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ORIENTAL SNOWDRIFT

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IMG_0725

Image from the net

A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements.

  • Place: Japan

    Character: the new guy

    Object: an ashtray

    Weather: drifting snow

 

ORIENTAL SNOWDRIFT

By John Yeo

   We are an exclusive club of travelers. Our writing fraternity has visited a different exotic venue each winter for the last ten years. We have been to the ends of the earth in search of inspiration. We explore an unusual destination, then write like crazy for a fortnight using our holiday destination as a backdrop.

    We decided to holiday this year in Japan, It was Harry, the new guy to our group. who had the idea of visiting Hokkaido, I can clearly remember when he addressed the group at our annual meeting.

 “Thanks to the prevailing cold winds from Russia: Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost and second-largest island usually gets a good dumping of snow. Sapporo, Japan’s fifth largest city, hosts a magical snow festival that attracts over two million people every year in February to see hundreds of snow statues and ice sculptures.”

There was a generally positive reaction to this idea.

Jim Trimble the chairman responded with, “Yes, I’ve heard of this massive unusual event, we ought to get some great inspiration from the displays and the atmosphere there.”

 Peter Drake our secretary and treasurer looked up from the laptop he had perched in front of him on the table. “Sapporo is within our budget and has some interesting features to visit whilst we are there. I can probably get a good deal if we book early,”

“Any questions, or alternative ideas?” asked the chairman.

Millicent Summers, then asked, “What is the temperature like there in February,?”

“Cold!” said Peter

The chairman then asked for a show of hands and the decision to visit Sapporo was carried unanimously.

That is the background to how we found ourselves marooned in a luxury hotel in Sapporo after a freak snowfall had dumped ten inches of snow on this part of the city causing widespread chaos. With devastating snowdrifts piling up, bringing delays to all transport, thousands of people were stranded at the airports.

 We were called together to be questioned by an officer of the Japanese police investigating the murder of one of our fellow guests, an Australian man who was traveling alone had been found dead in his hotel room with a severe wound to his head.

 The investigating officer arrived with two colleagues and began to question all of the hotel guests individually.

The police made an arrest and left with the suspect in handcuffs. We were shocked to discover that Harry, the new guy in our club was under arrest for murder.

 

Jim Trimble said the evidence was cast iron as the victim had been assaulted with one of the large heavy glass ashtrays that can be found in every room throughout the hotel. The only missing ashtray was from Harry’s room, this was almost incontrovertible evidence.

Millicent was soon on the case, and angrily cornered the night porter and questioned him vigorously, she hated to admit Harry had spent the night with her.

 Harry was quickly released from custody; an innocent bystander in a planned assassination.

 

(498 WORDS)

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Friday Flasher

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FATE AND FISH WITH CHIPS

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fish-and-chips-

Image from the net, courtesy of ~ Synnot Street Fish and Chips – Melbourne

A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements.

  • Place: any fast food place
  • Character: a writer
  • Object: an ice cream cake
  • Weather: calm and cool

FATE AND FISH WITH CHIPS

by John Yeo

The fish and chip shop was at the heart of the community, located in a small parade of shops, there was an area outside the shop with tables and chairs set up. Friday night was always a busy night and the queue would often overflow onto the terrace outside.

It was Billy Perkins sixth birthday this Friday, and his parents had promised him a special fish supper for his birthday party, to be held at the local fish and chip shop.

“Daddy, will I get a birthday cake, after my fish n’chips?” Billy asked his father excitedly.

 “Of course son, it wouldn’t be a birthday party without a cake!”  replied his father, smiling.

 “Can I have ice cream as well, please? All my friends love ice cream.”

  “Yes Billy, in fact, we have asked the people in the fish shop to make sure you get some.”

 “Aw! Thanks, Dad.”

When the long awaited day of the party finally arrived; Billy, together with his friends, began to take their seats at this exciting unusual venue for the party. The weather was cool for August, cool and calm with just a light breeze.

The children were soon seated at tables and chairs on the terrace outside the shop, tucking into their huge portions of fish with plenty of chips.

Suddenly a man with a concertina appeared and began to play the time honoured tune to the song: “Happy Birthday to,You!” Everybody, even the waiting customers joined in to wish Billy a very happy birthday. Then the owners of the shop appeared with a huge ice cream cake with six large candles burning on top.

