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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Silvery Christmas Story

Submitted: November 14, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 14, 2016




The sack of silver coins sank deep in the bag.  It was being carried by DP Pennon.  The lanky man walked with a swagger.  The blond locks helped his good looks.  He was walking in the mid of Oxfordshire.  Down a lane to the small town of Kingston.  Brown bricked houses lined the only main street.  His stride vanished into a hovel behind the Royal Oak Tavern. 


The sack was a great find.  DP threw the bag on his single bed.  Inside the shoulder carrier was a mini metal detector.  After a morning with the local gang of hunters.  The local born man had dug up the cash of silver.  He delved into it and pulled out a load of change.  At close inspection it was clearly unknown to him.  There in his hands were strange old silver coins.  DP guessed there to be about a thousand pound worth, at least.


DP hid the bundle under his bed.  He dreamt of becoming a rich man.  The coins were found in a field among the Vale of the White Horse.  Some dark menace came over him as he slept, for an hour.  The afternoon became evening.  The single man dreamt of more riches and power.


A distant horn blew.  Waking DP from his slumber.  Outside it was dark.  Below him the silver coins gleamed inside the hessian sack.  It was forgotten by the young man.  The teenager had left his foster parents in London.  He worked as a dishwasher in the pub.  Yet the youth had become something more.  After handling the find, a power came over him.  He had to protect the treasure, at all costs.  It was the Norse creed.  It was the way of the Norway Menace. 


DP wore his helmet well.  His slender form had become a muscular man.  One thing was on his mind.  To make sure the silver was safe.  He took a few out of the bag.  Then went to patrol the small town.  On seeing his reflection in the wall mirror, half his mind gazed in awe at his new persona.  He looked more like Thor.  The comic hero.  His look was a bit different. 


One the Main Street, at Midnight, the stranger saw the window of the local jewellers‘.  An array of silver was on display.  Behind a wall of glass and see through shutters.  The Norse man smiled at the paltry defence.  He took his fist full of coins.  Then waved a leather pouch.  It was brown and as old as the Vikings.  A ghostly cloud came from the silverware.  It all materialised into silver coins.  This was the first night of the Norway Menace.



PC Ward checked out the robbed shop.  The owner was very distraught.  All his silver had gone.  With no sign of a break in.  The only clue was that there was no clue.  Except only silver was taken.  The Jeweller was insured, so he brightened after reporting it to the Police.  The town was only small.  Ward was the only officer in the case.  Due to staff cuts.


The young cop did have a plan.  First he asked the Jeweller, did anyone else keep silverware in the town.  First was the gift shop down the way.  And then there was the bank.  So when night came, PC Ward parked up his Police van with his Guard dog, Khyber.  They would wait out of sight for the thief to strike again.


The days were short and the nights long.  At Midnight, all was dark, when footsteps could be heard.  Man and beast stayed silent inside the small black and white van.  Just out of the way.  When they both saw a strange thing pass by.  It was a Viking warrior.  PC Ward closed his eyes in disbelief.  The robber was bearing a very sharp looking sword.  After a few moments, Ward and Khyber made their move.


The main street of Kingston was like most small towns.  A row of shops, a bank and post office.  And the typical British Public House.  The gift shop was at the far end, from the tavern.  Now a shadowy giant loitered outside its window.  There in the display section were several silver Wedding bands.  Not of the greatest grade.  But worth up to fifty pounds. 


There at the window, with a coin in his hand, the Norse man drew the silver dust into his leather pouch.  Aiming to claim enough, to make him worthy of Valhalla.  This was the truth of the matter.  After a certain amount of wealth.  The Norway Man would be able to enter his birth and death right.  Unknown to PC Ward,  the tall man was merely following his right of passage.  And the bank would see him end his thievery.  Then he would leave this Earthy realm.


Just as the black suited officer, hailed, ‘Stop! Police.’  Khyber raced at the robber.  A slight growl stirred the leather adorned ghost.  He looked very real to PC Ward and his dog.  In that moment, all the silver was taken.  Then the warrior turned and walked toward the police dog.  Khyber passed right through the form.  Then crouched in confusion.  The menace also strode on by Ward.  Then disappeared around the back of the tavern.  As the Midnight hour called.


