I am pleased to announce that the repair of our church organ has been an almost complete success. Testimony Albatross’s fabulous device has been repaired by Balthazar Lemon, with some curious additions. The repaired organ was played this Sunday by Mrs Sophie Davies, and the music delighted everyone. Some doubts remain however, over the smells the organ now releases. The original Testimony Albatross design included a large tank, the purpose of which no one had truly understood. It is now full of fish (see photograph). I suspect it is no coincidence that, when played, the organ now fills the church with a distinctly fishy smell.
Questioned on the matter, Balthazar Lemon said, “It’s obvious this is how the organ was designed. It sounds better now.” He has a point. Filling the tank seems necessary. Lemon continued, “The organ is a thing of beauty, designed to bring us closer to God, through sound, scent and visual impact.” I asked him why he had filled the tank with fish, and not, for example with flowers, fruit or some other more appealing thing. He responded by saying, “What do you think God smells like?”
I can only apologise for my neglecting of the Vendetta last week and the shoddy excuse for journalism you were forced to endure in my absence. Although it is true that Shrove Tuesday Jones recently gave birth to a horned baby, but the horn is far smaller than the turkey image may have lead you to believe.
The news is that tremendous progress has been made on the bridge. We’ve taken advantage of the warmer weather and calmer seas to get some serious building work done. The bridge itself has been successfully tethered to the Devil’s Fingers, and it won’t be long before it will be possible to walk out to the small island. Plans are afoot for a celebratory party once we reach land. We’ve all learned a lot during this stage, insight that will serve us well as we make the next stage from The Devil’s fingers. Balthazar Lemon has made a spying glass and we are searching for other rock outcrops to work with, or signs of the mainland. I am confident that we will soon be back in touch with civilization!
Frampton Jones is really busy with the bridge, and its going really well, but he’s forgotten what day it is, so yours truly gets to write the news. And the news is that my little sister Shrove Tuesday Jones has given birth to a freak. Seriously people, I have seen it. She won’t let me take any pictures though. But what makes it really weird, is that my cousin Mendip Jones had a turkey born a bit back and it’s got the same freakish problem going on as my nephew. Have you ever seen a forehead horn like that on a turkey before? Mendip’s been getting ones with side horns for years, but this is a whole new kind of strange. Really, you should see the baby though. Go and visit her. It’s well worth a look.
Now, I got to thinking that really this must mean something, having a turkey and a baby turn up about the same time and both of them having a horn growing out of the tops of their heads. That can’t be just coincidence. Shrove Tuesday Jones has not named the father, and our father is on the warpath, I can tell you. I reckon there’s something unnatural going on. I asked Reverend Jones if he thought it meant something, and he said ‘Probably not,’ but he hasn’t seen either of them.
So, if you see a guy who has a horn like this growing out of his head, you’d better keep your daughters and sisters safe from him. And your turkeys. And we should check out anyone with a big hat, in case they are trying to hide a horn under it.
This week I finally captured an image of some creatures. I have not yet decided on names for them, or worked out if they are in fact related to any other creatures known to us. I had been studying tracks for some weeks before I was able to record an image. I am not sure if the beings to right and left of the image are related or not, but wanted to share the discovery.
It continues to amaze me how few people notice the non-human occupants of our island. Many people debated the existence of spoonwalkers with me, despite the overwhelming evidence of their activities. The week before last several people suggested that our peculiar visitor was not a creature at all. Although admittedly both of them dropped the issue after they saw it eat Boris’s dog.
I do still find myself wondering sometimes if I see things that other people do not. During the unfortunate camera business, it became apparent for a while at least, that no one else saw as I did. Based on observation, it is remarkable what ostensibly normal and ordinary persons can fail to perceive. For example, last Thursday at The Crow something climbed out of the cauldron and made a dash across the restaurant floor, escaping when the door was opened. I watched it go, with the peculiar impression that no one else in the premises had noticed. I encourage you all to be vigilant. Sometimes, there are devils in the details, or, as in this instance, the soup course.
Last night’s storm brought a strange arrival to our shores. It was discovered by Hermitage Trott while he was harvesting seaweed yesterday. Assorted learned citizens went down to the beach in order to view the new arrival. No consensus has been reached as to its nature, but so far it has done nothing to suggest it is actively dangerous. However, given the size of pincers, and the speed at which it can move, the curious are advised to view it from a distance.
Despite the glowing eyes, Reverend Davies does not believe that it is inherently Satanic. I watched Jack Ephemery from The Crow make several attempts to capture the new arrival – no doubt with a view to cooking it. The creature resisted, scuttling off at surprising speed whilst making some unearthly noises.
