Author Topic: The Storyteller  (Read 193 times)

crabbyob

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The Storyteller
« on: Jan 06, 2018, 05:15:28 AM »
The Storyteller[/font]
The middle-aged man hung his coat up in the hall and went into the living room, “now then father how are you” the old man got up from his computer and smiled at his son “I thought we could try a Chinese tonight” he went into the kitchen and switched the kettle on, when he returned his son was peering at the computer screen “a new story” he asked, the old man sat in his easy chair and nodded “I wont ask you to read it, its just my normal drivel” his son sat at the computer and laughed “your stories are just too far fetched to be believable” he put on his glasses and began to read, his father got up and went to answer the kettles whistle… when he returned he placed a mug of coffee on the computer desk, his son picked it up and took a sip, “you shouldn’t name a character after yourself, people might think it’s a true story” the old man sat down with a sigh, then replied “it is a true story” his son grinned and looked at him “what, you knew a Russian spy in the sixties” the old man shook his head “read on David its not a long story” when he finished his coffee he leaned over and turned up the gas fire, about five mins later his son laughed “well it cant be true because you just died in a house fire” the old man sighed “no David, Davy Rennie died in a house fire”  his son turned the desk swivel chair to face his father “so David Rennie, if he died in the fire who are you?” he smiled, his father looked him in the eye “my name is Valentino Ratkis, and I was born in a village in the Urals, I cant remember the name of the village because I was only three when they took me” his son laughed “do you know I almost believe you” the old man shook his head “I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I feel I should tell you the truth before I die” the smile had slipped from his sons face “are you being serious?” the old man nodded “I couldn’t say anything while your mother was alive but I thought you had the right to know” the man shook his head “so whats my real name” the old man shrugged “it is David Rennie of course, I haven’t changed your name, all of this happened before you were born” “so who took you as a three year old” “the Russian authorities, my mother and father were killed in a German air raid, and they took me all the way to Moscow, they put me in a strange school where they only spoke in a strange language, English as it turned out, and for the next few years I was brought up as English” “but” his son interrupted “you have a Scottish accent” the old man nodded “I was supposed to have a Yorkshire accent but when I got here and heard the real Yorkshire accent I realised mine sounded so false, then I met Davey, who was a jock so I began imitating him, for a laugh he thought, but I found it very easy and I still do” “say something in Russian” his son interrupted him… he looked at his son and said a phrase that sounded very Russian to David “ what did you say” his son asked, the old man looked into his sons eyes “I said ‘where ever you go or where ever I come from, you will always be my son and I love you’ and whatever happens when I say I love you it comes from my heart in any language” the younger man looked at the floor “I’m fifty years old and now I find out I'm not even English” “of course you are, you were born right here in Doncaster” his son looked at him “what kind of spy worked down the pit?” the old man smiled “an industrial one?... I didn’t come here to work down the pit, I was supposed to get into Flyingdales up in the moors but I had the wrong credentials” “did you try?” the old man nodded “of course I did I tried several times before I finally gave up” “what made you give up” “the fire” “tell me about it” “you just read about it” “tell me dad” the old man shook his head “they released me off a trawler just off Cleethorpes at low tide in the middle of the night” “were you alone” the old man nodded and his son asked  “were you afraid?” the old man smiled “I had been training for it for almost twenty years… but yes, I was terrified, the dingy was dragged onshore by the tide, when it hit the beach I put a knife into it to deflate it, picked up my small holdall and went up the beach and into the town, it was winter so it was very quiet, I found the railway station, and clutched my ticket, the train was due to leave at eight and it did, but I had to change to get to Sheffield and when I got there it was raining, now Sheffield in the early sixties was not the beautiful city it is today, and to be honest no city looks great in the rain, I walked away from the city centre and looking in a corner shop window I saw a card advertising a bed sit room for a reasonable price so I went round and got the room right away, I was hungry but I was wrung out so I just collapsed on the bed and didn’t stir till the following morning. When I wakened I was starving, I could have eaten my very hard pillow, so I had a quick wash and shave and off I went, I followed my nose and found a small café, so in I went, and as I walked towards the counter the only customer looked up and smiled at me…it was Davey, he waved for me to sit at his table “she will come and take your order,” he held his hand out and said “I'm Davey Rennie I live in the same house as you, I saw you come in last night” I told him the name that was on my papers “tommy Shaw” he was a nice guy, he had only come down from Scotland two weeks before and was working for a coalman, all cash in hand, he had no relatives only his dad, his mom had died several months previously and his dad had taken it bad accusing everyone, but mainly Dave, so Dave had had enough and hitch-hiked it as far as Sheffield and thought it was great, I asked if the coalman needed anyone else but Dave laughed and told me no chance, but directed me to the steelworks, then I don’t know why but he asked me if I had my insurance cards, which of course I hadn’t, he reached into his inside pocket and gave me his” “what” young Dave asked “he just gave you his cards?” the old man nodded “he said I wouldn’t get a job without them , so after breakfast off he went to the coalmans and off I went to the steel works, they offered me a job on night shift to start that night, they gave me a pair of big boots and a hard hat, it was funny, I tried to talk with a scots accent because I had used his cards… when I saw him later that day he pointed out I needed to dress for the steel works, he gave me an old pair of jeans and said I could borrow his working jacket but he would need it in the mornings, I told him I had tried the scots accent and he thought it was hilarious and gave me a few lessons, we got on great, we used to meet every morning at the café, then again in the early evening for dinner, I used to get two mince pies wrapped up for my meal break at the steel works. Then one morning he showed me an advert for a two bedroomed flat, fully furnished for less than our joint rents, so I agreed and that night we moved into our flat above the dry-cleaners, it was great, it had a really modern kitchen, but we still used the café. Things were going great, I worked four ten hour shifts driving a forklift truck in the steel works, and Davey did a five day week with the coalman everything was great, then one morning he wasn’t at the café, I had my breakfast and went home, only when I got there the fire brigade were cleaning things up, the drycleaners had gone on fire, and Davey had died in his sleep choked by the smoke… I was devastated, they asked me to identify the body… so devastated or not I saw my chance and took it, so we buried Tommy Shaw. I only worked two more weeks at the steelworks one of the guys who worked there was always on about the big pits in Doncaster so off I went, and that’s how I got to Doncaster “ the younger man shook his head “so he got buried in Sheffield, what about the Russian handlers surely they would be looking for you” his father looked at him “if they did they would find his grave in Sheffield” half an hour later as they ate their Chinese meal the young man asked “did you ever tell mother?” his father shook his head “why would I, I’m only telling you because you are my only living relative, and I feel you have the right to know” his son shook his head “to be honest father I would rather not have known” the old man nodded “it was just getting heavier and heavier to carry on my own” “did you ever consider returning to Russia?” the old mans fork halted halfway to his mouth “why in gods name would I do that, I failed in my mission, what do you imagine they would do with me? Give me a little cottage in the Urals and a nice civil servants pension?...more like a bullet in the head and thrown into a furnace” the young mans face paled “you’ve got to delete that story from your computer” the old man nodded “yes I suppose they could hack into my computer” it was soon time for young Dave to leave he stood in the hallway buttoning his coat “well father I cant say I enjoyed my visit” his father nodded “perhaps we should forget all about it, I will delete the story as soon as you leave” young Dave shook his head “I suppose I should stop drinking whisky now and try the vodka” his father laughed and opened the door “don’t worry pal, in my next story I will be a millionaire” his son looked at him “so it really is just a story” ”it cant be David, you believed every word, and non of my stories are believable”       
one memory is worth a thousand dreams

