Aye aye, lad. You made it then. You cut it so fine I was beginning to think you might not be coming. Still, it’s quite some trudge up the track, especially in your bare feet. You aren’t the first to make my heart skip at this late hour. But let’s not be hanging about. We’ve a bird to be readying if you want to earn your groats.
Now then, I think we went through all the particulars back in Grimston the other day. You’re clear on what we’re doing, yes? I know, I know. I know the funny side, lad. You go smirking all you like, but they’re talking about these little events of mine from York to London. The King even sent a knight to the farm once. He paid his penny like three score others, said he’d return and spread the word.
See lad, this in’t no little stunt, some cynical magician’s play for the crowd. It’s bigger than that. It’s bigger than the both of us. If everyone plays their part to rights then what we do here this morning will be — special. It’ll do something for everyone. The crowd in particular. I want them to feel the touch of something higher, you see. Do you get me, lad? I need you to want that for them too? It in’t about the money. It’s about what the moment does for them.
Now, let me look at you. You’re a scrawny rake, aren’t you. Yes, quite the little peasant. Good. You see I can’t be too heedful. These gatherings must be carefully played. Everything must look just right. The crowd will be watching me and Muriel, the bird that is, for the most part, but by the end of it all attention will be on you. Your part’s an essential one, and that’s where the risk is. I can’t use the same boy twice, you see. Some familiar faces come along to these gatherings, those as can’t bear to see a miracle just the once. It wouldn’t do for them to recognise the boy. No hint of trickery, you see. We’ve got to keep it just right.
Now, then. We should get Muriel ready. Hold this. Keep it wrapped. It’s the egg.
Muriel it was, who got me started, my wife, not the bird. Smashing lass she was, always found the best in people. There wasn’t a day as would pass when I wouldn’t see her out helping some lost soul or other. When the crops failed for half the valley, she made sure we shared our own. No one went without. Not with her around. And when the Black Death found us, she was there, helping the bereaved, seeing them through. I always thought it’d be me as’d get finished first, the way she always had life enough in her for everyone. But it wasn’t. Somehow she spent herself sooner than I. And with her gone I didn’t know what to do.
But then two nights after she passed away, I fancied she whispered, Give them hope. Just like that. Give them hope. They just came to me, those words, in her voice, so I had to believe it was her, I was in that much of a state. And anyway, hope, it was just like her. Hope, I thought, what a lovely idea. And since nothing offers more hope than gold, I bought a goose.
If you could see me now, eh, Muriel.
Right, unwrap the egg and I’ll hold Muriel firm: the bird, not my wife, eh. Real gold, you ask? No, just gilt on carved wood but it looks the part well enough.
Now, while I prise her so, just ease it in, wide end first. No no, lad, don’t back away. Either you do the egg or you hold her, and you’re welcome to hold her but I warn you, she’ll bite you something terrible. Come on, lad, I can’t do both jobs. She’ll flap and bark but you needn’t wince. It’s hole enough to lay an egg so there’s plenty of room to push one in. You see, the trick’s in knowing when to insert it so she doesn’t start laying before the crowd arrives.
Good work, lad. No, don’t you worry about the bird. She always hoots so once it’s in but she’ll be fine soon enough. Now, you need to scarper. We mustn’t be caught nattering. You’re clear on everything, yes? Stand at the front. Muriel will be right here, with me. She’ll lay, the crowd will gasp and I’ll say, Behold, friends, a golden egg — now witness our holy goose offer her alchemy to the poor, watch as she chooses her wretched beneficiary. Everyone here will be praying that moment, thinking will it be them, will it be them, it has to be them. But you just sprinkle these wheat seeds at your feet and Muriel will come to you, all right. I’ll say, The goose has chosen this poor waif. I’ll bring the egg to you, saying something grand. You just grab it, then run fast, that way, and try looking chuffed.
What’s that? Your money. You’ll get two groats as agreed. Return the egg before midday and you’ll have your payment.
Mind, lad, breathe a word to a soul and you’ve more than groats coming to you. Now off with you. Oh and lad. Before you go. I sense you’re still something of the cynic. But mark me, when you’re standing here with the rest of them, take a look around. Don’t make it obvious but have a glance at the faces to your left and right. See what you see in them. See what those faces say to you as they watch Muriel lay. And you decide for yourself how far the penny they paid has taken them this day. You’ll see, lad. You’ll see what I mean.
Martin A. Reed’s fiction and poetry has appeared in print in Critical Quarterly, Litro, Radgepacket, Conceit and several erotic anthologies. He can be found online at elimae, Red Peter, Parasitic Cavity, IS&T, Six Sentences, decongested.com and others. He performs his work at live venues throughout the UK and is a member of The Fiction Workhouse.
