Well

It is commonly understood that a boy and a girl went up the hill to fetch a pale of water.

It has never been properly understood that this routine occurred regularly during the morning, giving them a supply of water for the day. If you think you know this story, you don’t know the half of it. What is not generally known is that whenever this occurs their doppelgängers creep down the hill late at night and gather up, as only doppelgängers can, any remaining water that was not used during the day and return it to the diminishing supply of water in the well. The fact of the matter being that the only person aware of this situation was concerned about dwindling water supply. Once again, if you thought the girl who was particularly fond of curds and whey just sat around on her tuffet eating, you’d be wrong about that too.

For a youngster, she was pretty smart, despite her never being able to conquer her morbid fear of spiders and doppelgängers; especially her own. She knew that if the village well ever ran dry, her favourite delicacy would dry up with it. Although one might think that knocking up a bowl of curds and whey was just a matter of stirring milk and vinegar together over a heat source, you’d be wrong. If nothing else, without water, how would you wash the bowl out? Anyway, it came about that on this particular morning, the one most people know about, the occasion when the boy took a tumble, things were about to change. Whatever made these children think that wrapping vinegar and brown paper around his head would fix things up was never made clear.

However, when the doctor, the one that nearly drowned in a puddle in Gloucester, visited the following day, he indicated otherwise. The boy’s dizzy spells and poor sense of balance had the doctor prescribe medication along with the advice that he should rest up entirely for a month. Now, considering the fact that just carrying the heavy metal bucket up to the top of the hill was more than one person alone could manage easily, bringing it back down full of water definitely required two people.

This is where the plan dreamt up by the smart kid that sat on a tuffet thinking a lot, began to take shape. Only she knew that the boys fall was not brought about by clumsiness alone. On that day, she stood behind a tree somewhere just below the crest of the hill holding a peashooter. This being a tube through which dried peas are blown. At the critical moment, as the boy passed, a rapid yet unseen movement by the girl caused a hard pellet to hit the side of the lad’s neck with a sharp sting, causing him to jump, let go of his side of the bucket’s handle and take a headlong dive all the way down to the bottom of the hill.

Having accomplished this, she called in on the two children as though she was merely visiting the sick. Her ulterior motive being to offer them her limited services for fetching water, during the boy’s absence from duties. Her efforts, she explained, would be severely curtailed by a medical condition that she was normally reluctant to talk about.

She confided in them and explaibned that she suffered from a condition known as myositis, a rare disease that weakens the muscles. She went on to describe how she would only be able to make the journey up the hill and back every other day. This would enable her to recover each time. All this was poppycock, of course. Despite this deception, the other girl said she was very grateful for the offer and gave her a glass of water to show her appreciation. It was in this way that the new routing began, thus halving the amount of water being collected.

It would seem that the tuffet girl had determined, by what means it is hard to say, that despite delays in the supply of materials and a current skill shortage, this reduction by way of a more frugal use of water, should take them through to the point when a plentiful supply of water was piped to the village, provided by the desalination plant currently being built.

Buster

He really loved his dog.

The day Buster went missing, his world fell apart. He and the dog were a family. He started by checking with all of his neighbours. Nobody had seen the dog, but they would look out for it. On the following day he had posters printed with a large picture of Buster’s most recent photo displayed. It gave all of the relevant details including the offer of a generous reward for Buster’s return. He spent a great deal of time, pinning or blue tacking posters wherever he could. Some shopkeepers didn’t want a poster on their window and he had a few comments about sticking them on traffic light poles. Generally, he felt that many people didn’t appreciate how important it was to find him.

It was on the third day of finding places for the notices that he may have missed before, that he met and got chatting to the woman who worked in the post office. She had come out briefly to take a closer look at what he was posting on the side of the bus shelter. When she saw the photo she commiserated with him, saying that she completely understood how close people could get to their animals. He appreciated her support. The dog was never found, but they got on really well and were married a year later.

He never got over the loss of his dog and would often tell her how he felt. As time passed she felt less inclined to listen to him going on and on about his missing dog. It was on such an occasion, a few months into their marriage that he once more launched off into a lengthy gibbering about how he couldn’t understand how the dog could go missing, when she flew off the handle. After a ferocious argument, she asked him the obvious question regarding the relative importance he placed on their marriage and his lost dog.

He thought hard and gave her the truth… but the wrong answer.

He now lives alone.

