by Marc Lindsay
“I just thought brekkie in bed for my poor, hardworking mum would be my good deed for the day.”
“I appreciate the sentiment” Helen said as she took a bite of her toast. “So what’s on the agenda today?”
“School excursion to the brewing company. A couple of ciders before math should get me through the day,” Jason stated.
“Hilarious, however I think you’ll enjoy your trip. The Brewery is important to the town and they supply a world class product from all accounts.”
“Yeah, Selene gave me the rundown,” Jason replied. Helen shifted her attention to her son.
“So, what’s the go with you two anyway?” Helen asked enjoying Jason’s unease.
“I’m not sure. I mean I like her, and…”
“And?”
“And I’d rather not talk about this with my mum,” Jason said uncomfortably.
“Fair enough,” Helen said as she took a sip of her coffee.”
“I better get ready for school, early start,” Jason replied, keen to change the subject.
“Okay sweetheart, don’t forget to say goodbye before you leave.”
“Will do mum,” Jason said, leaving her to finish breakfast.
He arrived at the front gate of the school. A bus was parked out front and Mr Flannigan was standing near the passenger door, a clip board in hand, ticking off the names of the students as they entered the bus. As Jason approached, Selene stuck her head out of a window and waved to him.
“Hurry up I’ve saved you a seat,” she called. Jason nodded and after Mr Flannigan recorded his name he entered the bus as well. He squeezed his way past the cramped and noisy students and dropped down into the vacant seat next to Selene.
“Cutting it kind of close aren’t you?” Selene said with a smirk. As if on cue, Mr Flannigan stepped onto the bus.
“Now that everyone’s here,” Mr Flannigan said, giving Jason a cold glare. “We can get going.”
The bus ride only lasted ten minutes but the noise within was so loud it seemed longer. The bus drove slowly up the brewery’s entrance which was lined with tall lustrous pine trees that opened into a large circular keyway with an immaculately maintained garden in its centre. The Black River Brewery was an imposing building built from old limestone that had been carefully maintained. The bus parked near the front entrance and all students remained seated while Mr Flannigan read them all the riot act prior to disembarking. However no one really paid him any attention as they were more interested in starting the tour and possibly sampling the brewery’s merchandise.
The students slowly exited the bus and waited as Mr Flannigan conducted a quick headcount by which time the brewery manager had arrived to greet them. The manager was a big burly man with a course beard, dressed in jeans, shirt and tie. The image was comical as he looked like someone had attempted to dress a bear and make it civilised. The manager cleared his throat and addressed the class.
“Good morning kids. Some of you may already know me, but for those that don’t, my name is Mr Sucell and I’m the general manager here at Black River Brewery.”
“Can I have a job?” a voice yelled out from the group in jest. Everyone laughed including Mr Sucell. Everyone except Mr Flannigan who scanned the class with a withered scowl.
“Yes, you can have a job but you’ll have to finish school first,” Mr Sucell said with a chuckle. “Now if you’ll all follow me, we can start the tour.
Mr Sucell started the tour in the company’s briefing room with a short documentary movie on the history of beer and cider, an animated beer bottle conducted the narrating and spoke with the most annoying voice. Jason thought it sounded like a cross between the Count from Sesame Street and Roger Rabbit. Despite the students’ eagerness to begin the tour, they were struggling to keep their eyes open. Everyone all but cheered when the lights were turned on and Mr Sucell announced they would begin.
Everyone was given a hard hat to wear due to the company’s safety regulations. They started with the cooperage where the brewery constructed their own oak barrels which Mr Sucell explained only a few breweries still did. As they moved on he also explained what ingredients were required in brewing and about the key differences between beer and cider. Jason was amazed at the science behind it all, not to mention the quality ingredients that went into its makeup.
“I’m actually really enjoying myself today,” he whispered to Selene, who nodded back.