  An elderly gentleman seated in a corner of the terrace, watching the children enjoying the party suddenly fell to the floor writhing in pain choking for breath.

 Billy’s Mum, who was a nurse jumped up and hit him several times in the centre of his back dislodging a large piece of undigested fish, that flew across the floor and was quickly consumed by the shop’s cat, who had been lurking under a table nearby.

The elderly gentleman, who quickly recovered, was overwhelmed with gratitude. He introduced himself as William Bryant, a writer, and author of many books and handed her his card.

“You saved my life!” he exclaimed. “I would like to repay you, please contact me here tomorrow. I want to give my namesake Billy a birthday present of some of my books. Meanwhile, I would like to pay for this birthday party.”

“No! We cannot accept that. I was only doing what I have been trained to do. Of course, we will all come and visit you tomorrow. Billy would like that.”

Time passed and young Billy also became an author with much encouragement from their new found  family friend.

 

(464 WORDS)

 

Copyright Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Friday Flasher

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SPACE MIRAGE

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Red planet

Image from the net

A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Dust Moat

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Image  Copyright John and Margaret

SPACE MIRAGE

by John Yeo

 The castle looked fantastic. We had arrived in orbit around  a mysterious red planet. A massive fortress loomed up as we arrived and our spacecraft began to orbit around the planet. A construction that seemed so mysteriously huge it was visible from space.
   “Wow!” ejaculated Palmer, the officer in control of the outer cameras.  “What’s that? It seems to be shining like gold in the path of the light reflected from the twin Suns orbiting the planet.”
   “I’m not sure but I think that is actually gold, or it could be a brand new material unknown to our science. We better get down there and take a look. Prepare to land. Take your places  everyone in the landing party.” said the Captain.
    “OK, Captain”  shouted  Palmer, “Remote surface readings, indicate an atmosphere that is identical to Earth’s. There is a solid surface, one mile away from the castle. The area around the castle, however, is reading as unstable, almost like a quicksand in the desert. I can only describe this as a dust moat. There is no indication of life anywhere at this time.”
   “stand-by team! We are going down. Follow my instructions to the letter, we must be on our guard against all eventualities.”


  The desert Suns were competing with each other to scorch the surface of the planet, as the spacecraft set down as close to the castle as possible.
 Gold was the card that drew the travellers to this scorching, parched, planet. A solid gold castle that promised astounding riches.
After the travellers had left the spacecraft, they found themselves trekking through the desert towards the castle. A castle that seemed not to be getting any closer but seemed to be exactly the same distance away.
  A strong whirlwind began to swirl the surface dust of the planet, covering everything and everyone. Visibility became poor, then impossible, the team quickly erected pods to shield them from the swirling, whirling maelstrom of dust.
Some time later when the storm had abated, the team emerged from their shelters to an astounding discovery. The castle had completely disappeared, the Captain immediately ordered the mission to be aborted with a rapid return to the ship.

   As the spacecraft took off and entered an orbit around the planet, the officer on the watch gasped as the gold castle was clearly visible on the planet once again.
   “Captian! Look a bridge has appeared across the dry moat, do you think this is a sign of welcome!” exclaimed officer Mcquirter.
  The Captain was dismissive and ordered the spacecraft to continue into space.
    “We will record this as alien science; an astonishing planet, I am not prepared to risk our lives by landing again. We narrowly escaped a strange fate, a dusty quicksand moat can suck the unwary into a painful death. Onward team!

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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THE CATACOMBS

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catacombs

Image ~ Courtesy of BBC

A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements.

  • Place: beneath the streets
  • Character: a home builder
    Object: two new light bulbs
    Mood: tense

 

THE CATACOMBS

by John Yeo

  The family was gathered at a well-respected firm of solicitors to hear the reading of Grandfather’s last will and testament. Ruth, his daughter and her husband Wilfred, together with his two sons, Martin with his wife Maureen, and Malcolm, a confirmed bachelor. Seated around a highly polished old oak table in a wood-panelled room, with shelves full of law books, the atmosphere was tense.

    Mr. Perkins, the family solicitor cleared his throat, before proceeding.

   “This is the last will and testament of Mr. Horace Jones, Bricklayer, and Homebuilder.”

 Everyone present leaned forward in their chairs expectantly.

