Part 2

Reckon it may need a little more work but an idea in the making at least...

Continued...

The little man said nothing, his hat bent low over his face, but he pulled his coat aside slightly and pulled out a long black walking cane. He then lifted the cane above his head where it reached the door bell and leaned forward ever so slightly on his feet. DING-DONG went the bell as the wood pressed against it.

'Oh I see,' gulped Robert a little flustered. 'Er...ok, how can I help you?'

The cane went slowly backside the coat and out came a parcel which unfurled before him to reveal a string of cheap shiny watches.

'Oh! No. Sorry. I....not today thank you.' said Robert abruptly

He went to close the door, a little annoyed but relieved to get back to his supper. It failed to shut. Looking down he saw the black cane had once again appeared and was lodged between the door and the frame. He looked up crossly.
'Excuse me, but do you mind?'
The salesman held up a hand, indicating that he wanted one further moment.
'What?' Robert heaved impatient, widening the gap only slightly. 'To be frank sir, I am just about to sit down to dinner. I've had a long day and I'm really not in the mood.'
The cane returned to the coat...and out came a large portable stereo.

Where does he find the space?

The strange little man placed it on the floor and the pressed play.Extremely loud rock music began blaring out through the speakers. Robert instinctively raised his hands to his ears.

'What the-' he shouted 'Seriously I haven't got time for this - my food is getting cold!!!'

The stereo switched off abruptly. The man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He picked up the stereo and turned to go.

'Wait!' yelled Robert, perplexed. 'What was the point of that? What was the sell?'

The man kept walking. He waved his hand dismissively after him. Robert rolled his eyes. 'Weirdo,' he muttered under his breath and slammed the door. He was still pulling a disgruntled face and wondering about the bizarre incident as he entered the kitchen, but confusion quickly switched to alarm when he looked down at his dinner plate.

It was empty...

Glass littered the kitchen surface by the window and a small red brick lay nearby on the carpet. Robert's mouth hung open in horror. It had all been a distraction! He swiftly retraced his steps back to the front door, which he quickly flung open. He ran out into the street, looking frantically both ways.

A little distance away he spotted something and he quickly moved towards it. There, on the pavement lay a pile of clothes: the tench coat, the hat and the shiny string of watches. Further on he could make out a cane and the large portable stereo. Squinting further still into the distance, he could have sworn he saw two big bushy orange tails rapidly disappear round the corner...

...but most telling of all that a crime had been committed was the lone yellow chip, stained with red ketchup, reassembling a severed finger, not far from his shoe...

Another technical hitch

A few days have elapsed and I have not been keeping my promise to write a sentence every day! Why? Well, I kept meaning to come back and do Part 2 of the last entry but things got in the way and there wasn't a nice free window of space in which to do this. I do want to come back and finish this little story but I need to try and keep with the whole routine of this blog... I realise I won't be able to write every day but I should try to be a little more disciplined.

I haven't got time right now to carry on Part 2 - I may have later - but for now, I shall just write a sentence or two...

She sat at the bus stop waiting for the last bus to come. Hair dishevelled, stinking of booze and clasping a jar of pickles, which she was eating with gay abandon - brine trickling down her arm and into the sleeves of her coat.

1st part of a two part story...

(This would be a full story, I reckon, except it is now lunch time and I must go...tune in for part 2 tomorrow hopefully...)
Robert was just about to sit down to dinner. It had been a long, long day at the office and he was worn out. As a result, he was less than enthusiastic about the thought of slaving away at the kitchen stove this evening - or even waiting around by microwave for that matter. Instead, he had nipped into the local fish and chip shop on the way home. He reasoned he deserved a treat for all that hard work. This was the little rainbow moment of this otherwise grey, boring day. Sad but true.

