|Knower and the Wicked Witch (standard:fairy tales, 6157 words)|
|Author: Knower||Added: Mar 14 2001||Views/Reads: 2683/1359||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The Knower is a very old man who lives in an enchanted Forest. He has a friend called Thickowl, who like his name is exactly that. This is one of many short stories of their day to day humourous adventures in the Forest.|
THE KNOWER AND THE WICKED WITCH A Short Story By K Evans It was one of those days in the Forrest. The type of day that you would rather be snuggled up somewhere warm out of the winter cold. The morning snow had now stopped, leaving a thin blanket on the ground. Coughing and spluttering could be heard coming from inside Knowers small one room cottage. Smoke was pouring out of the open doorway, and windows, drifting high into the Forrest canopy. A number of crows were seen to be also coughing high up in the treetops. The old man came rushing out gasping for air. "You stupid flee ridden owl, how many times have I got to tell you not to build your nest in my chimney"? He shouted back into the hovel. The smoke had now nearly cleared from his white beard and long hair; mind you his eyes were still watering. These small words of wisdom were of course aimed at his lifelong friend Thickowl, who was unfortunately a bit of a thicky. Nature had also dealt his friend another blow, and that was the poor little owl could not fly. Thickowl could only hop around the Forrest floor and watch all the other birds having a wonderful time flying from treetop to treetop. But not to worry children, because Thickowl was very happy just to hop around all day. Thickowl hopped out to join his friend, he quickly flapped his tiny wings to get rid of the smoke, tears were streaming down his cheeks as he looked up at his friend. "It's rather cold out here don't you think" he hooted to Knower. The old man stared long and hard at his tiny friend before answering. "And whose fault is that"? The old mad shouted back. His feathered friend thought long and hard before answering. "Err, is it my fault,"? Thickowl hooted whilst scratching his head. He always scratched his head whenever he could not understand a question. Meanwhile deeper in the Forrest, in the really scary part, the part where very young children have nightmares about, the wicked witch was waking up. The birds were trying hard to find somewhere to hide before she rushed out of her humble little cottage. It was your basic one room hovel with an outside broom cupboard, nothing special. Inside was your usual type witches layout, a total mess with sculls and dead frogs all over the floor. Placed in the centre of this shambles was of course, the witches cauldron (the one with a fire underneath), and it was bubbling away with some really serious green stuff inside. Outside there was a hush, nothing stirred, all the furry animals kept themselves hidden. Why they ever lived in this part of the Forrest god only knows, I suppose it was because of cheaper living accommodation. After a few minutes the dreaded moment arrived, the cottage door flew open and out skipped Bignose!! She was skipping and singing at the top of her voice. The hidden animals all looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders in disbelief. For some strange reason Bignose was in one of her good moods. These good moods happened at least twice a year, and properly lasted for about 5 minutes. She was dressed in her very own designer outfit, knitted feathers mixed with rat-tails and matching coat. Her hair was not it's usual fly by look; it looked like an effort had been made in removing the layers of knots and lice. She skipped into the broom cupboard quickly pulling up her torn knee-high tattered tights as she went along. After a short while she came out with a brand new broom, which meant only one thing? "Sugar", one of the hidden furry animals was heard to whisper "Not a new broom, its not new broom training today, is it? Now for those of you, who are not aware of training new brooms, let me try and explain. This does not happen all that often, in fact, it's very rare. The breaking in of a new broom can be very hazarded, anything can happen. The last time this happened both the broom and witch headed into space never to be seen again, of course all the furry animals cheered with glee, but is was a sad day for the witches. Anyway, she held out the broom at arms length and whispered something to it. The broom gently left her hand and hovered about 3feet from the ground in the horizontal level. "Good boy" she said patting its bristles. Then very gingerly she lowered her rather large backside onto the broom. Bignose sat sidesaddle on her new broom; her long flea-ridden grey hair flowed down to her waist. One last pick of her wrinkled nose and she was ready to go. "Right my little friend lets go and scare the hell out of those furry animals." The instructions to her trainee broom were clear, but nothing happened? Bignose glared down and cursed. She gave out her instructions for a second time, once again nothing happened. By this time her face, which resembled something like a wrinkled prune, was turning a dark red. The rather large wart on the end of her nose now stood out like a small tomato. Her nasal hairs, which usually drooped down to her top lip, were now fully erect. In fact Bignose was pretty angry, as you can imagine. She leapt off the Click here to read the rest of this story (432 more lines)
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