Goodnight, Sweetheart , livre ebook

Goodnight, Sweetheart
Proudly presents a collection of short stories
Sid Falconer
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-01-31
Goodnight, Sweetheart Copyright Information Another One Bites the Dust Wee Folk Orchestrate My Life Tudor Fox Satanic Nightmare The Dormouse Derby 1984 A Monster Within Ghost of Tudor Fox Invitation to Graceland Manor Graceland Manor
Copyright Information
Copyright © Sid Falconer (2019)
The right of Sid Falconer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788781015 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781788781008 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528944762 (E-Book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
E14 5LQ
Another One Bites the Dust
Over thirty years, I’ve protected folk at venues and punished violent thugs! I’d KO’d many. A boxing colleague, suggested the punch line, “another one bites the dust!” This story begins on the 4th of September, 1962. I joined the army as a junior leader and bandsman! Later, at York railway station, a soldier gave me grief, so I bashed him, and he bit two cobbled stones! One occasion, my right hand connected with the jaw of general duties corporal Michael Langthorne, and hey presto, I say, this fable is getting a tad violent!
Joined the regimental band in Berlin, West Germany and a staff sergeant, Moose Riley, angered me so I’ve blotted his copy book, and another one bites the dust! I was dismissed from the band then assigned to B Company, where a corporal, Ron Rosenquest, punched me in the face whilst present were four NCOs to make sure he wasn’t knocked out! Outside the Silver Oyster bar in Colchester, I KO’d one of them vile corporals, and another one bites the dust! I joined the company boxing team! Later, in an inter-company bout, I cut Rosenquest to shreds and at ringside was my brother, Dave, which pleased me immensely and secured one’s revenge, and now, in my mind, he’s a mere remnant!
1965/66, one did a tour of active duty in the Middle East! Whilst on one’s leisure time, I’ve thrashed a non-commissioned officer and booked myself into the guardhouse! Major Robinson cried, “There’s a vacant position at HQ ration office, go and apply as I’m fed up with you knocking out my NCOs!” I went over and applied for the post and was successful! A corporal replaced me in B Company, 7 platoon and later died in an ambush along the Yemen border! Finally, returned to England where I went absent without leave, then 586 days later, I’ve returned to my unit! 23/2/69, I was court-martialled for desertion, and June 10/06/69, I was discharged! Later, I was awarded a pugilist license! December 1970, after four debatable defeats, I suffered a fractured spinal column, canal, cord and broken pelvic girdle!
Throughout the night, a flash of light kept invading my sleep, then I awoke with a loss of memory and paralysed! A year passed, then I returned to the gladiator arena and continued with the boxing career! In 1972, I was informed a punch to my head could prove fatal! Well, reader, at this time, I was flat broke, so I boxed until 1978 and became a top-ten contender at light-heavyweight and heavy! Fought, in Calais, France and in Norway! My wife, Lorraine, and I supplied door staff to work at public venues, clubs, wine bars and restaurants! One Sunday night, I was attacked with lead truncheons, but in the end, I put two men in Poole, hospital! Now, is the backbone, style and sheer nature of this saga wetting thy insatiable appetite?
1984: lightning flashed, alerting me and awakening my keenness to jot down notes of a dream! Come to think of it, something strange occurred in dreamland as you will read in due course! I called Lorraine, and she remarked, “Yes, dear!” I told her a tale of an island named headache and of encounters with evil pirates and by the grace of God enveloping into the humbled body of Longjohn Silverhead! I rode upon splendid dolphins in shark-infested waters, visited a loony bin and witnessed murder, most foul! Now, I am writing stories about the heartiest little Irish leprechauns one could possibly imagine! Well, pal, there is nothing much more left to say except have I dangled enough carrot for you to be wanting more?
Wee Folk Orchestrate My Life
In my opinion, there’s more to life than an eye can envisage, because supernatural spectre, I firmly believe, does exist, and we live in a mere speck of the enchanted universe where weird explosions, far beyond our creative ability to understand occur! Are dreams factual or not? That’s the question everyone asks, but nobody knows! Are there dimensions where illustrious fiery dragons roam and demented leprechaun reside? Did Jack climb a huge beanstalk that reached the white fluffy clouds where a giant lives? Now, let your creativity flow, and you’ll, maybe, drift where a pigeon-toed Walt Disney intended and unnatural occurrence come with utmost delight!
