THE QUITE LITTLE EBOOK OF QUITE SHORT STORIES E-Book

MARK BEWLEY

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Unusual stories from the social life of ants to stinging nettle creatures, a new super hero, some biblical figures and a laugh or three along the way.

Leseprobe

MARK BEWLEY

THE QUITE LITTLE EBOOK OF QUITE SHORT STORIES

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

1. ANT WORLD

The great hot orange circular realm high above loomed down on the tiny black industries dots working away mechanically. By instinct the dots attended to their duties with perfection like an old clock. These dots, adults of the insect world, loomed large on Sift a young worker fresh out of Larvae and Ant University. Sift followed his experienced elders in their duties who in turn were keen to teach any young ant in the continuation of the species. The young ant cared for Queen Purity and her young. Feeding them was his main task and what a task. Greedy is not the word for these aggressive, screaming, hungry maggots.

Everything works to time with ants and those receiving instructions are predisposed to the tasks given to them with a complex language comprised of clicks and clacks produced from their large mandibles. They set about their tasks with ease and skill. Scientists and experts have studied these kings of the insect realm for years; however, what they know very little about is the social and recreational activity of the little black insects we lovingly revere as pests.

Sift, a Lasius Niger or garden ant often relaxed with a drink or three of the popular ant beverage strong daisy juice after a heavy shift at the queen’s kindergarten.

The young black worker was exhausted one humid night. He crawled into the lowest hole of the nest and dragged his tired trunk into the tavern.

‘A large one,’ he instructed the heavy-set bar-ant who then squeezed a daisy stem into a leaf cup without even half a smile or click of his mandibles. Sift blinked his big black weary eyes and searched for a seat to rest his sore metasoma. He sat at the first unoccupied grass table of the empty ant drinking hole. When he took the first draught of his sweat flower nectar he half emptied the cup. He breathed heavy and scratched his face with a feeler.

‘Delicious,’ he pronounced with a gulp just as ant chatter came his direction. Sift made the effort to look up:

‘Sift,’ said a rather smooth ant. ‘How are you, my friend?’

‘You’re here, Most,’ Sift returned. ‘I’m recovering from a session with queen Purity and her lovely maggots.’

‘Right you are,’ said Most, the handsome ant, ‘another drink?’

Sift wriggled his feelers. This is the ant equivalent of a nod for yes. He finished his first flower wine just before his friend returned with another.

In relative silence both insects sipped and blinked before Most clacked: ‘Duster and Rapid will be here in a few seconds, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Yes, I know, Rapid can’t go to long without his sauce, can he?’

‘No, he can’t,’ Most laughed, which of course is produced by clicks from his mandibles. Presently Sift had finished his second drink. ‘Want another?’ he asked his friend.

‘Yes, please, oh and a packet of crunchy nettle leaves.’

‘Yuck,’ exclaimed Sift. ‘Right you are, friend.’

Sift approached the bar, still screwing up his ant face at the thought of horrible crunchy nettle leaves. He ignored the elderly ant on a stool at the bar as he placed the empty leaf cups on the counter; ‘same again,’ he instructed the bar-ant and received a blank stare. ‘And a packet of crunchy nettle leaves.’

Presently the senior insect on the stool turned to Sift; ‘I knows that little voice, yes, I thought so, it’s my little nephew Sift the sifter.’

‘Uncle Dirtmuncher,’ acknowledged the little ant; ‘how are you?’

‘Not bad, nephew, not bad at all,’ answered the craggy and peeling ancient worker. ‘How’s that old Purity treating you? If she’s anything like when I worked for her, she’s still an old tyrant.’

‘Oh, she’s not that bad really,’ answered the nephew. ‘Those larvae are a handful, mind you.’

‘I remember, yes they are. You’re right there nephew,’ added the old timer who had only one feeler. ‘I looked after you when you were a wiggly one, you know.’

‘I know uncle.’

Dirtmuncher clacked his mandibles together with mirth: ‘you weren’t a bad sort- good little fellow, really…but I could tell you some tales about those others…dear me that I can…I could go on forever…’

‘Yes, I know uncle.’ Sift whispered this. He had his drinks now, and the packet of crunchy nettle leaves: ‘well, I’ll see you about uncle.’

‘Right you are nephew. Don’t let that Purity get you down.’ Uncle Dirtmuncher smiled antlike sipped his beverage and his sister’s son was sitting with Most again. They slurped at their drinks in silence and observed the watering hole until Most observed his little friend for a few moments with those big black eyes, opened his packet nettle leaves and clacked: ‘Have you heard about those giant beings that live out there?’

