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monkeybardWhere’s Winnie?
By MonkeyBard
Rating: G
Length: 961
Universe: BBC
Genre: Magical Realism
Summary: John learns what has upset Creirwy
Date: 7 July 2019
JWP #6: In emergency break glass: Include broken glass in today's entry. It may be an accident, a clue, however you wish to interpret it.
Creirwy led John directly to Winnie’s shop. Considering his guide, he was surprised it was as far away as it was from where they started. When they arrived, it took less time than a breath to see things weren’t right. The glass of the door to the mystical, moveable shop was broken inward and the sign over it, the white sow and cauldron, hung from one point, spinning slowly.
“Christ!” muttered John at the shocking sight.
The oath garnered him an annoyed look from Celtic goddess in corgi form.
“Sorry.” He moved carefully up the stairs to the door and pushed it open. The usual cheerful tinkle of bells was replaced by a mournful, discordant clatter. He stepped carefully over broken shards of glass and called out, “Winnie?”
Creirwy barked from the doorway and he looked back at her.
“Was that a ‘She’s not here’ bark or a ‘Help me over the sharp things’ bark?”
She barked again and he could swear the dog frowned at him. Were all corgis that expressive or was it her magical nature that made her that way? He made a mental note to pay more attention the next time he met an ordinary corgi.
“All right, both?” He crossed back to the door and scooped up the dog. She didn’t fight him, so he figured he was on the right track. He set her down safely beyond the scattered glass bits and she began sniffing around hopefully.
“How did this happen?” he wondered aloud. “It can’t have been an ordinary burglar. Can it?” He looked at Creirwy. She whined and shook her head, then returned to her search. “Yeah. Thought not.” While she sniffed, he looked. The cabinets were all intact and appeared undisturbed. Nothing looked to be missing from the window display.
He followed Creirwy as she moved behind the counter, only to come up with nothing there either. Suddenly she caught a scent and growled. “Someone here?” he asked softly.
Rather than reply, the dog headed determinedly towards the velvet curtain that hid the back of the shop.
John hesitated. “I don’t think I’m allowed back there.”
She huffed at him, an obvious sigh of impatience, and nosed the curtain aside. Her tailless bum disappeared and still John waited, uncertain. When she began barking wildly, he decided he could apologize to Winnie later and dove after her.
He’d seen behind a fair few shop fronts in his life. He figured this one would be less like the back room at a Tesco and more like the witch’s cabin in the movie Brave. It was neither and yet it was so perfectly “Winnie” that he secretly felt a fool not to have expected it.
Warm. Inviting. Intimidating. Welsh.
Grey-white stone wall. Heavy wooden mantel above an inset fireplace. Whitewashed cabinetry built into one corner and filled with cut-glass bottles and ceramic jars. Bunches of dried herbs and flowers hanging from ceiling beams. Shelves full of all the arcane and disturbing things better left out of sight of her potential customers. A dark, wooden rocking chair with an embroidered cushion on its seat and knitted blanket over its back.
But no Winnie. And no intruder. So what had set the dog growling?
“Beauty?” he addressed the dog. “Do you know who did this?”
She barked and he took it as a yes. He wasn’t going to get a name from her, so he tried another question. “Is anything missing besides your mum?”
The dog padded quickly to the fireplace, whining pitifully and pawing at the cold hearthstones.
“Something from the fireplace. Okay.” He looked around. Neatly stacked wood at one side. A copper cup that held long wooden matches at the other. The usual assortment of wood-handled, iron implements meant for tending a fire. There was even an iron hook on a hinge for hanging a pot over the flames. Appropriately old school.
Creirwy whined and snuffled until he knelt next to her. Maybe if he looked at things from corgi level, he’d see what was missing. So to speak.
He did another mental inventory: wood, matches, tools, hook for a pot— Hang on. He looked around. “Where’s the pot?” He rose and scanned the—he could only think of it as a cottage. “Sink?” There was a sink across the room, but no cast iron pot stood in or near it.
He thought hard, trying to remember what he’d learned. He’d done a bit of web searching early on in his relationship with Winnie—once Mrs. Hudson had explained who she was. Hadn’t there been something about a cauldron?
“Cauldron?” he puzzled out loud.
Instantly Creirwy began to bark and run in circles. He knelt down and she stopped running, placing both paws on his bent knee. “Okay. I think I get it. Winnie’s missing and so is her cauldron and the cauldron is powerful?”
He could swear the dog nodded emphatically.
“What am I supposed to do about it? I mean, I want to help, but—” He pointed at himself. “—mortal, remember?”
Again that doggy nod. She pawed at him once more and he instinctively reached out to pet her as if she were as commonplace as he was. To his relief, she seemed to calm a bit and even waggle her bum like an ordinary dog.
John continued to pet her and scratch her ears while he thought.
Clearly he could help. Otherwise, why would Beauty have sought him out? He still didn’t understand how, but he’d figure it out. Winnie had done so much for him, and while he’d paid her price for that help, he couldn’t deny her help in return.
“All right, Beauty. I’m in. Let’s find your mum and her cauldron and bring them both home.”
