the road to the wicked city - 8. the widow

by jeremy witherington

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"snively, snively! snively against the world!” trembling, snively stood up from his desk and looked back at his cheering, mocking classmate. “i am willing,” he squeaked. “it is a far, far, better thing i do…” the boys erupted in laughter. “bugger that weak treacle!” one of them shouted. “you are for it, old son!” cried another. “better thing you do or not!” snively hung his head, and let the jeers wash over him. “come, gentlemen,” said bickenden, when the laughter died down, “let’s give the little fellow credit for his little dollop of spunk. are you ready to come along, snively?” “yes, bickenden,” snively asseted bravely. “then let us get going. chitwotth, you will accompany us. just in case our little man has a change of heart and tries to make a run for it, two can chase him better than one.” bickenden turned to the teacher. “wickler, keep these fellows in line - i will hold you responsible for anything going amiss in my absence.” “yes, bickenden,” wickler replied humbly. bickenden and chitworth then each took snively by one limp arm and marched him out of the classroom, down the corridor, and out onto the school grounds. the wind had died down a bit, but the darkness had deepened, and the moor was as threatening as ever. “which way will the monster come?” chitworth asked bickenden. “from across the moor, i presume,” bickenden replied. “we will march our little friend straight north. look, the widow has her light on, we can guide by that.” “and maybe pay the widow herself a visit,” sniggered chitworth. bickenden considered, or pretended to consider, this. “i don’t think so, we need to organize our march out of here, and not waste time.” “the widow” was a mysterious raven haired young woman who lived alone in a small house on the edge of the moor, and was the object of the lads’ most pathetic, disgusting, and relentless fantasies. “you can leave me,” said snively. ”i can go out on the moor myself.” “are you sure?” bickenden asked. “i think we will take you out a little further.” “maybe we should tie him to a tree,” chitworth offered. “do you have a rope with you?” bickenden snapped. they marched along. the light in the widow’s window was now clearly visible. “all right, we will leave you here,” bickenden told snively. “but we will watch you to make sure you get out on to the moor. no tricks, now!” “i won’t play any tricks,” snively answered dolefully. “you can trust me.” bickenden and chitworth watched as snively passed the widow’s house and entered on to the moor proper. then they turned back. * as snively had passed the widow’s house he thought he saw a gleam of metal behind the house. could it be a motorcar? he looked back. bickenden and chitworth were out of sight. he cautiously retreated and crept behind the widow’s house. it was indeed a motorcar that he had seen! it was almost completely concealed under a black tarpaulin, but it was indeed a motorcar. here was a chance! if he could somehow persuade the widow of the danger… he went around to the front of the widow’s house and knocked on the door as loudly as he dared… though surely bickenden and chitworth were well out of hearing range. no one answered. he knocked again, a bit louder. he was about to give up, when he saw movement behind the door. the door opened a crack, without any light going on above or behind it, and snively felt, rather than saw , the widow’s dark eye upon him… “yes? what can i do for you? i have told your headmaster i want no nonsense from you little wretches.” haltingly, snively began to tell the widow about the serpent as best he could… 9. across the blasted heath