An Elf in the Machine & Other Stories.

By John Goodwin

Crime writer John Goodwin has turned his hand to writing for younger readers.
This collection has all the thrill of the chase and exciting challenges of his adult genre with a level of fun that will appeal to readers, or the read to, of all ages.
Contents
Kids ArmyInspired by BBC TV's Dad's Army
Bug or MeA little poem
An Elf in the Machine.A secondary school caper
Dog-SpellA fairytale?
Snow White A Criminal Investigation
Lucy and the Manx TurkeyEspecially for younger readers
Norm & Dig’s Epic AdventureAn Extract

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Goodwin
• Release date: Oct 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781999720421

John Goodwin

Born into a railway family, the author left school at fourteen. He spent the early years of the Second World War on Sussex Coast, armed with a rifle and awaiting a German invasion. Sent to the Middle East, he ended up in army headquarters in Baghdad and was responsible for secret signal communications, along the military convoy routes from Basra, on the Persian Gulf, to the Russian Army. He is a founder member and contributor to the Fortress Study Group.

Book preview

AN ELF IN THE MACHINE

and other Stories

BY

JOHN GOODWIN.

E-book Edition

Published October 2018

By

Anixe Publishing Ltd

https://www.anixepublishing.co.uk/

ISBN 978-1-9997204-2-1

Copyright © John Goodwin.2018

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

Cover Picture by Adrian Waygood.

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Preface

I love to tell stories and, although I am quite old, I often find myself drawn to fiction for younger readers. Here are a few. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

John Godwin.2018

Table of Contents:

Preface - A message from the author

Kids Army - Inspired by BBC TV's Dad's Army

Bug or Me - A little poem

An Elf in the Machine. - A secondary school caper

Dog-Spell - A fairytale?

Snow White Criminal Investigation - A pantomime

Lucy and the Manx Turkey - for younger readers

Norm & Dig’s Epic Adventure - an Extract

Kids Army

Episode I Alby’s Prisoner.

‘My dad says we should all be ready if Hitler invades,’ said Roger as he poked at the entrance to a rabbit hole with a stick. The gang were idling away a bright autumn day on the edge of a Sussex field.

‘What we need is a ferret,’ said Alby, lying on the grass trying to see any rabbit movements.

‘To fight Hitler?’ said George, the oldest of the gang and always the scruffiest.

‘We could put them down their trousers,’ laughed Ted. He was new to the group having just been evacuated from London when the blitz started.

‘Naa,’ said George. ‘My cousin’s got ferrets and he puts them down his trousers all the time, they just go to sleep.’ He tugged a wrinkled sock up to knee height and shrugged as it slid slowly down to his ankle again. That was bound to happen as the elastic from his garter was now an integral part of the catapult nestling in the pocket of his shabby school blazer.

‘We could train them to bite Nazis,’ Alby went on. ‘My granddad said Nazis smell different. We could train ‘em to sniff out fifth columnists an’ things. Ferrets have good noses, ferrets have.’

‘I don’t fink the Gerrys will put off the invasion ‘cos we got trained ferrets ready to bite their willies off.’

‘It would put me off,’ said Roger, giving up his prodding and launching the stick out over the field. The boys all watched it arc into the clear blue sky.

‘My grandad says they don’t like cold steel. He says they don’t like it up ‘em.’ Alby clambered to his feet and pretended to do bayonet drill with his crutch. ‘He fought the fuzzy-wuzzys in the Sudan, my grandad did.’

‘Yeah, we all know about your grandad . . .’ said George.

‘Well, he did. . .’

‘Anyway, we’ve all got to do our bit . . . right . . .’ George climbed over the gate. ‘I tried to join the Home Guard but they said I was too young.’

‘They let Alby’s grandad join and my mum said he’s in his second childhood,’ said Roger, running a grubby hand through his blonde hair before following.

‘How can we do our bit if they keep tellin’ us we’re too young?’

‘They’ll be sorry if Hitler comes an’ all they’ve got is old codgers to fight ‘em.’ Roger put his arm around George’s shoulders as they walked on down the lane.

‘And no trained ferrets . . .’ Alby opened the gate and limped after his friends.

Ted vaulted over the fence, then went back to close the gate before running after the other boys. ‘C’mon Alby, it’s almost teatime,’ he shouted as he bounded past.

The distant sound of aircraft followed them down the lane towards Walmington. Ted stopped to stare at the hundreds of black dots appearing in the southern sky.

‘London’s go’na get another pasting tonight,’ said Alby as he caught up.

‘My mum says they mostly go for the docks.’ Ted thrust his hands into his pockets and walked on, head down.

The other boys were waiting at the crossroads. ‘We’ll have to start our own Home Guard,’ said Roger. ‘We’ll start tonight.’

‘After tea