"Come away from there, Snoopy! You know you shouldn’t go on there!" shouted Scott Chickaday, chastising his three-year-old Doberman.

Snoopy looked up with an air of total dismissal and walked away from the War Memorial dedicated to the memory of the soldiers who lost their lives in both World Wars. Scott continued to walk in the direction of the river Granton when Snoopy started to bark profusely. Scott, a lean, attractive and tall fifteen year old turned to see what the fuss was all about.

"What’s the matter with you, you mad dog?" Snoopy continued to bark at the memorial and then cowered and lay close to the ground with his ears and head down as low as they could go.

‘Can’t you see them? Can’t you see them?’

Scott considered this strange behaviour, as he had not seen Snoopy behave in this way before. He swept his long, dark fringe out of his hazel eyes and walked back towards the dog offering words of comfort, solace and the ‘lead of capture.’ As Scott approached Snoopy got up and walked towards the memorial and sat down looking at someone or something.

‘Who are they? Who are they?’

His head moved rapidly from side to side trying to understand what he was looking and Scott followed the line of Snoopy’s sight to seek out the cause of this disturbance but saw nothing.

"I’m going to have to cut down your biscuit ration, you’re starting to hallucinate, you crazy mutt!" Scott put Snoopy’s lead on and pulled him slightly away. Snoopy resisted, wanting to remain in front of the memorial as if guarding the plot. Scott began to lose his temper and raised his voice,

"Come on!"

Scott pulled harder on the strong, black leather lead but Snoopy offered an equal amount of resistance and started to bark fiercely again at the unknown object(s). Using his whole strength Scott pulled and overpowered Snoopy and led him away swiftly from the stone memorial. Snoopy walked cautiously away staring over his shoulder and showing his large, white teeth in protest.

The Copsley War Memorial was erected in 1946 just after the Second World War and paid for by private subscription and the Copsley Council. It is situated on the edge of Copsley, a small Lancashire town, at the confluence of the Elder and Granton rivers and is kept in a good state of repair. Its design is traditional, four octagonal stone steps, a square pedestal and a stone cylinder supporting a bronze cross. Two sides of the square pedestal record the names of the Copsley men who lost their lives in the Great War and the remaining two panels, the Second World War. Amongst these names is Private Reginald Chickaday, Scott’s great grandfather.

As Scott approached his family home his mobile rang.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Scott, it’s Jenny!"

"Hi, Jenny, you OK?" asked Scott pleased to hear his girlfriend’s voice.

"Yeah, fine. Say do you fancy coming to Mary’s party tonight? It should be a good laugh. Her parents are going out and she’s holding a secret party. Please say you’ll come?"

"I dunno. I promised mum that I’d baby sit for my brat of a brother!"

"He’ll be OK on his own for a few hours. You could let him play on your play station, he’d like that!" Jenny suggested.

"OK, I’ll pick you up at 8.30pm. See yer baby."

"Bye, Scott. Oh, by the way, bring some drink."

"OK, chow!"

Scott walked into the kitchen carefully taking off his muddy Nike trainers. His mum was reading a modern fictional novel at the kitchen table engrossed in her reading.

"Everything Ok, Scott?" she asked without looking up from her novel.

"Snoopy had one of his barking fits at the old war memorial. I can’t think why he barked so much as there was nothing there."

"I don’t know but remember dog’s have well developed senses and can see and smell better than humans. You may not have seen anything but he could have," she replied rubbing thr back of her neck.

Scott opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold milk.

"Have you done your homework yet?"

"Yes, I did it this morning. Say, mum, what time are you and dad going out tonight?"

"About 8.00pm, why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing really but when will you be back?" Scott asked as he rinsed the glass in the sink.

"Why are you asking Scott, you don’t normally? If I wasn’t such a lovely, thoughtful mum I would get suspicious and start thinking you are going to get up to mischief when we’ve gone!"

"Don’t you trust me? Have I ever let you down?"

"No, but parents do worry when they are asked those types of questions. I’ll think no more about it. Why don’t you have a shower, you haven’t had one today and I can tell without looking at you!" said his mum as she rose and opened the kitchen window releasing the unpleasant teenage odour. Sometimes she wished she had a daughter instead of two unwashed boys! Scott took the hint and went upstairs to have a long, cool shower to wash away his cares and prepare for some serious love making that evening.

To read the rest of this story send me an email...

4^th August 2002.

© 2002  Steven Longman-Marshall – all rights reserved.