The Continuing Adventures of Warty Willy and Pimples Pete

By Steve Denton

After accidentally interrupting a leadership ceremony being conducted by the magical but evil Treplicons, Willy is cursed to grow warts over all parts of his body. This brings on a source of embarrassment that leads him to despair.

He soon discovers that he must travel to the Treplicon realm to reverse the curse. Once they arrive in the beautiful magical world, Willy and his best friend Pete discover that the reversal of the curse is only half their task. They must overcome the powerful and soulless Swamp Spirit to save the land they have come to love.

This is a story for all ages that includes trials and tribulations, friendship, and love. It involves intriguing characters such as stone trolls, sabre eels, wood rats, rose warriors and many more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398487215

Steve Denton

Steve Denton is an Australian author and lyricist born in 1956. He has worked writing and editing stories for trade magazines and websites. His working life has taken him to many exotic places including New Zealand and New Guinea. Along for his passion of music and rugby, he loves nothing more than making his beloved characters come to life.

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About the Author

Steve Denton is an Australian author and lyricist born in 1956. He has worked writing and editing stories for trade magazines and websites. His working life has taken him to many exotic places including New Zealand and New Guinea. Along for his passion of music and rugby, he loves nothing more than making his beloved characters come to life.

Copyright Information ©

Steve Denton 2023

The right of Steve Denton to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398485877 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398487178 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781398487215 (ePub e-book)

ISBN 9781398487185 (Audiobook)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter One

The Hero’s Curse

Many people know that Willy can be a rude word. As it happens, our hero’s name is William, however, most people call him Willy. Willy is a handsome young man, good at sports and school. He could be on the social A list and invited to all the must go parties but Willy is a kind boy who doesn’t like elitism or snobbery and consequently chooses his friends well on the whole. But like many of us, Willy has a secret. One he continually tries to cover up. He has an ugly big wart on his big toe, the right one to be precise.

His mother had told him he could have the horrible thing cut out by a doctor but he was more afraid of the pain that would bring rather than the routine of keeping his feet covered, and his secret safe. He had a real fear that, if discovered, he may get an addition to his nickname. Willy in itself was bad enough and the girls would sometimes giggle at the double meaning when teachers called out to him across the playground. BUT TO BE CALLED WARTY WILLY… WARTY WILLY! Could you imagine being called a WARTY WILLY? The thought of this made him shudder.

Willy lives in not a big house or a mansion but a modest one-up, two-down home in Lincolnshire. His house from the front and back looks exactly the same as every other house in the street, except for the sides. You see, it had no sides and out of the fourteen houses on Willy’s side of the street, there were only two with sides and each of those only had one to look at as all the homes in Willy’s street were joined together. Willy’s house though did have one distinguishing feature that set it apart from all the others, it’s metal flue or chimney. It had a tee piece over the top, all the others had cones. Overall, it was a cosy, comfortable place to live.

Willy’s Birthday had arrived and his mum and dad thought a picnic would be fun, so they offered Willy a choice; a picnic on the hill overlooking the town or a trip to the seaside. A trip to the seaside was quite definitely out of the question as Willy would have to remove his shoes and socks to paddle in the water. This was a shame because Willy was fascinated by the sea and could only admire it from a distance.

So it was that Willy said, Let’s have a picnic on the top of the hill and can we invite Uncle Tom, Veira, David and Angus?

Sounds like a good idea. I’ll call them and let them know to be here by 11.30 Saturday morning, said Mum.

Oh! And tell David if he brings his kite, I’ll bring my football. Okay?

Yes, darling! said Willy’s mum, smiling.

Saturday arrived and sandwiches were made, cakes baked and homemade lemonade mixed. These were all placed in a wicker basket alongside a brightly wrapped parcel with, Happy Birthday Willy, written on it.

Right on eleven-thirty, the front door swung open and a big voice called out, Hi, everybody, and happy birthday to my most favourite nephew!

That was Uncle Tom, a tall, strong, good-natured man who looked very much like Willy’s father, which was not unusual as they were brothers.

What do you mean your most favourite nephew? Willy laughed as he threw his arms around his uncle’s waist.

I’m your only nephew! he exclaimed.

Willy looked around and then questioned his uncle, Where are Veira, David and Angus?

You think I would let those ragamuffins in to start playing now? It would take half an hour to round you all up again and if I’m not mistaken, a picnic is on today’s agenda. They are in the back of the truck waiting for you.

Willy rushed out the door to fainter cries of ‘Happy Birthday, Willy, and don’t forget the football’.

Tom strolled into the kitchen. Morning Molly, he said, kissing Willy’s mum on the cheek and putting his hand on his brother’s back.

And how are you today, Tony? Tony smiled and returned his brother’s friendly pat on the back.

Let’s get moving, said Tom, this type of weather is too good to waste!

So the adults loaded with picnic fare boarded the truck and set off for the top of Lincolnshire Hill.

The back of the truck was open and the children’s hair was blowing in the wind. The four cousins stood on the tray of the truck looking over the roof with smiles from ear to ear. The trip to the top of Lincolnshire Hill was not a long one and had you been standing near the top of the hill you could be forgiven for thinking the children were flying because at one point the verge next to the road was taller than the roof of the truck, but not taller than the children’s shoulders. From one angle, it gave the impression of four shouting and giggling sets of heads and shoulders actually flying up the hill but only momentarily, as a slight turn of the road brought the bonnet of the truck into view.