“I have nothing much in cash to leave except a challenge. I have mortgaged all my properties and turned my cash and collateral into an investment, that is located beneath the streets of the town of Middleburgh. I have deposited in our family tomb in the Catacombs, a secure casket containing the Jewel in my Crown, and I would like all present to get there if you are brave enough. The winner takes the prize.”

There were gasps of surprise all around the table, even Mr. Perkins raised an eyebrow at this surprise. Ruth fainted, and her husband Wilfred shocked, said, “We are both sufferers of Claustrophobia, the old rascal knew that I don’t think he has left anything at all!”

“You’re absolutely right!” Interjected Martin, “This is a Wild Goose chase the old felon was a gambler and probably broke, he is having us on from beyond the grave.”

Malcolm then spoke up, “Can we challenge this will? I will try to get there. I think this is total nonsense!”

 Mr. Perkins then said, “Yes, of course, the will can be challenged but what are you actually challenging? An alleged fortune, and who do you challenge?”

   It was Martin’s wife Maureen who came up with the idea of everyone going to the Jones family tomb together. “We will all be present at the opening of the box that way! We can take care of everything for the claustrophobic family members when we get there.”

“Good idea,” said Malcolm.

“Yes! We will come along as far as we can,”  said Ruth’s husband, Wilfred.

A week later found the party wending their way through the old catacombs to the tomb. Cobwebs were hanging everywhere, A strange tense mood had gripped everyone as Ruth and Wilfred had quickly given up. Their Claustrophobia mingled with Arachnophobia had made it impossible for them to continue.

A figure loomed up in the semi-darkness as an old man with a pronounced stoop stepped forward out of the gloom. “It’s OK!” he said grinning, “I’m the caretaker here, I have just fitted two new light bulbs along the corridor. We had a visitor last night, who broke into one of the tombs, we can’t figure out why.”

There was a shocked silence. The answer became obvious when they reached the ransacked Jones family tomb.

A year later Malcolm was happily retired in the Bahamas.

 

(493 WORDS)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Friday Flasher

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EMERGENCY NICKNAME

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday Emergency Nickname

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image

Image courtesy of Gressenhall Farm and Workhouse

EMERGENCY NICKNAME

by John Yeo

  “Meet Foundling,” said the man commonly called the Beadle, “Foundling has been in this institution for 20 years now, she knows no other life but this, a move would probably destroy her completely.”
I shook hands with a tall young woman, her hair was brushed but hung lank down to her shoulders. Dressed in the plain issue clothes of the Workhouse, her obvious charming beauty, shone through.

“Hello Foundling, you have an unusual name, I have never heard anyone answer to a name like that. How did you come by it?”

“I don’t know Sir, I have always had that name, I have never been called anything else.” At this moment the Beadle broke in and explained.

“Foundling was abandoned on the doorstep of the Workhouse, as a baby, we took her in and as is usually the case, we gave her an emergency nickname. We did try to get her officially named, but she refuses to answer to anything other than Foundling. It is not our policy to force our residents into anything they are not happy about so she has been christened Foundling Smith.”

“What an incredible story!” I gasped, turning to Foundling, I said, “Are you sure you are happy about this unusual name? It could label you for the rest of your life when you get away from here.”

“Yes Sir, it’s OK, I have no intention of going anywhere,” Foundling said.

I turned to the Beadle and said, “You will have to break the news to the residents that I am here to close this establishment down. The government has decided that Workhouses have outlived their usefulness.”

The Beadle shrugged his shoulders resignedly and nodded. “The results of this drastic action will be in the hands of God.” He said sullenly.
It was then I realised how the effect of the closure would resonate throughout the whole establishment. The Beadle would also feel the effects.

Over the next few years, the old Victorian Workhouses were closed in England.
I was enjoying a happy retirement in Dorset, when I was intrigued to read in the Daily Times an announcement of the marriage of a Miss Foundling Smith, to the Earl of Richester.
That unusual name brought the memories flooding back. I have often wondered what became of the Beadle. I have a sneaking suspicion he was more institutionalised than any of the inmates.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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MISSISSIPPI MYSTERY

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A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements

  • Place: on a boat
  • Character: a US Senator
  • Object: a 60% off coupon
  • Smell: roasted peanuts

 

American Queen Steamboat

American Queen Steamboat

Image courtesy of American Queen Steamboat Company, New Orleans

MISSISSIPPI MYSTERY

by John Yeo

 Let me introduce you to Captain Hiram Henburger, a tolerant well liked man, Master of SS Maybelline, a steamboat that carries wealthy passengers on luxurious cruises up and down the Mississippi River.

