by Dave Leys
seemed dark, dank and lonely all of sudden. He lit the candle and sat on the floor, banging idly on his drum. He was so bored. He would kill to be able to play World of Warcraft right now. Instead he started to sing to himself, ‘Up crept the knight and down flew the dragon,’ but the sound of the words seemed to echo from the ceiling in a creepy way so he stopped. He looked around. In the flicker of the candlelight the castle walls leaned in on him and the flag drooped evilly.
Sighing to himself he crept into bed, brushing pieces of straw from the pillow. In his dreams that night it was he who was being pursued, and the faster he rode his horse the closer the ruffians seemed to get.
He was woken by the sound of knocking on his door. He muttered something and looked out the window. It was barely light, the sun only just over the fence. His father walked in.
‘Dad,’ he moaned, trying to bury his head under the pillow.
His father smiled broadly. ‘Got to make the most of the light. Up you get. We’ve got work to do.’
Kieran moaned again. ‘I’ve done my homework already,’ he said.
His dad laughed. ‘None of that book-learning stuff. I mean real work – you’re going to help me with some digging in the backyard.’
Kieran sighed. He waddled out to the shower, but his mother was standing in the door. She said nothing, only pointing at the bath.
‘I hate baths!’ he said, but it made no difference.
A short time later, having dipped in and out of the bath as quickly as he could (‘very medieval!’ his mother said approvingly) he met his father outside.
‘Well?’ he said, trying not to sound sulky.
‘The sewer lines,’ his father said. ‘We need to dig them up.’
Kieran watched as his father began, and within a little while he could already smell something foul down there. ‘Dad,’ he said, ‘it stinks!’
His father grinned, wiping dirt from his brow. ‘You’d be used to that, of course. Everything smelled in …’
‘… the Middle Ages,’ finished Kieran. ‘Yes, I get it.’ He grabbed a spade and began to help his father, gathering the soil into piles and loading it onto a wheelbarrow. It was backbreaking work and seemed to go on forever. At lunchtime his father threw him a crust of bread and an apple. He turned the apple over in his hands.
“Dad, this has got holes in it,’ he said feebly.
‘Yes, yes, worm holes. Well, no pesticides in the Middle Ages,’ his father said. ‘Don’t worry, the worms are all gone now. Most of them, anyway. If you do find any stick them in the garden, will you?’
That was it. That was absolutely the last straw. Kieran threw the apple down and shouted, ‘I hate the Middle Ages!’
His mother appeared at the back door. ‘Is everything all right?’
Kieran ran over to her. ‘I don’t want to live in the Middle Ages any more. I hate Blackwood Castle, it freaks me out.’
His mother hugged him and smoothed his hair down. ‘Of course,’ she said softly, ‘you don’t have to. We understand.’ Smiling at his father over his head, she led him into the house and helped him rearrange his room. When the castle walls were dismantled, the flag brought down and the computer was back on his desk he sighed in contentment. The Middle Ages seemed like a long time ago. He spent all afternoon playing his new favourite computer game, Starcraft.
Late that night his mother came to Kieran’s door. It was time for bed. She knocked quietly; she loved her little modern boy.
The door swung open. Standing facing her was a space trooper, an upside down fish bowl on his head, a wire coat hanger on his shoulders and a black gun in his hand.
‘Halt!’ he cried. ‘No aliens may enter the human perimeter without Moon Base permission!’
Camping with the boys
‘Dane,’ said Liam, ‘are you awake?’
Dane rolled over. ‘Yeah.’
‘Really awake,’ asked Liam, ‘or just pretending to be awake?’
Dane snorted. ‘Really awake,’ he said.
‘What’s the best car in the world?’ said Liam. He pushed his head off the pillow to look at him.
‘The Turbo BMW,’ said Dane. ‘Easy.’ He made the sound of a car engine. ‘Vrrrrrroooom!’
‘Okay,’ said Mr Mattius, ‘that’s it.’ He got up.
It was three o’clock in the morning. Dane and Liam were still not asleep. Their father, Mr Mattius, normally a very pleasant and patient man, was starting to get annoyed. He wasn’t annoyed because they couldn’t sleep, he was annoyed because they wouldn’t sleep.
The three of them were camping at Laton Waters caravan park. Dane and Liam were in an orange two-man tent with a lightning bolt printed on the side. Their father was in a black dome tent next to them. He had gotten up and looked in on them twice now, and the last time he had warned them if they didn’t go to sleep right now he would get angry. Really angry.
