Meeting Mr Tingle
by Katy Kat
Posted: Wednesday, June 7, 2006 Word Count: 401 Summary: A fairy tale... |
December. Christmas Eve to be more precise.
The cottage was in darkness. Ice laced the dirty windows.
Snow had been falling for days, obscuring the pathways to her door. The old lady slipped in and out of sleep.
She was dreaming. A frown creased the old face.
"Mother! Be reasonable! You know things can't carry on like this. I'm a busy man. I have a job. A family. I can't keep trailing out here. Betty and I have looked around 'The Evergreens'. You'd love it there. People to talk to. Meals cooked for you..."
"What about my dog?"
"Oh to hell with the bloody dog! I'm off. Sort yourself out!"
A teardrop ran between the creases of papery skin.
The Grandfather clock chimed the hour.
The old dog, sensing her distress, lay his big head on her lap and cried with her. He was hungry. They had shared the last of the food yesterday. He lay across cold feet and tried to warm them.
She awoke with a start. The dog was barking. Someone was banging on her door. She tried to stand but she couldn't feel her legs. She tried to call out but her voice was frail. Who could that be out in this weather? Oh dear...oh dear..
No matter. She lay back in the chair and closed her eyes.
The Grandfather clock chimed the hour.
As her eyes opened again the old lady remained quite still and tried to understand what she saw. There was a glow in the room. Shadows flickered on the walls. Her hands and feet tingled as circulation returned. There was someone nearby but she wasn't afraid. No she wasn't afraid...
He was kneeling at her feet. "C'mon Mary. Try a taste o' this broth me darlin'. Warm yer cockles will this".
Warmth trickled down inside her. Good.. so good..
Such a kind face. Big strong hands - so gentle as they wiped broth from her chin.
"I've got to go now me lovely. The doc's on his way to 'ave a look at yer. There's food in yer pantry an' ol' Baskerville's fed an' watered.
"Who are you?" The voice was barely a whisper. "Do I know you?"
"Don't matter me darlin'. I knows you."
"Your name...what's your name?", she called as he made his way through the door and out into the night.
She couldn't quite catch his reply. Sounded like Chris...
The cottage was in darkness. Ice laced the dirty windows.
Snow had been falling for days, obscuring the pathways to her door. The old lady slipped in and out of sleep.
She was dreaming. A frown creased the old face.
"Mother! Be reasonable! You know things can't carry on like this. I'm a busy man. I have a job. A family. I can't keep trailing out here. Betty and I have looked around 'The Evergreens'. You'd love it there. People to talk to. Meals cooked for you..."
"What about my dog?"
"Oh to hell with the bloody dog! I'm off. Sort yourself out!"
A teardrop ran between the creases of papery skin.
The Grandfather clock chimed the hour.
The old dog, sensing her distress, lay his big head on her lap and cried with her. He was hungry. They had shared the last of the food yesterday. He lay across cold feet and tried to warm them.
She awoke with a start. The dog was barking. Someone was banging on her door. She tried to stand but she couldn't feel her legs. She tried to call out but her voice was frail. Who could that be out in this weather? Oh dear...oh dear..
No matter. She lay back in the chair and closed her eyes.
The Grandfather clock chimed the hour.
As her eyes opened again the old lady remained quite still and tried to understand what she saw. There was a glow in the room. Shadows flickered on the walls. Her hands and feet tingled as circulation returned. There was someone nearby but she wasn't afraid. No she wasn't afraid...
He was kneeling at her feet. "C'mon Mary. Try a taste o' this broth me darlin'. Warm yer cockles will this".
Warmth trickled down inside her. Good.. so good..
Such a kind face. Big strong hands - so gentle as they wiped broth from her chin.
"I've got to go now me lovely. The doc's on his way to 'ave a look at yer. There's food in yer pantry an' ol' Baskerville's fed an' watered.
"Who are you?" The voice was barely a whisper. "Do I know you?"
"Don't matter me darlin'. I knows you."
"Your name...what's your name?", she called as he made his way through the door and out into the night.
She couldn't quite catch his reply. Sounded like Chris...