Saorise woke from a sleep filled with nightmares. Her hands and feet were now completely numb, and she hurt everywhere. Her head was still ringing, and, from the sticky feeling down her side, she’d been bleeding where she’d been kicked. But what had woken her was movement – her movement as she was hefted upwards in a most undignified way, and dropped onto what felt like a chair. She gasped, and tried not to cry out.
The sack was whipped off her head. Before her, around the table, sat five large, weather‐worn men. She recognised some of them from the farmer’s market. These WERE the local farmers! But why would they treat her this way? “Eat it!” barked a voice from behind her, as her head was jerked back by her hair, and something horrible was shoved into her mouth. She recognised the taste – it matched the horrible smell in the air.
A hand was clamped over her mouth, keeping her from spitting it out. “Swallow!” barked the voice. She tried not to, but fear made her obey. She felt extremely ill as whatever it was descended to her stomach. “You see? DO YOU SEE?” screamed one of the farmers, standing up, both fists on the table. “DO YOU BELIEVE US NOW?” Saorise gulped, trying not to throw up. “Believe you? I don’t even know what this is all about! What was that? Why have a bunch of farmers kidnapped me? What are you doing? I want to go home!”
No. She wasn’t going to cry. These brutes would not get that satisfaction. She glared back at them. “You knock me over the head, you leave a known murderer to guard me, you tie me up, you force‐feed me something horrible, and then you want to know what I believe??? I believe you are all insane!” “Wait. Delmore. I don’t think she gets it.” said one of the farmers. “Mebbe you should explain it to her. Use little words. I think she might be simple.”
She glared at him even harder. Yeah, you might be right. That might explain why she’s let this go on so long.” said another farmer – this must be Delmore. She pictured him in a prisoner’s outfit, languishing in a jail cell. That gave her a little comfort. “Right miss governor. You can read, can’t you?” He sneered at her. “Yes, I can read! And I’m not simple! But I’m starting to think you are!” “Shaddup!” barked the voice behind her “and eat this!” Another mouthful of the fetid substance was forced into her mouth.
Again, she had to give in and swallow it. She was starting to feel really ill – and was the room getting hotter? “That’s enough Tracy. We don’t want her dying on us before we’ve got results, do we?” said Delmore. “So, you can read. So, why did you ignore all the letters we sent to your office? Why have you been leaving Skara’s fields to suffer from whatever it is the goblins did to them? WHY have you done NOTHING? The people have to import food from Britain now! We are starving – our farms are our livelihood! But now, anyone who eats our crops comes down with a terrible case of the dooting! And there you sit, where we found you, smug as you please, doing NOTHING!” Saorise stared at him. “What letters? What crops? And what’s a dooting?” “Over 500 letters! We wrote and wrote to you! Begging for your help! Begging! And what do we get from the high and mighty governor of Skara Brae? Nothing! Well, now you’ve got it. Eating that much goblinitus infected cabbage will have given you the dootings for sure!”
Saorise was starting to feel really ill. The room was starting to tilt. She found a strange noise coming from her mouth: “Doot. Doot” she said. She looked puzzled and horrified.
“When…when did you send these letters?” she gulped “and where to?” “ Ha! You’ve got it! That’s the dooting! We sent them letters to your Abyssdamned office of course! And we’ve been begging you for help for the last FIVE YEARS!!!”.
Delmore was starting to froth at the mouth. “But – doot ‐ but – I’ve only been governor for three weeks!” Saorise wailed. “You can’t hold me responsible for – doot ‐ things past governors might have or have not done!!!”
“What?” Delmore sat down abruptly. “Three doot weeks!!!” She screamed. “Three weeks, you doot idiot! I’ve barely started getting the hang of doot things! You could have come and talked to me! You didn’t have to send your doot thug to knock me over the head!”
“Wait. They CHANGE governors?” Delmore looked completely taken aback. Saorise could almost hear gears turning in his brain, as realisation dawned. “Yes they change governors! Regularly!” she whispered, the room starting to turn a pasty orange. “What did you doot to me?”
“Oh by British’s blighted beard! We’ve given her the dootings! Get a healer! Fast!” Screamed the voice from behind her. “You idiots! Did nobody think to check if we’d got the right governor?!?”
