Thread: Goldilocks And The Three 'Bears' - (Quix and Cyanide)

RE Goldilocks And The Three 'Bears' - Quix and Cyanide The sun beat down from the noon sky as the three men, hot and tired from the morning spent tilling their neighbour's fields, made their final purchase from the market stall, and began the journey home. The three strode leisurely along the dirt path - a freshly slaughtered pig slung over one's shoulders as a treat for dinner - beneath the thick canopy of leaves. It was cooler here, and the relaxing sounds of birds chirping in the trees, and small forest animals foraging for food, along with the knowledge that work was done for the day, had them in a jovial mood. At first glance they could be taken for siblings. It wasn't until approached more closely that you'd notice, despite his youthful appearance, that the barrel-chested male who walked a step ahead was of considerably greater age. A Father and his two sons. The Patriach was Rupert Bear, more commonly known as Papa, who stood at 6'2, with a thick mass of curly brown hair atop his head. His forearms were the size of hams, his hands rough and calloused, and his skin weathered by the sun. He carried not an ounce of fat. A large man, Rupert could intimidate by size alone. However, not those who had spent time with him, and heard the laugh which emanated deep in his belly before it erupted from his mouth, nor those who weren't too taken by his breadth and width to be able to notice the way his deep brown eyes crinkled with warmth and good humour. Bear by name, bear by size, but not by nature. Unless provoked. His two sons, Edmund and Walter, had inherited his bulk, though neither had yet reached his height. They were men, but still young, and had growing to do. Attired, as he was, in linen breeches and shirts of varying hues, with woollen vests, the boys facial features were alike enough to Rupert's for there to be no doubt the three were related, but there were also noticeable differences. Walt, the youngest, was smaller, his shoulders not quite as broad, and he had inherited his Father's chocolate brown eyes, and curled, dark-chestnut hair. Edmund was destined to be larger than even Papa, and, in contrast to Rupert and Walt, his eyes were green, and hair a raven black. Like his mother, Genevieve. Genevieve. The conversation and laughter died down as they entered a clearing, and their dwelling came into view. As always, Papa felt a mixture of sadness and contentment as he looked upon it. This was the house he'd slept in every night of his life since he was a boy, and where he'd enjoyed many happy times. When he was but six years of age, he'd helped his own Pater, Humphrey, build it. The child had cut down the trees, sawed the branches into pieces, and hammered in the nails, with his very own hands. Or at least that's how he remembered it. The cottage hadn't changed in all that time, apart from the regular application of fresh coats of paint. It was two-stories tall, with a thatched roof, and constructed entirely of forest wood. The exterior was painted a bright yellow, except for the door, which was a 'just as bright' red. Inside, a small foyer opened onto a spacious living area, where the family spent most of their time. They'd rest on the two wooden benches covered in sheep-skin, which faced the open hearth, and sit up all night, reading, talking, laughing, eating, and occasionally drinking. Off to one side lay a kitchen where Mrs Bear used to cook - duties now shared by the three men -, and hidden away in the opposite corner, behind more doors, were separate area for ablutions, and laundering. To the back sat the Master bedroom, the highlight of which was the four-poster bed Papa had fashioned himself. A narrow flight of curved stairs led from the kitchen to the second floor, where both boys had their own rooms. From there they could view the thick forest on one side, and the green valleys - where the Bear's allowed their goats and cows to roam free - on the other. It was beautiful, and a place of great joy, but also one of sorrow, for it was where his wife had died. For a brief period, after Genevieve had succumbed to a bout of pneumonia, just on three years ago, and Papa was in the worst of his grief, he'd thought of leaving. To avoid the constant reminder of what would he'd miss so terribly. However, he knew he never would, it held too many good memories as well. Though, if that had been the decision he'd taken, he could have afforded it. In the back garden, untouched for thirty years, was buried a trove of gold coins. The coins had been a gift to his Father, from the Queen of a Faraway Land. A modest man was Humphrey, and it wasn't until Rupert's teen years, only a week before his parents were taken by the plague, that he'd regaled his son with the story. Rupert had learned how his Father had risked death, dismemberment, torture, and worse. Of how he'd defeated a legendary troll, and rescued a princess from a tower protected by a vicious ogre. His Father had defeated the ogre, too, after a battle which lasted for days, and returned the young lady to her rightful place, as heir to her Country's throne. Humphrey had rejected all honours and accolades - after all, it had been an adventure, what more reward was required? - and accepted the gift of gold coins only reluctantly. The treasure had been be-quested to Rupert, as had the Cottage, with the stipulation that he'd know the right time to make use of it. Papa secretly yearned for the same opportunity to adventure that his Father had taken, and a chance to replicate his heroic deeds. However, times had changed, and there no longer existed Princesses to save, ogres to defeat, dragons to slay, or giant beanstalks to climb. Though it made the world a safer place, a better place, it didn't stop Rupert from sometimes wishing there were. Little did he know wrong his assumption was, and what the future would hold. Papa, did you forget to shut the door? Rupert was brought of his reverie by his youngest son's voice. His head whipped around, then his eyes followed the direction of a pointed finger, and he saw what Walter had seen. The front door was ajar, and Papa felt a deep anger begin to build in his massive chest. The three men dropped the produce they carried, onto the grass, and the same thought passed through each of their minds. Papa never forgot to close the door, and it was too sturdy and secure to have unlatched itself. That could mean only one thing. It had been done by someone else. Who would be so stupid, or desperate, as to enter their home uninvited, and attempt to steal their possessions? Edmund, around the back. If whoever it is, is still there, we don't want them to escape. Papa's booming voice shook with fury as he directed his elder son. The boy followed the order without hesitation. Let us see who it is, who dares disrespect the privacy of our home. Rupert grabbed his youngest son by the collar, and began to drag him towards the partially opened door. The Bear had been poked. This was not going to be pretty.