A Man For All Seasons (Treasury Of Feel-Good Stories Book 5)

Book summary

In "A Man For All Seasons," Vidor, an aging caretaker of a deteriorating castle, finds himself amidst a growing influx of animal refugees. Struggling to sustain them, he ventures into business, aided by his astute raven, Alban. Together, they face the looming threat of a rapacious development company, racing against time to save the animals' sanctuary. This tale weaves themes of resilience, environmental stewardship, and the unbreakable bond between man and nature.

Excerpt from A Man For All Seasons (Treasury Of Feel-Good Stories Book 5)

Chapter 1: The Heart's Desire

It was a dark and stormy night.

Really.

It was!

You can't lie about a thing like that.

The man of the house, now its master, busied himself lighting lamps and building up his hearth fire.

"Ah, thith cathle! Now mine! The Mathter wath too kind."

Vidor loved his home. And nights such as this reminded him of his birth. Well, as best he could remember— he'd learned of it only from stories The Master had told him.

How the wind that night had howled in its wildest fury, the riotous tempest battering at the shutters, desperate to gain entrance! Great swords of lightning striking at the jet-back sky, making it bleed; light spurting brightly as day from each jagged wound. "Oh Vidor, vhat a night it vas!" The Master would expound with glee.

The shutters were slapping now, comforting the crooked little man. But Vidor realized he would need to close the windows—things that got wet inside the castle stayed wet for too long a time. He would open them once more to the riveting fresh air once the rain had stopped. Such a beautiful night as thithis shouldsshould definitely be invited indoors!

Vidor tried to remember his birth date, but could not. But the date itself was really of no consequence; the thrashing weather and the memories it brought filled him with verve and made him exceedingly glad to be alive. And, glad that this was his home. This high-on-the hill sanctuary—Vidor felt very close to the cosmos here.

But he missed The Master. The talks they had, the trips they sometimes took into town…

"Yeth, he wath rethpected there. They uthed to look at me thilly, but I didn't mind. I liked to sthcare them with my funny eearths. And my creaky back—they alwayths got a laugh out of that one. Well, once they got over the thock."

He chuckled at the remembrance; his laugh a delight. Then, a jolt of momentary sadness jabbed at his heart—Vidor decided to leave the past and concentrate on the here-and-now.

Because, in spite of his love for this castle, the neo-gothic edifice was literally falling down around him, and he had little money for repairs. Besides, for some strange reason, no one would come to do the work. And as Vidor was getting on a bit, there were things he just could not do himself.

And then there were the animals, of course. Principally a raven, named Alban, and Bitsa, a Great Dane puppy. These two were his treasured companions.

The Master had kept some critters. After all, he was trying to save them from extinction. That was the whole point. Accelerated evolution, that's what he'd called it—his life’s work, to save as many as he could from the adverse effects of climate change and people change! He'd meant well…

But more creatures were turning up these days—Vidor couldn't fathom why. But they came and they stayed. How on earth was he going to feed them all?

He usually managed to dig up something somewhere, the castle had so many hidden rooms. Truth be told, The Master had been a bit of a hoarder, a doomsday prophet, and had filled every single one of them with all manner of supplies and paraphernalia. "Just a precaution", he'd explained. "The townsfolk…You know."

Vidor's mind sought for and retrieved a distant memory. He recalled the seeing of lights, a line of flaming lights, marching their way up the hill. "You ver too young to remember," The Master had told him, "and just as vell." But Vidor had remembered, at least in part.

He shivered, and, calling himself back to the present, he laid some more wood upon the fire, arranging it just so. Pleased he had chopped so much, but again pricked by the certitude that age would at some point preclude his ability.

Vidor allowed the warmth to radiate into his aching joints, pleased also by the gorgeous glow and the shadows the flames threw upon the walls. The fair scent of the burning leaves he'd employed as kindling increased his satisfaction.

"Well, thingth are alright for now. Maybe there are thome more roomth, with thome more goodieth in them. Though I do wonder what thome of it ith. Probably thpare parth. Hopefully thpare parth.

He savoured the wood tang a little longer, pondering his dilemmas.

"I thall have to get out in the garden again. Grow thome thpthuds. Or thomething. Hmm, tho much to do. Tho much to do!"

Chapter 2: Out for the Evening

"You're not going out again, are you Vidor?" Alban, The Master's raven and now Vidor's pet, enquired. "It's pretty blustery out there tonight. If you don't mind me saying so."

"Of courth I do not mind, Alban. I am jutht glad I taught you to thpeak. Otherwithe, whom would I converth with?"

"Just so. And thank you." Alban ruffled his feathers a little; he was rather pleased with his discoursiveness. And, he smiled. If a raven could be said to smile.

"Anyway, I mutht go out. Grotheries are in order."

"You know I can find my own food, Vidor, although I do appreciate the fine tidbits you give me." Alban smacked his bill at the memory of some tender morsel.

"Yeth, raventh are exthellent hunterth and thcavengerth, but Bittha's domethticated. And hith legth let him down, you know. He'th never been right thinth he wath hit by that carriathe. The Mathter thaved him, but I'm afraid the lizard legth jutht don't do it for him. He jutht hathn't got the right bone and muthle thructure for lizard legth, but it wath all the Mathter had at the time. And, well they do thay that dogth grow into their feet, but I think Bittha hath already done tho, and gone a good wayth pathd it. Great Daneth are rather large creatureth actually."

