The Tale of Middlewick Manor - short story

Part One

On Foulness Island to the west of Churchend, can be found the ruins of a once fine manor house. Before arable farming became commonplace, the Island was known for sheep with the largest farm belonging to the Wakerings of Middlewick Manor. Their farm had long been esteemed for the quality of its produce having won both international and national prizes. It was said by the locals on the mainland, Burnham on Crouch, that a witch had blessed the farm after Wakering’s grandfather rescued her cat from kiddles1 on Foulness sands. Whatever the reason for their good fortune, the Wakerings were the richest farmers in South East Essex and employed a good many of the locals in industry.

That is not to say that the family were without their problems for the eldest son, though stout and handsome was what they called ‘wild’. He would row across the Crouch to drink in the local pubs and get into fights. He often stayed away for days at a time so the family thought nothing of him disappearing one dark winter’s afternoon and not returning. However, after four days had passed they searched for him in vain for there was no sight of him and no clue as to where he’d gone.

From then on, Mrs Wakering took to sleepwalking and would often be seen at Fishermans Head gazing out at the water, her long dark hair billowing out behind her, wearing nothing but her white flannel nightdress. To keep his wife within the confines of the parish, Richard Wakering built a fence around the manor’s main gardens and had servants keep a watchful eye during the night. Although Mrs Wakering’s nocturnal habits soon returned to normal, she could only sleep a few minutes at a time before she’d sit bolt upright in bed suffering from heart palpitations.

The family kept up most of their social commitments and were known for a great masked ball they held annually in aid of education for the Islanders. Every year, lights were strung up along the quay and paths leading up to the house, the locals who weren’t employed for the evening at the house came to the quay to see the guests dressed in their expensive silks, heavy with exotic perfumes. Special ferries were laid on to ship the guests to and from the Island and the ball often went on until late the next morning.

It was during the preparations for their ball that the second tragedy befell the family. Due to an agreement drawn up by Wakering’s great grandfather, smugglers had kept away from the goods of Wakefield Manor. However, a new smuggling family had superseded the old who didn’t recognise the ancient pacts. They ransacked several shipments of fine wines and other delicacy’s on its way to the manor house, however, Blackheart as was the leaders’ name was soon caught with the seven others who had followed him.

They were tried and, found guilty of smuggling were sentenced to death. They were executed by tying their hands and ankles together then weighed down with stones. They were then pushed into the water one by one to much clapping and cheering by the bountiful crowd of onlookers. According to local lore, the bodies of the seven smugglers turned into giant crabs which can still be found when the tide is low.

Unbeknownst to any, Blackheart was rescued by his half brother who lay in wait in the marshes until the coast was clear. Together they stole up to the manor house and took the eldest daughter, Elizabeth from her bed. Although the family searched day and night for weeks with most of the local inhabitants, not a trace of her was every found. It is said that Mrs Wakering’s hair began to fall out in clumps, whether that was because of grief or illness no one knows but she took to wearing a cap during the day, never revealing her head to anyone, not even her husband.

The Tale of Middlewick Manor – Part Two

A few days passed when an old man came to the door in ragged clothes, easily mistaken for a tramp but for the piercing intelligence his eyes belied and the dominance of his nature. He waited at the foot of the stairs holding his hat between his hands and Mrs Wakering walked slowly down to meet him though no one had yet called her.

He said his name was George and he had heard of the family’s troubles, he said he knew how to lift the family’s bane though it would mean a certain sacrifice. At this point Mrs Wakering was willing to agree to most anything and followed him up the stairs whereupon he went into the room of little Megan, their youngest and most beloved daughter. He pulled off the front of a large dolls house that had been in the family for generations and held up three small figures. They looked like ordinary dolls but on closer inspection human hair had been crudely stuck onto their heads with wax and features drawn on their faces with pen, uncannily resembling the disappeared children and even Mrs Wakering herself.

Old George said this could be nothing but the work of a witch and the witch was Megan, for this was the sacrifice of which he spoke. He said that Megan was not their daughter but a changeling; their real daughter had been swapped at birth and killed. This was a direct descendant of an ancient family of witches who had been thrown off their land during the burning times¹ and thought completely destroyed. He said to ask her husband, for he had clue as to why their family had been chosen out of all others, that he had long known. As Mrs Wakering was in such a fright and shielding Megan from him, he said he would give them two days to think over his offer or he would ne’re offer again.

Mr Wakering was away on business and not back until late that evening, by which time his wife was nearly mad with fear. The day’s events were quickly explained to him, whereupon his face turned from red to deathly white and it was difficult to tell who was more wretched him or his wife. And all the while, little Megan remained her sweet angelic self saying nothing and looking from one to the other of her parents and awaiting their decision.