Captain Henburger has a wealth of experience of cruising the Mississippi River,  there is nothing he doesn’t know about these impressive boats that are authentic models of craft that have sailed this historic river for years.

Today was day one of a 23-day cruise from Minneapolis (Red Wing) to New Orleans, the Master of the vessel was on the bridge as one of his senior officers welcomed each and every passenger aboard. A young couple boarded the vessel, waved off by several family members.

 

“Welcome aboard Sir, I seem to recognise you from your pictures in the news. Of course, you are Senator Planter; I’m pleased to meet you. The Captain sends his apologies, he has an urgent matter to deal with and asks if you would care to join him in the wardroom in an hour.”

“Of course, my wife Betsy here is dying to meet the Captain, aren’t you darling. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Betsy nodded, smiling as the young officer replied, “I’m Staff Captain Stephen Danvers, Sir. Just follow the crew member here and he will show you to your cabin.”

 

Exactly an hour later the Captain and Senator Planter with Mrs. Planter were enjoying afternoon refreshments in the wardroom as the steamboat sailed along through the impressive scenery on either side of the Mississippi River.

  Surprisingly the Senator revealed he was the fortunate recipient of a 60% off coupon, that had arrived through the post to one of his family. The Captain smiled affably and said, “There are some reasonable cabins in the economy section, I expect you managed to get an upgrade, though.”

“No! The ship is full with no upgrades available.”

“Oh dear,” said the Captain; “We will see you enjoy your voyage, Senator.”

Mrs. Planter was concerned that her dietary information had been received by the catering department. “Under no circumstances must I ever eat nuts, as I have a strong nut allergy that could be dangerous.”

The Captain assured her that he would make the Restaurant and the Catering department aware of this at once. “I will personally inform the Maitre D, and the Head Chef,” he assured her. “Have a wonderful voyage!”

 

The next morning at dawn the ship’s alarm bells were sounded as the ship was boarded by uniformed police. Mrs. Planter had been found dead in her cabin and the Senator was helping police with their enquiries. The cabin steward who found her body had noticed a strong smell of roasted peanuts. The Senator had been stopped from jumping overboard in an intoxicated condition. The ship’s medical officer suspects Mrs. Planter has suffered an anaphylactic shock due to an extreme reaction to roasted peanuts.

There will be a postmortem.

(485 WORDS)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved 

Friday Flasher

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THOUGHT TRAIN

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A prompt response for ~Inspiration Monday: Thought Train

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Three Sisters

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

TRAIN OF THOUGHT

Insomnia.

Catacombs of Norwich.

Maria, Mona, and Mary. Three sisters.

People of the night.

Security guards.

The Mall.

Bloody trail of clues.

Dead body in a doorway.

Midnight Insomnia.

Norwich Chalk Mine Tunnels.

Maria, Mona, and Mary. Three sisters bathed in blood.

THOUGHT TRAIN

by John Yeo

 The night hours dragged by as I tossed and turned, desperately trying to get to sleep. I pictured myself seeking inscriptions on the headstones located on ancient tombs in the catacombs of Norwich.

I wake my wife. “What’s the time?  Look it’s 3am.” She angrily answers her own question. “Please go to sleep, darling, or at least let me sleep.”

“Sorry I say, I’m trying, but these three sisters are haunting me, Maria, Mona, and Mary. I see them growing up together, I see them getting married, having children and each becoming a Matriarchal head of their families. A proud dynasty that is interwoven with love and tragedy combined.”

 “OK then, I’ll make us a cup of Camomile tea, while you tell me what’s keeping you awake.”  My wife says resignedly heading for the kettle.

  “Well there is one child from each of the three families, three boys who go astray, they become involved with the people of the night, criminals, addicts, gamblers, and drunken revellers. I see a fight, a death with security guards from a nearby shopping mall following a bloody trail and discovering a dead body in a shop doorway attached to the rear of the mall.”

My wife interjects. “Why is that keeping you and me awake at this ungodly hour of the morning? Drink your tea, before it gets cold!”

“I haven’t finished yet darling! These three boys were not the killers, yet they run and take refuge in the Norwich Chalk Mine Tunnels. There is a notorious coven in operation here operated by a magical sect, headed by three mysterious sisters, Maria, Mona, and Mary, bathed in the blood of the afterbirth of their three wayward sons.”