“I’d have helped you if you’d only come talk…” Saorise mumbled, as the room flipped over, and she fell to the floor with a crash. Everything went turquoise, which, she thought as she passed out, was an improvement on black.
The sack was whipped off her head. Before her, around the table, sat five large, weather‐worn men. She recognised some of them from the farmer’s market. These WERE the local farmers! But why would they treat her this way? “Eat it!” barked a voice from behind her, as her head was jerked back by her hair, and something horrible was shoved into her mouth. She recognised the taste – it matched the horrible smell in the air.
A hand was clamped over her mouth, keeping her from spitting it out. “Swallow!” barked the voice. She tried not to, but fear made her obey. She felt extremely ill as whatever it was descended to her stomach. “You see? DO YOU SEE?” screamed one of the farmers, standing up, both fists on the table. “DO YOU BELIEVE US NOW?” Saorise gulped, trying not to throw up. “Believe you? I don’t even know what this is all about! What was that? Why have a bunch of farmers kidnapped me? What are you doing? I want to go home!”
No. She wasn’t going to cry. These brutes would not get that satisfaction. She glared back at them. “You knock me over the head, you leave a known murderer to guard me, you tie me up, you force‐feed me something horrible, and then you want to know what I believe??? I believe you are all insane!” “Wait. Delmore. I don’t think she gets it.” said one of the farmers. “Mebbe you should explain it to her. Use little words. I think she might be simple.”
She glared at him even harder. Yeah, you might be right. That might explain why she’s let this go on so long.” said another farmer – this must be Delmore. She pictured him in a prisoner’s outfit, languishing in a jail cell. That gave her a little comfort. “Right miss governor. You can read, can’t you?” He sneered at her. “Yes, I can read! And I’m not simple! But I’m starting to think you are!” “Shaddup!” barked the voice behind her “and eat this!” Another mouthful of the fetid substance was forced into her mouth.
Again, she had to give in and swallow it. She was starting to feel really ill – and was the room getting hotter? “That’s enough Tracy. We don’t want her dying on us before we’ve got results, do we?” said Delmore. “So, you can read. So, why did you ignore all the letters we sent to your office? Why have you been leaving Skara’s fields to suffer from whatever it is the goblins did to them? WHY have you done NOTHING? The people have to import food from Britain now! We are starving – our farms are our livelihood! But now, anyone who eats our crops comes down with a terrible case of the dooting! And there you sit, where we found you, smug as you please, doing NOTHING!” Saorise stared at him. “What letters? What crops? And what’s a dooting?” “Over 500 letters! We wrote and wrote to you! Begging for your help! Begging! And what do we get from the high and mighty governor of Skara Brae? Nothing! Well, now you’ve got it. Eating that much goblinitus infected cabbage will have given you the dootings for sure!”
Saorise was starting to feel really ill. The room was starting to tilt. She found a strange noise coming from her mouth: “Doot. Doot” she said. She looked puzzled and horrified.
“When…when did you send these letters?” she gulped “and where to?” “ Ha! You’ve got it! That’s the dooting! We sent them letters to your Abyssdamned office of course! And we’ve been begging you for help for the last FIVE YEARS!!!”.
Delmore was starting to froth at the mouth. “But – doot ‐ but – I’ve only been governor for three weeks!” Saorise wailed. “You can’t hold me responsible for – doot ‐ things past governors might have or have not done!!!”
“What?” Delmore sat down abruptly. “Three doot weeks!!!” She screamed. “Three weeks, you doot idiot! I’ve barely started getting the hang of doot things! You could have come and talked to me! You didn’t have to send your doot thug to knock me over the head!”
“Wait. They CHANGE governors?” Delmore looked completely taken aback. Saorise could almost hear gears turning in his brain, as realisation dawned. “Yes they change governors! Regularly!” she whispered, the room starting to turn a pasty orange. “What did you doot to me?”
“Oh by British’s blighted beard! We’ve given her the dootings! Get a healer! Fast!” Screamed the voice from behind her. “You idiots! Did nobody think to check if we’d got the right governor?!?”
“I’d have helped you if you’d only come talk…” Saorise mumbled, as the room flipped over, and she fell to the floor with a crash. Everything went turquoise, which, she thought as she passed out, was an improvement on black.