Wands and Fireguns

Wool's orphanage- the blasted end of the skrewt. A world set in 1938, where there's a big chance you'll die of chickenpox, end up without a career or join the military forces! But that doesn't count for our female protagonist, Patsy Walters. Stuck in a house of misfits, life full ahead of her, what could possibly go wrong?

I'll give you a hint:

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Warning: use of sailor mouths (Pat)

All rights reserved 24.04.2017.


5. 05. Mustache Metropole

‘Get that girl!’ The middle-aged, mustached man called out furiously, pointing towards me as I ran as fast as my legs could hold me. ‘She’s a thief!’ he accused once again. By now, the entire public library had been made aware I stole a penny to buy something as simple and delicious as a sweet. Being chased by at least two blue bottles, each of them carrying swagger sticks that were seemingly more painful than being shot, me, just a little girl of eleven years, had to run for a life out of lockup.

Blast you!, I glanced down at my growling stomach. If you weren’t so demanding we wouldn’t be in this situation.

As the exit came nearer, my brain tried to solve this entire hubbub, looking for an answer. I panicked. There didn’t seem to be anything I could use to barricade the bobbies that were trying to skin me alive.

Suddenly, out of an aisle of bookshelves, a librarian pushed a trolley with a mountain of books piled on top of each other. Eureka!

‘Stop her!’ one of the men shouted after me.

With a forceful kick, I pushed the trolley to the ground. As the books clattered on the marbel tiles, I made my exit out of the library.

‘Sorry!’ I shouted after me, feeling sorry for whomever had to clean that mess up. My head shot to my left, standing on the steps of the library, seeing a small dingy alleyway next to the bakery. On my right, there was a large amount of schoolchildren outside, looking at the architecture of the metropole of London. The alleyway it was.

With a jump, I caught my landing onto the pavelled ground with my own hands. Argh! As I caught my breath of running from aisle to aisle, I glanced down at the stinging red and swollen hands. Leaning against the wall, I cocked my head to the left as I heard the footsteps of the men storming out of the majestic white building.

Please go right. Please.

A pedestrian stopped in his tracks as his eyes travelled from me and up towards the duo of men that seemed to search and stop children that were walking around the streets. With his mustache and peaky cap, he looked like the least of my worries. Oh boy was I wrong…

‘Officer! Ye’r looking for a girl? Got one righ’ here!’ pointing at me energetically, I stood up quickly and darted in the dark alleyway that had been filled with smoke of the air vent shafts of the bakery. I made a mental note never to judge anyone by their looks, because looks could be deceiving. Me of all people should’ve known that. Sometimes I wanted to slap myself for being so dense.

As I kept running, I heard the barking sound of a couple of dogs that seemed to have been released after me. Fear lept into my stomach as I began to run a little harder than I did before…

I admit it. I was afraid of large dogs that would bite me or try to tear me to bits of flesh- And I had few good reasons to be afraid. I remember very few, but the night my father had dropped me off at the orphanage, I was bitten by a dog. And I have the scars to prove it!

Of course that experience penetrated my mind every time I heard barking, and it got to severe cases where I would run away from even the littlest terriers. Course no one knew of this- It was rather embarassing. Dogs weren’t very nice to me in general- most dogs down East End lived on the streets and were always searching for food. And I did not want to become an eight course meal with an apple down my throat.

Lost at the dead-end street, I panicked and turned around, looking for any kind of escape. Any kind, I bid towards the gods. Perhaps Hephaestus could sculpt me a wall to protect me from the men that were trying to lock me up!?

In retrospective he didn’t seem a busy god.. in comparison to the thousands of people calling upon help from Jezus when they were in distraught.

Meanwhile the dogs chasing me, seemed to have caught up on me as they darted around the corner of the smoked alleyway. Blast! Blast! Blast!

What was it again what the high man ‘up there’ always said? ‘Thou shall steal and’-‘ or maybe it was not to steal?

Pressed against the stone wall, I closed my eyes tightly and started to breathe heavily. Perhaps if I wished hard enough, they’d vanish.

