Category Archives: Short Stories (300+ Words)

September 7, 2016

Seasoning – Part 9

By Kat Myrman

Note: This little story started in response to Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. I do enjoy the continued influence of her weekly prompts and paintings. It is pure synchronicity that they always blend right into the narrative. But please forgive me for not following the rules. I am clearly coloring outside the box here or rather, spilling over the word count limit. That said, this is not a true entry for this week’s prompt, but I hope to continue tagging along as this story progresses. The image this week is by Henri Rousseau. It’s not a perfect fit, however the theme is spot on.  I may write a separate 200 word story as well. But for those of you following this one…I give you Seasoning – Part 9. You can read previous installments HERE.

800px-henri_rousseau_-_un_matin_de_pluie

Painting by Henri Rouseau – Un matin de pluie (One Rainy Morning)

“Abandoned”

Hannah woke to the fluttering trill of birdsong. She peered out the window to see mist hovering in patches over the garden while the sun glowed red behind the trees bordering the horizon. It reminded her of a story from her childhood. “All birds sing in the morning, each one checking in with the others to let them know they have survived the night.”

Hannah pursed her lips and chirped softly, “Peep, peep, peep. I too survived the night my little friends.”

She splashed cool water on her face, pulled her hair into a twist and dressed in a simple a-lined dress topped with a loose fitting jumper.

The house was quiet so Hannah took the opportunity to explore. Next to the kitchen she found a pantry, a closet with cleaning tools and a mud room with laundry area and shelves with garden tools and clay pots.

Back in the kitchen, she assembled the coffee pot. While it brewed, Hannah gathered butter from the icebox, several fresh eggs from a blue ceramic bowl on the counter and bread for toasting.

“I see you’re finding your way around Hannah! Ah, fresh coffee. My favorite thing to wake up to!”

“Yes Ma’am! Good morning! How do you take your eggs? By the way, I love this kitchen!”

“Well you know what they say, the kitchen is the heart of a home, and Alice, well, she loved to cook, loved this kitchen.” Helen paused, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “Poached, I take my eggs poached.” She dabbed the tears from her cheeks and sipped coffee while Hannah prepared poached eggs and toast to perfection.

“Oh, this is delicious! Now have a seat Hannah. I’ve written a schedule for you and numbers for the market, pharmacy, butcher, doctor, and the Gordons who live next door. That’s where you can get more of those eggs. Mrs. Gordon, Margery, told me to tell you to call or stop by anytime. She’s a bit of a talker, but a very nice woman.”

“Will Mr. Chambers be joining us for breakfast?”

The front door slammed. “Well there’s our answer! Honestly Hannah, I’m so sorry he’s being such…ugh! He just infuriates me so!” Helen tapped her fingertips on the table, “We need a plan. I want you to prepare breakfast and dinner each day, whether he eats it or not. Set a place at the table.”

“But what if he leaves it to spoil?”

“You’re going to need good compost for that garden of yours. Just consider it food for the flowers! Now, I know that I said I planned to stay until you got settled in, but I’m afraid I am needed back up north. Our dear Aunt Millie has taken ill. You understand.”

“You’re leaving? But I just got here! What if I…I’m sorry, of course, I understand.”

“It’s all spelled out Hannah. I took great care to list every detail.” Helen tapped the instructions on the table. “Of course you can call me and Margery is next door. I do hope you’ll manage to find time for that garden. Spring is just around the corner! Not to worry, I’ll be back in a few months to check on you.”

“Yes Ma’am. When are you leaving?”

“This afternoon. The train leaves in four hours.”

 

 

14 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Fiction Series, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

August 27, 2016

Seasonings – Part 8

By Kat Myrman

Seasoning – Part 8

Helen left Hannah and headed straight to the kitchen. “What a bloody mess this is!”

She cleared dust off the counters and stove top and dove into the groceries she’d had delivered. There were lovely potatoes and butter, three Cornish hens wrapped in butcher paper, apples, sacks of flour and sugar, fresh milk and a satchel of herbs.

“We shall have a lovely dinner tonight! That should settle things down around here.” Satisfied with her plan, she hummed a lively tune as she prepared each dish to perfection.

“Wha! What is that ungodly racket!” The noise from the kitchen had jolted Henry from his distressing dream. It took him a few seconds to remember that he had house guests. Unwelcome house guests! “I don’t need this! I won’t have it! I won’t!” He got himself together and grabbed his overcoat.

