So finally, here is the last instalment of Goose and the Gingerbread Moons. I suppose you could read a moral or two into my story…there’s the idea that you should be careful what you call your children… should they have the misfortune of encountering a mysterious entity who transforms children for fun – And, if you mess around with your mums baked goods don’t get caught.
I am painfully aware that the quality of the photos I took one grey and stormy day in November is pretty poor. So a note to my future self – re-photograph all the drawing panels when I dismantle the story book on stilts after Christmas.
Goose and the Gingerbread Moons
continued… part five
The silver moon, round and perfect in the dark velvet sky, looked down on Mystic Mews as a small boy called Goose secretly nibbled gingerbread moons. Drunk on the forbidden sugar and spice, he didn’t notice the shadows creeping and curling and wrapping around him.
‘SO!’ a voice boomed like thunder, ‘You, are the gingerbread mouse?’
Goose froze, eleven neatly-nibbled gingerbread moons in his lap, one more perfect disc of spicy temptation half in his mouth.
‘And what might your name be?’ the colossal voice inquired politely.
‘G…G…G…Goose…’ stuttered the small boy, unable to move this way or that.
‘Well. Goose…’ the voice whispered thoughtfully, ‘…so it shall be, for all eternity…’
This is where my story ends, dear reader. No-one knows what happened to the small boy called Goose, but there is a story I hear-tell of a lady who baked gingerbread biscuits in the town, who had a lot of children and a faithful gander who followed her to work each day.
And to this day, dear reader, as one winter moon yields to the next, great flocks of geese fly over the town. If you look, there is always one who hangs back a little. Could this be the baker’s son who ate the forbidden gingerbread?
So it shall be. For all eternity.