Nursery Crimes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Please note: this is a work of fiction and is not based on the real life of anyone living or dead.

Chapter 18 (v.1) - Imposter!

Submitted: April 16, 2018

Reads: 175

Comments: 5

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Submitted: April 16, 2018

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Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again!

 

Humpty Dumpty covers his tracks

But his deception is just full of cracks.

How long before his eventual downfall

When he’ll come a tumbling, with followers all.

 

Imposter!

Nobody was quite sure where he came from. One day he wasn’t there, the next he was! Stranger still was the effect he seemed to have on people, and not just a few of them either. They seemed to hang off his every word, believe anything and everything he said. No doubt if he had claimed that the sun was made of custard, there would have been plenty prepared to stand outside with their bowls and spoons just waiting to catch the drips.

He wasn’t handsome by anyone’s standard. He was over-weight, scruffy, and definitely veering towards the uncouth. A few who did not fall for his charms suspected that there might be some witchcraft involved somewhere, a spell to which only a few were immune to. Whatever his secret, the majority seemed to find him charismatic. He had a certain way about him, followers called it confidence while detractors called it conceit.

He clearly was born to lead, or so many thought, and he was duly elected and placed right at the top of that wall. There he sat, issuing this order, rescinding that. If he liked you he would sit up there and hear you out; but if he didn’t, those legs of his would swing round to the other side of the wall and you would be left talking to his back.

He would be out there, sitting on top of those bricks, come rain or shine. Someone was always queuing up to hold his parasol or umbrella. People loved to hear him speak; he was knowledgable, he was gregarious, and above all else, he was funny. At least that was how his followers viewed him; those not ‘bewitched’ saw before them a fool and an idiot, perched up there just waiting for someone to knock him down.

Then one day a cloud blew in from the East. It was a strange cloud, unlike any that had been seen before. It didn’t seem to do anything, though. It didn’t bring rain, hail or snow; the wind, though strong at times, did not become storm force. What it did bring, though, were whispers, rumours, questions. Some of these seemed capable of worming their way through the enchantment, bringing suspicions that all was not quite as it seemed.

Fewer people came to the wall to queue for a chat. The man on the wall was losing his popularity and he could not work out why. He’d not changed his tune; no, in fact he had become a bit more belligerent, bellicose even. It was not his fault that people could not see what was plainly in front of their noses.

What was plainly in front of his, though, was an irritating little bird that constantly twittered and tweeted at him. It was an aggravation that one day he simply could no longer ignore. He lifted a hand to swipe at it. The bird flew up and pooped right on the top of his head. The other hand lifted to wipe at the mess and he wibbled and wobbled and teetered and tottered until finally, losing his balance, he fell.

When he hit the ground the illusion seemed to shatter and crack, just like a shell. He called for help, for his people to place him back on that wall but they no longer saw him as special or better than themselves at all and left him sitting, hurt and bruised, in confusion on the ground.

 


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