Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [12 of 32]

• But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut them again everything would go away.
• He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run forward very fast for a few inches,
• then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every now and then it would take off and
• buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling and started running and
• stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but only a black speck upon a sea of gray,
• and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the doctor came in. He was an Army doctor, a major,
• and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he had a cheerful face and kind eyes.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [11 of 32]

• Just then the door opened and a nurse came in. "Hello," she said. "So you've waked up at last."
• She was not good-looking, but she was large and clean. She was between thirty and forty and she had fair hair.
• More than that he did not notice. "Where am I?" "You're a lucky fellow. You landed in a wood near the beach. You're in Brighton.
• They brought you in two days ago, and now you're all fixed up. You look fine." "I've lost a leg," he said.
• "That's nothing. We'll get you another one. Now you must go to sleep. The doctor will be coming to see you in about an hour."
• She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [10 of 32]

• This is a hospital, he thought. I am in a hospital. But he could remember nothing. He lay back on his pillow,
• looking at the ceiling and wondering what had happened. He was gazing at the smooth greyness of the ceiling which was so clean and gray,
• and then suddenly he saw a fly walking upon it. The sight of this fly, the suddenness of seeing this small black speck on a sea of gray,
• brushed the surface of his brain, and quickly, in that second, he remembered everything. He remembered the Spitfire and he remembered
• the altimeter showing twenty-one thousand feet. He remembered the pushing back of the hood with both hands,
• and he remembered the bailing out. He remembered his leg. It seemed all right now. He looked down at the end of the bed,
• but he could not tell. He put one hand underneath the bedclothes and felt for his knees. He found one of them,
• but when he felt for the other, his hand touched something which was soft and covered in bandages.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [9 of 32]

• He got into the habit of going to sleep during the white periods, and of waking up just in time to see the world when it was black.
• But the black was very quick. Sometimes it was only a flash, like someone switching off the light, and switching it on again at once,
• and so whenever it was white, he dozed off. One day, when it was white, he put out a hand and he touched something.
• He took it between his fingers and crumpled it. For a time he lay there, idly letting the tips of his fingers play with the thing
• which they had touched. Then slowly he opened his eyes, looked down at his hand, and saw that he was holding something which was white.
• It was the edge of a sheet. He knew it was a sheet because he could see the texture of the material and the stitchings on the hem.
• He screwed up his eyes, and opened them again quickly. This time he saw the room. He saw the bed in which he was lying;
• he saw the grey walls and the door and the green curtains over the window. There were some roses on the table by his bed.
• Then he saw the basin on the table near the roses. It was a white enamel basin, and beside it there was a small medicine glass.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [8 of 32]

• As he fell he opened his eyes, because he knew that he must not pass out before he had pulled the cord. On one side he saw the sun;
• on the other he saw the whiteness of the clouds, and as he fell, as he somersaulted in the air, the white clouds chased the sun and
• the sun chased the clouds. They chased each other in a small circle; they ran faster and faster, and there was the sun and the clouds and
• the clouds and the sun, and the clouds came nearer until suddenly there was no longer any sun, but only a great whiteness.
• The whole world was white, and there was nothing in it. It was so white that sometimes it looked black,
• and after a time it was either white or black, but mostly it was white. He watched it as it turned from white to black,
• and then back to white again, and the white stayed for a long time, but the black lasted only for a few seconds.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [7 of 32]

• That is what happens with a good pilot. He took some quick deep breaths from his oxygen mask, and as he did so,
• he looked out over the side of the cockpit. Down below there was only a vast white sea of cloud,
• and he realized that he did not know where he was. It'll be the Channel, he thought. I'm sure to fall in the drink.
• He throttled back, pulled off his helmet, undid his straps, and pushed the stick hard over to the left.
• The Spitfire dripped its port wing, and turned smoothly over onto its back. The pilot fell out.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [6 of 32]

• He looked at his altimeter. Twenty-one thousand. To test himself he tried to read the hundreds as well as the thousands.
• Twenty-one thousand and what? As he looked the dial became blurred, and he could not even see the needle.
• He knew then that he must bail out; that there was not a second to lose, otherwise he would become unconscious.
• Quickly, frantically, he tried to slide back the hood with his left hand, but he had not the strength.
• For a second he took his right hand off the stick, and with both hands he managed to push the hood back.
• The rush of cold air on his face seemed to help. He had a moment of great clearness, and his actions became orderly and precise.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [5 of 32]

