#tuesdayuseitinasentence : A colt’s tooth

 

‘Alway’s a colt’s tooth, that one,’ Gramma squinted in the candlelight, needle raised like a weapon over her mending.

Mother whisked the crumbs from the table with her cloth. ‘How can you say such things?’ She stopped suddenly, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other holding the rag before her. ‘He has been our verger for twenty one years. He was always … there.’

Gramma chuckled, sucking on her teeth as if they were barley sugars. ‘Verger or no, I’ve spied him over my prayer book, eyes on bonnets and bodices rather than the altar.’

‘Gramma, really,’ I said from my stool near the fire. ‘You mustn’t say such things.’

She tutted. ‘I’ve known that man all his life, Natty – I’ve known men all my life.’ She shot me a lewd wink as Mother returned to her fussing. ‘And I tell you – Verger Mason always had a wandering eye. Now the world knows he has wandering hands too. Well. No surprise to me.’

Mother stopped punishing the table and hurried from the room. Gramma went on attacking her stitching, lancing the fabric as if it were a barrel filled with fish. After I’d got her to bed and began to redo her mending, I heard Mother crying in the room above, the low keening of a heart fit to break.

Logs snapped and spat on the fire as I settled to finish my work.

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventure’s #tuesdayuseitinasentence. See the word – this week it’s COLT – and create a tale.

I’d never heard of the expression colt’s tooth until I did a quick search for this post – it refers to a young man’s wanton desires but can also mean an older man who keeps a younger woman. I rather like it.

 

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#tuesdayuseitinasentence : Wrapped in a coat of feathery down

 

The hail came first, always. Before the gales blew slate from the rooves and rooves from the houses, before the snow fell thick as down, bleached heavy as if every watching eye had been poked blind.

Hail loud as thrown gravel, blue like the shallow ocean. The same hail that had fallen the day she vanished, snatching her away into the winds, wrapping her in a cloak of feathery flakes.

And when the hail fell he would watch and wait in case one day it brought her home to him.

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. See the word, write a tale, see here to read the other stories and to add one of your own devising.

Three Line Tales : A simple lie

three line tales week 74: an empty school

Photo by Daniel von Appen on Unsplash


 

It was a simple lie. I didn’t even have to form the thought into words, Weber saw to that.

‘A yes is all we need. A yes and all of this can be over for you.’ His shirt was dark with sweat and even from the other side of the desk, I could smell last night’s schnapps on his breath, the sharp fug of raw onions.

One ‘yes’ and Professor Greenspan’s room became a store cupboard, his class taken by the oily Professor Marlin.

I walked past Greenspan’s apartment today. The windows were boarded up, misspelt obscenities scrawled across the warped wood. With a pen, I wrote in shaky text, I’m Sorry.

 


Written for Sonya at Only 100 Words’ Three Line Tales. See the pic and write a story. Go here to join in and to read the other tales.

 

#tuesdayuseitinasentence : Glamour shot


 

The Sands of Love.’ Sy pulled on one glove then the other, his fingers resembling over-stuffed sausages, straining against the latex.

‘What was that?’

‘Her first film role. Nineteen fifty three. Blink and you’d miss her.’

Francie looked down at her paperwork. ‘Never seen it.’

‘Not missing much. Gangster B movie. But she had glamour. Stood out, you know?’

Francie scribbled her signature at the bottom of the form before looking up.

Soap scum floated on the bath water, strands of long grey hair looped on the enamel. A crumpled square if tin foil – grubby brown shining at its centre – lay by the taps. One of the officers had found a teaspoon and a lighter in the bottom of the bath wedged under the body. She must have wriggled some as she died.

‘Doesn’t look too glamorous now. Okay, Sy. You can move her.’

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. See here to join in and to read the other stories.

 

#tuesdayuseitinasentence : Feast or famine

Cornucopia, feast

Image : Pixabay

When David shared his attentions, it was either feast or famine.

Sharon could go weeks without seeing him, her texts ignored, her calls cut off without an answer. Then one day he would turn up at her flat, the boot of his Mercedes overflowing with bags from Hermes, Gucci, Prada, Tiffany, enough to paper over the cracks his absence had breached.

Then she met Col, who ran his own building firm and could bench press 230 pounds. She began to wonder if it wasn’t time she enjoyed a more balanced diet.

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. See here to join in and to read the other stories.

#tuesdayuseitinasentence : A prop to occupy my time

Sue has to work hard to occupy her time.

There is the ceiling to look at, its network of bumps and cracks, the hint of stains painted over. The wall opposite is not a viable option because of the painting hanging lopsidedly from the picture rail. It’s a seascape in oils, the brushwork amateurish, the use of cadmium yellow and scarlet lake clashing violently with cerulean blue, the mishmash of poor composition and worse execution making her strangely angry.

Before she would have carried the thing into the garden and taken pleasure in dumping it in the firepit, watching the clotted paint blister in the flames. Now all she can do is look towards the ceiling, finding river valleys in the cracks, lakes in the old stains, painting her own landscapes with wallpaper and damaged plaster.

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adeventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. Use the word – today it’s OCCUPY – in a sentence or blog post. See here to join in the fun.

The title was inspired by the R.E.M song, The One I Love – one of their finest singles I’d say.

#tuesdayuseitinasentence : The waitress enigma

Tax forms, paperwork

Image : Pixabay

 

David enjoyed working in the local cafe, his papers clothing the table, the low buzz of conversation as soothing as the hiss of waves on sand.

He looked down the column of figures, felt the cool paper under his fingertips. There were rhythms to numbers, beautiful patterns – even within the starchy constraints of a tax form – that he was aware other people didn’t see. To him they flickered invitingly, tight budded mysteries that with a little pressure from his fingertips, a little effort of mind, blossomed into elegant solutions.

But through all his visits to the cafe, he never noticed the waitress with the warm smile, how she tried to catch his eye, brushed his hand as she served his coffee.

A mystery he would never solve.

 


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. This week the word was TAX. See here to join in and to read the other tales.