Witchy Woo!

I had always loved the gentle roll of greenery that defines the Oxford countryside, sitting as I did on my narrow boat, gazing out on the world slowly passing me by, I journeyed deeper into the unknown, injected into the veins of that land like a virus, not unlike Lenin’s return to Russia in the carriages of a sealed train, revolution in mind.

During that long summer of ’53 I would compare my own life to that of the canal, the still shallow waters of a false man-made river, existing purely for function, lacking in any natural current, the centaury old waters grow ever more stagnant and lifeless with each passing year. I was a shell of a man. The war had done that to me. Trained to kill and expected to die, when I survived there was nothing that could be done for me, so I returned to my fathers boat. I had been chased out of London for espousing dangerous theories as fact. The establishment were satisfied with the status quo. they were not interested in hearing how the Nazi leadership had fled to a specially constructed moon base and intended to launch attacks on the allies with their new saucer-like flying machines.

The passion and bluster of these arguments were now drowned out by the delicate whisper of a breeze in the autumnal trees and the constant lapping of water against the slow moving bow, these sounds enveloped me, as I fell asleep.

I awoke with a start. “My eyes My eyes!”  I could not open my eyes. I touched them and felt a crude stitching hold them together. I stopped myself from panicking, took a deep breath and spoke. “Who are you? Why have you done this to me? What do you want from me?” These were questions that I felt had all my bases covered. “No answers, just because” came the reply, it was a female voice, accent-less but with it carried the weight of ages. “That’s no good to me” I said “my eyes have been stitched together, I am no longer on my boat” I was about to rant, but then it dawned on me, I felt around to get my barings but I wasn’t touching anything, I was floating, floating in the air. “And it seems that I am floating” I could never get my words right when in strange situations, there was a lot more I wanted to say. “That’s right, your were ‘boating’ and now you are ‘floating’ Ha !” this was simply not funny, but as I would grow to learn over the years, Witch simply did not have a developed sense of humour. “You are to become Robot” said the Witch “it will be make you immortal, but will take time, as you are to become immortal time really isn’t an issue though Ha Ha!”   That’s how it all began really… as simple as that, Know what I mean?