Vidor continued to prepare for his evening, attending meticulously to the crease in his hat, which he always wore to cover his mismatched ears, his white gloves, and the polish on his wolf-headed cane. He always felt a little better with these accoutrements, hoping they would make up in some way for his abnormalities. But catching himself out, he pushed his self-deprecation aside.

"It'th the other animalth I need to attend to, Alban. Bethidthes, there are other thingth I mutht do tonight."

"Not really. You don't have to you know."

"Oh, but I do, Alban." A strange light inhabited Vidor's eyes. "The wolveth are howling, the moon ith full; thith ith the time when people are at their motht crathy." He continued with his preparations for the night.

Alban shuddered. He possessed a certain memory also, of the 'old days', as Vidor liked to call them. Alban thought at times he might follow Vidor—see what was whatthese days, but had always been afraid to do so.

Finally, Vidor donned his heavy black cloak. "And, the night wath alwayth my time, Alban."

"But where are you going?" the worried bird enquired. He feared the town below possessed a long memory also, and so was not the friendliest of places.

"I thall go where the night taketh me." He examined himself in the mirror and tilted his hat to a slightly rakish angle. Smiling, Vidor wished the snow-white corvid a pleasant evening, and made his way out into the storm.

***

Despite the wind, Vidor made reasonable time down the hill path and soon came to the bridge. The bridge that would take him into another world—the modern world. He crossed and soon was in Swingtown.

Vidor stopped at an all-night delicatessen and purchased the groceries he could afford—what cash he had didn't buy much. There was no doubt about it, he had reached the bottom of The Master's treasury. He would have to get a job, that's all there was to it.

But not tonight. Tonight he had work to do. He asked the storekeeper to hold his purchases. Also his coat. It was suddenly rather warm; the storm having abated. Thrange how much warmer it ith down in thith valley, Vidor conjectured, not for the first time.

"I thall be back before too long. Thankth for keeping them for me."

"Sure thing, Mister Vidor. Nice to see you. It's been a while. I'm open all night, as you know, so just come back for your things anytime you like."

Vidor smiled, tipped his little Fedora to the man, and continued on into the town. "Now let'th thee, where thall it be tonight?"

***

There were many. So many. Young. Stupid. Vulnerable. Ripe for the taking.

The avenue was garishly lit; the colours made people beneath them look ill. Some even dead, with their heavy makeup.

But there were shadows also. Lots of shadows. Vidor stayed in one of these and watched. Waited. Assessing. Selecting.

Noise pounded away, bass beats reverberating and echoing through every physical surface— each establishment brayed with the same incessant noise!

And each establishment spewed intending patrons out of doorways, some cursing. Some barely able to ambulate through the throng.

Some shouting, some swearing, some falling over. Some threatening, bottles in hand. There was a strong taint of sweat and urine.

Some shoving, some peeing, some vomiting…

Vidor longed for the coolness of Blacktower, his castle. The night here was hot and steamy. Sweaty. Pungent. Many women were scantily dressed. So many potential victims. Such easy pickings.

Vidor drew back into the shadows. He watched a bit more. And then he selected. Just one. Yeth, one at a time will have to do.

She looked very young.

The girl sat slumped on the curb, badly inebriated. Easy prey.

Easily led; yet he found he had to assist her somewhat. Are they getting heavier, or am I jutht getting old?

Vidor lured the young woman off to his hiding place in the obscuring darkness.

He was always surprised how very easy it was. She was well past caring. And no one had paid any attention. What were they thinking of?

They weren't thinking of anything at all.

Chapter 3: And So To Bed

It had been a long night. Vidor hadn't returned to the deli until nearly 4 am—after he'd taken care of the woman.

He'd had a hell of a time rousing her—thought he might not make it by daylight.

Vidor'd considered going back for more while she slept, but didn't like to leave the girl. She'd needed a talking to, and he'd delivered it. As always, unsure if the young woman, whose life he may well have saved, would pay the least bit of attention to his advice—he'd given it nevertheless.

She had been acutely embarrassed and seemingly ashamed. Vidor implored her to take better care of herself, got her a cab with the little money he had left, and sent her home.

***

When he got back to the castle, Alban and Bitsa were waiting up for him. This touched his heart.

Enduring an obligatory slobbering, Vidor fed Bitsa his puppy chow and gave the bird some choice morsels of preserved rat.

Satisfied that he’d done his best night's work, Vidor snuffed out the candles and shuffled off to bed, bone tired and overtly worried concerning the state of his ever-dwindling finances.

Chapter 4: Too Much To Bear

"What was it like last night, Vidor? " Alban queried. "Tell us!" Alban and Bitsa were all ears.

Despite his fear of what may have transpired, Alban was a creature who simply could not suppress his intensely inquisitive mind. "Most of all, what were they wearing? Or not. That part's always interesting."

"You are a curiouth bird, Alban."

"You're so right. Curiosity is a sign of intelligence, as you know. And us ravens are nature's most intelligent birds."

Bitsa yapped his happy puppy yap, as if in agreement, or perhaps in eagerness of a story.

Alban fluffed up his feathers and perched a bit taller, tilting his head upward in smug satisfaction.