Barton Leas

 

You can't see the tiny village

In the bush, called Barton Leas

For it's hidden in a hollow,

Down a track and through the trees,

And you'd pass it on the highway

Never knowing where to stop,

If it wasn't for a broken sign

That indicates a shop.

 

There are just two dozen houses

By the shop, a little pub,

And an oval with no grass on

All burnt up, just like the scrub,

While the buildings look forsaken

Peeling paint in every street,

And the roofs are made of iron

Fending off the scorching heat.

 

You would think the place deserted

If you ventured there by day,

For the streets are always empty

Like the folk have gone away,

But that's only in the summer

When the sun is at its height,

If you want to see some movement

Then, you have to go at night.

 

For it's then that all the neighbors

Gather, drinking at the pub,

Or go out to tend their gardens

Though their gardens are burnt up,

For it hasn't rained in Barton Leas

For years that I can see

When a passing shower startled them,

The first since fifty-three.

 

The people seemed so friendly

When John Inkerman turned up,

He was just a passing drifter

Quite a jolly, friendly chap,

And the locals thought he'd fit right in

And rented him a place,

They would pay him for odd jobs,

Invite him round for tea and cake.

 

There had never been an argument

Before in Barton Leas,

For the folk were all good neighbors

Helped each other, tried to please,

But when Inkerman had called and

Whispered things to Molly Brown,

The atmosphere began to change,

He'd said, they 'put her down.'

 

Then little Amy Pearson

Began to fret and cry,

When Inkerman had called on her,

The neighbors asked her why?

He'd told her that her husband Jeff

Was sweet on Ellen Tredd,

He'd seen the couple necking

In the trees behind the shed.

 

Then Mrs. Bartlett snubbed a friend

She'd had for twenty years,

While Mr. Bartlett smashed a glass

And went for old Carstairs,

While Peggy Neap had wandered out

To tend her veggie patch,

To find that it was all dug up

Her vegetables trashed.

 

Then Gordon almost hit a tree

When heading out to town,

His truck had veered off the track,

The tyres all let down,

It seemed that almost everything

That could was going wrong

In Barton Leas, since Inkerman,

The drifter came along.

 

One night they held a meeting

In the little village hall,

The place was packed that night

With all the neighbors, wall to wall,

But later, when John Inkerman

Had tried to join the crowd,

He found the doors and windows there

Had been both locked and barred.

 

The meeting went 'til midnight

Then the neighbors wandered home,

While Inkerman had stopped a few,

Asked what was going down;

'Don't let that worry you, my lad,'

Said Benjamin Tresize,

'You'll find out soon enough! We'd like

To keep it a surprise.'

 

One night as Inkerman had slept

Beneath a haloed moon,

Dark figures stirred around his house

Moved quietly through the gloom,

From every house in Barton Leas

They issued in the mist,

On every face a coloured mask,

A blade in every fist.

 

The screams were truly terrible

That night in Barton Leas,

As in they filed and, one by one

Ignored the drifter's pleas,

And every blade was bloodstained

When they filed on out the door,

That not one would be guilty;

As good neighbors, they would share.

 

The villagers of Barton Leas

Are friendly, never dull,

Their pub has gained an ornament

That looks quite like a skull,

And Peggy Neap grows veggies

That when cooked, just fall apart,

So succulent, they're fertilized

By a drifter's heart.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Mark]

The Hypnotic meter just draws you in and will not let you go! The solitary line remarking "a passing shower" mislead me awhile into thinking Inkerman would be a sort of deliverer of blessing; instead he delivered cursing, and wound up being delivered himself!
There is so much philosophical claptrap I COULD blather on about, but I'll (albeit with difficulty!) curtail that impulse this time. Aside from Peggy's veg, all was after his demise as it had been before his nascence, speaking to the triumph of permanent goodness over transient (NPI) badness! Just Lovely!

[Andrew Scorah]

The village came alive in my mind it was like i had visited it before and knew all the people.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

What a gruesome tale of wrath and revenge. As always, you pull us into the well of your wealth of wisdom, leaving us more knowledgeable than before. This narrative was a tad darker than most. Nonetheless, it was powerful, disturbingly so. Great job!

[Dan Bullock]

Your storytelling is unique, original and quite, quite wonderful. Fantastic writing, there are too many parts to just pick out one or two! :)

[Debra Stevens Edwards (..]

Well David once again you did it and perfectly.
Hugs Debby

[Lena M. P.]

Fantastic tale. Reminds me a bit of Poe. Very well done. I thank you for sharing. Gave me the goosebumps.

[Valentine]

You are one amazing nut..Fertilized by his heart no less..how gruesome..I love your tales aand I am sure you know that by now..You are the best story teller I have ever read and do make me laugh..God bless and thank you for inviting me to read this..Valentine

[Victoria Harlequin]

That was a bit eerie. Great write though, it kept me reading on and on. My eyes never left the screen!
Terrific write!

[Wildfleour]

David, when you've got it, you've got it. And you've got it! :)

[Lady leah]

Very nicely penned, great write.