Tag Archives: short story

Short Story Sharing – Tea for Two

6 Jan

It’s time for a short story again! I decided to try and write something a little different than I normally do  (it’s so much easier to write happy things, isn’t it?) , but it still isn’t what I was originally thinking it would be. It’s interesting how the writer isn’t really the one in charge of the story. I hope you enjoy anyway.

Prompt: write about a conversation that’s had over a cup of tea. Is it sinister? Devastating news? Meeting someone they’ve longed to?

shrtstoryteafortwo

The small table had been set to the nines. The tiered serving plates were filled with tea sandwiches, cookies and truffles. A small bouquet lent its color and fragrance while the china boasted its fine craftsmanship. Golden spoons rested on white napkins. Teacups sat atop their saucers, and the small teapot sat full of golden liquid, steam rising from the spout. Nothing had been overlooked for this tete a tete. The old man stepped back to survey his handiwork and a crooked smile covered his face. Pleased with his results, he took off the flowered apron and hung it gently on its hook. Noticing that his visitor was due to arrive any minute, he shuffled down the hall to the bedroom to change his shirt.

At the chiming of the bell, he made his way to the front door to welcome the young woman who stood impatiently on the other side. She paused when she saw the table, set so elaborately, that he had to encourage her to sit down while he served.  He could tell she was nervous, but he didn’t comment, he simply poured the tea and motioned toward the tower of treats within easy reach. Her long fingers plucked a truffle off the plate and nibbled it.

“These are delicious.” Her comment came without thought, the taste so surprised her that she momentarily forgot her vow of stubborn silence.

The old man bobbed his head, “I’m glad you like them. There’s a little chocolate shop around the corner. We’ll have to go, next time.”

At that, the young woman’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think so.”

“We don’t have to. I’m happy to get some more. It’s one of my favorite places to -”

“No. I mean. I mean, there won’t be a next time, George.”

The words, so softly spoken, still pierced his heart so sharp that he hunched over and all his spirit seemed to leave him.

“He doesn’t like you coming, does he.”

Despite her decision to be brave, a tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. “He only let me come to tell you I won’t be back.”

George nodded and sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. “I can’t very well blame him. Well, let’s enjoy this time we have then.” With a visible show of effort, he raised himself up again and picked up his teacup, holding it out in a toast, “To times to be remembered, to people to be embraced and to love, that knows nothing of jealousy or hate.”

In that moment, the young woman realized how much she hadn’t seen before, in her past visits to this small house, the visits where she’d sat quietly, letting him tell her about his life and long-dead wife. He’d ask her questions and she’d give him the tiniest details in return, not really sure she wanted him in her life. But now, as it was all coming to an end she realized that the man who lived in it, the man that she’d never get to know fully as her father – was the richest man in town.

Have you had a fancy tea laid out for you? I’d love to hear about it! Have a happy weekend!

~Laura

 

 

Short Story Sharing – The Door

29 Jun

shortstorysharing

Once again I’m awake in the wee hours of the morning (if you thought of this song, kudos to you ) so here’s a snippet of a story I’m working on. I really might pare it down and try turning it into a picture book but I’m enjoying it so I hope you do!

“The door that, when opened, would show her anything she wanted to see, was finally before her. Eagerly she grasped the handle and turned but nothing happened. No matter how hard she tried, it stayed solidly shut. Her cheeks puffed and her face turned red with her efforts but the lock that held it in place was not moved.  In frustration she stepped back and stared at the frustrating door knob, when finally she realized, if it was locked – there must be a key! Spinning away from the door, she searched everywhere for the key – in boxes and bags, baskets and drawers, dark shelves and hidden corners were gone through. A room that was overflowing with every book, toy and child’s game imaginable was there. But no key. By the time she plopped herself down on the floor in frustration, her ringlets were in disarray, her dress was wrinkled and the buckle of one shoe had broken. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the large round door in front of her. Her chin quivered and breath got short, but just before an ear-splitting scream was released, a small voice stopped her. “That won’t help, you know. It rarely ever does.” Drawing a startled breath and looking around her, the little girl spied a small mouse sitting atop an upside down china cup. In his hands was what looked to be a cake, only a miniature one so small that only in hands so tiny as a mouse’s did it look like a grand cake. In her distress she didn’t think of the oddity of having a mouse talk, she only replied indignantly, “Yes it does. I get whatever I want that way.” The mouse took a nibble of the grand cake and shook his head as he chewed. “Wherever you’re from, it’s clear it’s not here. For here, behaving that way only brings you one thing.” Tears gone and hysterics forgotten, the girl crossed her legs and straightened her dress. “What’s that?” “Death.” “Death?! You’re lying.” Her messy ringlets were tossed over her shoulder and she crossed her arms in front of her. “No, no. It’s true. If one does not behave themselves here, one does not behave anywhere.” At his little rhyme, the mouse chuckled to himself. “Well said, well said.” His whiskers quivered when he talked, but even more so when he chuckled. They almost danced when he finally laughed out loud. “I gather you have not been here long, or you would know this rule already.” “That is a stupid rule.” She felt proud of herself when using that word, her parents didn’t like it, and so she tried to use it as often as possible.  Gathering her dress in one hand, she started to get up until she heard the small voice again. “And where do you think you are going? I have not said you could leave.” “What? I don’t have to listen to you.” “If you want to know how to open that door, you do. Sit down.” As anyone knows when achieving something that is forbidden, it only increases your longing for it. But to all of a sudden be told how to get it, and that it is alright, decreases the attraction it once held for you.  While this held true for the little girl, she found she did still want to open the door. She refused to acknowledge this to the mouse that offered to help though, “Why do you think I care about that old door?” A little, teeny-tiny huff escaped his lips, “I dare say you do care. That was the reason you were about to set up a squall, isn’t it?” “A squall?” “A ruckus. A noise. Crying, child, screaming. That horrible noise you were about to burden my ears with.” Throughout this conversation the mouse continued eating his grand cake, one nibble at a time. Between every few bites he would clean his whiskers and take a drink of tea out of a dainty doll’s cup. Not liking that he wasn’t telling her anything about the door, and seemed to be partially ignoring her, she brushed her ringlets behind her shoulders, and said nastily, “It would serve you right, you little…” But that’s all she got out for he lifted a finger and shook it at her, “ah-ah-ah. None of that now. Remember the rule. Sit down. Tell me your name.” His voice, while being smooth also demanded that she obey at once. There were only a few people that can do this with their voice, and our friend the mouse, is one of them. To her dismay, the little girl found that she had sat prettily down on a cushion beside the table the mouse was on. “Melinda. My name is Melinda Cryalot.” “Hmm, it suits you I dare say. My name is Mr. Keeper.” “Keeper? What kind of a name is that?” She said with a sneer, for you see, she didn’t realize that her own name told others what type of a girl she was. “A fitting name. For, you see, I am the keeper of the key.” He said it all so calmly, as if it didn’t really mean anything. But really, he was watching her from the corner of his eye as he finished his cake and cleaned his whiskers for the last time.  It was very important how she responded to what he said, it would mean he could go on sitting comfortable in his chair, or he’d have to get up and do something about this newest child. He knew the King of The Land of Rules had a reason for sending Melinda Cryalot here, he just hadn’t figured out how to properly help her. So he was hoping inspiration would strike in the next few minutes.”

Yes, that’s probably more than a ‘snippet’ but I just couldn’t shorten it any…. Like I said, I’m loving the story already and have so many plans for this little girl! If you’ve posted a story you’re working on, share your link below – I’d enjoy reading it!  ~Laura

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