Is the kingdom in heaven pure blarney or does utopia exist? Could our series of thoughts, images and emotions which occur in sleep be fiction? I believe in miracles! Now, reader, sit back, and take pleasure in reading this fiddle-faddle fable! Hopefully, you see this nondescript I’m about to stage in the same light that I do, in which case, hurray, as that’s what I aimed to achieve! Most of my life has been spent at one’s word processor, typing novels, especially when a storm gusts! I let my imagination flow, and rolling waves echo, and magical, scenic views mingle with extraordinary characters!
Old, marauding bandits who strive to warm the cockles of one’s heart! “And I say,” exclaimed an elf, “terrify, imagination!”
“I must stress, you wee folk have taken over and orchestrate my life!”
“We pencil in the background of what ye visualise, and that is all!”
“Next, I’ll be talking to rabbits and rodents.”
“Like field mice?” cried Muskrat.
“Vermin have left droppings!”
“They are burrowers!”
“Good thinking, Moss.”
“Bog Roll, I know!”
“Us house guests tidy up our excrement,” exclaimed Peat Bag!
I distinctly remember, as though it were yesterday, an extremely dangerous situation being unleashed in the heart of Poole! The day was the 21st of June, 1988. I’d say about six-thirty in the evening. I was driving towards the centre, approaching a roundabout opposite the main dolphin complex. If one’s memory is correct. A quick glance to my left revealed a row of taxis positioned on a forecourt, in front of a wide entrance, thus projecting a cosy welcoming scene! A couple of articulated lorries on the inside lane rushed by, so I decided to continue driving round in the outside lane until reaching Wimborne road, intending to drive towards Oakdale and the pottery, public house, on Ringwood road!
I noticed the George Hotel, a white building capped with a tall, dark roof like Abe Lincoln’s hat and a large signboard swaying in an easy breeze; suddenly, a loud, deafening explosion sounded from across the far side of a long bridge where the old section of this Dorset town stands! I continued around the roundabout for another circuit when a monster explosion rang out! I turned onto the bridge and ascended to investigate the incident when a thunderous explosion sounded, followed by an incredible series of terrifying eruptions; simultaneously, plumes of black cloud, like an American-Indian smoke signal, billowed as barrels zoomed three-hundred feet into the air!
At the top of this hill, I realised it was in fact coming from the BDH Chemical Works on West Quay Road! I then noticed raindrops falling upon the windscreen and thick clumps of debris; suddenly, silver cylinders escalated into a darkened sky as Satan unleashed his awful, psychopathic wrath!
Tudor Fox
Juggernauts, large motor vehicles and cars were stopped at the bottom where another junction is positioned! The fire brigade, ambulance and police service would soon be arriving, and this congestive traffic was now clogging up the only route to the chemical plant! The road finally cleared, and I was travelling around the roundabout when, holy smoke, even greater explosive matter discharged! This was becoming nightmarish!
Adjacent to the BDH Works, somebody fell to the ground! For several split-seconds, my thoughts were, an elderly person was slumped by the wayside, so I continued around the roundabout circuit until finally, returning almost to the same spot then, I turned left and drove towards the Chemical Works’ main entrance and to my surprise, noticed a badly injured fox! I left the car and picked up a little lame brown vixen! A loud explosion shook me to my core, and I literally beat a hasty retreat; finally, I was travelling round the dolphin roundabout and heading up Longfleet Road! This fox was unconscious and her frail body was bleeding and covered in glossy liquid! I didn’t have a clue what this substance was except, to my touch, it was greasy with a thick slimy coating!
As I drove home, this ragged fox never stirred and appeared totally lifeless! I suppose, according to the law, I should have taken this vixen to the police or vets, but, at this point, my concern was her safety! Lord only knows what I was thinking! The car came to a halt outside mother’s abode, where I live. Inside, I quickly grabbed a coloured towel with thin stripes, reminiscent of a red and black bumblebee, before returning to the car as rain became foul and fell in abundance and an old wind howled like