An Angler's Dilemma - A Brief Encounter
Nov 30, 2013 15:43:52 GMT
Cap Al D and Not the Mind Probe!!! like this
Post by Hellvis Azal Deathley on Nov 30, 2013 15:43:52 GMT
(Author's notes:
*I have posted this fanfic here to share as my original post on GB has got lost in a sea of fanfics. It may be easier for you to find it here! Thanks to Al D for encouraging me to post this here.
*'Brief Encounters' was a regular inclusion in the Doctor Who Magazines of the 1990s. They were short stories submitted by fans and centered around people (usually companions) who had known The Doctor in the past, and had come across The Doctor in another incarnation unfamiliar to them.
*At the time, I used to frequent the Fitzroy Tavern in West London, where Dr Who fans used to meet on a monthly basis. The then editor of DWM, also frequented the place at this time, and therefore the rest of used to inundate the poor guy with many a fanfic hoping to get included into the magazine.
* The story below is one such story that I wrote originally in 1991, which was not printed (maybe I didn't get the Editor drunk enough ), however, I kept the original drafts with other papers I stored away in my Mother's attic for over twenty years. They have only just recently seen the light of day!
*Because the original stories had to be a certain length for the magazine, my original draft was highly edited. Therefore, the version you are about to read has been lengthened as per my original notes, adding back parts of the story that were edited out when I submitted it to DWM.
*Some of the descriptives in this version have been newly written to include various aspects that were not in the original, such aspects that have since become a part of my life and are now very dear to me....
Egs:
1/ The mention of the North African Campaign; my Grandfather was involved in the campaign and served under General Montgomery. He never spoke of what he did during the War, and I have researched this battle in detail since he died. This paragraph I have included in remembrance of him.
2/ The mention of West Knoyle. This is a village in Wiltshire, England that has become significant in my life. There is a Bison Sanctuary there, and every year they hold Native American Powwows, which I attend. As the original televised story in which the characters appeared remained unambiguous as to the story's location, I have included it here, as Mr. & Mrs. Ollis' accents suggest Wiltshire to be the location for the wildlife sanctuary.
I can take criticism, and this is my first online fanfic, so please be gentle with me. I hope you enjoy the story.)
Regards,
Azal!
“Disastrous! It’s absolutely disastrous! Not a single bite all day,” remarked Dr. Tyler, looking over his horn-rimmed spectacles at his old friend, Arthur Ollis.
The only reply that came was a snore from within the bowels of Ollis’ fishing hat, perched rather comfortably on the end of his nose as he slept away the last remnants of the afternoon. Tyler sighed and began to reel his fishing line in.
The lake was very still today, the fish even more so, Dr. Tyler thought to himself. “So where’s all those nice fat, juicy Rainbow’s then?” he said out loud as if talking to the lake itself.
He sat on the edge of his fishing stool, leaning forwards as if waiting for a reply. But the lake just stared back at him, silent and still, the reflection of the Sun going down beyond the Horizon, shimmering softly like a dying coal on the surface of the water.
“Marvellous,” Tyler continued, “All those months we’ve been fishing here since you restocked the lake, and today of all days, not even a single bite.” Still no reply.
He looked over again all Ollis and realised that he was still talking to himself.
Ollis had seemed fed up with the day already, even before they had set out from the cottage to do an afternoon’s fishing. It was a favourite pastime shared by both men, and the lake at the wildlife sanctuary was the perfect spot.
Tyler had retired a couple years’ back, but Ollis had managed to persuade the Board of Trustees of the sanctuary to keep him on past his retirement age. He had over 30 years experience as Game Warden, and he had done the job with distinction.
Tyler gazed at the rapidly growing silhouette that was Arthur Ollis, who was blissfully unaware that evening would soon be upon them as he snored away from under the hat. Tyler sighed again, and finally succumbed to the fact that Arthur had the right idea all along, the fish were just not interested in anything today. He’d tried both live bait and fishing flies, he’d even tried his prized Green Highlander, which he’d proudly boasted landing a huge Pink Salmon while holidaying in Scotland last year. Yet all to no avail.
