Rescuing Giant Janet from a Wizard (an alphabet story)


Aardvarks flooded over the drawbridge four at a time, running at top speed with crazed angry eyes.

Bet you didn’t expect that,” the wizard laughed, “and it’s not just because we’re in a mad alphabet story and the writer’s looking to keep a bizarre zoological theme and end up with a zebra making an x-rated film on a yacht.”

Christ, no,” replied Dave as he ran across the field , “and I didn’t think they’d be so aggressive.”

Dave was a dwarf who worked in an office and did not get a lot of exercise, and as a result was not the fastest runner, so the aardvarks were closing on him, but he managed to climb a small oak tree before he was trampled to an embarrassing, and a little surreal, death. "Eaten by marauding anteaters" was not the epitaph he wanted.

From the branch he was sitting on, chewing on an acorn, Dave surveyed the scene. Grazing on the lush grass at the bottom of the tree, the aardvarks seemed to have calmed down, but they still stood between him and the castle.

Having a laugh, are we”, Dave shouted to the wizard who was still watching him, “ you sad old man, all bitter about not getting the Harry Potter gig.”

Inside the castle, with only a small sliver of light coming through a window thirty feet above her, the object of Dave’s desire sat on the hard floor, tears running down her face. Janet was her name, and a dwarf she was not, a seven foot three giant of a girl who Dave had hooked up with at their company’s Christmas party, much to the amusement of the rest of the accounts department. Kneeling on the floor, she was still much taller than Dave when they went to the pub, and her warts, ginger beard and glass eye meant she was far from the most attractive forty six year old in the kingdom.

Looking back to the events of the night before she punched the wall in frustration, causing a couple of bricks to crumble onto the stone floor. Mad at herself that she had let herself be so gullible and fallen for the badly written, mis-spelt, “Free ardvak kebabs” sign that had lured her into the wizard’s trap. Nothing she could do now apart from wait for her diminutive hero to rescue her.

On the other side of the castle wall, still in his oak tree, Dave was getting ready for action now that the wizard had got tired of laughing at him from the castle wall and gone back to daytime TV, or whatever it was that out-of-work wizards did on grey Tuesday afternoons. Pretty much all of the aardvarks had wandered off so there was one less thing between him and his love. Quicker than you’d expect from someone of his stature, he jumped down from the oak tree and raced across the pasture, the grass up to his knees, relieved to see the remaining aardvarks weren’t taking any interest. Reaching the moat, he paused briefly before diving in. Surprising for a castle that seemed to pride itself on top security, though, the moat was actually only six inches deep, shallow even for a dwarf.

That’s not ideal, he sighed, as he spat out a mouthful of grit and rubbed the bruise on his forehead, before climbing the castle wall. Up on the top, he heard her delicious guttural cough coming from the far tower, so he ran down the steps and across the keep to it. Very luckily, the dopey wizard had left the key in the lock so he was able to open the large wooden door without trying to break it down, an almost impossible task for a three foot high accountant.

What took you so long, my lover,” was the reaction of the dishevelled giant sitting in the dark on the cold floor, “and, by the way, I’ve been wondering while trapped in here, who is your favourite astronomer?”

Xylophone playing Patrick Moore, of course, my dear, but I think that writer has abused the alphabet stories and taken an easy option...he should have tried harder and brought in a racist angle or somehow brought in a TV talent show host.”

You’re making even less sense than normal, which is really saying something,” she replied scratching her beard in frustration.

Zip it, Janet, and come over here and give me a kiss, you little minx.”

 

David Clay

  Writingclasses.co.uk
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