Stories Inspired by an Image -The Cheese Hunter

 

 

Image created by Helen in Ai

Reginald was a seasoned hunter, he would not stop until he had his prey. He had heard there was a large piece of cheese in the Wenslydale Jungle. The one thing he couldn't resist was a piece of Wenslyedale Cheese.
He had been stalking his prey for a few hours, when he saw his chance to capture it.
"Stop!" he shouted as he pointed his rifle at a very, very large cube of cheese."Don't move, or I'll blast you full of holes."
"I'm already full of holes," yelled the cheese.
"Hmm, so you are. Wenslydale doesn't have holes in it." Reginald blinked and wondered what this strange creature was doing in this jungle. "You're not Wenslydale," he wrinkled his nose and sniffed, but the cheese didn't smell like anything he'd had before.
"Well, that's because I'm Swiss Cheese. Far superior to any other cheese you know. The Cheese straightened himself up. "I'm sweet mild and nutty, just what a cheese should be."
"Ah, but Wensleydale," Reginald ran his tongue around his lips as he remembered the taste, "is subtle, crumbly and has just that tiny hint of honey about it."
"Really," the Cheese raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose. "Well, in that case I'll be on my way." He turned and started to move back the way he had come.
"Wait," Reginald raised his rifle. "I might like to try a bit of Swiss, you never know I just might like it."
The Cheese turned around slowly. "No, no, no, I'm sure you wouldn't, I'm not crumbly and there is nothing subtle about me." The Cheese took a few more steps backwards.
"I thought you said you were superior to all other cheeses."
"Did I? I can't help it if I exaggerate a bit, a cheese has to believe in himself, you know." He took another couple of steps backwards. "I'm a very young cheese after all"
Reginald lowered his rifle, if there was one thing he couldn't stand it was a cheese that hadn't aged. "Off with you then," he waved a hand dismissing the cheese.
The Cheese scurried off quicker than a cheese should go, tripped and a small chunk of him came away from his body. He picked himself up and ran more carefully into the undergrowth of the Jungle.
Reginald walked over to the small chunk of cheese that lay on the ground. Picked it up and took a cautious nibble. "Not bad, give it a year or two. I might be back for it."
For now, Reginald carried on deeper into the jungle for his never ending search of Wensleydale.

©Helen A. Howell  

Stories Inspired my an Image - Sir Montague.

 

Sir Montague, the Kings Knight had been sent on a Dragon Quest.
"Now look here, Sir Montague, I can't have dragons roaming around my countryside, supposing they decide to eat the livestock, or worse still, some of my subjects. You know how devilish these monsters can be.
"Yes, Sire," replied the Mouse. "The only thing Sire, is that a dragon is so big, much, much bigger than me."
"Are you saying you're afraid?"
"No, not at all Sire, just remarking on the size difference that's all." Montague shuffled his feet and tried not to look the King in the eye.
"Well, that's good, can't have my Knights turning into sissies. No, No, that wouldn't do at all." The King glared at Montague. "Away with you then and sort out that dragon. Don't come back until you have." He waved a hand at the Knight. Montague bowed and backed out of the throne room.
After several days travel, Montague came across the Dragon's lair. He dismounted his rabbit and walked over to the entrance. "You hoo, Mr. Dragon, can I have a word?" He listened to see if he could hear anything. Not a sound. He must be out, thought Montague, oh well can't say I didn't try. As he turned towards his rabbit, ready to ride out. A voice echoed within the lair.
"Who called me?"
The voice was deep and fiery and Montague began to shake, just a little, so he withdrew his sword and stuck it into the ground so that he could hold on and steady his nerves.
"It is I, Sir Montague, King's Knight, would like a quick word with you.
"Oh Bother, really?" A puff of smoke drifted out of the mouth of the lair. Heavy foot steps rumbled towards the opening. Out stepped the dragon and looked around. "Where are you then?" he growled.
"Down here," said Montague in a squeakier voice than he had intended.
"Oh, there you are." He lowered himself down so that he could look at the mouse without having to bend his head. "What do you want then?"
Montague cleared his throat and tried his hardest to put on a deeper voice, but it still came out as a squeak. "The King, my boss, is worried that you're going to reap havoc in his domain. You know, eat the livestock, people, set fire to things etc. I've been sent here to sort things out."
The Dragon tipped back his head and laughed, as he did, streaks of flames flew into the air. "Why does everyone have such a low opinion of dragons. We're not all the same you know." He sniffed and a single tear run down his check and splashed onto the ground, soaking Montague in the progress.
"Oh please don't get upset," he was more worried that he didn't make the creature angry, "I didn't mean to ...."
"It's not you, it's everyone, boo hoo, boo hoo." The dragon sobbed so much, that Montague was now up to his knees in water.
"Stop!" he yelled, "or you'll drown me."
"Opps, sorry." He stared at the small pond his tears had made, took a deep breath and puffed out a hot flame that evaporated all the water. "It's just that I'm a vegan Dragon, I don't go rampaging anywhere, in fact I get quite lonely at times." Another tear dribbled down his cheek and Montague had to doge out of the way before it hit him.
"There, there," said Montague as he patted the dragon's leg. "If you're a vegan dragon that makes all the difference."
"It does?"
"Yes, it does," smiled Montague. "I don't see any reason why you can't stay here."
"Oh thank you," said the Dragon as he wiped his eyes with his tail.
"Cheerio then," said Montague as he mounted his rabbit and hopped off into the sunset.
"Thank goodness he's gone, now I can get back to eating that tasty sheep that just happened to wonder my way." He grinned and licked his lips...