He walked over and nudged Ollis on the shoulder in order to wake him. No response. “Come on, man!” he demanded, “Time to take you home. I’m looking forward to that home-made Steak & Ale pie your wife is cooking for us.”
As if by Magic, the mention of food stirred Mr. Ollis from his deep sleep. There was nothing he liked more than a days’ fishing followed by a Steak & Ale pie for supper, and it was supper time now. “I’ll pack the gear away, then,” Ollis yawned.
Dr. Tyler nodded, “I’ll just go and fetch the Land Rover.”
Tyler walked over to where it was parked and looked over his shoulder at Ollis, who was hurrying with great speed putting all the fishing equipment away. Tyler smiled a wry smile and nodded as though in complete agreement with himself, “When it comes to food, you can get Arthur to do anything!”
He acknowledged however, that he too, was looking forward to the Steak & Ale pie that Maggie Ollis was cooking up. He only wished that he’d caught at least one Rainbow Trout today, so that he could give it to Maggie in order to return the favour.
The rods were dismantled with great haste, the tackle packed haphazardly into two brightly coloured orange cases, the bivvy rolled up slapdash and hurriedly squeezed into it’s carrying bag. Arthur Ollis was not a tidy person. Maggie had always said it was something to do with his “stars” or some such nonsense, but he knew it was much simpler than that.
He was Game Warden of the local wildlife sanctuary wasn’t he, and it was a mucky job at the best of times. Why bother dressing smart when you’re going out to get covered in mud? This was his day off, however, and she’d always insisted on him smartening himself up on his day off, but to go fishing? That was Ollis’ logic, and it was fair enough alright.
He continued to let his mind wander with his own thoughts as he finished packing the fishing gear away, dreaming of warm open fires and Steak & Ale pie, when he suddenly heard what he thought sounded rather like a sick elephant groaning from the direction of the forest.
As if on auto-pilot he instantly lunged for his 12 bore shotgun, which was propped up against the large oak beside the lake edge, and released the safety catch. He moved cautiously, as silent as a mouse, his army training that he learned during the war instinctively taking over.
He had served under General Montgomery during the North African Campaign of 1940 – 1943, and was proud to have been an original Desert Rat. That was a struggle, he thought to himself. Three long years it had taken the Allies to push the German War Machine all the way back to Tunisia, where they had eventually surrendered.
He edged around the tree, gun at the ready. Whatever had made that peculiar noise was not going to scare him away in a hurry. He listened very hard, almost straining his eardrums if such a thing were possible... Nothing.
He sneaked further into the undergrowth at the edge of the forest, searching with his ears all the time, for the direction of that peculiar sound he’d heard not a moment earlier, gun at the ready.... Still nothing.
He sighed and relaxed, “Probl’y Tyler ‘avin’ trouble with his truck,” he assured himself.
Ollis released the tension on the gun’s trigger and let the butt slip from under his arm, leaned against the foot of a tree and began rolling a cigarette.
The Sun had finally given up the ghost and was far below the Horizon when Dr. Tyler arrived at the water’s edge with the Land Rover. He got out of the vehicle and looked around, his eyes straining to focus against the black void that had engulfed the bank of the lake. He almost tripped over the fishing tackle boxes as he neared the water’s edge. He looked around again.
“Now where’s he got to?” he asked himself out aloud. He looked along the bank as far as he could, but could not see his friend anywhere. The fishing equipment, the bivvy were all here, but Arthur had disappeared.
“Not again,” Tyler remarked in disbelief, as the memories came flooding back. This was the spot, that very same spot where Arthur Ollis had suddenly vanished over twenty years ago.
Ollis had been minding a weather balloon for him that had returned to ground containing a cosmic radio transmitter, which was part of a secret experiment Tyler had been involved with during his University lecturing days. He recalled how, when he had arrived to meet Ollis at the lake, he had found the weather balloon, the radio transmitter, but no Mr. Ollis.
