by Mary Jacob, first draft started 16 January 2013
This story was made using the following words contrbuted by friends (yes, it is more than 7 because words kept coming in!):
- Anastasia Allen knitting
- Janice De Haaff stuff
- Anastasia Allen puffin
- Huw Owen hydraulic
- Jim Curry Chiaroscuro
- Yana Hearl huddle
- Ken Humphreys Haberdashery
- Steve Simpson prehensile
- H. Lori Schnieders snow
- Phil Wheeler tail
She was curled up in the window seat, absorbed in her knitting, when he came in. He didn’t want to break her concentration, so he paused in the doorway to appreciate the scene before his eyes. Dark hardwood floors, stone fireplace, shadows in the curved arches of the ceiling. How lucky they were to live in such a place, even with the cobwebs and dust in the corners, and dodgy plumbing. Snow was starting to fall, just visible through the stone windows. The light on her smooth face made a chiaroscuro effect, like a painting by Vermeer. Maybe he should ask her to pose for him, but of course light isn’t reliable. Tomorrow it would be completely different from the silvery luminescence that he saw right now. Even a few minutes would make a huge difference.
He didn’t want to break the spell, so he turned away, but she must have heard his footsteps, because she called after him. “Joe? José? Is that you?”
“I love it when you use my Spanish name! It makes me feel like I’ve brought a little bit of my home here to this cold climate. What are you making?”
“Oh, here, let me clear up my stuff, sit with me. It’s a puffin, see? I started with the colourful beak.”
“It’s for Cora’s little girl. What do you think?” She held up a tangle of bright yarn for his approval.
“Hm…I’m not sure it’s obviously a bird, sweetie. Not yet, at any rate. Is it supposed to have a prehensile tail?” He picked up the dangling skein and wrapped it around her head.
“Joe, that’s cruel, stop it.”
“Okay, okay.” He huddled next to her on the bench. They both shivered at the same time.
“I need to go to the haberdashery to get some more supplies, though, I need some buttons and I want to put silky black ribbons through here. Can we go into the village? Have you fixed the hydraulics on the truck yet?”
“No, and I’m not sure it’s going to happen today. It’s too cold to work on it now. Anyway, we don’t have money for fancy ribbons and stuff. Don’t forget we’re just squatting here. Sometimes you act like you’re the lady of the manor.”
“Oh Joe, don’t spoil it. It was so nice just now. Let me carry on for a little while, then I’ll make you some leek and potato soup.”
“And we’ll dine in the great hall?”
“Yes, by candlelight. Like the lord and lady of the manor.”
He gave her shoulders a squeeze and walked out, having completely forgotten what it was he wanted in the first place. Or maybe he did get what he came for, just possibly.