The Vipan Chronicles

Intro: I unreservedly apologise to my regular readers (All three of you) for staying away so long. I haven’t been in a good place for a while and have suffered with the dreaded writers’ block. However, I’ve recently joined a ‘Spoken Word’ group which has rekindled my thought processes, in fact, I have a paid gig coming up soon (*sounds of appreciative crowds cheering*).. I wrote something a while ago that centred around an ex- East India Company, Army Captain called John Vipan. John actually existed and was an ancestor of my good lady, Mrs Underfelt. My John has resigned his commission, has returned to England and is domiciled in a city not too dissimilar to my own, albeit in the late Victorian era. My idea was to have a series of local adventures for him, hence the main title. The following is a very short extract where John has been following the Warden of the local Asylum. At the main doorway into the building, John encounters one of the Pigg brothers, a notorious pair, well known for random acts of violence when drunk and unwarranted acts of cruelty towards the inmates of the asylum…

The Story:

John approached the main doors to the asylum, his way was blocked by the foul smelling carcass of Michael Pigg, eldest of the two Pigg brothers. “I’d like to speak with the Warden”, said John. “He’s not here”, was the slurred, drunken reply. “I’ve just followed him”, said John indignantly. “I saw him go through those doors”. Michael took a swig from a half empty gin bottle, “You must be mistaken then, it must have been another fella”. John took a step back; the smell of the unwashed individual in front of him was overpowering. A thought flashed across John’s mind, he knew that Michael had a wife and several children, all of them ill treated by this excuse for a human being. John had often seen the children barefooted and begging on the streets at all times of the day and night, simply to provide Michael with his beer money. Michael’s wife and children all carried the bruises of his daily terror. John found it difficult to understand how any woman could attach herself through life to a gargoyle such as this, without plunging a knife deep into the animal’s breast. “I know it was him” said John, “just stand aside and let me pass”. Michael grasped the gin bottle tightly and thrust the neck of the bottle towards John’s face. “I’ve already told you, it wasn’t him, so you might as well just fuck off”. Normally, John may have let this go, but he’d already tangled with Michael earlier in the day and now he could feel the anger boiling up inside himself. “Stand aside”, he demanded, and made a move to push past Michael, who shifted his stance and blocked the way. He made another attempt to get past Michael but each move was met with a counter move. “Like a dance would you, Sweetie?”, Michael cackled, as he drew his tongue lasciviously across his yellow stained and rotten teeth. He moved from left to right, thrusting his groin provocatively in John’s direction. “Come on darling,” he drawled, “let’s dance”. Michael laughed loudly, leaning forward and pursing his lips, “What about a kiss?” His mistake was in closing his eyes.

John’s gloved fist connected squarely with Michael’s mouth, loosening at least two of the rotten teeth. With little time to recover from the shock of that blow, another was delivered squarely to Michael’s rib cage. This action caused Michael to exhale, parting him from his dislodged teeth. Another punch to the side of the jaw sent Michael senseless to the floor. The gin bottle, still in Michael’s hand, smashed into pieces. Normally, John would have attended to these injuries, but this man deserved all the ills that could be heaped on him. He stepped over the drunkard’s body and entered the asylum. He had business with the Warden, and he was now in the right frame of mind to deal with him…

Let me know what you think… Also, Thompson will return soon.