Yes, it was all coming back. It was the event that had thrown the two men together for the first time, and they had remained good friends ever since. That fantastic business with the Black Hole, the Universe of Anti-Matter and that chap, Omega. Was it all happening again? Or was Arthur just having a game?
Tyler weighed the odds in his mind. “No,” he concluded, “Those two Doctor chaps from UNIT dealt with it sure enough.”
Perhaps Arthur had gone to answer the call of Nature, he thought, as he popped a Polo Mint into his mouth. He proceeded towards the blackness of the forest’s edge, his eyes becoming accustomed to the dark shadows as he searched for Mr. Ollis.
As he neared the coppice at the forest’s edge, he could just vaguely see through the blackness, a tiny orange glow suspended in space, which was the tell-tale sign that Ollis was having a smoke. The unforgettable sweet aroma of burning Old Holborn was hanging in the air. Tyler smiled, and walked towards the tree where Arthur was standing.
“Still ‘avin’ trouble with yer truck, Tyler?” asked Ollis as he came into view.
“No, Arthur,” he replied, “She had a full service 8 weeks ago, don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, sure I remember, but that old truck is fair gettin’ on in her days by now,” Ollis retorted.
Tyler grunted a grunt of disapproval, and the two men slowly made their way back towards the spot where the fishing gear was waiting to be loaded into the Land Rover.
“Funny, that,” Ollis continued, “’Cos I could o’ sworn I heard you grinding them gears just now.”
Dr. Tyler stopped walking and turned to look at his friend in bewilderment. “Look, Arthur, what on Earth are you talking about?” he demanded.
“That funny noise I heard earlier, ‘twer you and your truck, I could ‘o sworn, sounded just like the clanking o’ all the chains in Hades.”
“Stop it, man! You’re beginning to sound like a storyteller!” Tyler laughed.
But Ollis was not laughing. “Well if you didn’t make that noise, then who, or what did?”
Tyler gazed at Ollis’ forlorn face. “Arthur, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Ain’t nobody else round ‘ere for miles,” Ollis replied sombrely.
The two men stood very uneasily, looking at each other, then at the lake, then at each other again.
“Enough now, Arthur. We’re the only one’s here. Let’s not allow our imaginations to scare us out of our wits,” Tyler remarked as he bent down to pick up the forgotten fishing gear to load into the truck.
But Ollis, whose imagination was now doing overtime, dismissed his friends comment and tightened his grip on the 12 bore. Something seemed to be very out of place; he could just feel it in his water. He may have been sceptical when it came to Maggie’s beliefs in Astrology and the Tarot cards, but when the hairs stood up on the back of his neck; he knew well enough to trust his intuition.
He stood there, like a sentry on guard, nothing moving except his eyes; left to right, right to left, his ears listening hard, nostrils flaring, as Dr. Tyler finished packing the fishing gear in the boot of the truck.
When he was done, Tyler returned to join Arthur’s side. “We’re done, Ollis” Tyler stated, “all packed and ready to go.” But Arthur just stood there motionless at the bank’s edge, not daring to utter a single word. There was complete silence, even from the lake.
Then suddenly; “HELLO!” boomed an extremely loud voice from behind them, shattering the silence.
The two men almost leapt out of their skins, Ollis almost firing off the gun at the sudden shock. They turned very shakily to face a tall, huge shape of a man, who seemed to be wearing a rather tasteless Pied Piper’s outfit. He was holding a golfing umbrella in one hand, and a fishing rod in the other.
“May I join you?” he boomed, a huge, beaming smile spreading across his face as he scratched a mop of curly blond hair.
“J-join us?” Ollis stammered, levelling the gun barrels towards the stranger in an attempt to show he had the upper hand in case things got out of control.
“In a spot of fishing, Arthur!” the man bellowed joyfully, while patting Ollis on the back.
“Eh? Erm, well... We’re just on our way home, ain’t we, Tyler?” Ollis declined while putting his friend right on the spot.
