Monday, 21 November 2011

#9 Harry “Pecs” Ravensthorpe

Oh goodness, where would one start? It’s certainly true that I am a descendant of one of the town’s most famous, or perhaps I should say infamous sons! But don’t worry! I don’t share his eerie ambitions!

As you may already know, John Ravensthorpe inherited our family home, Ravensthorpe Lodge, in 1899. He arrived back in Mothwicke a year later having failed to establish himself on the apparently arduous London puppetry circuit.

His interest in the occult started I think while he was in London as his journals mention how impressed he was on the occasion of meeting Aleister Crowley. He admired Crowley's intensity, his scholarly nature, his ability to get girls to “…do loads”.

Hoping for the same influence over the fairer sex, Ravensthorpe immediately founded his own organisation on returning home, however he was met with complete disinterest. He retired to Ravensthorpe Lodge vowing revenge on the apathetic townspeople. Little was seen of Ravensthorpe after that and he became a recluse, virtually a hermit.

Then, on a dark October night, strange lights and sounds were heard coming from the Lodge. When the locals saw fit to investigate in the morning, Ravensthorpe Lodge and my ancestor John were gone. Even stranger, from that day on Mothwicke has been ever so gradually sinking. No one can explain exactly why. Also as a result of that fateful night, it has become tradition that any Ravensthorpe living in the town must remain homeless and so I largely spend my evenings in the skip behind the greengrocers.

The no shirt thing? Well I lost that some time ago when a badger tried to come in and take over my skip and the lads down the pub started calling me “pecs” which I found quite amusing. So I never bothered finding another one. So they can keep calling me that. It’s nice to have a nickname. So nice when people know you.

No comments:

Post a Comment