’t a tiger then.’
‘Yeh, I only wet myself.’
‘So… what are you going to do now then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ said Nemoy, ‘don’t you see this as a sign that you should be alive? Maybe you could devote yourself to some cause; make a difference.’
‘Nah, bollucks to that. I’m off up another tree to have it over with.’
‘Are you sure I cannot talk you out of it? I’d feel pretty guilty if I didn’t try and all.’
‘Nope, my mind’s made up. I can’t take any more of this wretched luck.’
‘Well, if you’re sure then.’
‘Don’t be disappointed lad,’ said the man. ‘You made an effort and I thank you for it. Now, if you could see your way as to giving me a little boost up onto this tree here. My leg is a bit sore and I’m not as young and flexible as I used to be.’
Nemoy acquiesced and soon the man was up and climbing his way to the top. It was also time for Nemoy to be heading, and so remounting his horse Jessie, Nemoy was on his way.
Approximately twelve minutes later, the man had reached the top, tied the rope to the tree, put the noose around his neck, and took the final plunge. Up went he, then down. Nobody saw nor heard any of this except a small squirrel, who happened to be the creature the man had yesterday mistaken for a tiger. The squirrel noted the events in the fleeting way that squirrels do. The only thing that annoyed the animal was that the man was just after landing again on the branch where the squirrel kept some of its nuts. Enough, it said, was enough and the squirrel would soon be down to scratch the man’s eyes out for the repeated intrusion.
Keith, the local blacksmith, saw the stranger before the man saw him. Keith did not think too much about the man. It was just another traveller. The man stopped in the middle of the village, obviously lost. Practically all of the locals were in the fields, so Keith walked over to see if he could help.
‘Hi there. Are you lost or something?’
‘I’m looking for someone actually,’ said Nemoy.
‘What’s his name?’
‘This might sound kind of funny but I don’t know the man’s name. He wears all black clothes, though. I was told that he passed by here not more than a day ago.’
‘All black, huh? That could only be Mr. Adams. He lives up on a hill, in a white house. Just follow the road to the end of the village. You’ll see it on your right. It has a long driveway up to it.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Nemoy.
‘You a friends of his?’ asked Keith. He clearly thought it odd that the man did not know Mr. Adams’ name. Then again, Adams never had company, so that was odd in itself.
‘I’m more of a friend of a friend,’ said Nemoy with a slight grin a his face.
Walking through the village, Nemoy felt a thrill of anticipation and fear run through his entire body, from head to tired toes. This was it; the moment he had worked towards.
After passing the village proper, Nemoy round a bend in the roadway, and there it was: up in the distance, without a doubt in his mind, was the house. It was white, and precisely where the villager had said it was. The house looked old. It had not entirely aged well; neither was it falling into disrepair.
Nemoy led his horse up an embankment off the right-hand side of the road. From there he led Jessie to a densely shrubbed area and tied her up. Leading on from that, he moved slowly through the undergrowth, ever nearing the small house. Nemoy decided to enter via the building’s backdoor. If that were locked, he would forcefully gain entry via other means.
Now Nemoy had reached the edge of the back garden. The bushes still hid him from view. Nemoy did not expect anyone to be watching from a window at the rear of the house. However, just in case, in order to reach the back door unseen, he would have to dart behind a large evergreen tree in the garden’s centre. From there, it would take one more quick movement to land at his goal.
Nemoy took a deep breath. In, out. That calmed him down a bit. And then he was off. Less than three seconds later he was at the tree. Nemoy was thankful for the old tree’s large, overhanging branches as they shielded him well.
Another deep gulp of air, this one bigger than the last. Nemoy peered round the tree, towards the back porch and the door. The porch had two steps so Nemoy made a mental note not to trip running over them. The door itself was located near the very left of the house. It would take about four seconds to get there.
Nemoy moved fast, faster in fact, than he knew he could go. Then he was there. Nemoy checked the handle. It turned; the door was not locked.
A final deep breath and it would be all systems go. In…out. Nemoy put his right hand on the door handle.
Nemoy never saw the frying pan coming. His body slumped almost in slow motion onto the porch floor.
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