While opinions are divided, my own theory is that this may in fact be a giant brother to the hermit crab, but the shell it has borrowed is unlike anything I have ever seen before. It has an almost metallic sheen, but it is hard to imagine how such a thing could have formed. Balthazar Lemon postulated that someone had made it, but no one who has viewed the shell can imagine any possible use for it. “People don’t always make things to be useful,” Lemon pointed out, and he should know!
Yesterday Reverend Davies launched an appeal to do something about the dire state of his organ. The device, built thirty seven years ago by the infamous Testimony Albatross, is a remarkable feat of engineering and musical genius that Hopeless has perhaps taken for granted. In the many years since the demise of Albatross, the organ has gradually lost tone and some of its more creative functions no longer work. In the last few years, it has lost all semblance of tunefulness, and is consequently only used for funerals.
Inventor and repair expert Balthazar Lemon proposes an overhaul of the fabulous instrument. However, to fix the biggest organ in Hopeless, will require help from the whole community. Donations to the project much appreciated. Any small metal items, including wire, would be of great help. Balthazar Lemon requests any left handed sprockets, cat-stoppers and fids anyone happens to have spare. He would very much like some clewgarnets as well, and a selection of spoons in varying sizes, from teaspoons through to large serving spoons – metal, not wood. Donations can be left at the church or the lighthouse.
Ladies and Gentlemen of Hopeless, I present to you photographic proof of the existence of spoonwalkers. A recent explosion in their population no doubt accounts for the unusual number of missing spoons our island has suffered of late. Spoonwalkers are shy creatures, tending to be active at night. At this time, their glowing eyes are the most notable feature, should you happen to encounter one. As you will notice from the image I captured, spoonwalkers have no discernable feet, and when deprived of aids, find mobility difficult. I assume that the wild entities they descended from employed wood and other natural debris as a mode of transport, while descendants have moved into homes and adopted cutlery as a preferred source of material. These borrowed leg extensions enable them to take longer strides and move at remarkable speed. It also explains why spoons and sometimes forks will turn up in the most unexpected places, abandoned perhaps when the borrower no longer has need of them.
It is my great pleasure to lay this mystery to rest, thanks to that most remarkable of modern innovations, the camera. Given time, science will provide answers to all such mysteries.
Back in my youth, people did occasionally leave Hopeless. Ships sometimes arrived entirely of their own will. Back in those days, we were more optimistic as a community, and a good deal better off. When did anyone last build anything new here? I imagine it must be a disheartening place to grow up. I offer these thoughts as a counterpoint to my nephew’s report. What are we doing to build a future for our younger citizens? What do they have to look forward to? Can we blame them for small crimes inspired by futility and despair? The weather has improved, and I encourage you to spare whatever time you can for the bridge project. Parents with wayward young sons, in need of hope and direction, are encouraged to send their lads along. We can give our young folk something to believe in!
For the last two weeks, I have not had the strength to gather news, much less work the printing press. I have recollections of fever induced nightmares, sweating and fighting with monsters no one else could see. I gather I was one of the first to be struck down by this sickness. In these last weeks, and I estimate that nearly a half of the islanders have suffered from this monstrous contagion. Hunger Hill Establishment for the Weak and Confused has become a temporary hospital for the afflicted. Modesty Jones is currently in residence there (see photograph) which has not been a disaster for local journalism.
A number of eyes opened on my skin. I was not personally able to see through them, I do not know if anything else could. During the fever, I considered myself inhabited and others who have recovered report similar experiences. Most of the eyes have gone now, aside from one in the centre of my chest. I did not experience the outgrowths of tentacles, although others have suffered these disturbing growths. Some fall off with time, others have not, thus far.
I have not ascertained the extent of this sickness, but it appears widespread. I am not aware of any fatalities as yet, although there is much concern that abnormalities will remain. The cause is unknown, and there appears to be no cure beside waiting it out. Doc Willoughby remained unavailable for comment, which is unusual for him. All insight in this matter will be much appreciated.
In the absence of any better news to report, I have printed my nephew’s latest attempt at journalism. It may divert people. I have spoken with Miss Calder, but her recollections of dying are so fragmented that I can make little sense of them. As for the spoon business, it is simply another spoonwalker epidemic. Little creatures are stealing our spoons and using them as stilts. It’s happened before. I remember it very clearly and am certain others must as well. The less experienced amongst us are perhaps too hasty in jumping to improbable conclusions.