Tyler nodded nervously. He looked at the newcomer for a moment, his eyes squinting as if to focus his attention away from the garish patterns emblazoning the stranger’s coat.
“Hey, just a minute,” Tyler remarked, “How do you know his name?” he asked the stranger.
“Well, it’s a small village, Dr. Tyler,” the stranger answered quickly, “Let’s just say we were once acquainted, shall we?” the stranger added, smiling all the time with a knowing glint in his eye.
Dr. Tyler and Mr. Ollis both stood there for a moment, speechless. They looked at each other again, as if each were waiting for the other to come up with an explanation. Ollis seemed adamant he didn’t know the fellow, which was confirmed by the gentle shaking of his head and puffed out cheeks.
But Tyler was wrecking his brains searching for a memory. Something was telling him he knew this chap, but for the life of him, he could not place the face.
He looked again at the stranger, “And what of me, do you know me at all?” Tyler was baffled.
“Aw, Dr. Tyler!” The stranger replied, sounding deeply hurt. He proceeded towards him, arms out-stretched as if to welcome long lost friends. He twirled around, arms still out-stretched as he surveyed the beauty of the lake.
“Is there nothing more relaxing than catching fish, especially when among the company of good men, such as yourselves, eh? What do you say?” He stood there, beaming, waiting in anticipation for an answer in the affirmative.
Ollis was having none of it. He’d already wasted most of his day off sitting by the lake with not even so much as a bite. “Well, we’d better be getting along, mister, the wife’s got a pie in the oven, ya see, and she’ll have me guts for garters if we is late home,” Ollis interjected.
All momentary fear had now elapsed, the thought of Steak & Ale pie sitting there going cold influencing his decision moreso than the thought of a good telling off from the wife.
“And besides,” Dr. Tyler added, “we don’t really care much for night fishing.”
The stranger sighed, “Well then, gentlemen, pray do not let me detain you any longer.” And with that, he proceeded towards the lake’s edge to fish.
Tyler looked over his horned-rimmed spectacles at Ollis. “Do you know him?”
“Not that I recall. But there is something strangely familiar about him.” Ollis replied.
Tyler agreed, “Yes, I know exactly what you mean, Arthur,” and with that, opened the driver’s door to the Land Rover and climbed inside.
Mr. Ollis opened the passenger side and heaved himself in, trying not to drag his grubby overcoat too much over the truck’s spotless upholstery.
Tyler started the Land Rover and switched on the lamps, reversing slowly so as not to disturb the stranger too much, who had made himself comfortable next to the lake under the moonlit sky.
“Didn’t like him much though,” said Ollis as an afterthought as the truck slowly made it’s way up the dirt track and onto the bridleway, “Thought he were a bit loud.”
“As were his clothes,” added Tyler for comedic effect.
Ollis sniggered at the joke, “Ain’t never seen him around these parts afore, p’rhaps he’s from West Knoyle or Tisbury” he murmured, the thought of Steak & Ale pie now encompassing his every innermost thought.
“Well, whoever he is, he’ll not be catching any fish here tonight!” said Tyler, rather pleased with himself that he’d managed two jokes back to back in one conversation.
With that, the two friends laughed all the way to the end of the bridleway, and onto the tarmac road. As the Land Rover rounded the bend and drove past the lake, Ollis just caught sight of the stranger long enough to see him land his first catch of the evening. Mr. Ollis was dumbfounded at what he’d just witnessed, but decided against saying anything to Tyler.
The stranger stood there and waved goodbye as the Land Rover drove off into the distance.
He turned and smiled, “Maybe next time lads,” he muttered to himself, another satisfied smile etching itself across his kind face.
Bending down to the water’s edge, The Doctor slowly and gently unhooked the multi-coloured Rainbow Trout he had just caught.
“Beautiful,” he remarked, “Quite, beautiful,” he muttered away to himself as he held the fish in his hands, examining it momentarily.
Then, kneeling on the bank and with great care, he slowly released the fish back into the lake.
