Read The Homeless Ghosts of Calcutta, A Collection. Page 6

  Part 1

  Saint Olafinski sat astride Philbert his triple horned boar, gazing down from Mount Grimm. Below inside a glittering pool of light was the town of Sahlter. Absently he twirled the end of his long, thick beard around one finger. Moonlight gleamed off his mane of white hair which flowed majestically past his shoulders. Philbert snorted with piggish delight. St. Olafinski took his bull hide gloves out from the thick belt, which strained to keep his gut constrained. Carefully he pulled them on, a maestro preparing for his symphony.

  "HOHO Philbert. Truly, our work is cut out for us this night. Such a den of unbridled joy shall not go unrewarded. Most of all the children! Their bright young eyes shining with the new light of morning will be celebration enough for us," he shouted joyfully.

  There was a sharp ‘CRACK’ in the air followed by a parchment drifting down on the wind like a leaf. St. Olafinski plucked it out, donned his reading spectacles and held the paper at arm’s length.

  "Hrrm...It seems that a young lady wants a new Pretty Pink Princess Fantasy Realm set. And by MY BEARD SHE SHALL HAVE IT!" declared the leather and satin covered giant of a man. He paused in rapt contemplation. "Yet where would I acquire such an obvious object of unimaginable joy?"

  There was another ‘CRACK’ which tore the very fabric of the inky sky. A smaller note dropped neatly into St. Olafinski's hand. On it in clear black text was a name and address.

  "HOHO, WE RIDE PHILBERT!"

  St. Olafinski dug his boot heels into Philbert's sides urging the tan and gray striped boar downhill. Headlong they plunged into the night air. A gibbous moon lit their path and trees were black pillars rising from the hillside, rocks formed shadowy fingers curling up from the ground. Philbert's fetid breath steamed in the winter's air and his trotters clattered against the earth with the sound of thunder. The heaving mass of man and beast vanished into the nighttime’s shroud.