Please, I chided. Just drop me off at the next street for all I care! The two voices of the policemen shouted orders for the dogs to lay off of me- apparently they thought it ‘impolite’ to slice up a little girl.

 I deducted from the cuffs around my pulses that even grecian gods didn’t lend any help towards stealing orphans.

‘Yer comin’ with us, girlie.’

‘Always these filthy rats, got a cart full of ‘em, Jerry.” Mister mustache 1 spoke to mustache number 2.

‘Is wrong for ye to nick-‘ the policeman Jerry told me with his fingers pointed at my face that showed several signs of trepidation. The dogs that lept before me weren’t ceasing their growls any less than before- I just hoped this once they would find me too ‘unappetising’. What were they going to do with me anyway? If I ended up in a cell, Mrs Cole would never ever bail me out! I would become a juvenile orphan…

That was the worst of the worst!
Well, second to homeless orphans eaten up by the boogeyman.

‘-Each ’n every day another one of ‘em, we trained police forces Jerry. We should be out with ‘em big guys! Solving homocides and tracking up one of ‘em pretty dames. Not playing babysitter-‘ mustache 1 complained once again with a gruff voice towards bobby Jerry. I started to feel a little bit irritated as they kept complaining about their lack of dutiful tasks.

‘Are you even real policemen?’

‘You shut up!’ getting a hand pressed in my neck, I let out a groan as Jerry the cruel started to walk a little faster than before, and me struggling to walk with my hands tied behind my back kept falling on the street at least two or three times.

With bloodied, scraped knees and sweat dripping down my face, I sat in the backseat of their Wolseley. Beforehand I sadly had to clear my pockets as I was waiting for them to find their bloody car keys, making this escapade all for nothing. The longer I spent time with these two, I began to understand bit by bit why their employer refused to send them out towards the more advanced crimescenes. In all fairness, anyone taller than five feet and a little stamina could have caught up to me.



At the policestation, I obediently waited upon a wooden stool for the blue coats to come back and share the disastrous news. I feared the worst; they’d lock me up for three nights on headquarters and send me off to a convent somewhere far away in the mountains of Switzerland. Course I knew, that as a child they hadn’t had the audacity to throw me in prison… yet. Or even worse, they’d strip me from my clothing and sentence me to death by execution!

Ain’t that a bit medieval, Patsy?

Just as I readied myself to take on the mind battle, the door opened of the office that I had been thrown in to wait out my sentence. First came the head of tweedle dee, followed by tweedle dum with two mugs of what I deciphered as coffee.

As they sat down, pulling the stools on the other side of the desk with a screetching sound over the wooden floor, the policeman I knew as Jerry the terrible cleared his voice and looked at me with a serious sigh.

‘Alrigh’ there, Missy?’

‘I’m ready-‘  I sighed, putting down my hands before them, of which the cuffs had been taken off when I entered the room. ‘You can lock me up in a cel- I won’t fight anymore, I swear.’

Both of the men gave each other a double take when I had offered myself up to live out somewhere between the nuns and fields filled with cows and goats. I understood, I ran half a marathon to escape their clutches from getting me locked up. Only I had enough time to contemplate the idea of leaving Wool’s orphanage- if I was the one to leave those suckers behind I’d put on my Sunday dress and be shipped off across the English channel. The men however, weren’t looking at each other out of surprise. First mustache number 1 cracked out in laughter, followed by bobby Jerry who clutched his beer-belly that almost jumped out of his uniform. I withdrew my hands as the laughter echoed throughout the room- were they making fun of me?

‘Oh no, Girlie.’ Mustache number 1 gasped, wiping away any remnants of leakage from his eyes. ‘We ain’t gonna punish people for things like that! A girl stealing a penny? We migh’ as well punish every pigeon taking a shit on the pavement, and then we’d be busy till kingdom come. Why, only the other day I met a man in the pub tryin’ to tell me we’re all gonna fight ‘n war next year! Clearly off his rocker, the chap. I did no’ even reprimand ‘em.’

‘I’m not going to be sent off to a convent?’ I frowned, a little offended. I had expected to be shipped off, or at least locked up behind bars for one day. But this?

