A tale unfolds by Mihiri Tantirimudalige
SUMMARY: Say what you must in a few words before you think a million times about it & voice out the same original silly thought.... or finding
"The point, Samuel! Get to the point!" screamed the Night-Watchman, as he drowned the creaking noises of the old windmill.
Samuel was gritting his teeth as he waved his hands in the air to make sure all were listening.
It was only last night that Samuel the farm-hand had been in the stables all by himself, clearing away the mud off of the House Mistresses' boots, when he heard a chilling whistle-tune blown across the tiny streamlet running by the eastern flank of the farm. He ran into the wind hoping to catch the rascally village boys who'd usually stand on the jetty beyond, waiting for poor Samuel to chase after them. He huffed and struggled as he made his way up to the bank of the stream, from whence he peered into the distance. What he saw there standing on the opposite quay was something he'd never seen the likes of before.
The Night-Watchman clicked his tongue impatiently.
"What did you see?" pressed the eager but rapidly thinning string of villagers alongside the watchman, who had flocked around Samuel the day after his adventures on the farm.
"It was cold, yes it was. As cold as the winters could ever be," continued Samuel.
The villagers felt uneasy. Some could be heard saying ‘This isn't worth my time', whilst others stood by for a minute and then turned and went to their own homes.
Samuel continued with the telling of the evil weather he had been a victim of, as he gave the crowd a full account of what farmer Brown had told him of cold wintry Fridays.
He later skipped from hot Sundays to dark evenings, and gradually descended upon the happenings of the previous night, but with what some might call a sense of suspicion. He mentioned a scarlet robe which caught the rays of the moon and a sword in a sheath which was forged of a metal out of this world.
The Night-Watchman yawned stupidly as he forced himself awake on more than just one occasion. In the cynical villagers' minds, the woeful whistling was thought to be some harmless animal. Yet, Samuel went on and on.
The lessening crowd's flame of attention was fed with new energy once Samuel spattered the enchanting words,
"And there it was.........."
"An abandoned windmill," said Samuel with his eyes rolling in their sockets.
"The point being?"