*I have posted this fanfic here to share as my original post on GB has got lost in a sea of fanfics. It may be easier for you to find it here! Thanks to Al D for encouraging me to post this here.
*'Brief Encounters' was a regular inclusion in the Doctor Who Magazines of the 1990s. They were short stories submitted by fans and centered around people (usually companions) who had known The Doctor in the past, and had come across The Doctor in another incarnation unfamiliar to them.
*At the time, I used to frequent the Fitzroy Tavern in West London, where Dr Who fans used to meet on a monthly basis. The then editor of DWM, also frequented the place at this time, and therefore the rest of used to inundate the poor guy with many a fanfic hoping to get included into the magazine.
* The story below is one such story that I wrote originally in 1991, which was not printed (maybe I didn't get the Editor drunk enough ), however, I kept the original drafts with other papers I stored away in my Mother's attic for over twenty years. They have only just recently seen the light of day!
*Because the original stories had to be a certain length for the magazine, my original draft was highly edited. Therefore, the version you are about to read has been lengthened as per my original notes, adding back parts of the story that were edited out when I submitted it to DWM.
*Some of the descriptives in this version have been newly written to include various aspects that were not in the original, such aspects that have since become a part of my life and are now very dear to me....
Egs:
1/ The mention of the North African Campaign; my Grandfather was involved in the campaign and served under General Montgomery. He never spoke of what he did during the War, and I have researched this battle in detail since he died. This paragraph I have included in remembrance of him.
2/ The mention of West Knoyle. This is a village in Wiltshire, England that has become significant in my life. There is a Bison Sanctuary there, and every year they hold Native American Powwows, which I attend. As the original televised story in which the characters appeared remained unambiguous as to the story's location, I have included it here, as Mr. & Mrs. Ollis' accents suggest Wiltshire to be the location for the wildlife sanctuary.
I can take criticism, and this is my first online fanfic, so please be gentle with me. I hope you enjoy the story.)
Regards,
Azal!
An Angler’s Dilemma – A Brief Encounter
by Andy Osborne
(Originally written in 1991 for DWM: Unprinted)
by Andy Osborne
(Originally written in 1991 for DWM: Unprinted)
“Disastrous! It’s absolutely disastrous! Not a single bite all day,” remarked Dr. Tyler, looking over his horn-rimmed spectacles at his old friend, Arthur Ollis.
The only reply that came was a snore from within the bowels of Ollis’ fishing hat, perched rather comfortably on the end of his nose as he slept away the last remnants of the afternoon. Tyler sighed and began to reel his fishing line in.
The lake was very still today, the fish even more so, Dr. Tyler thought to himself. “So where’s all those nice fat, juicy Rainbow’s then?” he said out loud as if talking to the lake itself.
He sat on the edge of his fishing stool, leaning forwards as if waiting for a reply. But the lake just stared back at him, silent and still, the reflection of the Sun going down beyond the Horizon, shimmering softly like a dying coal on the surface of the water.
“Marvellous,” Tyler continued, “All those months we’ve been fishing here since you restocked the lake, and today of all days, not even a single bite.” Still no reply.
He looked over again all Ollis and realised that he was still talking to himself.
Ollis had seemed fed up with the day already, even before they had set out from the cottage to do an afternoon’s fishing. It was a favourite pastime shared by both men, and the lake at the wildlife sanctuary was the perfect spot.
Tyler had retired a couple years’ back, but Ollis had managed to persuade the Board of Trustees of the sanctuary to keep him on past his retirement age. He had over 30 years experience as Game Warden, and he had done the job with distinction.
Tyler gazed at the rapidly growing silhouette that was Arthur Ollis, who was blissfully unaware that evening would soon be upon them as he snored away from under the hat. Tyler sighed again, and finally succumbed to the fact that Arthur had the right idea all along, the fish were just not interested in anything today. He’d tried both live bait and fishing flies, he’d even tried his prized Green Highlander, which he’d proudly boasted landing a huge Pink Salmon while holidaying in Scotland last year. Yet all to no avail.
