Wishes, Wonder & Witchcraft

By Callum Pearce, Lynne Philips and Nick Wilkinson

Wishes, Wonder & Witchcraft is the last of the House of Loki Presents quarterly anthologies from House of Loki. For this book, we wanted a mixture of stories from the magical to the monstrous. We have spooky stories, terrific tales, and magical moments. Everything you could possibly wish for by some of the best writers from around the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: House of Loki
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9789189853287

Book preview

Foreword

Wishes, Wonder & Witchcraft is the last of the House of Loki Presents quarterly anthologies from House of Loki.

For this book, we wanted a mixture of stories from the magical to the monstrous. We have spooky stories, terrific tales, magical moments. Everything you could possibly wish for by some of the best writers from around the world.

esig best

Please enjoy House Of LoKi Presents : Wishes, Wonder & Witchcraft

Callum Pearce

House Of Loki

&

Nordic Press

Wonder

By Nicholas Wilkinson

Within this realm, a kooky craze,

Wonders bloom in an endless maze,

Lacy dreams of tentacles grand,

The creepy and curious, walk hand in hand.

Moonlight's twinkle, a gentle embrace,

Enchanted visions, a surreal place,

Piqued curiosity will lead you astray,

Beware! All wonders bear a price to pay.

A colorful, wonderful, whimsical fair,

Sights and sounds, so raw and rare,

But once entwined, the web is spun,

In wonder's embrace, there’s nowhere to run.

Nithering Ned and Flatulent Fred: The Invasion of Captain Inferno!

By John Clewarth

‘Sit up, boy!’ The booming voice made all the children jump, especially Ned who was the focus of the teacher’s stare. ‘Sit up! Stop shivering! It’s as hot as an oven in here but you sit slouching with your teeth chattering, as though you were in the North Pole, or something!’

Ned Starr, known as Nithering Ned because he was always ‘nithering’ with cold sat up and focused on quivering as little as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy Mr Hotcross. Mr Hotcross was the angriest teacher in the history of angry teachers. The children believed that when Mr Hotcross woke up each morning, he would glare at himself in the bathroom mirror and, growing purpler by the second, would yell: ‘OOH! I’m so angry!’

He looked like a cross between a tomato and a beetroot; he was either red, or purple with rage, or somewhere in between! His tummy hung over his trousers and his shirts were always too tight, so he was permanently tugging away at his collar, grunting and grumbling. He sat Ned next to the radiator at the back of the class. ‘You can’t possibly be cold sitting next to the biggest radiator in the room,’ he chuntered, as Ned rubbed his arms to try and keep warm. The problem was that the radiator had been broken for years; so it sat there in the classroom like a big metal iceberg. 

Ned breathed a sigh of relief as Mr Hotcross fumed off across the room to tell someone else off. He gazed out of the window, up towards the bright blue sky. He didn’t know why, but somehow the vastness of the sky and space always made him feel calmer and happier if he was feeling anxious. At night, he would lie on his bed, gazing out of his skylight window at the millions of stars. He knew it was a bit mad, but he almost felt as though there was an invisible thread that connected him somehow to the enormity of the skies.

Today, though, he had to squint and look away quickly as the sun popped out from behind a flimsy cloud; Ned knew it hurt your eyes to look directly at the sun. He did wish though, that some of the heat from the blazing sun would penetrate the classroom windows. It was as if the classroom was a compartment inside a freezer; Ned felt like a frozen sprout. He consoled himself by glancing at the classroom clock - it was only ten minutes to hometime when he would be able to walk home with his brother, Fred.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rasping noise, followed by a repeated squirting sound: phsst, phsst, phsssssssst! Oh no. Mr Hotcross was at it again, with his air freshener can. Ned looked up to see Fred, looking embarrassed. Mr Hotcross always sat Fred at the front of the class, near the open door because… Well… Fred had a bit of a flatulence problem. Although he had a small amount of control over his trumpy bottom, it had a habit of erupting loudly at the wrong times; like in assembly, or during silent reading time, for example. And it had just gone off like a giant raspberry about three seconds ago.

The school bell suddenly rang and Ned breathed a long sigh of relief. Mr Hotcross waddled to the door and waved the children away with a grumpy, ‘Go home!’ – and all the children grabbed their bags and left the room as quickly as they could.

***

On their way home, Fred took off his school jumper and tied it around his waist because the sun was scorching hot. Ned even loosened one of the buttons on his big coat. The small town of Pimpleton was used to the summers becoming hotter, just like the rest of the world. But this summer was belligerently, blisteringly, boilingly hot!

Chattering away about which game they were going to play after they had finished their homework, the boys took the normal shortcut home through the woods. About halfway through was the ‘lightning tree’ that Mam and Dad had pointed out to them on family walks. This was really a dead tree, all blackened and frazzled after being struck by lightning once in a storm. As they approached it, both Ned and Fred stopped. Like most twins, even though they were far from identical, they were almost able to tell what the other one was thinking about sometimes. This was one of those times.

Just ahead and to the right of the lightning tree was the giant, friendly oak they had climbed many times and just beyond that, a tightly-packed copse of trees that huddled together as though they were keeping a secret. The boys never went through there, as Mam and Dad had told them they could get lost. For some reason, the woods felt different today… The normally friendly oak looked decidedly unfriendly, as its great branches reached out to them like tentacles, the lightning tree loomed like a dark ghost, and the clusters of trees seemed to be whispering to one another.

