Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
Once upon a time, there was village called Lonely Town, situated in the middle of the Willow Woods, and surrounded by six other villages, located outside the woods.
The inhabitants of Lonely Town were largely women and girls, with some babies included, as with all the outlying villages. The menfolk had gone to war, and the younger men had gone in search of work in the large industrial city of the north, Bladecosh-Walkonen.
The womenfolk of Lonely Town were content enough with their cooking, cleaning, child-rearing and tending of domestic animals, including sheep, goats and chickens. Some women collected twigs and branches from the surrounding woods, and were even known to fell a tree, when it became necessary.
One day, Bethel Hand, a senior girl, attended the weekly community gathering, where news could be shared and disputes resolved. Bethel, on advice from her mother, sought leave to propose an Art Competition to be held, and include contestants from the six surrounding villages.
Lonely Town’s committee agreed, and the next few days were set aside to plan and prepare for the event. Bethel, and her friend Kandi, agreed to produce posters, advertising the event to be held in a fortnight at Lonely Town. Bethel designed the first poster and coloured it magnificently. Kandi was happy with the result, and diligently copied the design for her three posters. When the two girls had finished making the posters, they drew up an itinerary, and set off the next day.
Unbeknown to the girls, a nasty troll had gotten wind of their plan, and following behind, intended to wreck the Art Competition. As Bethel and Candi arrived early at the first village, Huffney-Moor, the troll kept out of sight, while the girls pinned the first poster to the Village Noticeboard. As soon as they were out of sight, on their way to the next village, Rumble Town, the troll rushed to the poster they had left, and gobbled it down, before anyone in Huffney-Moor could read its inviting message.
The troll did the same thing in Rumble Town, indeed the same thing happened in each of the other villages, Fleamoth Village, Hassard-Lees, Liggins Town and Belltune-Hardly. And, it was because of that unseemly act, that none of the six surrounding villages got to hear about the Art Competition in Lonely Town.
Back in their own village, and unaware of the troll’s deception, the villagers continued their preparations for the Art Competition Day, some of them painting more than one canvas to enter. Bethel had produced an abstract painting that had Kandi bemused. She was more of a traditionalist, and had done a portrait of her mother.
Unbeknown to everyone, the troll had taken up residence in the local church, which had been abandoned for many years. He had a mattress on the floor for sleeping at night, and used a chair to look out through frosted windows during daylight. Aware that preparations were continuing in Lonely Town, only served to enrage the troll, who hated anything to do with Art.
Late one afternoon, a stranger rode into town, and greeted the womenfolk of Lonely Town, declaring that he was the new vicar, and that he would be taking up residence in the old church. Bethel and her mother insisted that he stay for dinner, which he was happy to accept, imagining little in the way of food to be in the old church.
The three ate a hearty meal and drank the last of the summer wine, before the new vicar led his old horse onto the grass outside the church, and entered his new abode through the back door. On closing the door behind him, he became aware of a loud snoring coming from the Nave of the church. As moved closer to the source of snoring, he recoiled at the sight of a filthy-looking troll. However, he did not panic, since, in an earlier part of his life, he had been a celebrated troll-hunter.
He returned to the altar, securing a solid brass statue of the divinity as a weapon, and tiptoed back to his adversary. The troll continued snoring, as the Christ figure was held on high, above the troll’s head. As the statue came forcefully down towards the target, the troll snorted awake, just as his head was cracked open. The troll was dead, and the mattress he had been sleeping on soaked up his blood.
The vicar wasted no time in cleaning the troll’s carcass away, placing the body into large box, until morning, when he intended to burn it. The mattress though would remain a reminder of his deed.
When it had dried, he decided to enter the mattress in the Art Competition, calling the work “Turin Shroud 2”. The women of the village looked askance. It was lost in translation.