'THE WIZARD THAT WAS': A LITTLE GROWING STORY Updated 26/5/2014

(Ctr - end) Will take you to the last update. 
This is another growing story when I have time. The writing is not perfect, it is spontaneous and will be tidied up over time. This is a sort of magical mysterious story, that could end up anywhere. There are no drafts, no synopsis or any previous thought. See how it goes.

THE WIZARD THAT WAS

#By Frances Harris

In a homeless shelter in a normal metropolitan city, is number five Greenway Street, where a group of fringe dwellers seem to live happily in their own alternate universe to the rest of humanity. Most of them have few material possessions, but they do have a lot to offer each other.

'Where do you come from?' Dorothy asked a frail little man with a mildly hunched back, slurping on a bowl of onion soup. The man ignores her and continues with his meal. 'Cat got your tongue?' Dorothy asks, but still he ignores her. She begins to laugh and point a nimble finger his way and says: 'Can't you talk little man?' For one fleeting moment he raises his eyes to look at her, not stopping the steady movement of his spoon. 'You're not worth worrying about,' Dorothy says scornfully; then she stands up suddenly, her huge frame nearly taking the table with her.

The soup bowl tips up slightly, sloshing soup on the man's shirt. He looks startled for a moment, then straightens his well-worn collar and hungrily finishes his meal. A teenage youth takes pity on the older man and goes over to him. 'Are you alright?' he asks. 'Yep!' the man with the soup replies. My name is Pete Symonds, he says while offering his hand. The man with the empty bowl offers his hand in return, over a lowered head.

Pete is a little startled as he didn't really expect a reply. 'I'm Robin Hood,' the hunched up man replies. Pete appears a little puzzled, though he gives a slightly knowing grin. 'OK, Mr Robin Hood, it's nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your meal.' While scooping dollops of yellow coconut flavoured custard into his mouth, Mr Robin Hood pauses and leans back. 'Take from the rich and give to the poor,' he says earnestly, then resumes his scooping. Pete has seen a lot in his young years, and accepts that many unusual folk come here to this shelter that his parents set up years ago. Those people have little chance to take care of themselves with the few possessions they carry with them. Pete had grown up around them.

Parked beside Mr Robin hood is a grocery trolley possibly purloined from a local shop. It is brimming to the top with many of the essentials necessary to live on the street. With a look of mischievous glee on her rounded face, Dorothy passes by again and swoops on something hanging from the trolley. Immediately Mr Hood reaches out and grabs her arm and twists it. Dorothy squeals with pain. 'It's mine,' he protests loudly. ‘You have no right to it!’ She had clearly underestimated his strength. Anxious people at the other tables momentarily look up from their food and conversations, and they murmur their disapproval. This shelter is usually a quiet place. Another man in a blue and white striped vest from the 1960’s watches intently from afar. He races over to Mr Robin hood and whispers something in his ear, then exits at the nearest door. Mr Robin Hood does not react in any way. Dorothy immediately follows him outside.

Then Mr Robin Hood calls out loudly to both of them; ‘you’ll pay for what you’ve done, you’ll pay dearly!’ The other patrons huddle lower at their tables and pretend that nothing happened. Quiet returns to the building and life goes on at the shelter as usual. There had been rumours about Mr Robin hood, but they were too far-fetched for most people to believe. The sources for these rumours were very unreliable. It still made that everyone feel very uneasy. They didn’t like to talk about such things. When he’d finished every morsel, Mr Robin Hood wiped his mouth with the white napkin provided, then proceeded to rearrange the contents of his shopping trolley. He tucked in each corner of the green waterproof cover, did one last check that everything was secured, before he went out the door pushing the trolley with the slightly wobbly wheel down the street.

Pete wiped his eyes and stared as he could swear he saw something wriggle under the trolley cover. ‘Please get me another coffee,’ he asks the man behind the counter. ’I really need one! He takes two sips of the pungent brew; then he asks the attendant: ‘did you see something strange about that trolley?’ The man gives Pete a curious glance. ‘Never mind, I think I need an early night, I’ve been pushing myself too hard lately.’

(Updated 26/5/2014)

Along the narrow Green Street, outside the shelter, Mr Robin Hood ambled into the distance looking into shop windows as his journey progressed. Rubbish dumpsters were of great interest to him. Sometimes he stopped occasionally to look down narrow alleys on his way to somewhere. This man was of no particular interest to anyone, so no one noticed or cared where he went each day.

Next day Pete was so interested in the man with the grocery trolley, he asked around to find out if anyone knows him. He headed for a group of gossipers who frequented the shelter daily, because if anyone would know, they were the most likely. He was surprised when he met a wall of silence with everyone he approached. ’What is it about that guy?’ he murmured. 'I get this creepy feeling when I think about him,' he thought.

Next day at the evening meal as regular as clockwork, first the loaded trolley came through the front door of the shelter followed by the man called Mr Robin Hood. He showed little emotion as he took his usual seat, at his usual table close to the middle of the room. He can’t be a shrinking violet if he likes to sit out in the open, thought Pete. They both acknowledged each other with a fleeting glance, not wanting to be too obvious. Pete watched his every move. He noticed the people who he spoke to and those he avoided. Mostly he seemed to be a loner.

Mr Robin Hood stood in the food line and collected his usual meal of meat, three vegetables and a small date pudding. Most times he ate only half his peas and left the rest, putting them in a small plastic box. Not that it really meant a whole lot. What Pete did notice was whenever Mr Robin Hood entered the room, the steady hum of vibrant conversation turned to soft whispers behind hands to the face. The quiet all around was unnerving. Pete kept a careful eye on the shopping trolley but this time he noticed nothing unusual.

Life is hard on the street, so Pete and his brother Scott, who also helped out there, liked to find little ways to help those in need. Scott went over to the notice board and placed a bulletin declaring there are free clothes ready for collection in the back room. A few of the patrons strolled over take a look. Nobody seemed interested, except Mr Robin Hood. Pete took a keen interest in what he chose. The man turned over the pile of second hand clothes many times before he chose a heavy grey coat, a pair of red and blue striped socks and child size pair of pyjamas.

Pete noted the strange choice for someone who was unlikely to have a child in his care. This was suspicious, surely. A thin, sickly old woman also searching for clothes noticed what he chose and stared at him for a moment. Then she reverted to the accepted policy in the shelter which is to keep out of other people’s business. Pete’s curiosity was now almost overwhelming. ‘Children’s pyjamas?’ he mumbled. All kinds of possibilities were swirling through his mind. Pete called Scott over to tell him of his fears. ‘Do you think it is strange that Mr Robin Hood took a pair of children’s pyjamas out of the clothes pile?’ Scott is a lay-back kind of guy and asked: ’What are you worried about?’ His brother’s voice wavered when he said: ’I don’t know.’ Scott looked at Pete strangely, then he started to walk off. ‘No really Scott,’ he added: ’I think it’s fishy.’

‘You’ve got rocks in your head, there are lots of reasons why he would choose children’s clothes. He might have a grandchild.’ Pete hung his head wondering about his own stability. ‘Take the afternoon off, I’ll cover your shift ‘Bro,’ Scott adds from the other side of the room. It was time for Mr Robin Hood to go on his way. Once again, he followed his usual routine, before strolling out the door. Pete could not resist the opportunity; he strode to the front door and watched intently as Mr Robin Hood disappeared into the city.