“I thought you might,” she replied. The group made their way around the facility and were introduced to supervisors and key position holders, who explained their function with obvious pride and knowledge. The tour had been going for some time and was nearing its end. The class had been attentive and quiet whenever the manager spoke and explained how something worked or was prepared. They passed an area where the prepared fluid was stored in giant stainless steel vats and where they bottled and stored the beverages while awaiting transport to consumers. The students followed Mr Sucell in a single file along steep, steel catwalks overlooking the vast enterprise. They watched as dozens of men worked diligently at their respected stations. Now and again an employee waved to the class. This was always returned by an embarrassed looking student.
“As you can see it takes a town to run a large company such as this which is why we employ a large percentage of Perigord to work here,” Mr Sucell said as they continued along the cat walk, eventually making their way back to the briefing room.
“I’m afraid we’ve come to the end of the tour. Do any of you have questions you would like to ask me?” Mr Sucell asked. Everyone was quiet and just when it appeared no one would answer, a small girl named Wendy stood up. She wore large black glasses and her hair was pulled back and tied in a sensible fashion.
“Could you please tell us about the story behind the stone goblin cider?” Wendy asked fascinated. Once she realised everyone was watching her she blushed and sat back down, her eyes down cast as she attempted to hide her obscurity.
“Ah, the story on our famous cider,” Mr Sucell said with a grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eye. “Would the rest of the class like to hear it too?” he added. Everyone nodded including Selene and Jason as they waited for the manager to tell his tale.
“Well, we have a watered down version which we have printed on the back of every label, but the original story that was told to me by my grandfather is a lot stranger,” Mr Sucell said as he pulled up a stool and sat facing the class, his face becoming serious. “It all began about a hundred and fifty years ago. The man who discovered the recipe was my great, great, great, great, grandfather Dion Sucell. Back then he was like a lot of other Perigorians who had come here for the mining of silver. He had a small claim over the west side of the valley and the word on him was that he was a bit of a loner and drinker. Dion had been here roughly 2 years and eight months and his meagre budget had been stretched extremely thin. In fact he was on the verge of packing it in and heading back east when something peculiar happened one night,” Mr Sucell said.
“What happened?” a voice called out. This was met with a universal ssshhhh from the class.
“I was just getting to that,” he said patiently, Mr Sucell was a gifted storyteller and it was obvious he had told the tale dozens of times, he spoke with only minimal pause playing on dramatic effect. The class hung off his every word.
“As I was saying, something peculiar happened? By his own account he was camped near his mine and had settled by the fire when he heard a sound in the dark. The sound was like nothing he had ever heard before. A primal fear gripped him as he snatched his gun in both hands and was about to back into his tent when he realised the sound was coming in the direction of his mine. Now his fear had turned to anger and greed. A thought crept into his head that someone was trying to steal from his claim. Why he was concerned with his claim when it hadn’t produced an earning was anyone’s guess. So Dion took a belt of whiskey for courage, and headed slowly down the trail towards his claim.”
Mr Sucell paused to take a sip of
water and let the story settle into the heads of the audience.
“Dion’s progress was slow in the dark, despite the full moon and his kerosene lantern. He had half hoped that whoever was down there would be gone by the time he arrived. Just before he reached the mine Dion turned off the lantern and crouched at the end of the trail, trying desperately to see anything out of the ordinary. At first all seemed quiet and Dion was about to turn back when the noise he had heard earlier started up this time it was emanating from deep within the mine. The sound was a hissing laughter that echoed through the tunnel adding a haunted quality to it. Dion took another shot of his whiskey and walked towards the mouth of the mine, his gun raised, the muzzle pointed ready for business. I don’t know whether it was fear, the whiskey, or blind luck but Dion never said a word or made a sound. A light eminated from inside the tunnel which helped him navigate the narrow corridors towards the inhuman laughter. Dion had almost travelled the length of the chasm when he stumbled across something that at first made him question his sobriety then his sanity.