He walked over and nudged Ollis on the shoulder in order to wake him. No response. “Come on, man!” he demanded, “Time to take you home. I’m looking forward to that home-made Steak & Ale pie your wife is cooking for us.”
As if by Magic, the mention of food stirred Mr. Ollis from his deep sleep. There was nothing he liked more than a days’ fishing followed by a Steak & Ale pie for supper, and it was supper time now. “I’ll pack the gear away, then,” Ollis yawned.
Dr. Tyler nodded, “I’ll just go and fetch the Land Rover.”
Tyler walked over to where it was parked and looked over his shoulder at Ollis, who was hurrying with great speed putting all the fishing equipment away. Tyler smiled a wry smile and nodded as though in complete agreement with himself, “When it comes to food, you can get Arthur to do anything!”
He acknowledged however, that he too, was looking forward to the Steak & Ale pie that Maggie Ollis was cooking up. He only wished that he’d caught at least one Rainbow Trout today, so that he could give it to Maggie in order to return the favour.
**********
The rods were dismantled with great haste, the tackle packed haphazardly into two brightly coloured orange cases, the bivvy rolled up slapdash and hurriedly squeezed into it’s carrying bag. Arthur Ollis was not a tidy person. Maggie had always said it was something to do with his “stars” or some such nonsense, but he knew it was much simpler than that.
He was Game Warden of the local wildlife sanctuary wasn’t he, and it was a mucky job at the best of times. Why bother dressing smart when you’re going out to get covered in mud? This was his day off, however, and she’d always insisted on him smartening himself up on his day off, but to go fishing? That was Ollis’ logic, and it was fair enough alright.
He continued to let his mind wander with his own thoughts as he finished packing the fishing gear away, dreaming of warm open fires and Steak & Ale pie, when he suddenly heard what he thought sounded rather like a sick elephant groaning from the direction of the forest.
As if on auto-pilot he instantly lunged for his 12 bore shotgun, which was propped up against the large oak beside the lake edge, and released the safety catch. He moved cautiously, as silent as a mouse, his army training that he learned during the war instinctively taking over.
He had served under General Montgomery during the North African Campaign of 1940 – 1943, and was proud to have been an original Desert Rat. That was a struggle, he thought to himself. Three long years it had taken the Allies to push the German War Machine all the way back to Tunisia, where they had eventually surrendered.
He edged around the tree, gun at the ready. Whatever had made that peculiar noise was not going to scare him away in a hurry. He listened very hard, almost straining his eardrums if such a thing were possible... Nothing.
He sneaked further into the undergrowth at the edge of the forest, searching with his ears all the time, for the direction of that peculiar sound he’d heard not a moment earlier, gun at the ready.... Still nothing.
He sighed and relaxed, “Probl’y Tyler ‘avin’ trouble with his truck,” he assured himself.
Ollis released the tension on the gun’s trigger and let the butt slip from under his arm, leaned against the foot of a tree and began rolling a cigarette.
**********
The Sun had finally given up the ghost and was far below the Horizon when Dr. Tyler arrived at the water’s edge with the Land Rover. He got out of the vehicle and looked around, his eyes straining to focus against the black void that had engulfed the bank of the lake. He almost tripped over the fishing tackle boxes as he neared the water’s edge. He looked around again.
“Now where’s he got to?” he asked himself out aloud. He looked along the bank as far as he could, but could not see his friend anywhere. The fishing equipment, the bivvy were all here, but Arthur had disappeared.
“Not again,” Tyler remarked in disbelief, as the memories came flooding back. This was the spot, that very same spot where Arthur Ollis had suddenly vanished over twenty years ago.
Ollis had been minding a weather balloon for him that had returned to ground containing a cosmic radio transmitter, which was part of a secret experiment Tyler had been involved with during his University lecturing days. He recalled how, when he had arrived to meet Ollis at the lake, he had found the weather balloon, the radio transmitter, but no Mr. Ollis.
