The Land of the Mogs: The Meeting

By Logie

This is a story about a man who wants to find his place in society. His father sparked his journey by telling him about the Mogs and the time he spent with them. He sets out to find their land. After a long walk, he reaches their land and, in fact, joins them. The book contains his adventures, and he lives with them and soon becomes a member of their clan. He makes friends with Mogat, a Mog who knew his father. The two of them became the best of friends. He goes through the Mogs training so he can become a fellow Mog.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: May 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543489286

Logie

Was born in Australia, but grew up in Dundonald Northern Ireland, I now live in Donaghadee. I have always had an interest in sci-fi/fantasy books and television programmes. So it was expected for me to write about this subject. I enjoy reading as well as writing science fiction books, this is my first book to be printed and it has been a pleasure to do it. I hope you enjoy reading about the Mogs as I did writing it.

Book preview

THE GOODBYE

I stood by the kitchen window and looked out at the bleak wintry scene. The cul-de-sac was empty of cars, but at least the rain had stopped. What a night for Amanda to come over.

Amanda had been coming over every week since my marriage to her mum broke up. It was always good to see her and hear how her mother was getting on. I thought it was not the best of weather, but I was looking forward to seeing her. I had to get things packed before she arrived, as I knew the clutter would do her nut in.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was six o’clock, and Amanda was due at seven thirty unless she was held up in traffic. That gave me an hour and a half to pack my rucksack and ready the bedsit for her visit.

Well, let’s start getting some of these things packed away, I said to myself as I walked over to the coffee table, where I had everything laid out. I opened the rucksack and packed the two tarpaulins (my makeshift tent), a flat gas cooker stove (which wouldn’t fall over like the one with the burner on top of a gas bottle), rope, a set of camping pans, a kettle, a spoon, coffee, an assortment of pasta and sauce meals, a couple of bottles of water in case there was no fresh water round, my notebook (to keep my own record of my journey), Dad’s journals (I kept the first one out, as it covered his walk to the tunnel), an OS map of the area, a compass, a penknife, a torch, and a selection of pens. I put Dad’s journals, the map, the torch and spare batteries, and the compass in the outside pocket so they were at hand, laid the rucksack on its back, and strapped the sleeping bag to it.

At a quarter after seven, I realised that Amanda would arrive soon, so I put the kettle on and took two cups out of the cupboard. I looked round my bedsit; it had been my home for the last eighteen months. It didn’t have much in the way of furniture. I was standing in the bay window, which served as a kitchen, with a worktop running along it. At one end was a Belling cooker, and a fridge was at the other. A bowl on the worktop served as a sink. To the right of the kitchen was the bedroom with a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. Behind me was the living room, with a tatty sofa and a coffee table. This had been my world for the last eighteen months. When I returned, I had no idea what I was going to do.

I heard a knock at the front door. That’s Amanda, I said to myself. I opened the door to my bedsit and walked down the stairs to the front door.

Evening, love, I said. Hope you didn’t get too wet.

Nah, missed the rain. So what’s this surprise you have for me? Amanda asked.

Come on up, and I will make you a cuppa, I answered, trying to avoid the subject as we walked up the stairs. Amanda sat down on the sofa while I made two cups of coffee. How was I to start this conversation without Amanda losing her temper?

I went to see your grandad last week, I said as I handed her coffee. Grandad and I had a long talk about his time away: How did he get there? How long was the tunnel? Why had no one else found them?

I sat down beside Amanda, who said, I have three questions. Firstly, how was he? Secondly, are you planning to go after them? As if I didn’t know better—you want to find them?

He is doing fine—keeps asking when someone will follow his journals, find them, and prove he is not insane so he will be released. I told him I hope it will be soon. I told him I needed to check his story out by going there and using his journals as my guide. And yes, I am going after them. Your grandad has repeated the story so many times, but it never changes. After two years, it is still the same. There must be some truth in it. I know I sent your grandad away for two years, but I felt at the time it was the right thing to do. Even in the discussion groups at the hospital, he drives everyone wild with his insistence on there being these things.

Amanda spoke up. Let’s both agree Grandad should not be locked up. I assume that is correct, Dad?

Yes, if these journals are correct, and I think they are. I plan to phone you once I can confirm that I have met with them. I reckon that will take a couple of days. I plan to leave tomorrow morning, and going by his journals, by day four, I will reach the end of the tunnel.

This tunnel seems to come up a lot. Why? asked Amanda.

The tunnel is the link between our world and theirs. It is marked at this end by a dead gorse bush sticking out of the rocks. When you clear away the rocks, you find the tunnel. The problem is finding the gorse bush, as the whole area will probably be covered with gorse bushes. What I plan to do is come back through the tunnel and ring you to let you know I have found them. Then we can organise getting Grandad out of hospital. What do you think, love?

It is a good plan. Just remember I was against locking up Grandad. You were the one who argued that he was not safe to be on his own, and that was two years ago. What are you going to do if they won’t release him from hospital? asked Amanda.

I don’t know. I am just hoping that some photos of them will be enough to convince them. I guess we need to look at that when I come back. Shame I couldn’t bring one of them back with me, I replied.

That won’t work; the authorities will have it locked up and go searching for the rest of them. We need time to think it through. It may result in Grandad staying in hospital ’cause I don’t think it is right to lock up one of them, Amanda answered.

It is getting late. Perhaps think about it while I am away, and we can talk it over when I ring you. I’ve got to get up at five thirty to get ready to set off.

All right, Dad. I’ll think about it. Do you have a rough idea of when you will ring me?

Well, Grandad spent a night in the tunnel, plus the four nights he spent getting to it, so I would guess allow five days. Well, I will say goodnight and see you when I get back.

Goodnight, Dad, she said