 © Helen A. Howell

Stories inspired by an image - Snapjaw

 
Snapjaw was quite an old Croc. He had swam in these waters for a very long time, when asked he said "about this long" and held his arms out wide. Now he was thought to not be the brightest of Crocodiles, and not the most hard working.
"I've done my share." he grumbled when the other Crocs called him lazy. "You young whipper snippers think you know it all. Go away and catch your food or whatever it is you do with your day and leave me in peace."
He wriggled himself into the mangroves and snuggled down among the reeds to catch maybe 40 or was it 60 winks. Some time later he woke and went to sit on the bank and wait. A young croc swam by, looked up at him and stopped.
"Why are you sitting there?" she asked.
"I'm waiting," he replied.
"What for?"
"My strawberries and cream of course."
"Strawberries and cream, Crocs don't eat that." She wriggled her nose in disgust.
"This one does. Much better than tough old meat and it arrives every day on time. No hunting, no catching, no effort." He grinned at the small Croc. "And it tastes so delicious." He licked his lips at the very thought of it.
"Where does it come from?" She was beginning to think that old Snapjaw had finally gone bonkers. That was the rumour that was now circulating among the others. It appeared to her it was true.
He was just about to answer her when footsteps could be heard coming towards him. Out of the bushes scrambled down a very nervous young man carrying a huge plate of strawberries and cream. He stood by Snapjaw and held out the bowl.
"Here ya are."
"Catch him" yelled the young croc.
"Never" called back Snapjaw. "I have sworn to protect him as long as he brings me my strawberries and cream. Off with you now, boy, quick." Snapjaw held the bowl close to his stomach while searching the surrounding area to make sure the boy escaped safely.
"Why did you let him go, that was good meat." She lifted herself out of the water and came to sit beside the old Croc.
"I don't need meat, this is what I want," and he held up the bowl.
"How do you get him to bring it to you?" Now she was full of curiosity.
"Well, it goes like this, he was walking down here one day, stupid boy, everyone knows not to walk where there are Crocs. I stumbled across him and grabbed him by his shoe. I was just about to drag him into the water and do the whole turn him over drowning thing when he shouted stop and I'll give you my strawberries and cream, which he happen to be eating at the time. I did stop and I tasted that delightful dish, and was converted straight away. So a bargain was struck, I would protect him when he comes down here and he brings me the said dish."
"I would have eaten him, your mad."
"I don't think you would, once you taste this," he held out a spoonful for her.
She opened her mouth and allowed him to place the contents within. As she munched and sucked, she rolled her eyes and made a great big sighing noise. She had never tasted anything quite as delicious as this before. Maybe old Snapjaw is not so mad after all, she thought.
"Can I have another spoonful?" she asked..... 

 © Helen A. Howell