The top of Lincolnshire Hill was a grassy meadow with a few scattered boulders and a very special and ancient yew tree. It stood on a flat piece of land that was on the south side of the top of the hill. No one knew for sure the age of this magnificent old tree but it had been written of in history books that were penned several hundred years ago and even then it was referred to as a mature tree. Many in the village believed it was a mystical tree that held great magic. Although Willy had never seen any evidence of this, he was soon to find out the rumours were true!

The truck stopped at the peak of the hill. The children jumped down and started kicking the football. Willy’s father stepped down from the passenger’s seat and called, Hey, you lot! There will be plenty of time for that after we’ve set up the picnic.

With cries of ‘Yep’ and ‘Okay’, the kids ran to the truck and began to unload. Willy had the basket Uncle Tom had prepared under one arm and the football under the other. As he walked briskly past, his father stopped him by firmly laying a hand on his shoulder.

Willy, he said, slow down for a minute, boy. I want you to look at something with me.

Tony had him put down his basket and ball and with one arm now around Willy’s shoulders, began to turn a full circle on the spot. Lincolnshire Hill was the highest place for miles around so as they turned, they could survey all that their town and surroundings had to offer. First, they could see their house and neighbourhood. Houses all looking the same, some dormant, some with wisps of smoke escaping chimneys and flues. Then as they turned, the shops came into view, still very much alike old buildings but with more people and activity on the street. Still turning, appeared the church and graveyard, the train station and parking area, the rural allotments with sheep and cattle, around some more to the sale yards, then the school and sporting fields. Finally, back to Willy’s house again.

Son, you are young with the journey of your life ahead of you. What lies before you here are your roots. No matter where you go or how far you travel, this will always be your beginning. Humble as it may be, it is wholesome and honest. As you get older and no matter how tough times may become, you can always draw upon the memory of this place to focus on what is good and true. Do you understand, lad?

I think so, Dad.

Okay then, Will, off you go.

By this time, the truck was unloaded, the blanket laid out and a fine picnic had been arranged. Veira went to pick some wild flowers to decorate the cake. Willy and Angus kicked the football at each other. Everyone was focused on their own activities and were not to know their attention should have been around the old yew tree.

The yew really was mystical and this particular day was of mystic importance. This day was the day the Worst Wart Treplicons celebrated their annual feast. A feast to pay homage to whoever may be their leader at that particular time. They always practised this rite in the shadows of the yew tree.

Treplicons are grotesque mischief-makers. What they lack in brains they make up for with treachery and cunning. They come in all shapes and sizes and none of them are good to look at. In fact, that is where in magic circles they get the saying,

As cunning as an outhouse Treplicon. (Although on the odd occasion when they are spied on by humans, they appear as something looking like a rat.)

Be doubly warned because should you run into one with a gold tooth, he is also cowardly and this makes him all the more untrustworthy and dangerous.

They will only pick on those that are smaller than themselves and if faced with an equal or superior opponent, will gang up on them in greater numbers or sneakily cast spells at them behind their back and from far away.

The current leader of the Treplicons was Finbah, a most detestable piece of work.

Hurry up, you lazy lot! We don’t have long till dark and the leader’s tribute is far from finished. He will crush feet and break fingers if we don’t have it finished on time.

Hundreds of foul-smelling Treps were running around fashioning a likeness of their leader Finbah out of wood and stone. As the likeness took shape, one could make out an ugly figure standing with a lumpy walking stick (good for hitting small creatures) in one hand and a dainty fairy being held upside down by the ankles in the other. He had a demented look of pleasure on his face. This was a good tribute, for it accurately summed up his cowardice and cruelty.

None the wiser, Angus and Willy were happily kicking the football to each other.

Go to the other side of the tree and I’ll kick the ball over it! cried Angus.

Willy hardly had time to turn around before Angus kicked the ball, so he started to run as fast as he could with his eyes looking skyward, following the ball. Treps are normally secretive creatures and very hard to see with the human eye, so even if he had been looking, Willy would not have been likely to have seen them. As he ran under the limbs of the big tree, Willy lost his balance on the pickets surrounding the statue and his right foot came down with a thump into the middle of the tribute. In an instant, the Treps had disappeared as Willy tumbled to a halt at the base of the yew. His knee drawn up and holding his foot, Willy was in great pain. The adults had heard him cry out and bounced off the picnic blanket and ran to him. Veira too had heard the shriek and arrived at Willy’s side at the same time as the others.

Willy, I’m so sorry, said Angus, I didn’t mean for you to fall.

That’s okay, said Willy’s dad as he pulled Angus back so his mother could get a look at the damage.

She tried to remove Willy’s shoe but the pain it caused made her stop.

Oh dear, she said, I fear we may have a broken toe or even a foot. This is a job for Doctor Roberts. We will have to take him home. Angus, when we get down there will you run to the doctor’s house and ask him to come see Willy? You remember our address don’t you, 14 Pickett Road?

I sometimes confuse your street number, said Angus worried.

Well, just remember we are the only house with a tee piece on the flue.

The gathering up was swift and Willy was in the truck and on his way down the hill in no time. However, in the commotion, no one had noticed the shadow of a lone Treplicon hiding in the lower branches watching and listening to every word.

Chapter Two

The Pursuit

Dr Roberts had cut Willy’s boot off and was examining each of his toes. From his toes to his foot and then his ankle.

You are very lucky, Willy, very lucky indeed!

He turned to look at Molly and said, It seems that all the bones are intact. How, I don’t know, because he certainly has given it one heck of a whack. Still, young bones tend to bend more than older ones before they break. A few days off the foot with it elevated and some ice treatment should see the swelling ease and have him back on his feet, albeit with a limp for a while.

Thank you, Doctor, said Willy’s mum, "did