Key through the lock; door open; straight into the kitchen - quick, quick, quick; shoes flung in any old direction, coat tossed onto a chair... All that was needed was a bottle of Heinz, he wasn't even prepared to change out of his starchy office clothes. Must eat now, was all he was thinking as the smell of frying oil drifted up through the newspaper (yes, newspaper, his local was proper authentic and renown for it - the best fish and chip shop in the county award 2010, thank you very much!) and sank into his skin from where he was gripping it.

Paper unwrapped; lovely big piece of battered fish onto plate; heaps of slightly bashed up yummy thick chips; generous squirt of Heinz. Fork: check! knife: check! Fish on fork, fork to mouth and....

DING-DONG!

The fork hovered in mid-air.
'Bloody hell,' he swore, his eyes looked towards the door. Eyes back to fish on fork...
'F-it, they can F-off.' And fork towards mouth, ready to enter...saliva glands squirting and drooling....oh boy, oh boy, mega rainbow moment and...

DING-DONG! DING-DONG, DING-DONG, DING-DONG! (in fast, desperate succession)

ARGHHHHH! He was up off the chair, striding to the door, yanking it open with some force.

'What?!'

At first there appeared to be no one there.

'What-the...?'

And then a little cough and Robert's eyes were drawn downwards. There on the doorstep was the tiniest man he had ever seen. Dressed in a sort of nineteen-forties trench-coat and hat, with briefcase... not taller than three feet.

'How did you ring that bell?' asked Robert amazed, forgetting his manners and his dinner temporarily.

Just a sentence today? Okay...a little bit more...

Last night I slipped outside as the clock struck twelve in my pajamas. I left my fluffy slippers on the doorstep and let the soft dewy grass blades slip between my toes as I ran silently down to the back of the garden. The moon was high in the sky and the garden was lit just well enough that I fancied we might all have a barbecue in this dim light. Wouldn't that be lovely? A moonlit barbecue...no artificial lights...we could even wear our swimwear and go moon bathing!

I looked for white and yellow eyes in the bushes and high in the trees, I listened for the night time sounds. Croaks and squeals and the wind lightly rushing through the dark blue leaves. I crouched down on all fours and hopped along like a frog, hop, hop, hop, jumping from one paving slap to the next. As I did my eyes darted under the hedgerows looking for potential hob goblins and foxes.

Suddenly I caught a stare. Two small orbs floated in the dark. Then they blinked and disappeared and there was a crash through the undergrowth as it fled. I wanted to know and see what they saw...I wanted them to share their secrets...

Trying a different approach...

Okay, it is now the 20th of January and eleven days have passed since I wrote the first entry...so this experiment is not work as I had hoped...I think I need to be braver and more quirky if necessary. So...even if I cannot write a passage or have no inspiration on one particular day, I will aim to at least write one sentence every day. They will probably be very random and they may or may not take form....this is a more manageable task so let's try this.

So...my sentence/passage for today...

The bruised and battered banana sat on the desk in the office. It eyed up the diet coke can suspiciously. It didn't trust its shiny metal exterior...The banana knew about internal matters from experience. Something told the banana that this coke can was not the solid character that he made himself out to be.

If only he could prove his theory...but being a banana there was little he could do but lie on the desk and slowly grow browner. He was hoping someone would eventually put him out of his misery. Worst case scenario was to turn completely black and wind up in the bin. What a waste of potential. His banana brain shifted back to the coke can...he knew his competitor would end up in the bin eventually too, but he also knew that by then he would have fullfilled his purpose. The odds were in his favour.

What's he got going that's so good? What's he got that I haven't? The banana wondered jealously. Just because he is oh so shiny...Looks can be deceiving... He's not even natural! Where as me! Full of potassium! Full of vitamins! Good for babies! A natural sweet to satisfy sugar cravings... He mentally went on and on. He would have probably broke into song about his benefits, but whilst there was indeed a natual opera singer lurking within this banana, fate had cast the short straw in this instance, which is fair enough because the banana had enough talent really.