Reformation

The old man was buttering his toast when his wife came into the kitchen.

She said, “Did you sleep well, darling?”

He glanced at her with a hint of surprise. “Yes, thanks.”

She said, “That’s good.”

He said, “We’ve run out of milk again”.

She said, “Oh! I’m sorry.”

He said, “You are?”

She said, “Yes, I’ll get some as soon as the shops open.”

He shook his head and grunted.

She said, “What’s wrong, dear?”

He said, “The marmalade.”

She said, “What about it?”

He said, “I asked you to get the one without the shreds.”

She said, “You did?”

He said, “Yes, this jar is full of the lumpy stuff; it’s hard to spread.”

She said, “Sorry dear, I’ll get another one.”

He said, “While we’re at it, I might as well tell you, you left the fridge door slightly open again.”

She thought for a moment. “Yes, you’re right, I did. I really must mend my ways.”

He stopped trying to spread marmalade and stared at her. “Why are you being so nice? It makes me nervous.”

She smiled and said, “I’m practicing my new world view.”

He said, “Well, don’t. I don’t like it… it’s horrible!”

Timetables

She hadn’t visited her sister for some time and was really looking forward to it.

When the day came, she still hadn’t made up her mind about how she would get there. It would have to be the train or the bus. She pored over the timetables several times. She preferred the bus. It was a long journey, with all the stops of course, but the ride was a far more interesting one. The view from the bus as it travelled through several towns meant that there was a better variety of scenery. Not only that, she found that the seating was more comfortable. It goes without saying, the train is much faster. It cuts about twenty minutes off the trip. Little did she know that her decision regarding her mode of transport was absolutely crucial.

Had the timing not been a factor when making the choice, she would have gone on to finish her studies and graduate with a degree in Software Engineering, married the man she had recently met at the tennis club, taken the job in the safety division of the city’s transport department, had three children, owned two cats, taken up jewellry making as a hobby, received several awards for the work she did in developing software systems for effective rail safety management, learned how to bungee jump, and become a regular volunteer with the local animal rescue shelter.

However… she took the train.

Imprisoned

He was trapped and he knew it.

There was no view from where he was. He could only see a myriad of colours above and below and to the sides. No one was going to let him out. His purpose was never going to be fulfilled. The fools! They had no idea of the treasures and wonderful things that awaited them. Things that only he could provide. Some many things he could have done to make them happy.

The store of bottles was mountainous. They were of every conceivable shape and colour. They weren’t even destined to be broken or crushed. They would just sit there, being added to from time to time, when the trucks came in.

He sighed. It had all come down to simple economics. It was the worst thing that could possibly happen to a Genie.

The bottom had fallen out of the glass recycling industry.

Locket

The extremely old lady from across the hall had always cherished the locket he had given her.

It was probably the nicest thing she’d ever owned. She loved showing it to people, telling them how her late husband had scrimped and saved to buy it for her. She would often take it off so that visitors could admire it. Because of her failing memory, she would sometimes repeat the offer to those who had already seen it. She couldn’t easily get out any more, so she really enjoyed receiving visitors. This was the first real visit from the man sitting opposite. He had only moved in recently. Like her, he was getting on in years, but he was younger than her and had also outlived his partner. This was something she had in common with many of her friends. She removed it and held it out, smiling with pride.

Her visitor took it and turned it over in his hands.

“Anything inside?” he asked, looking at the tiny hinges.

“Don’t thinks so, dear. We never managed to get it open. I don’t think it opens anymore. It’s very old, you know.” She yawned.

He nodded. “Yes, it looks old. Did he buy it new or was it bought as an antique?”

She hesitated. She didn’t think she’d ever been asked that before. There was a lot that she wasn’t saying. There were things that she would never tell. “New, I think… long time ago that was.” She sighed and settled back into the armchair. “He’s been gone twelve years now, you know,” she mumbled, as her eyes closed and she drifted off for a while. She would tell people that this was something she did. She began to snore softly.

He was sitting, twiddling the trinket around in his hands, wondering whether he should leave or sit patiently for a while, when to his surprise the thing suddenly popped open. Inside, there was a faded remnant of what would once have been a photo and a small scrap of paper that had a few scrawled words. He was shocked by what he read. He sat thinking for several long minutes before putting the note back in and closing it back up, snapping it with a firm click. What should he say? What should he do? His answer came… nothing!

He stood and placed it on the table beside her chair before leaving, quietly.