 

Norwich Chalk Mine tunnels

‘Norwich Chalk Mine Tunnels’ ~ Image from the net

 

“Welcome, we have been expecting you, the train of thought has come full circle and rebirth awaits at the next station along the line.”

My wife is fast asleep as I begin to put my train of thought on paper. A thought train or a dream?

Copyright © Written by john Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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ROUGH DIAMOND

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A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements

  • Place: Paris, France
  • Character: a coal miner
  • Object: red and blue markers
  • Smell: baby powder

Follow this link To comment:  Join in and have fun

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Swans

Image ©  John and Margaret ~ All rights reserved

 

 

ROUGH DIAMOND

by John Yeo

    After their parents had died in an automobile accident, the family home was sold, leaving Jean-Pierre and his brother, Francois, homeless.

Both coal miners, they had worked together since leaving school. They shared digs together; Jean-Pierre the elder of the two brothers was in love with Marie, the landlady’s daughter. They planned to get married when they had saved enough money.

The brothers worked in the same pit in Noeux, Northern France. One busy shift, the Foreman, a nasty piece of garbage, who answered to the name of Schotter, had been particularly rough on both brothers, sending them to work the coal face in the most dangerous area of the mine. Jean-Pierre suspected he was also in love with Marie, and bitterly seeking revenge for her spurning him, and his advances.

 That memorable day when Jean-Pierre struck the rugged coal face, an unusual round stone came tumbling down between his feet.

“What do you make of this Francois?”  Jean-Paul asked his brother. Francois gasped when he saw the stone.

  

 At that precise moment, there was a low rumble that became a slide and the roof collapsed trapping both brothers. Almost buried alive Jean-Pierre was dragged out with two broken legs, no one noticed the egg-shaped stone he clutched tightly in his hand. Francois died, buried alive in the tunnel.

There was an internal investigation, a manager questioned everyone and made copious notes and drawings on a whiteboard using red and blue markers. The conclusion was that Schotter had been negligent by ordering the brothers to work in an unsafe area. He was arrested and jailed for manslaughter.

It took a while to work out what he had found in the depths of the coal mine. Jean-Pierre always carried the rough stone in a pouch.

He made a slow recovery from his injuries, but he was forced to walk with a limp, and forget about his life as a miner. Marie stood by him when they decided to get married and move to Paris. Marie-Celeste was born, and their rented apartment was soon filled with, the gurgles of a newborn baby together with wondrous smells, of  baby powder everywhere.

 

 “Marie, we are soon going to move to a new house here in Paris. I have a very valuable item that I have been working on, a lucky relic from my days as a miner.”

 After a famous pink diamond was sold on the open market in Paris, for millions. It was a mystery buyer who purchased the diamond from a mystery seller, both sides of the transaction were handled by agents.

 Jean Pierre and Marie lived in comfort, financially sound for the rest of their lives.

 It was Marie’s idea to visit the old mine, the scene of Francois sad death.

When they came to the site, Jean-Pierre the miner stopped, stunned. Two French Swans were swimming on a lake where the overgrown mine shaft was. Swimming over coals that contained the last remains of his brother.

 

(496 WORDS)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Friday Flasher

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PRACTICING SPACECRAFT

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A prompt response for ~Inspiration Monday: Practicing Spacecraft

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Flying saucer

Free Image from Pixabay

PRACTICING SPACECRAFT 

By John Yeo

   The object puzzled old George, every time he passed the big house on the way to the village, he would get up on tip-toe to peer over the hedge. One day as he was having a look, Mabel Manners passed by and caught him in the act.

 “What are you looking at, nosey?” She asked him as she passed by; giggling. Mabel was quite a bit shorter than George and as she couldn’t see over the hedge she wasn’t aware of anything there.

 “I don’t know, what it is,” replied George, “It’s a large silver, saucer-shaped object, very shiny, with what look like fins on the side, I have never seen anything like it before. I have been keeping an eye on it for the last two days, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of life. I know the Wentworths are away at present, maybe it’s a gift from afar.”

  Mabel was now eaten up with curiosity, “Lift me up please George, I’d like to take a look at that; I’m not heavy. Maybe it’s a garden ornament that will be full of flowers in the Spring.”

  “Now who’s the nosey one, Mabel Manners? I’ll lift you up if you give me one of those delicious red apples from your basket.”  George said laughing loudly.