Mr Mattius walked over and opened the flap to their tent. He poked his big scruffy head in and said firmly, ‘So, boys, it’s time for all this nonsense to stop. No more noise, Dad has to sleep.’
The two of them looked at their father. He did look funny, with his hair all messy and his eyes shrunken and dark.
‘Liam is too noisy,’ said Dane. ‘Every time I try to go to sleep, he farts and it wakes me up.’
‘Dane,’ said Liam, ‘is pretending to snore. It’s keeping me up.’
Mr Mattius rubbed his face slowly. On this camping trip he wanted to teach the boys about hiking and fishing, and self-reliance. He wanted them to learn self-discipline. Instead, they lounged around all day and mucked around all night long. He tried once more. ‘Don’t you want to be nice and fresh in the morning when we go walking up to the mountain?’
‘I hate walking,’ said Dane. ‘It makes my feet ache.’
‘Your feet ache,’ said Liam, ‘because your bum’s too heavy.’
‘Shutup!’ said Dane, rolling over and hitting Liam. In turn Liam rolled over and pulled Dane’s arm till he squealed.
Mr Mattius pulled the boys apart. He gave it one last go. ‘Boys,’ he said slowly, ‘when I go back to my tent, there will be silence, and there will be silence because both of you will be fast asleep.’
‘Yes dad,’ they said in unison. Their eyes were wide and their hands under the blankets.
Mr Mattius slouched back to his tent with his hands clenched, his back sore from bending through the boys’ tent flap. Silence. He zipped up his own tent door and lay down. Silence. Sighing, he closed his eyes.
Then the giggling started. It was soft at first, but then uncontrolled it rolled on and on. Mr Mattius gave up. They would not go to sleep tonight. He wrapped a jumper around his head to block out some of the noise, and stayed awake like that until, as the darkness was almost lifting, he dozed slightly with the sound of ha-ha-ha still drifting in the wind.
The next morning Mr Mattius barely dragged himself out of the tent. His eyes were red, his sides were sore, and when he breathed in he felt like his chest was collapsing. The boys were already up, wrestling each other in the dirt outside their tent. It was all a blur to him.
‘Good morning, Dad!’ shouted Liam, rolling over and looking up at him.
‘Hey, Dad!’ screamed Dane. They seemed very energetic.
Mr Mattius muttered and made himself a coffee. When he had taken three sips and could see straight again, he yawned. They were camping out for two more nights. He shuddered.
But it was all okay, at least it was going to be. He had come up with a plan as he lay there listening to the boys scream and whoop and fidget and screech. In fact, it was an absolutely wonderful plan, the plan of a genius.
‘Mountain climb’s off,’ he said to the boys. ‘I’ve got to run into town to get something. You boys can stay at the campsite today, make yourself lunch. I’ll be back soon.’ He paused. ‘If anything happens,’ he said, ‘you have your mobile phones, and yo
u can call the ranger.’
Liam and Dane beamed and punched their fists into the air, screaming ‘Yayyyy!’ Mr Mattius got into his car and drove away.
When he returned the boys were sitting right by the tent, making owl sounds from their cupped hands.
‘A-whooo,’ cooed Dane. ‘Dad, listen!’
‘That’s dumb,’ said Liam. ‘Listen to me. Hooo, hooo.’
‘Shutup,’ said Dane and pushed Liam over. They both started yelling and hitting at one another.
Mr Mattius just smiled. His plan could wait until dinner. He pulled out a newspaper and read with his feet up.
When it got dark, and they had finished eating around the campfire, and it was almost time to go into their tents for the night, Mr Mattius gestured to his sons to sit in front of him.
‘Boys,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something very alarming to tell you. While I was in town today, the locals told me about something, and it’s important you listen, because we could all be in danger.’
His sons’ eyes grew wide.
‘Yes, boys, it could get very dangerous. Apparently,’ he said, narrowing his eyes, ‘there is a man-eating bear that has been terrorising this area. It is six feet tall, it has deep red eyes, and it can stand on its hind legs.’
‘So?’ said Liam. ‘We could fight it.’ But he didn’t sound so sure, and he moved closer to his brother.
‘Well, boys,’ continued Mr Mattius, ‘apparently it has got twenty-four sharpened teeth. It has been sharpening those teeth on the bones of campers it has caught and eaten.’
‘Who cares?’ said Dane.