Free Through the Kisandra Prism by Jack Challis Page A

putting on her most sad and sanctimonious expression. ‘You see God will be calling Myfanwy to heaven soon… she has just undergone major brain surgery… they actually had to remove half of her brain… and considering her brain was rather small to begin with… she is finding it difficult to control her actions.’
    Blodwyn waited a moment for this information to sink in.
    â€˜Poor thing,’ she continues, ‘that lovely hair is an NHS wig. Even her false eye lashes are supplied by the NHS. Her skull is still held together with metal rivets… that have now gone rusty.’
    Teresa’s mouth drops open. She is lost for words at this tragic news.
    â€˜Please… promise not to tell anyone,’ says Blodwyn, ‘especially my parents. They already know of course… it upsets them to even be reminded…it will spoil their whole evening. You know, sometimes…’ continues Blodwyn unable to stop her flow, ‘Myfanwy runs through the village – stark naked, screaming obscenities… laughing her head off and gobbing on people!’
    Blodwyn had to use great self-control to stop herself laughing out loud at these outrageous fibs; nevertheless she had to make Myfanwy sound unpredictable and unapproachable, so everyone would avoid close contact with her, even before she played her final trick.
    â€˜Holy-mother of Jesus… the poor darling!’ exclaims Teresa Devereux, calming down now, ‘no wonder she is as mad as a March hare… I won’t tell a single soul…I promise on all the Holy saints of Ireland.’
    The first part of Blodwyn’s trick had worked perfectly.
    Meanwhile all the eyes of the young folk are still on Patrick, who is still contemplating the question. He wants to impress the beautiful young woman standing in front of him, but while under such pressure and in the presence of such enchanted beauty, just could not think of a ‘single’ word to describe his property accurately.
    â€˜Well that’s a difficult one,’ answers Patrick,’ scratching his head.
    â€˜One word you say…errrrr.’ His sister Teresa and his female cousins had no intentions of helping him marrying Myfanwy. Who would want such a brazen hussy as a sister in law?
    â€˜Hurry up,’ urges Myfanwy, before I grow chin whiskers, dry up and die of old age – remember your singular answer must be truthful, and descriptive.’
    â€˜One word eh?’ repeats Patrick Devereux, now rubbing his chin and looking at his other male cousins for encouragement, which was not forthcoming; not for the lack of trying.
    â€˜An honest answer you say?’ checks Patrick.
    â€˜Of course,’ answers Myfanwy placing her hands on her hips and taking on a theatrical impatient pose. ‘Honesty is paramount.’
    â€˜That’s rich.’ thought Blodwyn coming from Myfanwy Jenkins.
    â€˜Come on! Speak up Patrick,’ Myfanwy urges, ‘you are beginning to bore me now.’
    â€˜I have… only just bought the cottage, mind you,’ excuses Patrick ‘…it needs…a little work…errr… at the moment… one word…you say.’
    â€˜One word.’ Myfanwy confirms.
    â€˜It is…’ answerers Patrick, ‘I suppose at the moment…that is…a shite hole… I suppose.’ On second thoughts he considers his answer. ‘Jesus…that is if shite hole is one word…that is?’
    Myfanwy looks on patronizingly. ‘It is… when hyphenated… it would also help if my future husband had a reasonable knowledge of simple grammar… and when required to, was able to string a complete sentence together in public.’
    Meanwhile Blodwyn knew that Teresa Devereux would waste no time in telling all the cousins and the family of Myfanwy’s misfortune and giggled at the thought of the next phase of the trick, which would endorse Myfanwy’s supposed