That dining room wasn’t used anymore. It’s a beautiful table, mahogany, and still pristine since it’s usually covered up. She walked around it, slowly. Almost reverently. And then she stopped at the top of the table. There were so many memories.
With her eyes shut she thought about what she’d done. A little girl, wearing a pretty dress for Christmas. And all those grown-ups.
She flashed a thought. Opening her eyes. Should she look at that covered up mirror? Would she dare? But no. Too many ghosts still here.
She’s going to leave forever. There’s just one thing she’ll take…
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman mused while she tramped across the field on that farm, listening to everyone’s accents, she hadn’t really thought about that before, since all her friends sound pretty normal – mostly French, Paris in fact, although Scatty was originally from Ireland, and of course, she herself was from Liverpool, and there wasn’t much difference between the two of them the way they could speak together if they wanted to.
However, Inspector Clouseau was a completely different kettle of fish (as one might say), since he spoke very oddly indeed, was he really a Frenchman? she wondered, as she peered at him once again, as he marched along with his over-sized magnifying glass.
It was a long way to walk still, and the red-head woman continued to muse to herself; she thought all the things she had done in the past – breaking in, and breaking out, on various schemes, like that big safe, for example, and she and the two gargoyles had kind of helped – even thinking the three of them should have plotted a heist of their own.
She stopped… dead… as she pondered to herself, was she heartless? was she uncaring? even ruthless..?
‘Come on,’ grinned Scatty, ‘do you need a hand?’ as the two of them linked arms.
Just a few metres and all of them were there, as they crowded in that last shed -and yes, it was amazing… diamonds galore on that one shelf, as Inspector Clouseau said: ‘I am an Office of the Leu.’
The two boys had almost finished decorating the rather large Christmas tree. There were many baubles and lots of tiny lights. The two of them were trying to reach the very top of the tree to put the beautiful big star on it. They were becoming rather reckless until they decided to use a chair. And even then there had been a small squabble to decide who would stand up there.
Great Aunt Margot appeared from the kitchen. She inspected the tree. ‘Very nicely done. Have you wrapped all your presents?’ ‘We have, including that one which arrived earlier today. It said it was ‘post-haste’, and we were told to partly open the parcel, and then we had to rewrap it with some pretty paper.’ They looked to each other, and then to Great Aunt Margot. The two boys said in unison: ‘It’s for you, but we are foxed about that.’ ‘Fancy that,’ said Great Aunt Margot, as she craned over the various presents in the side table, spying that small object. She tilted her eyebrows up.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘everything’s ready, a lovely Christmas Eve dinner awaits. A fish feast!’
All three of them cleared everything away, then they sat around a couple of couches. Great Aunt Margot said: ‘we can open just one present this evening. We’ll choose.’ The two boys opened a big joint present. ‘More Lego!’ they yelled happily. Great Aunt Margot opened the intriguing present. ‘Ah, a book. It’s called ‘Pingo’. I’ll enjoy this immensely!’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
As she walked along the beach. And on her own. So many memories. Some good, some bad, and some in-between. Believe the impossible. A small smile. Did she believe that anymore? She stopped. She looked out at the ocean. Always beautiful – fair weather or storm. There’s no telling beyond the seasons.
How many years had flown away? Is anyone left? The sands would know. Would they say?
She turned, but looked back again. Is it over, she wondered? Another story to break? So many broken hearts… Couldn’t it be happy – just once? But it’s time to move on. For her.
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Fiction with a lot of Fact Word Count: 100
‘So here he is,’ grinned the red-headed woman, as all of them got out of that wonderful limo; she walked up to him, offering a firm handshake: ‘such a pleasure to meet-and-greet you, the amazing Inspector Clouseau,’ as she smiled radiantly.
The Inspector Clouseau was wearing his usual trenchcoat, it was very cold and he had been stomping around for a bit, but it was clear that he had been thinking thoughts though; although it seemed he wasn’t going to share much at the moment.
The farmer appeared, he was wearing his work jacket blues, with his beret up top and his wellington boots, as he mumbled to himself, ‘such a shame, such a devastating calamity, even though I’m often shunned, since not many people like to look after snails, but what a waste… and money, so much money.’