Helen was putting the finishing touches on dinner when Henry stomped into the kitchen. Behind her Hannah had just entered from the breezeway.

“What is that amazing aroma? I can’t wait to…”

Henry interrupted Hannah, his eyes smoldering, “I told you Helen, I take my meals out! Look at the mess you’ve made of this kitchen!”

“I made your favorites Henry. Come now, let’s have a nice dinner.”

Henry growled, threw his coat on and bolted out the front door slamming it behind him.

Helen turned to look at Hannah who stood frozen in the doorway. “Come along Hannah, help me get this to the dining room. He’ll be back. He’s a stubborn one, always has been. But he’ll come around. You’ll see!”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Henry’s absence had cast a pall over the evening.

Hannah broke the silence managing a weak smile. “That was delicious Helen. You’ve been so kind. Let me get the dishes and kitchen put back in order.”

“Thank you dear, it was my pleasure, but I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll take care of the dishes. You go settle in for the night. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”

Back in her room Hannah started to unpack. With each item placed in the dresser, she fell deeper into regret. “Oh, what have I done. This is not at all what I imagined it would be!” She wrapped herself in her mother’s quilt, dropped to the floor and sobbed herself to sleep.

————————–

Part 8 of a series prompted by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge and the painting above. To read other installments click HERE.

21 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Short Stories (300+ Words)

August 14, 2016

Seasoning – Part 6

By Kat Myrman

Seasoning – Part 6

It had been a stormy day. As the taxi rounded the curve at the edge of Waverly Estate, a beautiful full rainbow graced the dark skies in the distance. Hannah just knew it was a sign that her dreams were coming true. The whole world was opening up to her. She settled into her seat, leaning her head against the window, taking it all in as the taxi headed to the city.

Henry was not happy with his sister.

“How dare you come here unannounced and take it upon yourself to manage my life as if you know what I need! You’ve crossed the line this time Helen. When this person arrives, you can send her right back where she came from. I have no use for her, or for you. And don’t get too comfortable here. I expect you to make arrangements to leave on the next train!”

“Well Henry, that is simply not an option. I’m protecting my own interest in this home as well you know. I refuse to let you run it into the ground! Our parents, and their parents before them would be heartbroken over how you’ve let things go. I’ll not have it! And you, dear brother need to get a grip. It’s been three years Henry! Alice, and yes I’ll say her name…Alice would be so sad to see you like this!”

The doorbell chimed.

“Remember what I said Henry,” Helen admonished as she glanced through the window at the taxi at the curb, “I expect you to be cordial to this young woman.

Helen opened the door while Henry scowled, arms crossed, in the parlor.

“Hello Hannah dear, i hope you didn’t encounter that awful storm on your trip. So nice to finally meet you in person!”

“Hello Mrs. Chambers.”

“Please call me Helen.”

Hannah smiled, “Hello Helen. And no, we missed the storm! Actually there was the most beautiful rainbow…” Hannah’s escalating enthusiasm faded slightly as she glimpsed a sullen Henry standing in the parlor.

Helen followed her glance, “Hannah, this is my brother Henry. He lives here. I’m just visiting as you know, and plan to stay until you’re comfortable with your duties.”

Henry stepped forward ignoring Hannah’s extended hand. “To be clear Miss, your presence here is my meddling sister’s doing. I have no need for a housekeeper or gardener or whatever else it is that she’s hired you to do. I take my meals out and work long hours. You and I will get on as long as I don’t see or hear you.” Henry glared at his sister as he stormed out of the room.

Hannah flashed a confused look toward Helen who chuckled, “Don’t pay him any mind Hannah. He’ll warm up to the idea, and to you soon enough. Let’s get you settled in your quarters.

————————————–

Installment #6 of a fiction series prompted by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge and this Rainbow painting. You can read other installments HERE and scrolling to the series named Seasoning. 

18 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Fiction Series, Short Stories (300+ Words)

August 6, 2016

Seasoning – Part 5

By Kat Myrman

Vincent Van Gogh’s Avenue of Poplars

“I will Henry. You know I will.” Helen clucked while lifting her teacup from the saucer to blow the dust off. “Your situation has gotten entirely out of hand Henry. I know that if she were here…”

“Don’t you dare speak her name! You can’t possibly know what she would have wanted. What she wanted, what I wanted, what we both wanted was a long happy life together!”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive Henry…”

“Yes you do Helen! I told you, suit yourself. I’m finished.” Henry stood up to leave the room.

