A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning: When a Retired Enforcer Just Wants a Quiet Cuppa (and the World Has Other Plans)
Alright, my dear readers, settle in. Grab a cuppa – preferably one that doesn’t spontaneously taste of salt water or emit faint fire alarms – because this Thursday, we’re doing something a little… different.
You know my Thursdays. They’re usually my ‘random’ posts, a delightful mishmash of thoughts, observations, and the occasional existential crisis disguised as a recipe for sourdough. They’re the literary equivalent of rummaging through a particularly eccentric attic. But this week, I decided to shake things up. Not with a new philosophy on sock-pairing, nor a deep dive into the migratory patterns of garden gnomes (though, tempting, I assure you). No, this week, I’m thrilled to announce a brand new, proper, honest-to-goodness, short story.
And when I say ‘short story,’ I mean ‘short story’ in the sense that a very large, slightly disgruntled badger might be considered ‘short’ compared to a blue whale. We’re talking somewhere in the region of 15,000 to 20,000 words. Yes, you read that right. My Thursday ramble has, for this week, blossomed into something rather more substantial.
The story, which I’ve rather aptly titled “A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning,” is, if I may be so bold, a peculiar beast. It’s the result of a thought experiment that spiralled gloriously out of control, much like a particularly enthusiastic magical spell cast by someone who really ought to have read the safety warnings.
The Genesis of an Idea (and why it’s a bit mad)
It all started, as many things do, with a simple ‘what if.’ I was sitting, minding my own business, contemplating the inherent absurdity of life (a hobby I highly recommend, by the way, it’s far less strenuous than jogging), when a rather mischievous thought popped into my head. What if you took the relentless, highly competent, and profoundly annoyed protagonist of John Wick – a man whose very existence is a masterclass in ‘don’t poke the bear’ – and dropped him, entirely against his will, into the hidden, bureaucratic, and often utterly daft magical world of Harry Potter?
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “That sounds… chaotic. And possibly a very short story, given Mr. Wick’s proclivity for problem-solving via extreme prejudice.” And you wouldn’t be wrong. But then, another, even more insidious thought wormed its way in. What if, just what if, you then wrote that story in the style of the late, great, utterly irreplaceable Sir Terry Pratchett?
And that, my friends, is how a perfectly normal Thursday blog post mutated into a magically-infused, action-comedy-satire. Because once you start mixing those ingredients, you realise you’re not just making a story; you’re making a commentary on the very nature of order, chaos, and the profound inconvenience of being a highly skilled individual who just wants to be left alone.
The Pratchett Influence (The Heart of the Matter)
Let’s be honest, the Harry Potter world provides the magical sandbox, and John Wick provides the impetus for a very particular kind of relentless, precise action. But the beating heart, the very soul, the wry, cynical, yet deeply human (and often absurd) voice of “A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning,” is pure Pratchett.
If you’ve ever had the profound pleasure of diving into the Discworld, you’ll know what I mean. Pratchett wasn’t just a fantasy writer; he was a philosopher, a satirist, and a master of human observation, wrapped in a wizard’s hat and armed with a pen sharper than any enchanted blade. He understood that the greatest absurdities often lie not in dragons or trolls, but in bureaucracy, in the petty squabbles of power, and in the sheer, baffling illogicality of human (and, by extension, magical) nature.
For me, reading Pratchett is like having a very clever, very funny friend whispering profound truths and ridiculous jokes directly into your ear. He could make you laugh out loud at the sheer idiocy of a situation, and then, a paragraph later, hit you with a line that made you pause, reflect, and perhaps even shed a quiet tear for the inherent struggles of existence. He saw the magic in the mundane and the mundane in the magic. He understood that even the most powerful wizard still had to deal with laundry, or, more likely, a magical equivalent that was probably far more complicated.
And that’s the spirit I tried to infuse into this story. Imagine a world where magic is real, where ancient spells can reshape reality, but the paperwork required to sanction those spells is even more terrifying. A world where powerful, shadowy organisations exist, but they’re just as prone to inter-departmental squabbles and inefficient filing systems as any mundane government office.
Our hero, Bartholomew Quill, is not a ‘chosen one.’ He’s not destined for greatness. He’s simply a man who has beengreat, who has done great things (mostly involving discreet magical ‘clean-up’ operations), and who now, more than anything, just wants to cultivate his arcane herbs, read his obscure magical treatises, and enjoy a perfectly brewed cup of tea from his beloved Ever-Brewing Kettle of Solace. He’s a curmudgeon of the highest order, a man profoundly annoyed by inconvenience, and utterly exasperated by the sheer lack of common sense he encounters.
Pratchett’s genius lay in taking the fantastical and grounding it in the utterly relatable. He’d take a concept like ‘Death’ and give him a cat, a love for curry, and a perpetually exasperated sigh. He’d take a city watch and turn it into a commentary on policing, justice, and the slow, grinding work of making the world a slightly better place, one reluctant, cynical step at a time. He understood that the most dangerous weapon wasn’t always a sword or a spell, but a well-aimed observation, a perfectly timed piece of dry wit, or the sheer, unstoppable force of mundane bureaucracy.
In “A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning,” you’ll find that same spirit. Barty doesn’t always win by unleashing devastating spells. Sometimes, he wins by causing a fire alarm to go off in a magically silenced library. Sometimes, he wins by overwhelming his opponents with paperwork. And sometimes, he wins by simply being so profoundly annoyed that the universe itself decides to just get out of his way.
