Search for the Sunlight
Chapter 65

With Sherlock’s laborious lecture on the economics of a Pentagonopus’ footwear finally at a close, Harry seized the opportunity.

“Look I’m sorry to change the subject,” he said, rolling his eyes in despair.

“No, please do!” Nevin replied expectantly, returning to a cheerier pink colour at the prospect of a more stimulating conversation. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Before Sherlock went off on his holiday shoe thing, you mentioned The Word Worm.” “That’s right,” Nevin replied. “I did.”

“Well who, or what, is The Word Worm?”

“You mean you’ve never heard of The Word Worm?” Nevin gasped.

“Well, I have a bit,” Harry replied hesitantly. He was referring, of course, to Sherlock’s scary dream.

“What do you mean, you have a bit? You either have or you haven’t!” The Pentagonopus scoffed, his voice, for the first time, displaying a hint of impatience. “Come closer and I’ll explain.” The Treewoods and the cat gathered round to hear Nevin’s story.

“The Word Worm is one of the most argumentative creatures ever to walk on the face of this earth.” The Pentagonopus began. “Slimier than a snake and sharper than a gimlet, this evil twister knows every single word, in every language that has ever been spoken in the entire universe and if, for any reason a situation should arise where there are no words to suit the occasion, then he’ll make them up.

Born of the Devil himself, it is his sole purpose to wreak havoc on the earth and destroy everything that is good. To date, no living creature has entered into an argument with this vicious wordsmith and won.

However, it is written in the rings, of The Great Trunk of Treewood History that a rival by the name of ‘Black Sid the Mouth’ - an equally cunning wordsmith with a similar agenda - will come from beneath the earth and challenge The Word Worm for supremacy. A fierce battle of words will ensue, during which, the world will be turned on its axis and the sunlight will disappear from the heavens. Famine and suffering, on an unprecedented scale will follow, tearing apart the very fabric of civilisation.”

Absolute silence descended on the travellers, as Nevin’s story added substance to both the missing sunlight and Sherlock’s disturbing dream.

“But, there is hope!” the Pentagonopus continued. “For it is also written that an unlikely force for goodness and truth will travel from afar and confront the two serpents. A brief but fateful exchange of words will follow and, the undeniable truth will be laid bare.”

With his face pale and drawn, Sherlock closed his diary and tucked it discreetly into his lapsack. Suddenly his top tips on Nevin’s money saving, holiday shoe thing were of little importance.

“It would appear that our destiny is finally upon us,” the Constable said quietly, as the significance of his dream, and the challenge of what lay ahead began to sink in.

“At this stage, there is no way of knowing what is required of us, but if as I suspect, we are that ‘unlikely force for goodness and truth’ then, we must rise to the occasion and destroy these preachers of hate. There is no place on this earth for them or their hideous agenda.”

“Bravo!” The Pentagonopus cheered, applauding loudly with all five of his tentacles. Although only a solo audience participant, the nature of his multiple limbs made him sound like an overenthusiastic crowd at a small concert venue.

The sea creature’s revealing story, combined with Sherlock’s positive words, gave the team a renewed sense of purpose.

“And remember,” Nevin added, “All it takes for evil to flourish is for good Treewoods to do nothing. The Optician has blessed you each with a gift far greater than you presently know and when called upon, if you use these gifts wisely, the prize will surely be yours!”

It was getting late in the day and the Pentagonopus was becoming restless.

“Good grief, is that the time?” he said catching a glimpse of Basil’s wood watch.

“I haven’t eaten for hours! Armageddon might be upon us, but I still want my supper.”

With that, Nevin Squibb, custodian of The Sea of Dreams, unfolded his tentacles for the last time and slipped silently into the loch leaving the wok and its occupants drifting alone, on the calm steely water.

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