The deafening sound exploded with such intensity that Ponkle Boffwungler awoke with a start. His second thought was that he hoped his first thought was wrong.
He waited, hardly daring to breathe. His whole body was trembling as his mind conjured up hideous images of what was about to become of him. He had never been so afraid in his entire one hundred and twelve years. Well, except for that fateful day twenty two years ago...
Ponkle’s thoughts were interrupted as his widening eyes focussed on his large wooden front door. He watched in silence as the red door handle creaked as it was turned this way and that. Whatever evil lurked outside was not going to disappear without a fight.
Ponkle Boffwungler was not the most intelligent of creatures but in times of need he usually did succeed in finding a little bit of common sense, which his most trusted acquaintance, Sigworth, had so kindly lent him. Ponkle thought hard for a moment... it was in a jar somewhere ... . He carefully pulled back the heavy covers and slowly climbed down from his resting place .... Now where was it? He shuffled cautiously across the floor and had to stop himself yelping out loud when what sounded like a herd of angry elephants began charging towards his front door.
Ponkle hurriedly began barricading the entrance with anything he could find, beautifully hand carved chairs, rickety stools, patchwork cushions and even the purple satin box which his father had given to him when he was younger, which to this very day he had been unable to open.
The stampeding rapidly grew louder and Ponkle felt the ground beneath him vibrate as if it were about to split in half right under him, sending him against his will to the unknown depths of the planet. Without thinking, he hurled himself against the already stacked furniture (even though his small but somewhat round body would not provide much resistance) and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
‘Oooaaahh!’ he squealed as his frightened figure was hurled at great speed across the dimly lit cave due to the impact of the mighty blow. Seconds later he emerged from under a pile of dirty clothes (quite a big pile at that as Ponkle never had been one for believing in excessive cleanliness - at least that was his excuse, in theory he was simply extremely lazy). His petrified gaze was now glued to the door, although his vision was still somewhat blurred. As his large green eyes began to focus he began to make out an enormous dent, twice the size of his feeble self. Most of the furniture had been damaged but the door remained firmly shut which, at that precise moment, was the only thing that mattered.
'That was a close one,’ Ponkle murmured, congratulating himself for his show of bravery as he re-arranged his home, paying little attention to the bulging sack hanging on the hat-stand in the corner of the cave. He would not think about that until tomorrow. For now his thoughts were only of returning to his warm bed.
