Wellington Boots

by in Archive Words

I got wellington boots one Christmas. Red ones. I had asked for red shoes, but I meant like the ones Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz. I wanted pretty red slippers, not a pair of plastic wellies. I wore them out the next day because it was snowing. I made a snowman in the garden and then, because it had snowed so much and I was bored, I made two more.  Then I got called in for tea.

The next morning, I went back out and dressed the snowmen. I put a hat and pipe on one, a scarf on another, and a waistcoat and bowtie on the third. Then I threw snowballs at the horrible boy next door. He ran to his mother crying and I got shouted at, even though it wasn’t my fault.

It had started snowing again and it was getting very windy. I wasn’t going back into the house though, not after I’d been shouted at. I ran into the shed, slamming the door shut. I must have knocked something off a shelf because the last thing I remember after that is waking up on the floor. I sat up slowly, touching my head to see if there was any blood. I got up and opened the shed door. To my suprise, all the snow had gone. I must have been asleep for a long time for all the snow to have melted. Also, this wasn’t my garden. It was all green and filled with big bright flowers. How very odd.

I was about the shut the door again when someone spoke. ‘Hello,’ they said. I peered out. There were three men standing in the middle of the garden. One was wearing a dinner suit and had no nose, one was dressed like Rupert the Bear, and the other one looked like a tramp.

‘Hello,’ I said, walking towards them. ‘Who are you?’

‘We guard the garden,’ said Rupert. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m…not entirely sure. I think I need to get home though. I think perhaps I do this,’ I said, clicking the heels of my red wellington boots together. ‘There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.’ Nothing happened. I looked up in disappointment. The three men were staring at me.

‘God, you’re weird,’ slurred the man with the pipe.

‘And you stink. I have to get home. What should I do?’

‘Well, can you remember how you got here?’ asked Rupert.

‘I was in the shed. And I think I knocked something over. It landed on my head and I woke up here. Perhaps I need to retrace my steps. I suppose I ought to say goodbye first though. ‘

‘If you must,’ said the man with no nose.

‘Goodbye, man with no nose. How do you smell? Goodbye, Rupert. I like your scarf very much. Goodbye, smelly old tramp. I think I shall miss you most of all.’

‘Charming,’ said Rupert. ‘Ungrateful little cow,’ said the man with no nose.’

I waved sadly, then ran back to the shed, slamming the door behind me. Nothing happened. I tried opening the door and shutting it again, but still nothing. Then a hand reached round holding something shaped like a brick and I felt something heavy make contact with my head. ‘Ow!’ I said, and the next thing I remember is waking up on the floor. I crawled out of the shed, clutching my head. I crawled across the garden, leaving a trail of blood on the snow. ‘Stupid snowmen, ‘ I muttered.

I never went in the shed again after than, or made another snowman. The next Christmas I got the red shoes I had wanted. I sat and stared at them all day, but I never wore them, just kept them in a box in the cupboard. They’re probably still there now. Next to the wellington boots. I won’t go back for them though. You can never go back.

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