1

Presents

THE THING

A collection of short stories

by Kristine Argyle, Denis Langan

and Geraldine Langan.

With thanks to Pippa Hennessy

and Worksop Library

Inspired by Wendy Ramshaw: Rooms of Dreams, a Harley Gallery

touring exhibition in partnership with Ruthin Craft Centre.

2

Contents

3 The Harley Gallery by Kristine Argyle

6 The Return of Excalibur by Denis Langan

9 The Pavan by Geraldine Langan

3

THE HARLEY GALLERY

by Kristine Argyle

4

He climbed the balcony and silently entered the bedroom – he paused

as he saw the moon‟s reflection catch the jewelled perfume bottles on

the dressing table. The bottles were clustered together like glittering

minarets – each bottle containing exotic perfumes – the fragrances

escaping to tease his senses. He caught his breath as he remembered

the teeming streets of his childhood bursting with the pungent

fragrances of cloves, bergamot oil and orchids

His thoughts drifted back to the hubbub of those Bombay streets – the

market traders noisily plying their wares as the battered cars and

brightly painted buses veered at break neck speed through the throng.

The delicious aromas from the pavement cafes made his always empty

stomach lurch with hunger. He remembered a cacophony of noise –

the pandemonium of human life lived in the raw.

A child of the streets, he spent his days scavenging among the bins

outside the cafes or earning a few rupees by picking the pockets of the

wealthy businessmen dining al fresco with their wives swathed in jewels

and furs. He would gaze in awe as limousines as big as houses with

their glossy, gleaming occupants swept by and he vowed that one

day, he too would glide through the crowded streets in chauffeur

driven splendour

And yet – what chance for a street child – an orphan with brothers and

sisters to care for? His destiny was fixed – a daily fight for life and, as the

years drifted by, his childhood dreams became all but submerged by

the grinding hopelessness of his existence.

A sudden noise made him stop – he hardly dared breathe as he heard

footsteps coming towards the bedroom. He glanced at the window

through which he had made his entrance, after climbing the palace

walls unnoticed. The bedroom door opened and a young woman

entered. Tall and beautiful with lustrous, long black hair, she wore an

evening dress of shimmering silver and around her neck ………

He had seen it in one of the glossy magazines carelessly dropped by a

pavement diner. The fabulous necklace that had once belonged to

the wife of the Sultan of Dapoor. It had recently been bought by an oil

magnate for his beautiful young wife. The article said the necklace

was priceless – bought for an undisclosed sum said to be over a million

5

dollars. And it was at that moment that he made his vow – he would

steal the necklace – taking it whatever the cost. In a single second his

destiny changed forever.

His heart pounded as he moved across the bedroom towards her – she

was sitting at the dressing table carefully selecting a perfume bottle.

He edged silently; closer and closer, watching her liberally apply the

perfume to her temples and wrists. He felt the sweat trickle down his

brow as he reached forward to put his hand over her mouth. As he did

so, she spun round and gasped in surprise. He hesitated – just long

enough to give her time to collect her thoughts and let out a loud

piercing scream. He heard the shouts of the palace guards below.

“Please don‟t hurt me” she begged – her eyes wide with terror.

As she moved, he became aware of her perfume as it hung in the air –

strong and sweet – the exotic smell heavy with the pungent fragrance

of cloves, bergamot oil and orchids.

For a second, he was overcome – lost in the memory of the little boy

whose whole life was given up to a daily struggle – a fight for existence

– and his heart ached with sadness for the child whose desperation

and despair he could never escape. And as he hesitated lost in

thought, he heard the bedroom door open and he turned around to

see the guards enter the room – guns raised and pointing straight at

him …..

THE END

6

THE RETURN OF EXCALIBUR

by Denis Langan

7

Arthur sat in the dungeon of his own castle, head in hands and totally

exhausted. His wounds were still seeping blood despite the

administrations of his doctors.

For five years he had fought to keep his kingdom free from tyranny and

injustice, a losing battle in current times. The entire country was in

turmoil, the long borders open to raids from its neighbours. If he only

had the courage, strength and support to raise a loyal band of

followers, he would be able to defeat the rebels and drive them from

his kingdom.

His army had been overwhelmed by a much larger force. The rebels

had been helped by traitors at his own court, committing treason for

personal gain. They had guided the rebels through the hills to surround

Arthur‟s men. A massacre had followed, Arthur and his knights

captured. The traitors had themselves been executed when they were

of no more use to the rebels – a lesson to all in the value of chivalry and

loyalty

* * * * *

Arthur‟s great ambition to unit his people depended on finding the

mighty Excalibur, the fabled sword held by monarchs for centuries. The

sword gave its owners the power to attract followers and lead them to

save the nation. His father had been able to assemble the Knights of

the Round Table, the sword being the catalyst.

Excalibur had been stolen from the castle soon after his father‟s death.

Most of the Knights of the Round Table whom Arthur had inherited on

becoming king were now languishing in prisons scattered all over the

kingdom.

As the months passed Arthur was aware he was losing strength and

hope. He was unable to escape without assistance. However, his

wounds were healing and he was constantly searching for ideas to

escape.

