The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition: This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, that others might use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
Based on prompt provided by Joan Opie.
[ADDENDUM: Made minor edits to improve style, 17/06/2023.]
The storm had been gathering momentum for over an hour until the point where it seemed as if a host of banshees were circling the house, waiting for some foolish soul to emerge. And knowing their luck, that’s probably exactly what it was. They’d never forgiven Jenny for that incident back in ’38, after all. This would be a fine time to go (ha!) but she would swear and rage against any possibility that her time was up, even in the circumstances.
The gramophone which had been playing the Prelude to Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 against the strains of the wind suddenly went quiet, the dim crackle as the needle wobbled against the centre of the disc inaudible against the din outside. Not that Jenny hadn’t noticed.
“Get up and turn the record over would you, Alice dear?” she asked her long-suffering wife.
Alice let out a “Hmmph” and pushed herself out of her chair, gritting her teeth against the pain in her right knee. All that hiking and running around this world and that took its toll on your body eventually. Dutifully, though, she wandered over to the gramophone, removed the tonearm from the record, and a thought occurred to her. This would teach Jenny a lesson.
All the rigmarole of replacing the worn out needle and winding the infernal machine just enough so the handle didn’t take your hand off having been done, Alice finally sat down, longing for nothing more than to be finally getting on with developing those 12 rolls of film still outstanding from their last little jaunt- that, and a decent tape player. No sooner was she seated than the sound of a piano playing over a rock ‘n’ roll beat and Little Richard screaming out “Good Golly Miss Molly” erupted from the horn. And what’s more, there was no volume control. You couldn’t help but hear it over the wind.
“I thought we were listening to Bach?” Jenny shouted over the multitude of dins.
“Thought you might want cheering up darling! After all-” Alice shouted back.
“You know I hate Little Richard…” Jenny tried to complain, but it was no use, Nobody would hear her. And she was a captive audience, more or less.
Eventually though, even that too had to cease, leaving the room to the sound of banshees trying desperately to make their entrance. Or not.
And then, above the squeals and shrieks of the wind, a loud knocking came at the sturdy wooden front door out in the hallway.
“Your turn to get it darling,” Alice said in insistent tone.
“Please tell me you aren’t serious,” Jenny replied. “It’s probably just the wind anyhow.”
“Just because that dinosaur bit your leg off doesn’t mean you can vegetate in your chair listening to classical music forever! What happened to that adventuring spirit of yours, the great Jenny Everywhere and all? Or are those crutches going to sit there idle?”
“Are you done yet?”
“When you decide to drag yourself up.”
“It’s probably just the wind… why are you so-“
That hypothesis was soon disproved when the doorbell rang with a furious ‘DINGDINGDING!’, followed by more banging on the door and voices shouting out “Is anybody alive in there?” and “Hurry up you two it’s bloody freezing out here!” coming from behind it. Jenny knew at once who it was- sensing a familiar presence as well as recognising the voices in question.
Reluctantly, and after further protests towards an unmoving Alice, Jenny fumbled with her crutches and dragged herself, at length, out of her chair and onto her one remaining foot. Muttering “I’m too old for this shit” under her breath, she hobbled out into the dimly-lit hallway and slowly made for the door. Reaching it, she pushed the button on the side wall that released the complex mechanical locking mechanism a certain Milton J. Mackenbach had designed and installed for her, at his own expense. (The old bugger had owed her more than enough favours.) The door burst open and after it burst in three figures without so much as a by-your-leave, not only bringing a blast of air with them which made the solitary lamp hanging from the wall sputter, but nearly knocking her over but for the fact she had a nearby wall to fall back against. They tried in vain to close the door behind them- if the wind wasn’t blowing it open, the mechanism wouldn’t budge.
“Give it a good hard shove and pull the lever to,” called Alice’s voice from the room.
The one figure which wasn’t trying pulled back her hood and pulled her goggles up onto her forehead. It was her, of course- the other, somewhat younger, alternate version of Jenny that wasn’t quite so old and whose hair still had some colour in it other than a murky grey.
“Hello Jenny,” she said. “Happy birthday! Big seven-oh eh? We brought cake!”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten,” replied the older Jenny, through still gritted teeth.
The younger of the other two figures, a pretty looking young blonde thing who couldn’t have been much more than thirty-five, turned her head and said “I made the cake, by the way!” then turned back to the door, which after much prising, was finally yanked shut.
“This is Inieda, by the way, Niddie if you prefer,” said the third woman, Megan, now looking as if she were getting on a bit in her forties, albeit with wisps of still mousy brown hair poking out from underneath her woolly hat. Either that or her girlfriends were getting younger…
Niddie gave a small, noncommittal wave and an embarassed grin.
Well, it could have been worse, thought Jenny. An unwanted birthday party is better than being done in by vengeful banshees, after all…
Tales of Lyniezia 