Ned and Fred looked exchanged looks, their eyebrows simultaneously rising, and they took one step, two steps, three steps backwards. They didn’t exchange any words; they wouldn’t have known what to say if they did. It was just a feeling that began as a slight twinge of unease in their tummies that grew quickly to become panic. Then – 

From behind the lightning tree shot a squat, grunting figure, shouting: ‘I’m a monster, I’m a monster!’ and from the far side of the huge oak tree ran a taller but equally lumbering figure waving his arms around and screeching like a screwball. Ned and Fred recognised them instantly.

Jezzer Jervis, who had emerged from the oak, skidded to a halt in front of them, as Gonzo Smith skittered behind them, blocking their exit and dancing around like an overweight turkey. Jezzer reached into his back pocket and pulled out a comb. He dragged it through his greasy, lank hair which instantly fell back into an unmanageable mess and he grinned at Ned and Fred through large, crooked teeth that constantly clacked due to his never-ending chewing of gum. Jezzer thought he was God’s-Gift-to-Girls but the only reason that any of the girls in their class put up with him was because he was Mr Hotcross’s nephew.

He was even allowed to chew gum in class! Everyone else had to sit still, whilst he fidgeted, chatted and chewed his way through the day. He was the only one that Mr Hotcross didn’t get cross with. The other kids suspected it was because Mr Hotcross was scared of his even-more-scary sister, who was Jezzer’s mum.

‘Well, well. If it isn’t poopy-bum and the human icicle,’ grinned Jezzer, as Gonzo prodded them in the back, which was his version of using words. ‘What d’you think we should do with ‘em, Gonz?’

Gonzo looked even more gormless and temporarily stopped poking Ned and Fred. ‘Err...’ he said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion; clearly, the question was too hard for him. Then he raised a grubby, stubby finger in the air and croaked, ‘Somefink ‘orrible!’

Jezzer nodded slowly and thoughtfully as if he’d been given the answer to the meaning of life. He glanced around, as though looking for inspiration, then his piggy little eyes lit up and he pointed. ‘Look at that dog poo! It looks really fresh and it must have been a hoooj (he couldn’t say ‘huge’) dog that did it. It’s a right dollop! Let’s roll these two in it!’

Gonzo began hyperventilating, he was so thrilled by the idea. Both Ned’s and Fred’s eyes widened in horror at the prospect. Their instincts had been right. Something definitely was wrong and it was about to happen in the stinkiest, grossest way ever! Unless…

Ned and Fred glanced quickly at one another and set off at a sprint, leaving Gonzo thoroughly baffled in a cloud of dust, as they widely avoided Jezzer. Reluctant as they were to do it, they knew the only possible escape route was through the thickly-clumped trees, away from the safety of the path which was fully blocked by Jezzer and Gonzo. Hurdling over stumps, huge thistles and all manner of vegetation that lay between them and the trees, Ned and Fred ran like human greyhounds, their hearts beating like drums as they heard Jezzer yell, ‘Get 'em!’

They quickly reached the wide cluster of trees, darting into the shadowy gaps between them, and trying to keep up their pace. Jezzer and Gonzo were advancing fast though now, and they had fury in their eyes. 

‘Come on, Gonz! We’ve nearly got ‘em. We’ll give ‘em a right pezzling when we catch 'em!’

These words by the school bully, Jezzer, made Fred’s tummy do a somersault and he involuntarily broke wind. The jet-powered fart catapulted him forward, like an arrow from a bow. Luckily, he just had time to grab a hold of Ned’s big coat and the two of them shot forward at express speed, narrowly missing trees but getting scratched and bruised by bushes, nettles and rocks.   

From way back in the distance, becoming fainter by the second, Ned and Fred could hear the voices of Jezzer and Gonzo grumbling and grizzling. The last words Fred heard were from Gonzo who screeched, ‘Eeughhh! That fart smells worse than the dog poo back there! I think I’m gonna chunder.’

As Ned’s and Fred’s velocity finally slowed to a stop and they dropped to the ground with a painful bump, they heard the reassuring sounds of their pursuers coughing and retching in the far distance. Ned lay on his back on the sun-baked ground, gasping and tugging his big coat tight around him, and he glanced across at Fred. Fred lay belly-down over a small mound of grass with his bottom sticking up in the air, emitting high-pitched poop-poops every three seconds or so. 

Fred turned his head to look at Ned and, seeing the look of concern and worry in his eyes whispered, ‘Hey, Ned, it’s okay. Those meatheads are way back there, and my super-pooper bottom-bomb will keep them coughing and spluttering for ages yet.’ He was pleased to see that Ned’s breathing was calming down a little and there was a small smile flickering at the corners of his lips.   

***

Fred’s trumps had pretty much quietened down by the time they crossed the field to their house; Farmer Green didn’t mind them cutting across, and neither did the three cows that the boys had named, Daisy, Clara Bell, and Mr Hotcross (even though cows are all girls, they couldn’t resist naming one after their plump teacher!) Ned kept his coat fully buttoned up. That had been a narrow escape back there! They both saw Dad at the same time and shouted across to him. Dad peered over the car which was covered in foamy suds and waved his sponge merrily, a little splot of soapy water landing in the middle of his bald head, making him chuckle. There was a hosepipe ban in force because there had been no rain for weeks, and Dad was using a big plastic bucket to rinse off the car so he didn’t use quite so much water. 

‘Look over there!’ Ned said,