‘We mustn’t give up yet,’ said Francis, ‘since those jewels must be somewhere, and you, Monsieur Farmer, you shouldn’t succumb with despair yet; I’m sure these things are connected, don’t we think?’ – all of them agreed, as they began to walk around the place, especially all those sheds.
‘See that channel,’ said one of the gargoyles, ‘no, not that way, look the other way, over there,’ – ‘oh, I see, I can see a dip,’ – ‘okay, lets go have a little look,’ – so both of them set out across the last shed, while bickering a bit, as usual.
‘Hey, everyone come here, look what we have found, you’ll be stunned at this!’
The two boys were laden with presents as they grinned to each other. Great Aunt Margotwas chatting to stallholders while holding her huge basket. ‘It’s a lovely atmosphere when it’s Christmas,’ she said.
‘We can sit down by that useful bench, and we can have a little unprompted picnic. I assume you’re both hungry?’ ‘Always,’ they chortled. ‘We’ve crispy baguette, some creamy butter and some pâté.’ They munched for a bit.
Then Great Aunt Margot said, ‘that’s enough for now. All we need is a smallish tree and we can hoist it back home.’ And that’s what they did.
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
They had been singing for ages and loudly too, the songs, the lyrics and the melodies were all off key, but none of them cared, since this was a great outing; they hadn’t been all together for such a long time, more than half a year, but time is a strange idea if some of this lot are immortal.
Mr Cushing was driving, as always, in his purring limousine, and The Old One sat next to him; they had both been living in the south of France – very clement and useful too, since they both love going to the Cannes Festival and hang out with the hoi polloi (not).
Francis was sitting in the middle row, he had been reading the newspapers avidly, almost desperately to find anymore news about those jewels which had been stolen from the Louvre; it was only he who wouldn’t sing, while his wife, Joan, and her best friend Scatty, were clapping their hands on the other side and singing their hearts out.
The two gargoyles sat in the back and looked out in the rear of the car, eager to see a particular police car, since Inspector Clouseau could be just behind them.
The red-headed woman had been moving around in that gorgeous long car, talking to all her lovely friends; she was very keen to see what would occur, and she shouted: ‘we must be almost there at that farm.’
And a moment later she grinned: ‘it’s that it… all those big sheds.’
‘We went into a little supermarket, didn’t we?’ ‘We did. Happy memories…’ ‘It was in a foreign place and quaint. You remember?’ ‘Greece?’ ‘Not that time.’ ‘No, you’re right, it was Turkey.’
‘We sat down, since there was a few tables.’ ‘And we drank some very thick and sweet coffee.’
‘Then we had a little look around the shelves…’ ‘… and we bought some postcards and we sat down again and wrote them.’ ‘They even had some stamps.’
‘Then after that we bought a tiny bottle of raki.’ ‘And what else?’ ‘You must remember that?’ ‘Oh, of course – Turkish Delight!’
~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Memoir Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman had been feeling rather pensive as she continued to listen to the two friendly gargoyles, while she rummaged in her big bag.
‘As you know we had enlisted several clever animals for a while, although sadly they have moved on to another case, we believe,’ – ‘not surprising though, since they are jet-setting animals who solve crimes all around the world,’ as the two of them grinned to each other.
‘You know there are still protests around the Louvre,’ said one of the gargoyles, ‘since so many very exquisite jewels had been stolen, and they are still mostly missing, so it’s vital that we stay in touch with Inspector Clouseau, you must know him surely,’ as the two of them looked at her; she affirmed.
‘So what are we going to do now?’ asked the red-headed woman, as she opened her notebook and clicked her retractable pen; while the two gargoyles looked at their phones, and a moment later they both said: ‘ooh, breaking news… look.’
One of the phones pinged, it was Inspector Clouseau who said: ‘it’s a decoy, I’m sure – never mind about those escargots, but those fabulous jewels, they will be hidden in some very strange place – they will reappear, mark my words.’
She’d looked in the bedroom and bathroom. She’d looked in the kitchen and dining room, but no. She was almost positive she had left them in the living room since she’d been reading. She sat down by her coffee table.
She had a thought.
Maybe those glasses had fallen under the couch. She knelt down and poked around, just as her cat appeared. They were at the same level. The cat playfully tapped one paw at her cheek. Suddenly, those glasses dropped from her head.
Aha, clever cat! Those glasses had been there all the time.
~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Anecdote Word Count: 100