The cook was called for it was said that she was part ‘cunning’² and knew of such things. She was much afeared of Old George, said there were rumours of dark goings on in his village and that he was very powerful at what he did and had demons and witches at his beck and call. It seemed as though the family were in a very difficult situation at which point, Mr Wakering remembered a sealed letter passed down to each son since the time of his great grandfather, kept in the safe with other important documents. He went to his study to read the letter and when he returned had aged considerably, his straight back now bent as though carrying a tremendous weight. He ordered the servants to pack up what belongings could easily be fitted into the family boat, dismissed the servants and rushed his wife and child into the family carriage whereupon they drove off in great haste.

At dawn the next day thick black smoke was seen on the horizon and the Islanders could do nothing but watch the once magnificent manor burn to the ground. There are many rumours as to what the letter said to prompt the family to leave as they did, but no one knows for sure why Middlewick Manor was abandoned and destroyed.

1 Infamous European witch trials

2 Part witch

Copyright. K B Morris All Rights Reserved.

We Need to Talk About Kevin - Review

I suppose the obvious supposition is that it's a polemic against modern consumerist America and the reason these white, middle class kids with everything go on these shooting sprees. Our knee jerk reaction is to blame the parents and the mother in particular for after all, isn't she the perpetrator of original sin that we've been paying for ever since. Hence the narrator is Eva or Eve, the woman who gives birth to a monster, who tips Pandora's box all over the nation.

Elephant by Gus Van Sant tries to explore the Columbine massacre through film and he comes to much the same conclusion: that there's a void, a nothingness and a meaningless. They (the public) need someone to blame and try to pin the blame on Hitler, the parents, the teachers but never the fact that there is no one to blame but the children themselves. Kevin seems to be saying the same thing:

"Cause otherwise? You type on your computer and go home and the refrigerator comes on and another computer spits out your paycheck and you sleep and you enter more shit on your computer...Might as well be dead." p326

There was something disquieting about his need for nappies until the age of five, his reluctance to come out of the womb and his own mother's reluctance to give birth to him. This was later exemplified through his constrictive undersized clothing. It wasn't until by her own admission, she didn't want him ripped out of her that she put in any effort and couldn't believe the pain. She was so used to being on morphine within her saccharine sanitised society; that she had never actually experienced pain before.

She is what some sardonically call a poverty tourist and wanted to experience pain and poverty but behind a shield. Her passport and her identity was always her get out clause, she always knew she could go home and there would be someone waiting for her when she did. She went on about her 'roots', the massacre of the Armenians but it wasn't until Kevin massacred those close to her that she again felt anything except antipathy.

On a more superficial level she was a Liberal and he, a Republican. Yet she was the one who wanted to punish while he, Mr Plastic was so sucked into Pax Americana that he lost his own life as his son burst his misconceptions with an arrow.

The two children were so different as though he had somehow sucked all the health, courage and personality out of the mother and then nullified it with his own inert expressionlessness. In a world so packed with stuff that he could have anything he wished he liked nothing and had no taste for anything except it seemed: his mother.

Eva goes back to the seventies feminism where women were just getting used to having a say over their own bodies. They had the pill and abortion rights and didn't see why they should be held hostage or their personal lives ransomed for children whereas Franklin (a reference to Roosevelt) was more Reagan or 'traditional'. He cannot believe that if he puts on a good enough show, it won't work. As though if he lets off enough fireworks on the fourth of July there won't be maggots in the apple pie.

In a senseless consumerist driven society with no spiritual centre or governmental norms the only thing to look forward to was becoming yet anther cog in the wheel, of doing what was expected of you. Of getting a mortgage, having children and playing Frisbee with them in 'down time'. Whose populace was fed on bloodshed in order to make them feel anything at all, a feeding frenzy of questions from those removed by the television camera. He picks off the American Ideal one by one with an arrow like Robin Hood yet lacks any real altruism. In fact he seems to lack any real feelings at all.

Except he seems to yearn for his mother's approval and affection and during her diatribes he is taking notes. She tries to pull off the facade that she's a liberal well travelled hippie but she's a millionaire just as enamored with her personal possessions as all those she deigns to despise. She has no compassion for the weak, lonely or disaffected. She is deeply superficial. Her first descriptions of people are through their looks, they are dismissed as fat or physically unattractive and she often describes the way she looks. She hates the large modern house her husband buys when it echoes modern middle class American society. The lack of privacy, the pretentious attention to detail and the lack of any real substance or feeling.

At the end, Kevin had a photo of his mother on his wall in prison and admitted that she was his intended audience. She had often railed about school yard rampages while her plastic husband stuck up for the disaffected children. She seemed to be feeding her son tips on how to go about it, in order to get rid of her apathy. It was her who hated the society that bore her and her son who attempted to mow it down. And it was to her he turned when he was ill, frightened and needy. So in a sense, the book seems to be saying that it's the soft, liberal approach that brings this kind of tragedy into fruition yet since the 'traditional' Republican approach is plainly inappropriate we need to redesign the fabric of society itself. So the book throws a daunting question back at the reader...