PC Ward returned to his small Police van.  After Khyber had crawled into the back.  Lying close the seat of its master.  Both at a loss and a bit afraid.  The police note book was out.  It was rested on the steering wheel.  Ward did not know what to write.  He knew he had to investigate more, in daylight.  The officer wrote down the ‘Norway Menace’, then circled the words.  What it meant, he did not know.


Man and dog returned to the Police House.  It was also the station.  The late night was over.  Both slept sound.  Yet still shook due to the vision.  PC Ward realised that the bank would be the next target.  He had to see what or who lived behind the Royal Oak Tavern. 

* * *

Many, many eons ago, there was a town in Norway.  One man fought for his homeland.  His fathers ship sailed to Britain.  To fight a colony of Vikings.  The battle had been won.  The warrior, Haggar, searched for all the silver.  He returned it to Norway.  Where his father ordered him to go back for more, or he would not be welcomed in Valhalla.  In the next voyage, the ship sank close to Britain.  With all hands.  Back in Norway the later kings made the silver find into coins.  Ever since the spirit of Haggar searched for the rest of his find.


Drowning was felt by the dreamer.  Then became aware that the bedcovers were suffocating.  Scared eyes bulged at the sight of the static alarm clock.  The name Haggar, became, ‘Oh God,’  As the sleeper was late for his work.  He was the part time cleaner at the pub.  But he felt ill, so stayed in bed for a bit long.  Then quickly got dressed.  To escape from the nightmare.  Before he could get to the door.  A pounding resonated from it.


It was 9 am, who the heck knocks at that time?  Kingston was a small and busy town.  But nobody calls at that time.  The dark shadow of a cop, loitered at the front of the hovel.  The one time side garage to the bar, was made into a tiny apartment.  It was enough for its resident.  The dreamer, DP Pennon.


Some how time went by without anyone knowing it.  PC Ward found himself staking out the Bank on a Monday morning.  It was well before opening time.  At 1am the spirit he called the Norway Menace, turned up.  After passing through a brick wall, Khyber began to growl.  The sound of silence filled the air.  No jingling of silver coins being filtered away.  The simple but alarmed bank did not see or register the intruder. 

PC Ward did have a master key for the bank.  As it was the only one in the small town.  So man and dog crept in after the ghostly thief.  Not knowing what to do.  After witnessing a large man consume the silver from the opened vault, DP Pennon shot his tazer at the menace.


The head with a Viking helmet with no horns, stared with red eyes.  At that moment enough silver was taken.  It fell into his leather pouch.  At 2am in the bank of Kingston, the heavens appeared.  The Norway Menace smiled at the policeman.  And cried aloud, ‘Valhalla!’


It was then that the magic of this story began.  As the menace vaporised, outside it began to snow feathery silver coins.  Night became like day.  The locals came out from their slumber.  Khyber began to whine like a puppy.DP Pennon emerged from a misty silver cloud.  At the man-sized vault door.  The Viking spirit had gone. 


For a full hour.  In Kingston, England, it rained silver coins.  The banker found his safe refilled and restacked.  Wrapped in his dressing gown, the money man smile.  As his bank was also shined clean.  The people had gathered a handsome reward of enough silver to forget any worries.  The jewellers shop and gift shop were restocked.  And newly stocked with Viking gold and silver.  Everybody was happy.  DP Pennon was arrested for being a menace to society.  The when PC Ward lead him to his hovel.  It was now a small but grand mansion.  Then as the two men stared at the silvery sky, it slowly began to dim.  The night was returning.


The next day was Christmas Day.  The small town found silvery snow all around.  And at the Royal Oak Tavern, a statue had magically appeared.  There stood DP Pennon, PC Ward and Khyber with most of the locals.  The figure was a tall Norseman.  With a plaque at the base. 


‘Here stands Haggar the Great.  A mythical magical Spirit of Goodness.  And pre Santa Claus of a small region of Norway.  All have a Merry Christmas.’  With the tall statue was a sack bulging of silver and gold.’


As the celebrations grew, DP Pennon smiled and strode back to his grandiose hovel.  Also, PC Ward and Khyber the dog, got into the new Police van, that was a Silver Mercedes design.  And drove off into the mist, of Silver.  Grinning all the way.  Thanks to the wonder of the Norway Menace.














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