 “Go on then, you cheeky old rascal.” Mabel laughed and giggled again, as he raised her high enough for her to look over the fence. “What the heck is that? Well I never, I am sure that is not supposed to be there. However did it get there? Peter Wentworth will not be happy with that sitting in the middle of his lawn.”

 Just then a voice came up from behind them: “Hallo! Hallo! What’s going on here then? Caught in the act! Two villains casing the joint, while the owners are away on holiday?”  PC Wrinkle smiled as he said these words to two of the most unlikeliest crooks you could imagine.

Mabel blushed and flustered as she stammered, “Look over this fence Constable, there is a strange object in the middle of the garden. I have never seen anything like it before.”

Jim Wrinkle had been the village Bobby for thirty years now and he knew all the villagers individually. “I will take a look, Mrs. Manners, in the course of my investigations, just to rule out the burglary theory.” 

Jim stood on the tips of the steel-capped toes on his regulation boots and peered over the hedge, then he exclaimed. “My God! that looks like an alien spacecraft, I will have to contact the station and report this at once.”

A short while later the Wentworth residence was surrounded by Police and emergency vehicles and two helicopters were circling around above. Armed response officers surrounded the building when the main front door suddenly opened to reveal young Oscar Wentworth. “What’s going on?” Oscar asked.

 “Stand aside Sir! We believe you have an alien spacecraft on the lawn. Have you seen anything unusual?”  asked the officer in charge.

 “A what?” Exclaimed Oscar. “The only thing on the lawn is my Science project for college. I am practicing how to construct a spacecraft.”

 There was an embarrassing silence as the implications of this remark set in!

Then as the sun set in the evening twilight over the village there was a deafening roar as a spacecraft suddenly took off.  Oscar Wentworth has never been seen again.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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WHISTLE CODE

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A prompt response for ~Inspiration Monday: Whistle Code

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Images © Copyright ~ John And Margaret

WHISTLE CODE

by  John Yeo

     Pinto was a farmer, he grew fruit and vegetables in a fertile valley on the island of Vesta. Hidden among a group of larger islands in the Caribbean Sea, not many visitors arrived to break the monotony of the hard, day-to-day fight for survival. Steep rocky mountains engulfed the island, sheltering fertile valleys, where a hardy people who had lived and survived on the rocky, isolated, island, for centuries, scraped a living by exporting their produce to the mainland.

    Communication between neighbouring valleys was almost impossible before the dawn of the electronic age; to drive on the steep, rough and ready roads, from one valley to another could take a whole day.

     A whistling language developed over the years, from one valley to another, sharp, long and short, drawn-out whistles, would warn the people of danger or impending changes in the erratic winter weather conditions.

     The council of the island decreed that all the island’s children must be taught to communicate by whistling to keep this valuable ancient form of communication going.

    Pinto’s eldest son Paulo, resented this but reluctantly did as he was told and absorbed the skills.

     Mr. Zen, the whistling schoolteacher would drum the calls of alarm into the children….

   “Two long whistles and one short for an urgent request for help. One continuous long drawn out whistle for a helicopter rescue. Three short sharp whistles for a threatening stranger.”

  One memorable day, Paulo was working hard in the rock-strewn fields, when he vaguely heard an unusual whistle message from the neighbouring valley. It took a while for the realization that someone was in trouble to sink in, and he was quickly on the radio to the authorities who dispatched two helicopters immediately.

   “It looks like someone is lying prone at the bottom of that ravine there!”  shouted the pilot to the two paramedics. “The police helicopter is landing on a flat space a mile away, leaving that flat area clear for us!” The helicopter landed to find a young girl in a state of shock, frantically whistling the well-taught distress call.

    “Don’t move, just tell us what happened?” enquired one of the medics.

     “I came here with my boyfriend, but he tried to rape me: When I resisted he pushed me off the rock above and I landed here. My leg hurts, and I think I have twisted my neck.” the distraught young girl blurted out.

     “Lie still now, the police will catch up with him. I will have to take you to the hospital on the mainland, we will just lift you gently on to the stretcher and we will be off.”

   The police were informed of the situation by radio, and the other helicopter arrested a suspect, who was later charged with assault.

    Paulo was soon commended for his swift response to the distress whistle.

   He related the whole thing to Pinto, his Dad, and they both agreed that the whistle code was a very valuable language to pass on, and keep alive.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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