“What was it?” another voice from the class blurted out. This put a smile on Mr Sucell’s face as if he had been expecting the interruption.
“What my great grandfather saw was, well he called it a stone goblin. Standing only a foot tall with pale leathery grey skin and sinewy arms and legs, it was wearing plain leather pants. A crude iron band sat high on its naked head, its long pointed ears jutting out like wings. The goblin’s face was rough and aggressive in appearance. A large hawkish nose and wide green unblinking eyes seemed to study him with a predator’s detachment. But what really caught Dion’s eye was the wide mouth filled with dozens of razor sharp teeth. The goblin had been holding a small pick but had dropped it when Dion had come upon it. He stood transfixed by the tiny beast, his gun trained on it. However he clearly did not know what to do next when suddenly the creature spoke.
“What do you plan to do now?” it’s voice deep and issued with a hiss.
Dion was shocked, although it was dressed in rudimentary clothes, he clearly did not expect it to speak.
“You can talk!” Dion said astonished.
“Yes, of course I can talk, you stupid man,” The goblin spat. “I’ll only ask again. What do you plan to do now?”
“I have no idea. You are the last thing I expected to find here,” Dion said. The Goblin laughed, although the sound was not something one would associate with mirth. It was more like a vile substance bubbling forth from the bowels of the earth. “And now you have me cornered with your boom stick,” the goblin let his question remain open. Dion’s mind ticked over with the implications of his current situation.
“I’m betting nobody has ever seen anything like you before?” Dion pondered aloud. The goblin snarled and stood its ground.
“You plan to show me in public like some oddity for profit? You filthy human, you have no idea who I am,” the goblin growled, a deep hatred glowing in its eyes. Dion shifted uncomfortably as he contemplated the logistics of trying to capture the vengeful beast in the middle of the night with no provisions and no help. Dion explained his financial woes and the creature’s eyes twinkled at the mention of his predicament.
“So it is wealth you seek. If so, maybe we can come to an agreement,” The goblin replied.
“I’m listening beast.”
“If you were to release me, I could give you something that would earn you all the money that you desire.”
“What could you give me? Diamonds, gold, gems?”
“Knowledge.”
Dion looked sceptical.
“What sort of knowledge?”
“Well for starters, I could tell you where to dig to find those elements you humans hold important, things that shine and sparkle,” the goblin chuckled.
“And?”
“And, what more do you want?” the goblin said, anger creeping into its voice.
“I don’t know. Digging information in return for your freedom seems a little one sided.”
“One sided indeed, but if you think the deal’s unfair, I’ll gladly sweeten the pot.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have noticed a certain aroma upon you, one that suggests you have a liking for a certain type of beverage,” the goblin said with certainty. Dion tried to maintain a neutrality but a blush had begun to creep up his neck.
“I’m not judging you, merely trying to ascertain the pleasures with which you like to engage in,” the goblin said. Dion was a simple man and for some reason the ugly creature before him was starting to make him anxious.
“I have in my possession a recipe.”
“Recipe?” Dion said, looking perplexed.
“Not just any recipe, but one that produces the most amazing cider any human has tasted in over a thousand years. This cider will make men fight for it and women compliant after it,” the goblin said with a sneer. “Any man that knows how to make this cider has a license to print money.” Dion had started to sweat over the thought of so much money, his mind dancing at the prospect of untold wealth.
“How do I know that I can trust you?” Dion asked warily. It was obvious that the goblin was angered by the accusation. It breathed deeply and ignored the jibe.
“I’ll give you my word that you shall have everything I’ve promised or my life is forfeit,” the goblin touched two fingers to his forehead, then to the centre of his chest, then held them high to the sky. “Do we have a deal?”
Dion thought it over then nodded.
“We do.”
“And that kids, is the legend of how Dion Sucell acquired the Stone Goblin Cider and started the Black River Brewing Company,” Mr Sucell concluded. The class had sat quietly throughout the entire story, however this was short lived.