• I lost a leg today. But I don't mind so long as you don't. It doesn't even hurt. We'll go everywhere in cars.
• I always hated walking, except when I walked down the street of the coppersmiths in Bagdad, but I could go in a rickshaw.
• I could go home and chop wood, but the head always flies off the ax. Hot water, that's what it needs;
• put it in the bath and make the handle swell. I chopped lots of wood last time I went home, and I put the ax in the bath. . . .
• Then he saw the sun shining on the engine cowling of his machine. He saw the rivets in the metal, and he remembered where he was.
• He realized that he was no longer feeling good; that he was sick and giddy. His head kept falling forward onto his chest because
• his neck seemed no longer to have any strength. But he knew that he was flying the Spitfire, and he could feel the handle of the stick
• between the fingers of his right hand. I'm going to pass out, he thought. Any moment now I'm going to pass out.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [4 of 32]

• And when I land I'll sit there quite normally and say, some of you fellows come and help me out, will you,
• because I've lost one of my legs. That will be funny. I'll laugh a little while I'm saying it; I'll say it calmly and slowly,
• and they'll think I'm joking. When Yorky comes up onto the wing and gets sick, I'll say, Yorky, you old son of a bitch,
• have you fixed my car yet? Then when I get out I'll make my report and later I'll go up to London.
• I'll take that half bottle of whisky with me and I'll give it to Bluey. We'll sit in her room and drink it.
• I'll get the water out of the bathroom tap. I won't say much until it's time to go to bed, then Ill say, Bluey, Ive got a surprise for you.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [3 of 32]

• He glanced down again at his right leg. There was not much of it left. The cannon shell had taken him on the thigh, just above the knee,
• and now there was nothing but a great mess and a lot of blood. But there was no pain. When he looked down,
• he felt as though he were seeing something that did not belong to him. It had nothing to do with him.
• It was just a mess which happened to be there in the cockpit; something strange and unusual and rather interesting.
• It was like finding a dead cat on the sofa. He really felt fine, and because he still felt fine, he felt excited and unafraid.
• I won't even bother to call up on the radio for the blood wagon, he thought. It isn't necessary.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [2 of 32]

• Everything is fine, he thought. I'm doing all right. I'm doing nicely. I know my way home. I'll be there in half an hour.
• When I land I shall taxi in and switch off my engine and I shall say, help me to get out, will you.
• I shall make my voice sound ordinary and natural and none of them will take any notice. Then I shall say, someone help me to get out.
• I can't do it alone because I've lost one of my legs. They'll all laugh and think that I'm joking, and I shall say, all right,
• come and have a look, you unbelieving bastards. Then Yorky will climb up onto the wing and look inside.
• He'll probably be sick because of all the blood and the mess. I shall laugh and say, for God's sake, help me out.

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [1 of 32]

• DOWN below there was only a vast white undulating sea of cloud. Above there was the sun, and the sun was white like the clouds,
• because it is never yellow when one looks at it from high in the air. He was still flying the Spitfire.
• His right hand was on the stick, and he was working the rudder bar with his left leg alone.
• It was quite easy. The machine was flying well, and he knew what he was doing.

An Aesop Fable: The Bat and the Weasels [1 of 1]

• A Bat who fell upon the ground and was caught by a Weasel pleaded to be spared his life. The Weasel refused,
• saying that he was by nature the enemy of all birds. The Bat assured him that he was not a bird, but a mouse, and thus was set free.
• Shortly afterwards the Bat again fell to the ground and was caught by another Weasel, whom he likewise entreated not to eat him.
• The Weasel said that he had a special hostility to mice. The Bat assured him that he was not a mouse, but a bat,
• and thus a second time escaped. It is wise to turn circumstances to good account. The End.

An Aesop Fable: The Bat and the Weasels [1 of 1]

• A Bat who fell upon the ground and was caught by a Weasel pleaded to be spared his life. The Weasel refused,
• saying that he was by nature the enemy of all birds. The Bat assured him that he was not a bird, but a mouse, and thus was set free.
• Shortly afterwards the Bat again fell to the ground and was caught by another Weasel, whom he likewise entreated not to eat him.
• The Weasel said that he had a special hostility to mice. The Bat assured him that he was not a mouse, but a bat,
• and thus a second time escaped. It is wise to turn circumstances to good account. The End.

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [7 of 7]

• "Safe, safe, safe," the heart of the house beats proudly. "Long years--" he sighs. "Again you found me." "Here," she murmurs,
• "sleeping; in the garden reading; laughing, rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure--"
• Stooping, their light lifts the lids upon my eyes. "Safe! safe! safe!" the pulse of the house beats wildly.
• Waking, I cry "Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart." The End.

