‘The wellies pined for the life of adventure and work they once knew’

Fighting Words 2020: Smelly Wellies, a story by Heulwen Dawson-Stanley


Name: Heulwen Dawson-Stanley
Age: 16
School: Ballymahon Vocational School, Ballymahon, Co Longford

Smelly Wellies

Note: Trichophyton mentagrophyte is a type of multicellular foot fungus that causes cracking and itching of the skin. Myxogastria is a class of slime mould. Saprinus beetle is a genus of clown beetles belonging to the family Histeridae.

There they stood, lined up neatly against the wall where they always stood alone, pining for the life of adventure and work they once knew. Releasing the intoxicating, malodorous scent that spread through the little glass porch, like a dark blanket of death. Four pairs of wellies never to see feet again. However, death and life walk hand in hand, like two halves of a person cleaved straight down the centre to be reborn as two.

Alone and forlorn inside the largest pair of decrepit wellies sat a small group of Trichophyton mentagrophytes. With all hope of a new host gone, they prepared for their inevitable doom. It was that exact moment that the most bizarre thing happened: a gust of wind blew through the porch, something that had not happened in years. This extraordinary event would be like the first domino setting off a chain reaction.

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A Myxogastria was dislodged, plummeting into a welly, the same welly in which the Trichophyton mentagrophytes held residence. It was there a fatal encounter would occur. A lonely, hopeless Trichophyton mentagrophyte would meet an infuriated Myxogastria. In an empty oasis of glass walls, the Glorpyen civilisation was formed. As it slowly grew, so did the lust to travel beyond the wellies to unknown territory. Plotting and planning led to an observation, a divine intervention you could say.

On one of their exploration trips a Glorpyen noticed something miraculous: a Saprinus beetle running across the floor, almost florescent in the setting sun. It was the most breathtaking thing they had ever laid eyes on. Entranced, they stopped, unable to remove their eyes. Riveted to the ground, they could only watch as this beautiful creature moved along the tiled floor in a flowing glide as if it was on a cloud. It was then a Wolf spider appeared and began to approach at tremendous speed. Her body sleek, weapon-like, she exuded a sinister beauty, dark and criminal. As she ran across the floor, they could see seductive glints of her salmon-pink underside, her body greyish-brown with a distinct Union Jack embossed on her back.

With a flourish she pounced. The Glorpyens tensed but to their astonishment the Saprinus vanished as if sinking into the ground, avoiding the spider’s attack and making it to safety. It became clear to them that this was no ordinary event. These were obviously two gods setting an example for those who inhabit the glass cage. That night when they returned to the wellies, they told this story to the other Glorpyens. A council of the elders was then called and after hours of discussion they cemented the hypothesis that they were gods. They baptised the spider Anastasia and the beetle Tabitha, and thus the religion Tergiversatesisums was formed. They worshipped Tabitha.

Unknown to them there was a split. Secretly some of the Glorpyens thought that Anastasia was the superior god. In secret, the religion Apostatizefarainisum was created. Not to go against the elders openly, they hid their views and waited patiently for an opportunity, an opportunity that would soon come. As time progressed, they started to feel superior to the Tergiversatesisums.

Time went on and seasons played their course like a scratched record replaying, over and over again, never faltering, never reaching its end. The split between the two religions became very clear, and the Glorpyens began to openly preach their views, shunning those who thought differently to them. Chaos soon followed. The only time they truly worked as one was every night where they watched Anastasia and Tabitha enact their daily battle. How did a struggle of life or death become a sport? Anastasia battled for her next meal to avoid starvation, Tabitha on the other hand struggled to not become that meal. Who should come off victorious and at what price would that victory come?

One night a vicious storm raged outside the little glass porch, shaking the walls of the abandoned house, barely withstanding the harsh winds. The wind was a dreadful premonition. That night neither Anastasia nor Tabitha appeared. Sitting alone and cold, the Apostatizefarainisum followers began to scheme and plot, creating a plan that would completely rewrite the fate of the Glorpyens.

Thus went their plot...

When the Tergiversates slept – if you could call it sleep, more like a machine shutting down, a complete loss of consciousness – all life had left their bodies. A web of glinting thread would be woven, a beautiful tunnel of death to inevitable decay.

The next opportunity they found, they called a meeting and on that moonlit night the Apostatizes spun a web of murder. That night they exited to watch the usual saga between the two god-like creatures. However, nothing could have prepared them for the horrific sight they would witness that fateful night. The moon, illuminating the small frail glass porch, shone like a spotlight on a stage. In the centre of this makeshift stage a brutal battle occurred.

Tabitha became ensnared in the silken trap. Distraught, she frantically struggled but it was too late, Anastasia was upon her. All the frustration of the past few weeks rising up in her small body, instead of her usual concise deadly strike she killed Tabitha slowly. The Glorpyens stood mesmerised, unable to remove their eyes from the gruesome events that were unfolding in front of them. The Glorpyens could not pry themselves away. They sat there for seven days and seven nights.

They never saw Anastasia after that day. Their life slowly fell into decay, without the belief system they had so heavily leaned on. Chaos overwhelmed them as they frantically tried to reconstruct their broken world. A world filled with Apostatize. Was such a world even worth redeeming? How could one make such a decision? Who had the right? I guess that choice falls upon those who inhabit the world, their mental capacity to overcome difficulty, learn from their mistakes and to change their very nature. A very challenging task when one has fallen so deep into a certain way of life and view on the world.

Alas, the Glorpyens followed in the path of their supposed god, blindly following their beliefs just as humanity did before them. They created and validated reasons to kill, pillage and burn. Slowly their numbers decreased as they could not reproduce at the same rate as they passed. They felt forsaken by all. Time ticked on and the small glass porch began to collapse and crumble, the wind blowing away the dust of the crumbling cottage it was attached to. Inside, the Glorpyen civilisation also crumbled into nothing, not even a memory, as there was no one and nothing left to remember it.

Life and death may walk hand in hand like two halves of a person. So too does superiority, ego and decay.