If the banana had had eyes they would have given the diet coke can the evils. You! It thought. You! You're just full of EMPTY CALORIES!!!!! (which was actually ill-informed as diet coke does not actually contain any calories. Full fat coke on the otherhand...well, then his slander would have been accurate)

Fortunately, the coke can was oblivious to all this built up resentment and internal commotion. The coke can was simply thinking about one thing: Love (with a capital L).

For you see, the coke can had never seen such a beautiful banana. Its brown and beaten nature was, to the coke can's mind, truly vintage. The coke can prayed, and hoped in its cold metal heart that the banana would fulfil its purpose. It hoped that it might stay on the desk long enough to witness this glorious moment. All the coke can really wanted in its life was to leave this world happy, knowing that the banana was going to be okay.

The coke can never knew what the banana was thinking. The banana never knew the coke can's true feelings. It would not have made a difference if they had. A few hours later the banana was eaten, washed down with large slurps of diet coke. Each party had differing thoughts and mixed feelings of this experience, but in the end, having served their purpose, together, they shared a common grave.

Snowy woods

She’d been reading a book about creative visualisation and now, finished, she decided to retreat inside her imagination for a while. She imagined the landscape of her life as a dark and endless forest during the winter. The ground was covered with a few inches of snow and there was no light in this forest, except for the moon which reflected dully off the white powder and sometimes made the silver birch trees shimmer. Little silver knives of flickering light. It was silent here. That eerie, muffled snow silent. The forest grew blacker and murkier in the distance. She imagined it never ended. It went on and on and on and it was all the same.

Yet here, in the centre, she decided to create something new. A heart. It grew up from the icy ground slowly. Cracking and twisting as it went. At first a big heap of black soil and roots. A lump. But it shifted and changed and edges were defined and accentuated. She worked it like soft clay.

Before long it began to look like a house – a small cottage with a thatched roof –and she made it gorgeous. She put all the warmth of her soul into its creation. Everything about it was good. There were small bulbous windows filled with pot plants that seemed to blossom in abundance despite the snow. Cherry red curtains hung around them, tied up with thin pretty white ribbons. The door was strong and sturdy wood, also with a little window at the top, and warm light shone through it and cast its glow onto the snow.

Anyone walking in the desolation of these woods would want to go inside, but then she fashioned a lock and the lock was fastened. ‘This is my heart’ she said. ‘And within it lies comfort and happiness and only the good things I wish to keep inside it.’ She drew a solid silver key from her dressing gown pocket; it glistened faintly in the dark. She inserted it in the lock, turn it firmly and went within.

The cottage was warm and cosy. A small log fire burnt in the corner. Sofas to sink into and dream framed the room and there were colourful crochet blankets of every woollen colour from the rainbow. A small cat lay by the fireside and he was black and he looked at her with beautiful sea blue eyes. On the kitchen table were a multitude of decorative mugs. All steaming with hot, delicious comfort and a plate piled high with sweet and savoury pastry delights that made the mouth water. ‘These are for my guests. For those I love who I allow into my heart.’ She said, and then she took one and curled up with the cat on a sofa nearest to the fire.

For a while they sat watching the fire flicker, snap and pop. She, content to just be still and the cat, happy enough to allow a low steady purr. Somewhere during that time she noticed the grandfather clock in the corner ticking softly. She checked the time. It was twenty to midnight. Later she would hear soft, padded footsteps growing closer from outside.

She knew who it was for he had once lived here with her. Eventually, she went to the door and opened it. The cat followed, entwining its fluffed up tail around her leg.
‘Hello,’ she said calmly through the snow. It was falling gently now.
‘Hello,’ he echoed back.
‘I suppose it is rather cold out?’
‘Yes, it is rather.’
'Have you come a long way?'
'You can't imagine.'
'Actually, I think I can. Would you like a drink? Something warm?'
‘Yes…Thanks.’
‘You know you can’t come in.’
‘I know.’