Yes, it was all coming back. It was the event that had thrown the two men together for the first time, and they had remained good friends ever since. That fantastic business with the Black Hole, the Universe of Anti-Matter and that chap, Omega. Was it all happening again? Or was Arthur just having a game?
Tyler weighed the odds in his mind. “No,” he concluded, “Those two Doctor chaps from UNIT dealt with it sure enough.”
Perhaps Arthur had gone to answer the call of Nature, he thought, as he popped a Polo Mint into his mouth. He proceeded towards the blackness of the forest’s edge, his eyes becoming accustomed to the dark shadows as he searched for Mr. Ollis.
As he neared the coppice at the forest’s edge, he could just vaguely see through the blackness, a tiny orange glow suspended in space, which was the tell-tale sign that Ollis was having a smoke. The unforgettable sweet aroma of burning Old Holborn was hanging in the air. Tyler smiled, and walked towards the tree where Arthur was standing.
“Still ‘avin’ trouble with yer truck, Tyler?” asked Ollis as he came into view.
“No, Arthur,” he replied, “She had a full service 8 weeks ago, don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, sure I remember, but that old truck is fair gettin’ on in her days by now,” Ollis retorted.
Tyler grunted a grunt of disapproval, and the two men slowly made their way back towards the spot where the fishing gear was waiting to be loaded into the Land Rover.
“Funny, that,” Ollis continued, “’Cos I could o’ sworn I heard you grinding them gears just now.”
Dr. Tyler stopped walking and turned to look at his friend in bewilderment. “Look, Arthur, what on Earth are you talking about?” he demanded.
“That funny noise I heard earlier, ‘twer you and your truck, I could ‘o sworn, sounded just like the clanking o’ all the chains in Hades.”
“Stop it, man! You’re beginning to sound like a storyteller!” Tyler laughed.
But Ollis was not laughing. “Well if you didn’t make that noise, then who, or what did?”
Tyler gazed at Ollis’ forlorn face. “Arthur, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Ain’t nobody else round ‘ere for miles,” Ollis replied sombrely.
The two men stood very uneasily, looking at each other, then at the lake, then at each other again.
“Enough now, Arthur. We’re the only one’s here. Let’s not allow our imaginations to scare us out of our wits,” Tyler remarked as he bent down to pick up the forgotten fishing gear to load into the truck.
But Ollis, whose imagination was now doing overtime, dismissed his friends comment and tightened his grip on the 12 bore. Something seemed to be very out of place; he could just feel it in his water. He may have been sceptical when it came to Maggie’s beliefs in Astrology and the Tarot cards, but when the hairs stood up on the back of his neck; he knew well enough to trust his intuition.
He stood there, like a sentry on guard, nothing moving except his eyes; left to right, right to left, his ears listening hard, nostrils flaring, as Dr. Tyler finished packing the fishing gear in the boot of the truck.
When he was done, Tyler returned to join Arthur’s side. “We’re done, Ollis” Tyler stated, “all packed and ready to go.” But Arthur just stood there motionless at the bank’s edge, not daring to utter a single word. There was complete silence, even from the lake.
Then suddenly; “HELLO!” boomed an extremely loud voice from behind them, shattering the silence.
The two men almost leapt out of their skins, Ollis almost firing off the gun at the sudden shock. They turned very shakily to face a tall, huge shape of a man, who seemed to be wearing a rather tasteless Pied Piper’s outfit. He was holding a golfing umbrella in one hand, and a fishing rod in the other.
“May I join you?” he boomed, a huge, beaming smile spreading across his face as he scratched a mop of curly blond hair.
“J-join us?” Ollis stammered, levelling the gun barrels towards the stranger in an attempt to show he had the upper hand in case things got out of control.
“In a spot of fishing, Arthur!” the man bellowed joyfully, while patting Ollis on the back.
“Eh? Erm, well... We’re just on our way home, ain’t we, Tyler?” Ollis declined while putting his friend right on the spot.