Sometime later she woke and saw that he had gone. She found the locket where he had placed it. She clasped her hands around it and remembered; not the time he had given it to her, but the time he had spoken some of his last words. Tears formed as she recalled the time he was dying. The time he had admitted that he had allowed a lie to remain between them. A deception about the locket. He hadn’t bought it at all. The truth was he had found it, out there on the pavement. It was just lying there, glistening in the sun. He must have been the first person to come across it. He had sobbed with the admission. He said how sorry he was to have deceived her for so long. She remembered how she had said that she forgave him. She said how much she loved him. She had told him that she forgave him completely, and she had meant it.

Meanwhile, back in his room, her neighbour sat thinking about the message he’d read, and how it would stay with him. Just a few simple words… ‘Please help me, I’m being held at 16 Frobisher street, top floor.’

Tip-off

To be accosted in such a manner was unheard of.

He was an extremely important man and wasn’t accustomed to being approached by strangers. Nevertheless, this is what happened. The elderly citizen suddenly popped up out of nowhere. He boldly approached the eminent man and began babbling. This unexpected encounter with the old man, who was obviously a few cards short of a pack, annoyed the prominent leader in a big way. He was not at all used to lesser mortals being so bold. At first he tried to bat the man away, but the other persisted with his ramblings. He seemed to be in no way intimidated by the high-ranking man’s admonishments. He seemed to be warning him of some pending doom. He even heard the man utter the word ‘death’. This enraged him even further. To think that such a low-life could be as presumptuous as to use such threatening language, and in a public place such as this, it was completely unpardonable.

Undecided

The story opens with him in the bedroom, trying on ties.

No, not the bedroom, in the guest room in front of the full length mirror. He stood wearing underpants and shirt, putting on and taking off ties. The blue one was OK, but he didn’t like all the silly squiggles. Not squiggles exactly, more like dots, large dots, no, small dots. Anyway, he would probably settle for the green and yellow one. The writer wasn’t sure at this stage. He’d go back to it later. Meanwhile, the man picked up the jeans. These wouldn’t do. More indecision, then slacks were selected and pulled on. At least they were easy.

The shoes were going to be a problem for both the man and the writer. Do the shoes later. The socks he found were too thick, it was going to be a hot day. He looked down at the pile of clothes. It was a large pile, of course, in fact very large, and in a cardboard box… no, a plastic clothes basket. He delved in and found a pair of thin socks. The jacket was a cinch. It would be his favourite for the cold weather. But this was all going to take place in summer… Again, he’d think about it later.

The hair was a trouble-free item to describe, as the man was bald, or nearly bald. Hair colour was undecided at that stage; he felt he could safely put that on hold. The man looked out at the bright sunshine and wondered whether it would be wise to wear a hat. He was raking through the clothes when a voice called out. “It’s getting very late. Aren’t you coming to bed, dear?”

Whoever said writing short stories was easy?

Opening

He sat for a while contemplating the work he was about to embark on.

It was late evening and he was tired. Nevertheless, he had in mind a historical play about a wicked duke and it would require a strong opening. The first scene of this play needs to set the mood; needs to explain the present state of affairs through the words of, and as seen by, the main character, the duke himself. He stands in a city street, expressing this to the audience.

The bard whispers to himself as he sets the words down.

“Now, all are subject to this time of… of discontentment.”

He shook his head and murmurs, “No.”

He went on. “Now is the season that brings discontentment, made… No.”

He stretched a little and sighed. “Now doth ill contentment fill this time, this season when he of York brings… No, no!”

He yawns. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow… I shall sleep on it and return to it tomorrow.”

The Simile

A figure of speech

Made as bold as brass.

With comparisons made vivid,

Such as green as grass.

As free as a bird,

As clear as a bell,

As fresh as a daisy,

As hot as hell.

As good as gold,

As pale as a ghost,

As dry as a bone,

As deaf as a post.

As blind as a bat,

As drunk as a lord,

As brave as a lion,

As stiff as a board.

As clear as mud,

As large as life,

As common as dirt,

As sharp as a knife.

As bald as a coot,

As blue as the sea,

As gentle as a lamb,

As busy as a bee.

As clear as crystal,

As light as a feather,

As cunning as a fox,

As changeable as the weather.

As cold as ice,

As big as a house,

As bright as a button,

As quiet as a mouse.

Similes aplenty,

They crystalize,

By using strange couplings

To emphasise!