Excerpt: The Waxing Monk

He shouted down in to the hold, ‘Everyone come up for a moment please.’ There were some murmurs from down below, and then the thud of heavy metal being dropped on wood along with some clinking and then foot falls. Then the steady rhythmic clunk, clunk of boots going up a wooden ladder. The two men that emerged looked quite different from one another. One was slim and wore a tourquoise blue toque. He had red hair and a pipe, light brown socks up to his knees, leather shorts with suspenders and a red plaid button up shirt.
‘Hello, I’m Bitumin. Bitumin Murtha’ he said through his pipe.