Hello beasties!!
A short piece for our second post this week, inspired by a walk that Toby and I took near Kenwood House on Good Friday, 25th March 2016; I also include some photos that I took that day...
Next week, I'll be sharing two more posts - the first concerns some of the story-lines from the first season of KENSINGTON GORE and the second will either be another Shy Yeti sketch or a new prose piece...
Before we move on to today's peculiar little story - let me remind you of the date of my new Poetry Café show...
More soon...
Yeti hugs,
Paul xx
P.S. THE THIEVING SHADOWS was written between Sunday 27th and Wednesday 30th March 2016.
She'd had a busy morning...
Picking pockets down in Camden Town and later up in Hampstead...
Off down that busy side street near the station -
Where the junk shop spill their wares onto the street...
There are always loads of people along there going through the trinkets; not paying attention to anyone around them...
She'd picked five wallets and a couple of purses...
After that she'd nipped up on the tube to Golders Green -
Had caught the bus from there up to Kenwood House...
Goodness, it was busy; she hadn't even looked at her prizes yet...
It was a sunny Good Friday bank holiday and the tourists were out...
Tourists and locals with Waitrose carrier bags containing their picnics -
With the distraction of children and heavy hand-bags...
Bags full of tissues, mints, credit cards and loose change...
She'd been greedy earlier and now had a rucksack full of spoils...
It was time to take a break before getting the bus home...
Time to eat a home-made sandwich made from stolen cheddar -
And to look through some of what she had taken;
Then to jettison some of the useless stuff;
There was no point in carrying all that back with her...
She found a dry spot of earth and laid back against a tree -
The afternoon sun-light streamed down around her through the branches...
She threw a grape to the crows and watched them fight...
As she picked through all the stuff that she'd stolen...
Keeping the money - the watch - anything valuable that she could pawn...
She'd have to be quick to use any cards before they were cancelled;
Never a flicker of conscience...
She'd lived too long this way to have doubts about her actions!
As her fingers picked through the wallets -
She did not notice the shadows of the branches growing longer...
They grew curious - keen to see what was there and what was going on...
They too began to pick through her bag...
Every time her back was turned they took a trinket,
Goodness knows what they would do with the money...
Buy themselves leaves to cover their current nakedness!?
It was spring, but their leaves were yet to unfurl...
They had very little interest in credit cards...
But mulch and manure - flesh and bones...
Now that was the ultimate harvest; that would help them grow stronger...
Eventually she emptied out the rucksack;
Surprised to find less inside than she recalled having taken...
She noted a pile of purses in the crook of the tree that she hadn't seen...
Shaking her head she reasoned that she was just over-tired...
She needed her sleep, that was for sure...
Time to go - to pack up what she meant to keep and get rid of the rest...
There was a noise close by - like something scuttling...
A squirrel, maybe? A squirrel having clambered inside the rucksack...
Gingerly, she picked up the bag - it was certainly felt a lot heavier -
And yet peering in all she could see was a swirling darkness...
It almost seemed to be watching her...
It almost seemed to be reaching up as if to throttle her...
One villain meeting another...
A thief come to steal from her whatever life was left inside...
All contents of this post are Copyright, Paul Chandler, 2016.