* * * * *

One night, just after the guard had changed, he heard a commotion

outside in the corridors. There were cries and clashing of weapons. The

fight was short-lived, followed by silence broken only by the groans

from a wounded sentry.

The cell door burst open, in came Sir Lancelot and his squire David, with

Harley Davidson – David and Harley had succeeded in freeing

8

Lancelot from a nearby castle. The intrepid four fled the castle through

secret tunnels known only to Arthur.

Riding through the night to give some distance from their captors,

Arthur was already planning to free the remainder of his loyal knights

and regain his kingdom.

His optimism plummeted with the realisation that without Excalibur the

task would be impossible. He voiced his doubts to his colleagues, who

smiled in unison.

„What is it?‟ Arthur asked.

Harley Davidson stepped forward proudly. From beneath his cloak he

produced an oilskin, wrapped in which was Excalibur.

Arthur was ecstatic. „Where did you find it?‟

Harley explained they had taken it from the castle where Lancelot had

been imprisoned.

Arthur could now free his kingdom and his people with the recovery of

Excalibur, or, as it is known in Anglo-Saxon, „Item 24‟.

THE END

9

THE PAVAN

by Geraldine Langan

10

'These are beautiful, darling.` Diane thanked her husband and gazed

wonderingly at the dainty objects nestling against the plush velvet,

cosy in a wooden casket. Carefully lifting each one to hold up to the

light, she was aware of a slight, tingling sensation running through her

fingers.

Each one was made of gold metal, decorated with silver circles. Diane

ran her finger around the lower edge of the silver pattern, finding the

circle concealed a tiny opening. Each ornament had a different

number of circles and, where these ended, each was adorned with a

small pink crystal, except for the smallest which had six crystals of

variable shapes and sizes.

'If only objects could talk' she remarked 'I wonder what tales these

could tell?'

As she spoke, the colours of the crystals deepened.

Diane became aware she was floating on water. After what seemed

like forever, she felt the water receding around her and allowed herself

to stand.

It was dawn. A large heron soared towards the rising sun, screeching

loudly. Wonderingly, Diane's eyes tracked his progress, until her gaze

was arrested by the sight of five large, glistening silhouettes on the

horizon.

A distance away, a tall muscular man rose from the watery depths. As

the darkness yielded to the light, he flexed his muscles and strode

menacingly towards the horizon. Diane experienced a chilling

sensation like icy fingers gripping her. Where was she...? What was she

doing here...?

As she watched, the newly created man reached the skyline. Hardly

daring to breathe, she saw his arms reach out to what now appeared

to be tall figures and heard him say, 'Welcome my friends, I am so glad

you came'.

As if in slow motion, they all glided towards her. Like he'd know she was

waiting there all along, the man gently caught her arm. 'Welcome' he

said 'I am so glad you are here with me'. Arm in arm, they followed

11

behind the figures.

Their close proximity gave Diane opportunity to examine them more

closely. She became conscious of a slight humming noise and an

odour of hot metal.

'Chess pieces,' she said quietly to herself, 'they remind me of chess

pieces.' She noted their smooth golden bodies, encircled by what

appeared to be silver rings. Closer inspection revealed these were a

raised ridge of lighter metal above an open space. Maybe the noise

she'd heard was machinery? Perhaps the rings served to disguise a

sophisticated cooling system?

Not daring to think of anything else, she focused on the silver rings,

being reminded of military stripes. Thinking back to the chess piece

analogy, she pondered if they were indeed part of a hierarchy which

had different functions? Perhaps the more air vents, the more complex

the machinery, making one figure more powerful, hence the greater

number of stripes. She observed each had a slightly different pinnacle,

perhaps this had something to do with sound or frequency?

So absorbed was she in her thoughts, she'd failed to notice they'd

walked a long distance across the sand, and had now stopped beside

a radiant, golden triangle. Diane felt herself being drawn through a

small rectangular door which closed silently behind her, leaving no

trace of where the door had been.

'What's happening?' She finally allowed herself to speak.

'Welcome, your Majesty.' The smallest of the figures spoke to her in a

high pitched voice. 'We are the Pavan, summoned by your husband,

the God Amun, as we have the power to create an amazing race for

this land. We will start with you, your Majesty. Our name means 'the

breeze' and that is all you will feel as we impart to you all the

knowledge of the Universe which is stored in the crystals embedded in

our being.'

Diane felt the warmth of the sun as she soared high in the air, just as the

heron had done in the early morning, before the long walk... before

the rectangular door in the golden triangle... Effortlessly, she floated,

floated, floated...!

12

As she came to rest, her gaze fell on the dressing table, seeing the five

golden figures her husband had brought from the auction yesterday.

Was it her imagination, or were the crystals on the smallest figure that

bit brighter than the rest? She gazed lovingly at the tall, muscular figure

sleeping beside her... and then noticed the sand on the carpet...!

THE END

13

Images

Page 1. Wendy Ramshaw, Necklace for Catherine de Medici‟s

Bedroom, photo George Gammer

Page 3. Wendy Ramshaw, Towers, photo Graham Pym

Page 6. Wendy Ramshaw, Necklace for The Piano Players Wife,

photo George Gammer

Page 9. Wendy Ramshaw, Pavan, photo George Gammer