The narration, I hope, carries that same wry, omniscient voice. It’s a narrator who knows a little too much, who isn’t afraid to interject with a tangential (but entirely relevant) observation, and who occasionally breaks the fourth wall to share a particularly insightful (or sarcastic) thought about the nature of magical societies or the inherent folly of sentient beings.
It’s a story about a man who just wants to be left alone, but the world, in its infinite wisdom (or, more accurately, its infinite capacity for being a nuisance), has other plans. It’s about the absurdity of power, the fragility of order, and the enduring strength of a truly stubborn individual.
The Wick and Potter Echoes (The Flavour)
While Pratchett provided the narrative soul, the structural backbone and much of the flavour comes from those other two titans.
From John Wick, we get the relentless pursuit. Barty, like Wick, finds himself marked, hunted by an entire hidden world. There are intricate, shadowy organisations with their own codes and rules. And like Wick, Barty is a master of his craft, capable of incredible precision and efficiency, even when he’d rather be doing literally anything else. His actions are often born not of heroism, but of a deeply personal violation – a line crossed that simply cannot be uncrossed. And yes, there’s a beloved companion, a unique magical creature named Murmur, who is just as important to Barty as any dog.
From Harry Potter, we draw the rich tapestry of a hidden magical society. Spells, charms, unique magical creatures, hidden alleys, and ancient organisations operating just beneath the surface of the mundane world. It’s a world where magic is a tangible force, but it’s also a world with its own politics, its own dark corners, and its own peculiar bureaucratic quirks. I’ve tried to build a magical world that feels familiar in its hiddenness, but entirely original in its details – from the ‘Consortium of Esoteric Affairs’ to the fleeting ‘Veiled Bazaar’ that pops up in unexpected places (like, say, a certain famous aquarium in Hull).
The challenge, and the joy, was to take these inspirations and twist them, to make them entirely my own. So, while you might recognise the spirit of a magical hidden world, or the feel of a relentless pursuit, the characters, the organisations, the spells, and the specific absurdities are, I hope, entirely new and unique to Barty’s particular predicament.
Introducing Barty
So, who is Bartholomew Quill? He’s a man of refined tastes and a profound aversion to fuss. He’s spent decades mastering the art of ‘Esoteric Enforcement,’ a polite term for magically solving problems that most people didn’t even know existed (or wished they didn’t). He’s precise, methodical, and utterly unflappable, unless, of course, you mess with his personal effects.
His companion, Murmur, is a Nocturnal Spriggan – a small, dark, and perpetually disgruntled magical creature whose primary mode of communication is a series of highly specific chirps, huffs, and glares. Murmur is Barty’s silent conscience, his early warning system, and his most reliable source of exasperated commentary.
And then there’s the Ever-Brewing Kettle of Solace. It’s not some ancient, powerful artifact of world-shattering doom. It’s just a kettle. A very special, very sentimental kettle that always has a perfect cup of tea ready. It represents Barty’s hard-won peace, his quiet retirement. And when it’s stolen, not by a grand villain, but by a rather pathetic, opportunistic magical rogue, it sets in motion a chain of events that drags Barty back into the very world he so desperately tried to leave behind. Because some lines, however mundane they seem, simply cannot be crossed.
The Writing Journey (and the word count challenge)
Writing a story of this length was, I admit, a delightful form of self-inflicted madness. It’s far longer than my usual Thursday rambles, which tend to clock in at a few hundred words before I run out of witty observations about pigeons. This required a plan, an outline, and a surprising amount of tea (thankfully, my own kettle remained safe during the writing process).
The process of writing it was an absolute joy. There were moments when Barty, in his curmudgeonly wisdom, surprised even me with his solutions to problems. Imagining magical skirmishes in places like Hull’s The Deep aquarium, where Barty is more concerned about the welfare of the fish than his own safety, was a particular highlight. And delving into the soul-crushing terror of magical bureaucracy? Well, let’s just say I now have a newfound respect for anyone who deals with official forms on a daily basis.
Looking Ahead (The Future of Barty)
“A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning” is designed as a standalone short story. It has a beginning, a middle, and a very satisfying, if slightly chaotic, end. Barty gets his peace back, albeit a peace now understood to be hard-won and perpetually fragile.
However, as I was writing, a few threads emerged, a few doors opened that hinted at further adventures for our reluctant hero. There’s a certain ‘favour’ Barty undertakes for a certain inscrutable proprietor of a magical Sanctuary that, shall we say, leaves ample room for future escapades. So, if time and inspiration allow, and if you, my dear readers, find yourselves clamouring for more of Barty’s particular brand of exasperated heroism, I may just find myself expanding on his adventures into retirement. After all, a truly good curmudgeon is hard to keep down.
Where to Read “A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning”
I’m thrilled to announce that “A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning” is currently in the process of being published on Amazon as a paper back and ebook and is also available on Apple Books! It’s been a bit of a bureaucratic process, as Barty himself would no doubt attest, and I’m still waiting for the book to get through the review process but if you would like to read A Curmudgeon’s Reckoning you can click on one of the link below.
I’d love to know your thoughts on Barty’s adventure, please let me know what you think in the comments of the social post that brought you here. And remember, always keep an eye on your kettle. You never know who might be after it.
Happy reading!