Jerry the monsterous chuckled once more, shaking his head. ‘Nay. We wouldn’t want to bother a judge with this, he’d fine us for wasting time. Now what’s yer name, Missy?’ Propping up a pen in his right hand that he pulled out of his maroon jacket, the bobby took a sip of his coffee. I noticed the rim of his mustache being drowned into the hot liquid- with a distasteful grimace I answered automatically;

‘Patsy Walters.’

His eyes double crossed my features, trying to see if I was lying or not. With a shrug, the bobby wrote down the digits on a custom paper form. ‘Alrigh’, let’s see. And your parents’ names are?’

‘I don’t know.’

Mister mustache number 1 arched an eyebrow, judging me from the dirt on my collar and dress towards the cuts and bruises that were visible. ‘Yer not one of them street rats, are ye?’

‘No!’ I blurted out, worried they might actually do something after all. ‘I’m an orphan.’

‘Ain’t that the same?’ Tweedle dum whispered towards Jerry the unforgiveable- who gave his colleage a heavy shouldered shrug. ‘Arigh’, ‘n tell me Missy, which orphanage hosts thiefs and pickpocketers?’

I smirked, decisively so ruining the name of my orphanage- however, I didn’t have any other option did I? I’m sure Mrs Wool would understand the circumstances when she stood in my place and was to be interrogated…

‘Wool’s- down East End.’

‘Ah.’ The men nodded, all of the sudden understanding the situation. Wow, East End really did have a bad reputation.

Standing up, the keys jingled in the rhythm of mustache’s movement. ‘Well Patricia, since ye’ve got no parents to pick ye up- it would be our duty to bring ye back to yer orphanage.’ He said in a stern and annoyingly fatherly manner. Guiding me out of the policestation, both of the bobbies escorted me inside of the ‘ol Wolseley, which probably still had my bloodstains printed on the backseat.


As they drove me inside of their policecar through the rows and rows of factory workers’ houses, the realisation began to sink in. I wasn’t sure what Mrs Cole had made out of my afternoon absence. She might not even have noticed it. With all of the children in the building, and ninety per cent of her brain cells occupied with scrambling up every penny she could, she sometimes forgot one or another of her orphans. Sometimes I got lucky whilst I ventured towards the library- If I was really lucky, that had been the case this evening. At least she hadn’t run haywire and contacted the police, that would’ve earned me a year of cleaning duty.

As we got closer I heard the noise of children playing- otherwise known as throwing rocks at the police that were interrogating their ‘domain’. I chuckled, waving proudly at the strange children that were probably underfed and homeless.


Jerry, the underrated policeman turned around, giving me one of those looks that told me to quiet down and said; ‘Ye really talk much for a girlie, ye know?’

For a girl? Chauvinistic arseholes! I was offended- give and take but the car stopped and my focus slowly turned towards the building that hovered over a brick courtyard. ‘Kay, Throw ‘er out before we get shot down Jerry-‘

We were here. The bobby escorted me out of the black and white Wolseley, obviously wanting to make sure he would be rid of the orphan, now that she was out of cuffs and could start running off into another dark alley or shout protests to her nonexistent friends to attack the blue coats. With a wary look- the man patted my shoulder sternly. ‘Alrigh’, I really hope this will be a lesson to ye.’

‘Yes it will,’ I assured him, adding to myself, too quietly for him to hear as he returned to the car: ‘I’ll make sure not to get caught next time.’

As I looked ahead of me, heads popped out of the windows as everyone seemed to have taken notion of the police car dropping me off. Including a heavily glowering woman on the front porch- tapping her heels impatiently as I stood struck before the gates of the greying orphanage.

Mrs Cole.

Well well well…

My dear witches and wizards, thieves and orphans,

Apparently Mrs Cole wasn’t counting her empty bottles this time ;)

I’m sorry that the update took a while, however I’ve decided to update on my tempo.

Sorry to those whom wished for an earlier update,

The tremendous weight of making every word be perfect, whilst making exams was well, got up to me.

Yours truly,

Lady Dominique, Chief of the hundred ways to name an officer.

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