“What a crock of shit!” a voice said from the back of the class. Everyone turned around, but Jason already knew who it was.
“Hector, watch your mouth young man!” Mr Flannigan barked, but looked extremely uncomfortable chastising the influential student.
“That’s okay, I find the tale completely absurd, considering what a drunk my great grandfather was, but the story has always been good for sales,” Mr Sucell said frankly. Wendy, who had originally asked Mr Sucell about the story looked disappointed.
“You really don’t believe the tale sir?” she asked, like a child that’s been told that Santa Clause isn’t real. Mr Sucell shrugged.
“I suppose nothing in life is certain and for those that have an active imagination there is a life size stone statue of the goblin standing in the lobby. My great grandfather had it made I suspect to enhance the story,” Mr Sucell said.
“Well it was a fine story,” Mr Flannigan said. “The class and I would like to thank you for allowing us to come and visit your company and giving us your valuable time. Class,” Mr Flannigan gave the class a sharp look and they all thanked Mr Sucell in a monotone chorus.
“Oh and one last thing,” Mr Sucell said excitedly. “As you are all aware our brewery is supplying refreshments for the Harvest Festival. We are planning on unveiling our new cider, a non-alcoholic one, as well as our alcoholic ones. The new brew is something that hasn’t been done in the history of the company, I’ll personally guarantee it’ll change this town.” Mr Sucell said.
After the manager’s closing speech, the class filed out through the lobby. Everyone including Hector stopped and looked at the goblin statue located at its centre. Lingering last, Jason and Selene studied the statue closely.
“That story Mr Sucell told us probably has some truth to it,” Selene whispered.
“What do you think happened to the goblin?” Jason asked.
“You heard the story, Dion Sucell let it go and got his reward.”
“I suppose,” Jason said with a shrug as he cast one last glance at the statue. As they walked away, Wendy stepped out from behind the statue and watched them leave, having heard their whole conversation.
‘How interesting,’ Wendy thought.
The b
us arrived back at school after lunch and the students were allowed to go home early. Most of them disappeared quickly off the grounds, not wanting to be there if the teacher were to suddenly change his mind. Jason and Selene took their time walking out and were met surprisingly by Hector at the front gate. Jason appeared aloof, not wanting to goad the boy, but not really acknowledging him either. Hector saw this and waved an imaginary white flag comically.
“I don’t want to fight,” Hector said peaceably. Jason now gave him his full attention and raised an eyebrow.
“What do you want then?” Jason asked tersely.
“I suppose I deserve this reaction from you,” Hector replied sheepishly. “I realise that we didn’t quite start off on the right foot.”
“Ya think?” Selene interjected. Hector’s face darkened, but it was gone almost immediately, replaced with an apologetic look.
“You’re right, I’ve been a huge douche bag recently and I know it’s not an excuse, but things at home haven’t been great lately with my dad and I might have taken it out on you at the time.”
Jason was still not completely sure of Hectors true intentions but he was beginning to think he had been hasty in completely condemning the boy.
“I’m not too sure what you want from me though?” Jason stated.
“Nothing from you, I just thought that maybe we could not do the whole enemies for life schtick. After all, it’s a small town and I’m sure you don’t want to be glancing over your shoulder all the time and I don’t need the heartache from the school, my mum and anyone else for that matter. Look this doesn’t make us BFF’s, but maybe it means we can say hello instead of punching on, what do you say?” Hector said earnestly, holding out his hand in offering. Jason was quiet for a long moment and both Selene and Hector were thinking that he was going to tell him to take a hike. Finally he reached out and shook his hand.
“Why not, life’s too short to bear a grudge,” Jason replied.
“I’m glad to hear it. Listen why don’t you two come out to the lake this Saturday, a few of us are going out to fish, swim and just chill if you’re interested.” Hector said. Jason mulled it over for a brief moment.