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [6 of 7]

• Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak. His hands shield the lantern. "Look," he breathes.
• "Sound asleep. Love upon their lips." Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they look and deeply. Long they pause.
• The wind drives straightly; the flame stoops slightly. Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall, and, meeting,
• stain the faces bent; the faces pondering; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hidden joy.

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [5 of 7]

• The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that. Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain.
• But the beam of the lamp falls straight from the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house,
• opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly couple seek their joy. "Here we slept," she says. And he adds,
• "Kisses without number." "Waking in the morning--" "Silver between the trees--" "Upstairs--" 'In the garden--" "When summer came--"
• 'In winter snowtime--" "The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.
• Nearer they come, cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass.

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [4 of 7]

• A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun.
• So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burned behind the glass. Death was the glass;
• death was between us, coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows;
• the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found
• it dropped beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse of the house beat gladly. 'The Treasure yours."

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [3 of 7]

• The windowpanes reflected apples, reflected roses; all the leaves were green in the glass. If they moved in the drawing room,
• the apple only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, if the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls,
• pendant from the ceiling--what? My hands were empty. The shadow of a thrush crossed the carpet;
• from the deepest wells of silence the wood pigeon drew its bubble of sound. "Safe, safe, safe" the pulse of the house beat softly.
• "The treasure buried; the room . . ." the pulse stopped short. Oh, was that the buried treasure?

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [2 of 7]

• But it wasn't that you woke us. Oh, no. "They're looking for it; they're drawing the curtain," one might say, and so read on a page or two.
• "Now they've found it,' one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and
• see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and
• the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. "What did I come in here for? What did I want to find?" My hands were empty.
• "Perhaps its upstairs then?" The apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book
• had slipped into the grass. But they had found it in the drawing room. Not that one could ever see them.

A Haunted House: Virginia Woolf [1 of 7]

• Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there,
• making sure--a ghostly couple. "Here we left it," she said. And he added, "Oh, but here tool" "It's upstairs," she murmured.
• "And in the garden," he whispered. "Quietly," they said, "or we shall wake them."

• And my advice to all men is, that if ever they become hipped and melancholy from similar causes (as very many men do),
• they look at both sides of the question, applying a magnifying glass to the best one;
• and if they still feel tempted to retire without leave, that they smoke a large pipe and drink a full bottle first,
• and profit by the laudable example of the baron of Grogzwig.
• The End - The Baron of Grogzwig: A short story by Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

• The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron meanwhile with a look of intense terror, and when he had ceased,
• caught up the stake, plunged it violently into its body, uttered a frightful howl, and disappeared.
• Von Koëldwethout never saw it again. Having once made up his mind to action,
• he soon brought the baroness and the Von Swillenhausens to reason, and died many years afterwards;
• not a rich man that I am aware of, but certainly a happy one: leaving behind him a numerous family,
• who had been carefully educated in bear- and boar-hunting under his own personal eye.

Charles concludes, Virginia begins

Look out for Virginia Wolf next week.

In two days we conclude Charles Dicken's gripping little tale "The Baron of Grogzwig", tweetarrator's first twitter story.

But there is more install...this time with Virginia Wolf's short story, "The Haunted House".  There are only 7 broadcasts for this story so it's a very nice, short, interlude before the next major story, Roald Dahl's "Beware the Dog".

Thanks for being part of this slice of life.

• Come! Quit this dreary world at once." "I don't know," said the baron, playing with the knife; "it's a dreary one certainly,
• but I don't think yours is much better, for you have not the appearance of being particularly comfortable.
• That puts me in mind - what security have I, that I shall be any the better for going out of the world after all!" he cried, starting up;
• "I never thought of that." "Dispatch," cried the figure, gnashing its teeth. "Keep off!" said the baron,
• "I'll brood over miseries no longer, but put a good face on the matter, and try the fresh air and the bears again; and if that don't do,
• I'll talk to the baroness soundly, and cut the Von Swillenhausens dead." With this the baron fell into his chair,
• and laughed so loud and boisterously, that the room rang with it.

• "Well, but they may be one day filled again," said the baron. "Scolding wives," snarled the genius.
• "Oh! They may be made quiet," said the baron. "Thirteen children," shouted the genius. "Can't all go wrong, surely," said the baron.
• The genius was evidently growing very savage with the baron, for holding these opinions all at once; but he tried to laugh it off,
• and said if he would let him know when he had left off joking, he should feel obliged to him.
• "But I am not joking; I was never farther from it," remonstrated the baron.
• "Well, I am glad to hear that," said the genius, looking very grim, "because a joke, without any figure of speech, is the death of me.