Whit a Fleg!!
Author(s): Robert Fairnie
Copyright holder(s): Robert Fairnie
Geordie felt his body wis deid fae the thrapple doon an it wisnae awaur o oniethin, but his een wis tellin him, bi the wey the wee lichts wis movin, that he wis fawin intae a muckle mirkie naethin. Noo he cuid see wee coloured lichts afore him as weel as tae the side an thae yins wis gaun oot an in as they gaed by.
The haund on his thrapple wisnae thare onie mair an Geordie cuidnae mind it gaun awa. He cuidnae mind aither hou he haed gotten intae this seetiation an a wheen o oorie antrin thochts kep on fleein in an oot his heid as his een stertit tae feel blin wi sleep…..wis this whit it felt lik tae be deein? …….UFO’s? …….. ALIENS? …… ABDUCTIONS? ……. DWAM? Geordie crinched his teeth thegither an tried tae wauken up. The lichts afore his een got brichter an he crinched his teeth aw the mair. He stertit tae feel his chafts bitin harder an thocht if he didnae stap, his teeth micht brek but the mair he tried tae stap, the mair he crinched till shuir eneuch his teeth gied wey an aw the lichts afore him explodit in a muckle bleeze o colour.
Geordie kent he wis deid noo, but haud on – whit wis thae twa white craiturs hingin in the air afore his een? War they angels or.....no, michty me.....no Aliens? He felt he wis in some kinna chaumer an the souch o the place wis gey misty lik haein a haar inside the hoose. The twa craiturs wis lik bogles wi muckle big heids, bumflie een, wee airms an wee shanks. For the first time Geordie felt his hert lowpin in his chist an he wis awaur o the feelin comin back intae his ain airms an shanks an o the sun glentin abuin his heid.
The twa craiturs wis leukin strecht at him noo an cam ower nearer, thair heids camshauchelt lik ye wis leukin at thaim throu the end o a ginger bottle. Yin o thaim pit a haund forrit an gruppit Geordie bi the shoother an the orra thing wis that, tho it juist hid a wee haund on the end o its airm, as the haund wis gittin nearer tae him, it got bigger an bigger till, bi the time it grippit his shoother, it wis muckle.
It wis mair nor a shoogle. The haund fair dirlt his shoother an yin o the craiturs stertit tryin tae communicate. It wis aw fremmit noises tae Geordie’s lugs then, o a suddentie an glamourie like, the soonds stertit tae kythe intae words that he kent.
“Weel Geordie, ye’ll no hae onie mair bother wi that tuith.”
Geordie leukit up an seen the dentist’s licht abuin his heid.
“Thank Guidness!” he thocht, “Whit a fleg tae gie oniebodie!”
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Whit a Fleg!!. 2024. In The Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. Retrieved 26 February 2024, from http://www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/document/?documentid=127.
"Whit a Fleg!!." The Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech. Glasgow: University of Glasgow, 2024. Web. 26 February 2024. http://www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/document/?documentid=127.
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