Page 19 - The Flickering Cauldron Magazine - April 2022

The Watchers
by Gary Fowles
These are the words of my grandmother, well one of my grandmothers, the one with the Rock Cakes.
My grandmother was born in the later part of the 1800’s, my mother was the eleventh child of my gran, and I think, a bit of a surprise to all concerned, arriving fairly late in my Gran's life.
So, my grandmother, as I knew her, being the second born of her eleventh, was a fabulous baker of Rock Cakes. As she was already quite advanced in age, by the time I was a young boy, all my memories are essentially of sitting by her knee and eating the aforementioned Rock Cakes, as many as I could get away with eating.
She didn’t play with me as such, she was already too old to move with ease, but she would tell me tales. Tales which she had learned from her mother, whom had learned them from hers, these tales being passed down through my family for generation after generation, my own mother was not interested in them and would remove me from my Gran's presence if she caught on that that’s was what gran was telling me, which to be fair, to a young boy, made listening to them all the more worthwhile.
My gran would only continue a tale or move onto the next one if I could essentially tell her the story back to her, to this end she would also have me draw elements of the story, which I didn’t mind, as my childish drawings seemed to enliven and please my old gran, which in turn magically produced more Rock Cakes, which pleased the grandson!
The Flickering Cauldron® Magazine - The Watchers | 19