The Key and the Broken Wing
Page 10
Chapter five
The sun reflected its rays into the cold dark room where the policeman was a sleep on the floor. His head leaned against the red chair that he had turned upside down with its four feet in the air. He used it for leaning his bad back against it, and then the water splashed far away. The rays flashed into his closed eyes, waking up and wiping his eyes with his loose shirt he blinked at two blurry figures. These were humans, well we can guess that one of them was Krome, for he was holding a small postcard pictured with the words of the mountain that Jezzabell had been working in. The words were jumbled up and as he flicked it over, more sentences joined together to make a descent paragraph about himself.
'I have gone away for a while to the mountains to explore the dangerous lands above the sea.
A tip off from an old friend of mine told me that eight pirates are setting up a watch to steal gold from the local mines.
Meet me in nine days when it will be set up.
Yours Sincerely
G. Regy'
"Let me go," the policeman spoke aloud. He got onto his knees and swivelled his arms to get himself up, a hand lay on his shoulder to stop him from standing. Both of his swollen feet now consisted of red lumps of skin. He picked the tanned skin off his ankles and rubbed his hand against the dusty carpet.
"Kimberley, we have to get rid of him," Krome said.
"Sign this, the others will search for you there and we can continue to use our plant," Kimberley remarked. She took the postcard off Krome and placed it on the floor. The policeman read it over again.
"Help", he spoke aloud.
"Sign it," Krome urged him and pushed a pen into the policeman’s left hand. He jolted the initials G.Reg. Hg' and he ripped the card into tiny pieces.
"My mates will find me," he laughed. Kimberley undid the small net in the top of her scalp and the long hair fell to her shoulders. She helped the policeman up and dragged him towards the window where the swans and ducks were asleep. All of them had their little heads tucked into their own wings, the grey necks were bent round and their farther lay still on the bank. They looked safe and well, like if there was no wind or rain.
"We can use the swans to make coats," she sniggered.
"Regy will never allow you to kill an animal," Regy spoke. His face turned white with fear and sickness. The air went cooler and goose pimples showed up on his bare feet. Kimberley let Krome place the chair behind them and he fell into the chair.
"The swans belong to me, they are my spies," Krome shouted. He got the policeman to sign a duplicate copy of the card.
"Jezzabell is late, she didn't arrive at the park," Kimberley spoke. Krome’s eyes rolled. He snatched the postcard out of Regy's hand and held Kimberly’s right arm.
"She will be the first Peacock to poison and I will get Cherrome key," said Krome
"No, we cannot poison her, we can get her to extract the key out of her own hand and then we can turn her into our slave," Kimberley replied. Krome kissed her hand. He starred deeply into Kimberly’s eyes. Her eyes revealed a reflection of a shipping boat, two lads and one butterfly. But it only had one wing.
"She’s lost her wing. Go collect Jezzabell, she will be in Frihyl harbour," Krome demanded.
"Frihyl Harbour, there is no harbour,"
"Yes, a quiet one, she will arrive in an hour," Krome answered her. The image of a small fishing boat rolled across her clear eyes. The policeman starred at her and her eyes turned into green gems.
"I can see it, a small place where boats stop off," Kimberley let go of his hand.
He watched the swans disperse into a line of five babies and two parents. All of them were talking to each other like something or someone was coming near their territory.
"Humans," Krome sniffled.
"They will get rid of them and then we can plan our trap to lure Jezzabell into the circle of rock and she can make our poison before she becomes a Monarch. She turned the old gas lamp on and placed it near the policeman’s feet.
"Jezzabell," Regy said and closed his eyes.
"Our Peacock will become a monarch," Kimberley laughed.
"Let’s go for a walk," Krome suggested. Kimberley hooked her arm over Krome’s elbow and they skipped along the skirts of the room; they dashed out onto the deck to keep an eye on Regy and leaned over the rail to talk.
Although the window was open, Regy could not hear a single word that they were saying apart from the word, Jezzabell, beach and shops.
"Those girls he sighed at the wandering pigeon that had a metal tag on its front foot.
Kimberley threw two rounds of white bread into the lake for the birds and swans to eat; many of the babies swerved fast and fought over the food. Their father cried for attention only to see them fighting for bread. The seagulls swooped up and down around Krome and then hovered over to the calm sea.
"She'll be here soon and I will get her to do some collecting, she thinks she is working in the "She isn’t too clever to realise that you’re working for me," he said.
"Hello," yelled a voice from the other side of the building. Silence grew thicker and thicker, then all of a sudden the same male voice said it again. Kimberly stopped laughing whilst Krome clenched the metal rail only for it to fall off and land on the decks.
"Ha-eel--ooo, anyone-there," chirped a femine voice.
"Jezzabell," Kimberley grumbled walking over to the other side of the building.
As Kimberley got round to the back end of the four lit shops, she soon realized that the voice came from the bins behind the tin shed. Once used for laundry and waste it had a large green padlock on its wooden door and the yellow card boarded the only window to stop animals from nicking the left over’s.
"Any-o-ne- there," squawked the seagulls.
"No one to torment at the beach, this place is dead. We need a fair," they squawked. Kimberley stretched her arms up and a thick cloud of black smoke filled the car park below, out from the smoulders came small roundabouts with eight sports cars, two dart boards, a large Shute with scales on and a couple of red tents. The seagulls nodded their heads in approval and a few minutes later a brown maze of feathers a little bigger than them but smaller than a hand appeared in front of their beaks.
"Get us out of here," they said.
"Get them out, they are helping me," Krome said and he lifted them out of the maze.
"They got on my nerves," Kimberley snapped.
"Go, get Jezzabell ready for our plans," Krome yelled. Kimberley kissed him on the cheek, his face blushed pink with fever and then, then his wings flapped in happiness.