I heard the terrible cry, and it brought forth bile and acid fluid into my mouth. I retched and heaved and I vomited the extracts of my stomach onto the head of Bouncer. He whimpered and I felt horrendous regret. What was a matter with me? Why couldn’t I keep down food? Was I ill? Was the land I found myself in plagued with some kind of hideous disease that attacked my digestive system, and other parts of my body for sport? I had not slept in days. Been sleepwalking amongst the fires that Smacker had lit to try scare away the serpent monster that controlled the Boggergooks.
Smacker had a haze in his eyes. His face ashen. This strange old troll had attributes, which I found appealing. He protected me. Gave me words of advice. And this advice always focused on our enemy. Them creatures: the Boggergooks. They were the true bogeymen to me and to him.
The neigh of horses turned into the voices of men and they had death in their tones.
Plus the workings and noises from the Boggergooks’ workshops continued almost indefatigable in the distance—a persistence which boarded on insanity. Tirelessly they worked. They never ate. Never slept. Never tired. And never argued. No sweat seeped from their bodies. They had thrown off these basic human afflictions helped by the power that came in fluid form. I watched them drink this liquid from a golden cup. It looked like honey, or another kind of thick juice, which I felt barely able to describe.
The Ratchetlocks had workshops as well. But their ones seemed to fashion things for the good of all.
Nevertheless, the Boggergooks were constantly making different mutant, and human-type machines, to further help them with their needs. Sometimes the sounds were unpleasant, like a kind of perverse slaughterhouse for robots. There was more to the Boggergooks, something beyond the realms of human dignity. They represented all that seemed bad in this dark world I found myself in. Perhaps the gullible traits of my personality wanted to see good in them. Reason with them. Befriend them. But I knew they’d kill me if I confronted these beasts. They never seemed to stop. Never refrained from the work—that seemed like a religion to them.
These creatures were composed from two forms. One part man, the other part horse. The smell from them was animal. And this animal scent wasn’t nice. It wafted around the cavern with a foulness that stuck to your lips. Edged into your mouth. Travelled down your oesophagus. Expanded in your stomach. My mind had morbidity within it because of this. However, I managed to compose myself, and ambled further away from the cavern like a weary pilgrim.
A pull back vision. A pain in my eyes. A stinging sensation, and the smell of the atmosphere carried aromas that contained memories of past life events. An exotic perfume represented a foreign land. Burning smells represented the old lady who had blistered to death in a fire. The smell of petrol reminded me of a former car that’d been written off by some idiot. I then touched the remnants of my brisling moustache, which I’d shaved off to give me a younger appearance.
I was having visions, I deduced myself as a different character. I imagined a magical land. I saw a name. It chimed with me. Sammy! That’s my name I thought.
I glanced through my window and noticed the portentous moon located in the sky, above the giant mountains of the Swiss Alps. I took to my writing desk and began scripting words.
Another part of me stood there in spirit. Watching my living self, writing on the desk. I approached. Crept nearer. Hunched back, clenched fists with rolled toes. I wished I could communicate with my living self, so I flicked a switch and the nearby radio came on with tunes from Vera Lynn.
‘Who’s there?’ said my living self.
I smiled, at how nervous my living self was. Then another tune came on the radio.
Abruptly the ghost of me melted away from the scene and I travelled back in time. Rotating around like a spinning top through a vortex of memories.
A flash of light exploded into a glare. I stood in a bedroom. I then remembered, it was the same one I’d lived in as a youngster. I could see me, as a child, holding a telephone to my ear. I smiled, and with all my effort I jumped into my younger self and heaved breaths once more. I could gasp. Taste and hear. I felt sensations. I had skin once again. Pains in my teeth, no foul body odour, and the happiness of being as innocent as a child in human form.