By MonkeyBard
Rating: G
Length: 961
Universe: BBC
Genre: Magical Realism
Summary: John learns what has upset Creirwy
Date: 7 July 2019
JWP #6: In emergency break glass: Include broken glass in today's entry. It may be an accident, a clue, however you wish to interpret it.
Creirwy led John directly to Winnie’s shop. Considering his guide, he was surprised it was as far away as it was from where they started. When they arrived, it took less time than a breath to see things weren’t right. The glass of the door to the mystical, moveable shop was broken inward and the sign over it, the white sow and cauldron, hung from one point, spinning slowly.
“Christ!” muttered John at the shocking sight.
The oath garnered him an annoyed look from Celtic goddess in corgi form.
“Sorry.” He moved carefully up the stairs to the door and pushed it open. The usual cheerful tinkle of bells was replaced by a mournful, discordant clatter. He stepped carefully over broken shards of glass and called out, “Winnie?”
Creirwy barked from the doorway and he looked back at her.
“Was that a ‘She’s not here’ bark or a ‘Help me over the sharp things’ bark?”
She barked again and he could swear the dog frowned at him. Were all corgis that expressive or was it her magical nature that made her that way? He made a mental note to pay more attention the next time he met an ordinary corgi.
“All right, both?” He crossed back to the door and scooped up the dog. She didn’t fight him, so he figured he was on the right track. He set her down safely beyond the scattered glass bits and she began sniffing around hopefully.
“How did this happen?” he wondered aloud. “It can’t have been an ordinary burglar. Can it?” He looked at Creirwy. She whined and shook her head, then returned to her search. “Yeah. Thought not.” While she sniffed, he looked. The cabinets were all intact and appeared undisturbed. Nothing looked to be missing from the window display.
He followed Creirwy as she moved behind the counter, only to come up with nothing there either. Suddenly she caught a scent and growled. “Someone here?” he asked softly.
Rather than reply, the dog headed determinedly towards the velvet curtain that hid the back of the shop.
John hesitated. “I don’t think I’m allowed back there.”
She huffed at him, an obvious sigh of impatience, and nosed the curtain aside. Her tailless bum disappeared and still John waited, uncertain. When she began barking wildly, he decided he could apologize to Winnie later and dove after her.
He’d seen behind a fair few shop fronts in his life. He figured this one would be less like the back room at a Tesco and more like the witch’s cabin in the movie Brave. It was neither and yet it was so perfectly “Winnie” that he secretly felt a fool not to have expected it.
Warm. Inviting. Intimidating. Welsh.
Grey-white stone wall. Heavy wooden mantel above an inset fireplace. Whitewashed cabinetry built into one corner and filled with cut-glass bottles and ceramic jars. Bunches of dried herbs and flowers hanging from ceiling beams. Shelves full of all the arcane and disturbing things better left out of sight of her potential customers. A dark, wooden rocking chair with an embroidered cushion on its seat and knitted blanket over its back.
But no Winnie. And no intruder. So what had set the dog growling?
“Beauty?” he addressed the dog. “Do you know who did this?”
She barked and he took it as a yes. He wasn’t going to get a name from her, so he tried another question. “Is anything missing besides your mum?”
The dog padded quickly to the fireplace, whining pitifully and pawing at the cold hearthstones.
“Something from the fireplace. Okay.” He looked around. Neatly stacked wood at one side. A copper cup that held long wooden matches at the other. The usual assortment of wood-handled, iron implements meant for tending a fire. There was even an iron hook on a hinge for hanging a pot over the flames. Appropriately old school.
Creirwy whined and snuffled until he knelt next to her. Maybe if he looked at things from corgi level, he’d see what was missing. So to speak.
He did another mental inventory: wood, matches, tools, hook for a pot— Hang on. He looked around. “Where’s the pot?” He rose and scanned the—he could only think of it as a cottage. “Sink?” There was a sink across the room, but no cast iron pot stood in or near it.
He thought hard, trying to remember what he’d learned. He’d done a bit of web searching early on in his relationship with Winnie—once Mrs. Hudson had explained who she was. Hadn’t there been something about a cauldron?
“Cauldron?” he puzzled out loud.
Instantly Creirwy began to bark and run in circles. He knelt down and she stopped running, placing both paws on his bent knee. “Okay. I think I get it. Winnie’s missing and so is her cauldron and the cauldron is powerful?”
He could swear the dog nodded emphatically.
“What am I supposed to do about it? I mean, I want to help, but—” He pointed at himself. “—mortal, remember?”
Again that doggy nod. She pawed at him once more and he instinctively reached out to pet her as if she were as commonplace as he was. To his relief, she seemed to calm a bit and even waggle her bum like an ordinary dog.
John continued to pet her and scratch her ears while he thought.
Clearly he could help. Otherwise, why would Beauty have sought him out? He still didn’t understand how, but he’d figure it out. Winnie had done so much for him, and while he’d paid her price for that help, he couldn’t deny her help in return.
“All right, Beauty. I’m in. Let’s find your mum and her cauldron and bring them both home.”
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Date: 2019-07-08 07:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-08 04:19 pm (UTC)