Morgan the Hero

Chapter One

In a castle on a cliff above a volcanic white sea lived a jolly fat man that talked to his tie. He was no ordinary man, by all accounts, but a magical wizard of extraordinary power. Local people claimed that the rooms of his castle were piled with nothing but ties. There were ties of every colour and hue, made from every type of cloth from every corner of the planet, and every single one of them had its own name and individual character. But what was said and what was truly known were two completely different things.

The castle dominated the sky. It loomed darkly over the land for as far as the eye could see. Perched uncompromisingly at the end of a thin finger of land, it was thrust out to sea like a frozen spear of stone. It was a strange place for those that lived thereabouts. For generations people had avoided this medieval palace, often going out of there way, spooked by its forbidding walls and ramparts. Those that had children left quickly. Those that stayed disappeared. No, there were no children here, not in…

“Mugglesborough! Mugglesborough!” went Morgan, folding his arms loudly in a dramatic pose. “Well, I’ve never even heard of Mugglesborough! Are you sure it’s not just a place in one of your soap operas or something?”

Morgans Dad looked at Morgans Mum.

“Keep your eyes on the road, please, dear,” said Morgans Mum.

“Oh! Yes, of course, chucklet,” said Morgans Dad.

Morgan glared theatrically through the back window of the Citroen. “Hrrrmph!” he went and, in t he noisiest way he could, wiped away the condensation with his sleeve. “God, it’s bloody cold out here too!”

“Morgan!” snapped his Father. “That’s enough.”

“But Muuuuuum?!” Morgan whined.

“Morgan, you know very well why we’re here,” his Mother went firmly, her eyebrows arched awkwardly, like they did, when she meant it.

“Hff!” puffed Morgan, defeated. “Yes Mum.”

“You know your Father has to come here to work,” his Mother placated. “We’ll only be here a few weeks. It won’t be that bad. There’ll be lots of new kids to play with. Besides, it’ll be an adventure!”

“And you’ll get to see the castle,” his Dad piped in enthusiastically.

“Castle?!” Morgan blurted.

“Cas…tle…” hooted his Dad in a sort of naff spooky way.

“What castle’s that then?” Morgan asked, straining at his seatbelt. “When? Where?!”

“There!”

“Where?!”

“There!” said his Dad and, keeping his left hand on the wheel, pointed out beyond the seeming miles of green to the sea. “There. Look! The castle…”

But Morgan couldn’t see it. He nearly exploded with frustration. This was enough, he thought, not only had he been dragged away from his mates and his summer holidays and carted off to this tiny little hamlet of land with nothing to do and nowhere to do it, but now his parents were teasing him about some top secret, hush-hush legendary castle or something. He was just thinking about how to exact a ruthless revenge when, suddenly, the mists seemed to clear and he saw the fortress for the first time.

“Crikey!” he gasped.


	Morgan the Hero Chapter One In a castle on a cliff above a volcanic white sea lived a jolly fat man that talked to his tie. He was no ordinary man, by all accounts, but a magical wizard of extraordinary power. Local people claimed that the rooms of his castle were piled with nothing but ties. There were ties of every colour and hue, made from every type of cloth from every corner of the planet, and every single one of them had its own name and individual character. But what was said and what was truly known were two completely different things. The castle dominated the sky. It loomed darkly over the land for as far as the eye could see. Perched uncompromisingly at the end of a thin finger of land, it was thrust out to sea like a frozen spear of stone. It was a strange place for those that lived thereabouts. For generations people had avoided this medieval palace, often going out of there way, spooked by its forbidding walls and ramparts. Those that had children left quickly. Those that stayed disappeared. No, there were no children here, not in… “Mugglesborough! Mugglesborough!” went Morgan, folding his arms loudly in a dramatic pose. “Well, I’ve never even heard of Mugglesborough! Are you sure it’s not just a place in one of your soap operas or something?” Morgans Dad looked at Morgans Mum. “Keep your eyes on the road, please, dear,” said Morgans Mum. “Oh! Yes, of course, chucklet,” said Morgans Dad. Morgan glared theatrically through the back window of the Citroen. “Hrrrmph!” he went and, in t he noisiest way he could, wiped away the condensation with his sleeve. “God, it’s bloody cold out here too!” “Morgan!” snapped his Father. “That’s enough.” “But Muuuuuum?!” Morgan whined. “Morgan, you know very well why we’re here,” his Mother went firmly, her eyebrows arched awkwardly, like they did, when she meant it. “Hff!” puffed Morgan, defeated. “Yes Mum.” “You know your Father has to come here to work,” his Mother placated. “We’ll only be here a few weeks. It won’t be that bad. There’ll be lots of new kids to play with. Besides, it’ll be an adventure!” “And you’ll get to see the castle,” his Dad piped in enthusiastically. “Castle?!” Morgan blurted. “Cas…tle…” hooted his Dad in a sort of naff spooky way. “What castle’s that then?” Morgan asked, straining at his seatbelt. “When? Where?!” “There!” “Where?!” “There!” said his Dad and, keeping his left hand on the wheel, pointed out beyond the seeming miles of green to the sea. “There. Look! The castle…” But Morgan couldn’t see it. He nearly exploded with frustration. This was enough, he thought, not only had he been dragged away from his mates and his summer holidays and carted off to this tiny little hamlet of land with nothing to do and nowhere to do it, but now his parents were teasing him about some top secret, hush-hush legendary castle or something. He was just thinking about how to exact a ruthless revenge when, suddenly, the mists seemed to clear and he saw the fortress for the first time. “Crikey!” he gasped. © Copyright Malcolm Bennett 2010. All Rights Reserved.
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