ancient sites, Books, Don and Wen, Stuart France, Trickster

Callanish Calling: Riddle…

*

Back in the relative sanctuary of our Red-Pill-Box,

Wen looked at me hopefully and said,

“You did make a note of the riddle didn’t you?”

*

“As it is all that now stands between us and oblivion, my dearest Wendlebury,

I didn’t actually need to. Its form is emblazoned across my inner vision

for all time, or at least until we solve it, if we ever do.”

*

“Until you solve it, actually, you’re the Riddle Man!”

*

This seemed, to me at least, a tad unfair.

*

“Setting riddles is infinitely easier than solving them,

and if I’m going to stand any chance with this one,

I shall need a drink, which reminds me, we haven’t actually seen one

blasted road side inn on the whole of this Island!”

*

“Hubble, bubble, not all is trouble,” said Wen, “That’s a very good start.”

“It is?”

“‘Road-side’ is in the riddle, maybe that’s what it’s referring to?”

“A broadside is the salvo from a ship, so we may need to be back by the coast?”

*

Just then our Red-Pill-Box lurched and swung off the road and down

what appeared to be, to my mind, a dirt track…

*

“There was a sign!” said Wen in self defence,

as our Red-Pill-Box continued to bounce down the dirt track.

“And what did the sign say?”

“It said, ‘Stein Inn’.”

“I’m liking this already!”

*

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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