I spy

‘Sausages?’

‘No, not sausages! Where can ya see sausages in ‘ere?’

‘Dunno....give up.’

‘Can’t give up! Only ‘ad one guess!’

‘Um....’

‘Come on! ‘S’ Somethin’ beginnin’ wi’ ‘S’!’

‘Sunflowers?’

‘Soup?’

‘Sheep?’

‘No, no, no! Y’aven’t got the ‘ang of it...ya’ve got ta be able ta see it!!’

‘Oh!’

‘Oh!’

‘Right!.....Sandcastles?’

‘That’s it. I give up wi’ ya! Ungry, you have a go..’

‘I spy, wi’ my three eyes, somethin’ beginnin’ wi’ ‘Q’.’

‘Quibley!’ shouted Quibley.

‘Arhh, not fair! How d’ya know?’

‘Well what else in ‘ere begins wi’ ‘Q’ stupid!’

Ungry started sulking. He never had been very good at that one.

‘Better luck next time, eh!’ laughed Ubwig, nudging him.

Ungry, Ubwig and Quibley shared the same work-bench near the back of the chamber.

‘Right, someone else choose one,’ Umpwiffle’s voice sailed the length of the room.

Umpwiffle’s bench was at the opposite end and he was lucky enough to have one all to his self. Although he didn’t consider himself lucky as he liked a good natter at the best of times to take his mind off the job in hand. There were eighteen rows of benches in all, each occupied by as many Trunglers as could be spared that day.

It had been a dull, uneventful morning and they were running out of games to indulge in, mainly because Trunglers are a race easily bored.

Ungry grumbled at the choice of entertainment as he secured the lid on the container he was holding.

‘Done,’ he muttered, passing the jar full of brown smoke to Ubwig, who in turn passed it to Quibley, who stood up and carefully took it over to the many shelves which were now beginning to fill up.

Quibley pulled the sheet of sticky labels from out of one of his pockets and took a felt tip from another. Number 769, he wrote before sticking the label on the jar and placing it next to number 768 on the top shelf.

The Trunglers

‘Ssshhh!’ instructed Tolita in such a manner that her men shook in their boots. This was a highly complicated mission and Tolita wished that she did not have to rely on a bunch of fools to get the job done.

The army, made up of a bundle of cowardly creatures known as Trunglers, crouched impatiently and waited for their next command. These pitiful beings were not here of their own accord, actually they had a very limited career choice, either they served Tolita or they were dead. An easy enough choice for most of them.

Tolita was otherwise known as the ‘Judgess’ of Valdox. Biffleworth, her late husband, had been the Kingdom’s Judge for many, many years and his fairness was renowned throughout the land. Tolita took over his position, after his untimely and somewhat suspicious death.

Anyway, here the Trunglers were, trying their hardest (which, incidentally, is not all that hard) to keep their minds centred. The main reason why they could not do this was because they were creatures with a love for beautiful things. In fact, right now their three eyes were busy studying the interior of the somewhat cramped, damp passageway in which they were huddled. They had, of course, ventured this way many times before, yet the architecture never ceased to amaze their puzzled minds.

Either side of the passageway had been decorated with a curious silver and violet substance, the likes of which the Trunglers (and, indeed, all the inhabitants of the land, well, nearly all) had never seen. The substance’s flow was only ever interrupted when it hit small crevices in the rock, behind which could be seen constant eruptions of mystical sound and vibrant colour.

What bemused the Trunglers most of all (and Tolita herself although she would never admit it) was that the designs painted on the stone always managed to look different. Each time the small party travelled along this same tunnel it was like entering it for the first time. A peculiar thing.

Now, it must be said here that the Moloks are an exceptionally creative race and their ability to design such tunnels remains a mystery, especially considering their size. A Molok never grows taller than a blade of Deep Forest grass (but I would not advise travelling to such parts to find out if I am telling the truth).

‘Advance!’ hissed Tolita, sensing now was the time to strike.

The Trunglers, already numb, aching and suffering from severe pins and needles, gradually realised which body parts were their own and which belonged to fellow creatures and began shuffling down the tunnel on all fives.