zoony

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #1 on: Jan 06, 2018, 12:24:17 PM »
Well done Crabby...At least you took the time. I will read it a bit later.
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minniemouse

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #2 on: Jan 06, 2018, 03:20:35 PM »
That was good Crabby  :)

zoony

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #3 on: Jan 06, 2018, 06:56:43 PM »
Good story mate...Spasibo Krabbich. ;D
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Alex22

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #4 on: Jan 06, 2018, 07:53:40 PM »
That was really good Crabby

Ashy

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #5 on: Jan 06, 2018, 08:16:58 PM »
Крабич! Well I believed it.
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Alex22

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #6 on: Jan 06, 2018, 08:39:01 PM »
Крабич! Well I believed it.

Я тоже   ;D ;D ;D

zoony

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #7 on: Jan 06, 2018, 08:57:25 PM »
Hahski, hahski, hahski..
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crabbyob

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #8 on: Jan 07, 2018, 04:14:59 AM »
every vord ish truth, i am svearing to this, my boy has bought me a fur hat for xmas, stupid boy, i am in ze tropics..das vadanya
one memory is worth a thousand dreams

Scrumpy

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #9 on: Jan 08, 2018, 06:06:13 PM »



Good story .. I love story telling .
Don't think of a caterpillar dying..Think of a butterfly living.


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Alfred

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Re: The Storyteller
« Reply #10 on: Jan 09, 2018, 12:02:17 PM »
well done Crabbyob  it was a good read, and a very interesting story ,