‘That have I, Most,’ Sift returned, ‘of course I have, they’re horrible things, worse than wasps.’ The smaller than average ant was awake now; this was one of favourite subjects; the big creatures.

His friend the handsome smooth faced ant Most scanned that weed covered bar, which was now a growing throng of big black insects. His mandibles were wobbling franticly and his mouth more moist than ever when he whispered: ‘the killers some call them.’

‘Actually, experts call them akinds,’ Sift informed his friend with a twitch of his feelers. ‘It’s our nearest word to what they call themselves.’

‘Apparently,’ said Most, with a gormless expression.

‘Well; it is difficult to study their language,’ Sift informed his friend. ‘They speak much slower than we do.’

‘Do they?’

‘Of course they do,’ insisted the small ant, an authority on the subject. ‘And they mumble awfully. They are bigger and probably more stupid than us too.’

‘Have you see one, then?’

‘Since you’re asking, Most my old friend, I have actually,’ the little ant answered with honest pride.

Most pulled up his little grass chair. He sat more firmly on his metasoma and purred with anticipation. ‘Tell me more Sift,’ he insisted, still munching crunchy nettle leaves.

Sift wiggled a feeler: ‘Well, I was taking out the rubbish for the old queen one time, hot it was. The orange universe was massive overhead, closer than I’ve ever known it, when high above me this gigantic shadow blocked the whole hot world out. I tilted my head up slowly to get a clear look, and there it was.’

‘What was it like?’

Sift paused and took an ant breath, 1,000th of a second.

‘The monster was enormous, ugly, smooth and hairy. Most my friend, I was scared stiff…’

‘…scared Sift,’ cackled Most. His friend did not appreciate this interruption. ‘Can I continue?’

The big ant nodded with shame and the little ant went on with his tale…

‘…any way: I thought it was about to kill me, truly I did, but to my surprise it just went away- ever so slowly. It moved away like a passing galaxy. All I could do was to watch the thing pass the sky. I have no idea if it saw me. I presume it didn’t, because Sift the sifter would not be telling you this story if that monster did.’

The bulky ant Most was click and clack-less. He was shaking. Before more could be said on the subject a small commotion had entered the ant tavern. Laughter followed as two jovial insects appeared, mandibles and feelers clicking and flapping all about.

‘Rapid, Duster!’ Sift shouted. ‘We’re in for it now Most my friend.’

‘Are you ready for some fun?’ said the two excitable ants.

‘Two daisy wines, barkeep,’ instructed Rapid the smallest.

As the two new members of the ant drinking party fetched their beverages, Sift and Most were still talking about the akind.

‘I hope I never see an akind,’ uttered Most with a shiver.

‘I hope so too, my friend,’ added Sift, staring vacantly, his big black eyes staring out, his mind on that vivid memory of the mysterious akind. ‘I hope so, too. I hope I never see one ever again.’

The laughing ants joined the two at their table. Most and Sift were silent, their eyes wide as black saucers. Duster and Rapid faced their two ant pals, the tall insect Duster demanded:

‘What in the name of the hot universe above is the matter with you two?’

2. THE KOSHER CROC

Once upon a time there lived a crocodile on the river Nile. Graham, for that was his name loved to swim the width and breadth of that mighty river, from Lower Egypt in the north down to Ethiopia in the south and Sudan and the newest nation in the world South Sudan, somewhere in the middle.

One might suppose that Graham the crocodile would enjoy an Egyptian farmer for his lunch or a Sudanese traveller for tea. Or even a European tourist for supper. But no, for Graham the crocodile was kosher. Now Graham wasn’t exactly Jewish, but the croc loved cooked lamb and unleavened bread, added to that he always hated the taste of pork. As a matter of fact some of Graham’s best friends were boars and warthogs. Graham discovered a love for kosher food on a trip to Jerusalem. Oh yes, one other thing, Graham the crocodile could fly. And as you can well imagine this gave him the appearance of a flying dinosaur or dragon. [He claimed this was because of his pterodactyl heritage on his mother’s side].

That day crocodile flew from northern Egypt over the Sinai dessert, then onto the capital of the Jewish homeland. The Israelis and Palestinians were shocked at first to see such a creature in their skies. This was sorted out when Graham explained that he did not eat human beings, especially Jews or Arabs. At this the Jewish people offered the large reptile a meal. Graham loved the earthy blandness of the food of the chosen people. So, from that day to this the crocodile has visited Israel to experience delicious kosher food. Now the kosher croc is very much part of Jewish culture, although the outside world should never find out about him: what would they make of such a creature?

Naturally the other crocodiles of the Nile made fun of Graham for his taste of such food, and his disdain for pork- you could say they were anti-Semitic crocs…