A new and interesting story is posted every day.
Subscribe to the RSS Feed! (what is rss)
Don’t miss another story! Subscribe to Every Day Fiction via RSS.- Share on Facebook
25 Responses to “MURIEL THE GOOSE • by Martin A. Reed”
Comments
« NEW ADDITION • by Kathleen Powers-Vermaelen | Home | VPN DOESN’T WORK • by Deven D Atkinson »
March 21st, 2009 at 12:08 am
Ah, but who makes and gilds the eggs?
March 21st, 2009 at 12:12 am
Oh, Martin. Poor Muriel! I hope she gets some good hard biting in before the day is done. I loved the voice you used here. Being a Northerner myself it rang very true. I was wincing, though. WINCING I tell you. Magnificently done. Five from me. (And a good hard peck from Muriel).
“decide for yourself how far the penny they paid has taken them this day”
Perfectly put!
March 21st, 2009 at 12:28 am
wow. told a story with a conversation and a deal. great voice. love it.
March 21st, 2009 at 1:02 am
As already said, fantastic voice!
Perhaps this was you in a previous life, Martin!
March 21st, 2009 at 1:22 am
Wonderful, well written story.
Cheers
Mark
March 21st, 2009 at 3:23 am
Lovely voice… and giving hope in the scam… that’s nice. But please, a little greasing of the wooden egg before inserting it into poor Muriel! I was wincing too and willing her to bite someone hard.
great stuff.
D
March 21st, 2009 at 3:35 am
Loved it, and as fellow northerner Sarah said, a perfect voice.
March 21st, 2009 at 5:09 am
Pitch perfect, Martin!
March 21st, 2009 at 5:31 am
Heh, very cute version of the old goose and the golden egg story. At first I couldn’t figure out what was going on, but that was part of the allure. Another five.
March 21st, 2009 at 6:28 am
It’s so nice to come across the easy ones from time to time.
Engaging voice, clever twist on an old tale.
Thank you.
March 21st, 2009 at 6:51 am
I loved this 5
March 21st, 2009 at 7:01 am
One of the most horrifying horror stories I ever read. So overwhelmingly horrible it makes the mere mechanics of the story-telling unperceivable except to notice it is spoken in a foreign English patois.
March 21st, 2009 at 8:33 am
Enjoyed. Thanks for the read.
March 21st, 2009 at 9:14 am
Wonderful! High congrats from me. The voice was consistent throughout, down to the “in’t”, and the story peaked my interest till the end. But poor bird…a little compassion for Muriel, please!
March 21st, 2009 at 9:44 am
P.M. Lawrence-
Did you notice that there is only one egg which they repeatedly shove in and run off with after the penny-laying?
I’m interested in what the collaborating boy found in the faces to his left and right. Has he looked into his own?
March 21st, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Terrific voice. Clever take on the classic. Well done.
March 21st, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Very nice. Stuck to character very well. Impressive.
March 21st, 2009 at 8:23 pm
Roberta SchulbergGoro, I realised that possibility, but that still doesn’t work because:-
- the first egg and the first gilding still had to come from somewhere;
- it wouldn’t last but would need replacing due to wear and tear, particularly the gilding but even the egg on occasion (otherwise, think of the splinters – even if you didn’t mind what happened to the goose, it would still interfere with the laying).
The old man can’t be in the gilding trade himself for the same reason the same boy can’t be re-used, i.e. people would twig. He might just be enough of a woodworker for that side of things, though.
March 22nd, 2009 at 9:47 am
good voice. i winched as well when egg went in.didn’t think about if gilding would come off as story pulled me in. well done.
March 22nd, 2009 at 10:35 am
Good read – enjoyed this one! I also agree with Sarah re that line – perfect!
March 23rd, 2009 at 8:51 am
Great story, Martin. Must admit, I was wincing along with Sarah. Eek!
March 23rd, 2009 at 9:21 am
Loved it… A nice twist on a very old story. Thought the voice was wonderful – and I laughed at the idea of shoving the egg into the goose. But maybe that’s my warped humour…
March 23rd, 2009 at 6:40 pm
Fantastic story. Well told and with a wonderful voice. “…you needn’t wince. It’s hole enough to lay an egg so there’s plenty of room to push one in.” Love the twisted humor there.
June 9th, 2009 at 1:44 am
???????????? ???? ????????
?????????-? ???? ???????? ? ????????? ?????.
June 9th, 2009 at 6:28 am
Well, that was enlightening.
–John