The Ant Man

By Neil Davies

Digman Marley works for Antman Exterminators. He used to work at the old chemical factory on the hill, before it went out of business. His life is hard, dull and predictable. But something is happening up at the old factory, and the ants he's called to exterminate are acting strangely, and, although he doesn't know it, this week things are going to change forever for Digman Marley.

The Short Story 'The Ant Man' is Neil Davies's tribute to both the Black & White B-Movies he still enjoys watching and the pulp fiction he still enjoys reading. He just hopes he's done it (and them) justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neil Davies
• Release date: Nov 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310613418

Neil Davies

I am fifty two years old and I have Parkinsons disease. This affects my mobility quite a lot but not my mind . I write my poetry as a way of keeping my sense of humour alive.I have been writing for quite a few years and my poems range from humourous things my daughters and granddaugher have said to obscene jokes transfered into rhyme and the meaning of life .I hope you enjoy your purchase. Please comment on my verses I would love to hear from you.Neil

Book preview

The Ant Man

Neil Davies

© 2013 Neil Davies

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

Smashwords Edition 2013

Cover by Steve Upham

1

Are you the ant man?

Digman Marley heard the question and chose to ignore it. He could feel all of his 53 years, and the extra weight of his bulging waistline, as he climbed out the company van and stretched his back. The week was already turning out to be full of shit, even without stupid questions, and it was only Tuesday. Yesterday the papers had come through from his wife's solicitors filing for divorce, that morning the boss had told him they were laying people off and everyone else had to take a pay-cut and he should be happy he still had a job and, before the week was out, none of that would matter because things would happen to change his life forever.

Not that life-changes, his own or anyone else's, were even close to being on his mind as he enjoyed the rare warmth of a sunny Welsh August morning and gazed, with a nostalgic smile on his face, at the building high on the hill rising behind the houses.

Tigges Chemical Factory stood, as it had for sixty years, a gaunt angular silhouette astride Bwgan Hill, dominating the skyline. The town of Melltith nestled at the foot of Bwgan, the original buildings hugging the narrow River Dirwyn, newer buildings spreading out from there covering most of the floodplain. Away from the hill the Welsh countryside, with its patchwork of fields, stretched as far as anyone would care to look, but always the eye was drawn back to that dark shape leering down from its vantage. To some its padlocked gates, broken windows and stripped interior were an eyesore. To local children it was a forbidden playground and home to the monsters and ghosts of their nightmares. To Digman Marley it was the keeper of his young adult life: straight into the factory from school at 16, losing his virginity in one of the outer sheds a few months later, meeting his future wife on the line twelve years after that, and still working there when, just after his 50th birthday, the management announced they were closing the place down and everyone was being made redundant. From then on his adult life had taken a decided downturn.

I said, are you the ant man?

Digman glanced at the large, black ant logo on the side of his van, the one-foot high lettering alongside it spelling out 'Antman Exterminators', and at his own overalls, the back emblazoned with the same letters and logo. He forced a smile as he turned.

Yes, he said to the elderly lady standing at the bottom of her garden. He was impressed that he'd managed to keep the sigh of irritation out of his voice. I'm the ant man. Are you Mrs Wright?

I'm Mrs Wright. The old lady turned and headed back into her house, slippered feet shuffling over the paving stones, her slim, almost emaciated, frame unsteady, stick-thin ankles barely able to take her slight weight. You're late. Come on.

Digman checked his watch. He was late, couldn't deny that, by all of three minutes! This was going to be a tough one. He turned to the van and found his workmate still sitting in the cab, almost invisible behind the bright reflections off the windscreen.

Are you not working today?

The van's passenger