“Well Henry you should know I’ve made arrangements to employ a housekeeper. She’s coming today and starts her duties on Monday. I do expect you to be cordial. She will be staying in the guest wing. I understand that she not only cooks and cleans, but also has an affinity for gardening. By the looks of things out back, she will have her hands full.”

Henry stood motionless.

“A thank you is commonly uttered by the receiving party at this point. Honestly Henry you are a bloody mess. My visit did not come a minute too soon. By the way, I’m staying as well, until Hannah, that’s her name, gets things running smoothly.”

—————

Across town Hannah swept her long brown hair into a twist on the top of her head. Her bags had been sent ahead to her new assignment.

She had spoken briefly with Helen who explained that she would be working for her brother Henry, a widower, providing cleaning and cooking as well as tending to the garden.

Gardening was Hannah’s first love. She grew up on the grounds of the Waverly Estate in a quaint server’s cottage with her parents. Her mother ran all of the household affairs and her father kept the grounds. She learned housekeeping from her mother and dutifully assisted her when she was old enough, but it was in the garden with her father that she discovered her true calling.

This, her first solo charge, was a dream come true! She donned her overcoat, kissed her parents goodbye, and headed through the towering poplar trees along the driveway to the street where a taxi waited.

 

 

This is installment number 5 of a continuing series for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. Read previous parts HERE.

 

14 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Fiction Series, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

July 31, 2016

Seasoning – Part 4

By Kat Myrman

Henry puttered around noisily in the kitchen. “Tea…where is the tea?” he muttered while rummaging through each cabinet and drawer. “Damn Helen! Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone. Always prying where you’re not welcome!”

In the parlor, Helen scanned the perimeter of the room. The plant stand near the window caught her eye. Whatever once lived in this dry pot of soil was now a sad, brittle bunch of leafless stalks. It reminded her of the wheat fields of her youth, golden and ready for harvest. But this poor plant was clearly dead. “Well, this is fitting.” She huffed.

Henry nearly dropped the tea tray when he entered the room and saw Helen standing near the window. She was in that spot. Gathering his wits he asked, “What were you saying Helen?”

“Oh, there you are Henry. I was saying… that it is fitting that you have dead plants in the parlor. It goes with the rest of the decor.”

“I’ve been meaning to do something with that. I hope you like your tea black. I’m fresh out of cream.”

“It’ll do.” Helen swept dust off the sofa before taking a seat. “Sit Henry.”

Reluctantly, Henry plopped into an armchair across from Helen, releasing a cloud of dust that caused him to cough. “I wish you had called before coming.”

Helen burst into a boisterous cackle, “Oh Henry! That is rich! I have tried to call you, and I’ve written. I am here, Henry, because you have ignored every attempt I’ve made to contact you! Quite frankly, we’re all worried about you.”

“Who’s we? Well it doesn’t matter. You can tell everyone I’m fine.”

“Enough Henry!” Helen’s voice shifted. “You are not fine! And I am not leaving until I am sure you are fine.”

Henry slouched in his chair, “Suit yourself.” Secretly a part of him was relieved. Though he was loath to admit it, seeing her there, in the light of day covered in dust, proved she was right.

—————————-

This entry is fourth in a series prompted by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. Read previous chapters HERE.

A note about the painting by Vincent Van Gogh:
The Van Gogh Museum’s Wheat Field with Crows was made in July 1890, in the last weeks of Van Gogh’s life, many have claimed it was his last work. Others have claimed Tree Roots was his last painting. Wheat Field with Crows, made on an elongated canvas, depicts a dramatic cloudy sky filled with crows over a wheat field.[90] The wind-swept wheat field fills two thirds of the canvas. An empty path pulls the audience into the painting. Of making the painting Van Gogh wrote that he had made a point of expressing sadness, later adding “extreme loneliness” (de la solitude extrême), but also says he believes the canvases show what he considers healthy and fortifying, the storm and crows powerfully offset by the restorative nature of the countryside.


13 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Fiction Series, Short Stories (300+ Words)