Magician Magnus wanted a new home, but finding a suitable one was proving somewhat tricky. However, the latest place Esther the Agent showed him emitted positive vibes.
The backyard was a tad scruffy, but it had possibilities. He turned on a tap, said ‘freeze’, and the water froze. Good start! He kicked a hose, and it squirmed like a snake. Excellent! As his trusty labracadabrador cocked its leg and peed on a terracotta planter, a flower pot ascended into the air. Perfect!
“I’ll have it”, said Magnus.
“F-f-f-f-fine”, stuttered a startled Esther as she spun round and dashed down the street.
Arthur was chatting with his fellow farmers at The Baaamy Innn, ”I was standing next to a foreign chap at the bar the other day, his English wasn’t too good and Len poured him about three drinks before giving him the one he actually wanted, anyway, he looked at me and said something like ‘hollow, how you is?’, I said, ‘hello, very well thank you how are you?’ and he said, ‘no, I mean who is you?’, so I said, ‘Arthur, who are you?’, and he said, ‘velly well thankoo’, then he put a £50 note on the bar and walked off with all three drinks!”
“You see that bloke over there with the hollow expression on his face”, said Ted, “he looks as miserable as sin, I smiled as I walked past him and he just gave me a dirty look which is odd, because yesterday he was sitting in the same place chatting with people all aound him, life and soul of the party, I even heard him say that his librarian’s favourite drink is tequila mockingbird, beat that Colin!”; Babs laughed and said, “that’s Jim, Ted, the guy you saw yesterday was John, his twin brother!”
Bert took part in the pub’s carved pumpkin competition on Saturday, and his mates where curious to know why he hadn’t seemed particulaly excited about it, “because it was a hollow victory”, he chuckled, “which reminds me, it’s Guy Fawkes Night tomorrow and I expect my creation will end up on the bonfire with the all the losers; I can’t wait to see the fireworks, Len always puts on a good display – mind you, the way things are going with AI, he wont need to much longer, he’ll just make do with a hollow gram or whatever it’s called” – Suzie at the next table leapt to her feet, “remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot…”
Vince from the vineyard walked in and joined them, “I just had a round of golf, it was going quite well until I wacked a ball into the hollow, I went down to hit it back on course and you won’t believe what happened, I got a hole in one…”, he was interrupted by a round of applause then he went on to say, “some idiot had left a broken bottle on the ground, I stepped on it and got a hole in one of my shoes just look at it”.
Colin’s moment had arrived, “firework sales have rocketed – the cop saw two shoplifters, one stole batteries and one stole fireworks, he charged one and let the other off – Happy Hollowing said the pumpkin – my dad’s mum said she felt empty inside, she’s a hollow gram – an empty jar of Cheeze Whiz is Cheese Was – don’t write on an empty stomach, use paper – he talks like an empty tip jar, non cents – I always keep an empty milk bottle in the fridge incase someone wants black coffee – empty batteries cost nothing, they are free of charge – the room full of married couples was empty, not a single person there – her empty purse was always the same, never any change in it – not all fairy tales start with once upon a time, some say, ‘if I’m elected….’.”
Len’s dearly departed Maggie was a stickler for making sure the bed was always made perfectly, and for her sake he always ensured there was never a ripple in the duvet cover, and always plumped up the pillows; however, when he climbed in tonight he noticed the pillow alongside his had a hollow in it; “are you there, my love?” he muttered – ‘yes’ , she whispered, ‘it’s been a long time!’ – Len smiled a saucy smile!
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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories, where this week’s given word is Hollow
Trevor was a cheeky little lad. Squirt, his schoolmates called him! True to his nickname, his lifelong job involved maintaining the fountain and hosing flower beds in the park.
The day he retired, he threw a coin in the fountain and made a wish. It never came true.
On his ninetieth birthday, he went back. The fountain stopped flowing years ago. Down among the dead leaves, he found his coin.
‘It’s soiled and worthless now’, he thought, ‘a bit like me’.
Wrapped in my warmest coat, a woolly scarf around my neck, I wished my colleagues farewell and headed off into the wrath of a winter’s night.
The freezing wind assaulted me, and a shower of hail struck my cheeks like a thousand icy needles. A car’s headlights blinded me as a frustrated driver honked his horn. My heart missed a beat. Noise, hail, light, dazzling light. If I wasn’t awake, it would be a nightmare.
Two more corners and the bridge would be in sight. As I crossed the river, the street light beside my cottage would glow like a beacon, drawing me home. A few steps more, then I’d be safe. Safe from the hostile world that surrounded me.
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The door closed behind me, and for a moment or two I stood in the hallway, my eyes closed. It was warm. It smelt lovely. It was quiet. It was good.
As I sank into my chair, a log hissed and crackled in the hearth, and the flames that embraced it sent an orange glow around the room. My shadow flickered upon the wall like a faithful best friend. Drawing my legs up beneath me, I hugged my favourite cushion.
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Two worlds. One beyond the curtains, chilling, harsh and forbidding. One within, welcoming, snug and cosseting.
Nobody knew Mollie and I were lovers, not her husband, not my wife. Who would have suspected it of two doddery old folk like us? We felt not a glimmer of remorse nor fragments of regret for what we got up to. However, we hoped not to suffer penance when we knocked on heaven’s door.
We are both dead and buried now, but we don’t mourn, we don’t pine for each other. Because here in the shadowy graveyard we can do as we wish, unseen by the living, getting up to whatever ghostly goings-on we fancy!
Rest in peace? No way! Isn’t death wonderful!
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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirl, where this week’s given words are – dead pines penance mourns folk glimmer graveyard remorse ghostly fragments lover and shadowy
You never know what to expect when Connie turns up, one day she’ll be vivacious, the next, vile!
One day a year she’s both; she’ll gatecrash a Halloween party dressed as a smiling sorceress. She’ll frolic, dance and kiss people’s cheeks, then suddenly her inner witch erupts, and believe me, you would not wish to witness that!
