Trevor C. Krueger
Entrepreneur - Writer - Publisher
Krueger
Media Ltd
Here's your unique chance to read the opening introduction to Trevor's new fantasy novel:
"August The Hermit" If you like what you read.... please let him know through the guesbook or by sending an Email:
August the Hermit
by
Trevor C. Krueger
Introduction:The Old Cut
The Old CutDown in the deepest depths of the English countryside set between emerald fields of fresh grazed grass, aged trees that swish in pirouettes like ballerinas in the breeze, beneath clear wide blue sky’s flittered with all manner of birds twittering on the wing, nestled - The Old Cut. A deep valley thoroughfare that once played host to the great days of steam locomotion. Nowadays, disused, overgrown and more a haven for a full inventory of wildlife. It could almost go unnoticed by the world and, with the exception of a few old locals whom, these days, visited only in their thoughts, it virtually did. Its main stretch of old rusty line emerged from a tunnel with a firm foundation ‘neath the fields of a local farmer who saw no reason to allow trespassers any vantage to view or visit, and so for more years than anyone could remember it all lay peaceful and uninterrupted.
This natural paradilic testimony to times gone by bore no malice to anyone nor did it covet the attention or interest of any outsiders, save of those natural inhabitants which shared its cover. A broad natural family of Foxes, Badgers, Owls, Stoats, Weasels, Rabbits, Mice and many more species balancing nature between themselves with no request for any inventory or census, plan or provision from the outside world. This place, “The Old Cut”, was all they knew or wanted and life within its boundaries was good and balanced and calm – most of the time.
The Old Cut had another feature which probably played a considerable part in maintaining the state of solitude and isolation it had come to accept as natural. The old line, it was said, was haunted. Or so the locals would have anyone, who asked, believe. A legend that found its base in local folklore but its promotion through the mouths of both the scholar and the sceptic who, between them, for a variety of reasons, known only to them, found the story and its evidences a good topic to talk about in the pub. As nothing spreads wider or faster than word of mouth rumours, there is no surprise that whatever anyone knew for fact or believed through conjecture, gained good ground for adventure by way of the lips or ears of any who would talk or listen on the topic. It was true to say that the story was not all fantasy and speculation, for there were those who would swear on their lives that they had seen and heard things that proved beyond all doubt in their minds that “something” was down there. Of course, none would say this in earshot of the farmer who owned the land for fear of rebuke for trespass, but in private company they would deliver their testimony with full enthusiasm and insistence of its factual “I saw it with my own eyes” credibility. They spoke of bright lights racing along the track through the trees, of twigs cracking under weight of foot, of loud wails and squeals to the clatter of locomotive wheel on railway track and most of all – the sound of steam whistles breaking through the night like a banshee with its tail afire. Of course, all such stories are normally told once the ale has taken affect and tongues are loosened at the opportunity of a good audience. So, who is to speculate on the level of embellishment of facts based on more innocent and explainable events? I, for one, cannot argue that they did not see or hear what they claim, for I was not there. But those who would make such claims swear their accounts are true and etched forever in their minds, clenched to their memory like deaths grasp on the throat of the dying. Of course, one day, the truth will out and maybe between these pages. Some would say that the unknown is best left alone. While others would not be satisfied to rest until, through thorough investigation, they had finally settled the facts and the speculation which bind together to become the mystery that was “The Old Cut”.
