the peaceful village, part 2

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

part two of two

click here for part 1

the monster curled his sneering lip and slouched against his silver spaceship and considered the little town and whether to swallow it whole down he had traveled through all time and space ravaging worlds with an ill grace sometimes he got bored and wondered if he should cut the cord which bound his fragile existence to a universe which made no sense and then on the radar of his ship another world would make a blip and he would think, just one more and land on its blue or grassy shore terrorize the population and leave behind him desolation he had once been wild and free but now he suffered from ennui and could hardly summon the energy to level a village or uproot a tree and the creatures he crunched between his jaws sometimes almost gave him pause the neurons in his brain grew loose and he wondered, what's the use but his fragile ruminations were cut short by the sensation of a living creature approaching on his radius encroaching it was none other than johnny smith who had taken it upon himself forthwith to challenge this monster in his own domain and did it not for fame or gain but because it was the thing to do his resolve was firm and his heart was true though such considerations on the monster's brain made no indentations he only detected a pest and you can just guess the rest - or can you? can you say with total assurance who carried the day? is there a final cosmic text to describe what happened next? or only endless wind and rain obscuring what happens again and again stories unfold and refold are over and over again told all hear what they wish to hear as into the fog they peer in endless universes you can supply your own verses johnny might get eaten or the monster might get beaten or johnny and the monster become good friends and head off to some other earth's ends or both be hit by lightning as they are heroically fighting in endless possibility there is a dark city where the monster slices the pie and johnny is a private eye in the window there is a dame who plays her own game playing johnny and the monster for chumps as they endlessly take their lumps on a street with no beginning where all the suckers are winning and the wise men bide their time until the final flower of crime when the final case is cracked the last lion and tiger tracked as the saints and angels slumber for a good time call this number

the peaceful village

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

part one of two

once there was a peaceful village with no murder, rape or pillage everyone did honest labor and was friendly to their neighbor every door was opened wide so that folks could come inside all elders were respected no crime was ever detected they had no silver, jewels or gold but through the valley a river rolled bringing water to boundless crops that folks could eat until they dropped mom and dad got up at dawn and polly put the kettle on all day long they did their chores so that they were never bored grandmothers were round and wise and made excellent blueberry pies grandpa though his hair was grayed enjoyed his pipe beneath the shade little boys ran and spread the news little girls minded their p's and q's it was the way that it should be for all of eternity and then one day a shadow fell across the world they knew so well thunder rolled across the land the distant horizon was fearfully scanned nightmares visited young and old strange tales around the fire were told people kept their doors shut tight and could hardly sleep at night outside the village a monster lurked skulking in the fog and murk waiting for the silent hour the unwary traveler to devour no longer could the children play even in the light of day birds abandoned the cloudy skies the villagers scanned with frightened eyes laughter was replaced with fear throughout the long and dreary year the leafless trees felt winters chills and the monster laughed behind the hills things might have gone along this way and the village perished, who can say? but fate would not be so forlorn because a hero had been born johnny smith, a faceless sort showed little sign, by all reports of standing out among the crowd not too quiet, not too loud even johnny's mom and dad little suspected that johnny had the stuff of heroes in his being none indeed were so farseeing the night was dark, and wet and drear the little household huddled in fear mom and dad and johnny and sis as the rain against the windows hissed dad whittled at his favorite stick you could hear mom's heartbeat tick sis stared into space and wiggled her toes then johnny from the table rose his algebra homework he put down and looked around with a puzzled frown he listened to the rain and scratched his head i think i'll go for a walk, he said sis looked puzzled, dad looked sad mom cried, johnny, are you mad this is something you must not do outside, certain death awaits you aw gee ma, don't talk like that said johnny, putting on his hat my clouded brain needs a fresh air shock i will just walk around the block so without saying anything more johnny walked over and opened the door and disappeared into the wind and rain would he ever be seen again? part 2