Tyler nodded nervously. He looked at the newcomer for a moment, his eyes squinting as if to focus his attention away from the garish patterns emblazoning the stranger’s coat.
“Hey, just a minute,” Tyler remarked, “How do you know his name?” he asked the stranger.
“Well, it’s a small village, Dr. Tyler,” the stranger answered quickly, “Let’s just say we were once acquainted, shall we?” the stranger added, smiling all the time with a knowing glint in his eye.
Dr. Tyler and Mr. Ollis both stood there for a moment, speechless. They looked at each other again, as if each were waiting for the other to come up with an explanation. Ollis seemed adamant he didn’t know the fellow, which was confirmed by the gentle shaking of his head and puffed out cheeks.
But Tyler was wrecking his brains searching for a memory. Something was telling him he knew this chap, but for the life of him, he could not place the face.
He looked again at the stranger, “And what of me, do you know me at all?” Tyler was baffled.
“Aw, Dr. Tyler!” The stranger replied, sounding deeply hurt. He proceeded towards him, arms out-stretched as if to welcome long lost friends. He twirled around, arms still out-stretched as he surveyed the beauty of the lake.
“Is there nothing more relaxing than catching fish, especially when among the company of good men, such as yourselves, eh? What do you say?” He stood there, beaming, waiting in anticipation for an answer in the affirmative.
Ollis was having none of it. He’d already wasted most of his day off sitting by the lake with not even so much as a bite. “Well, we’d better be getting along, mister, the wife’s got a pie in the oven, ya see, and she’ll have me guts for garters if we is late home,” Ollis interjected.
All momentary fear had now elapsed, the thought of Steak & Ale pie sitting there going cold influencing his decision moreso than the thought of a good telling off from the wife.
“And besides,” Dr. Tyler added, “we don’t really care much for night fishing.”
The stranger sighed, “Well then, gentlemen, pray do not let me detain you any longer.” And with that, he proceeded towards the lake’s edge to fish.
Tyler looked over his horned-rimmed spectacles at Ollis. “Do you know him?”
“Not that I recall. But there is something strangely familiar about him.” Ollis replied.
Tyler agreed, “Yes, I know exactly what you mean, Arthur,” and with that, opened the driver’s door to the Land Rover and climbed inside.
Mr. Ollis opened the passenger side and heaved himself in, trying not to drag his grubby overcoat too much over the truck’s spotless upholstery.
Tyler started the Land Rover and switched on the lamps, reversing slowly so as not to disturb the stranger too much, who had made himself comfortable next to the lake under the moonlit sky.
“Didn’t like him much though,” said Ollis as an afterthought as the truck slowly made it’s way up the dirt track and onto the bridleway, “Thought he were a bit loud.”
“As were his clothes,” added Tyler for comedic effect.
Ollis sniggered at the joke, “Ain’t never seen him around these parts afore, p’rhaps he’s from West Knoyle or Tisbury” he murmured, the thought of Steak & Ale pie now encompassing his every innermost thought.
“Well, whoever he is, he’ll not be catching any fish here tonight!” said Tyler, rather pleased with himself that he’d managed two jokes back to back in one conversation.
With that, the two friends laughed all the way to the end of the bridleway, and onto the tarmac road. As the Land Rover rounded the bend and drove past the lake, Ollis just caught sight of the stranger long enough to see him land his first catch of the evening. Mr. Ollis was dumbfounded at what he’d just witnessed, but decided against saying anything to Tyler.
The stranger stood there and waved goodbye as the Land Rover drove off into the distance.
He turned and smiled, “Maybe next time lads,” he muttered to himself, another satisfied smile etching itself across his kind face.
Bending down to the water’s edge, The Doctor slowly and gently unhooked the multi-coloured Rainbow Trout he had just caught.
“Beautiful,” he remarked, “Quite, beautiful,” he muttered away to himself as he held the fish in his hands, examining it momentarily.
Then, kneeling on the bank and with great care, he slowly released the fish back into the lake.
**********