Tag Archives: jane dougherty’s microfiction challenge

Seasoning – Part Twelve

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“What Freedom!” a painting by Ilya Repin

Only seconds passed, but it seemed like an eternity. The thunder rumbled to a soft hum until only the ticking from a clock in the parlor filled the silence.

“Hannah…are you alright?”

“Yes sir. Startled is all. I’ll get some candles from the kitchen.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait Hannah. We have a problem.”

Hannah looked up. Henry’s face and the wall behind him glowed red; his eyes were wide with horror. Hannah spun around to see the trees in the front yard consumed by a raging fire.

“Oh dear God, what shall we do?”

“Hannah, I need you to call the Fire House, then meet me outside with every bed quilt you can carry.”

Hannah rushed to the phone, picked up the receiver and gave the handle a crank. “I’m not getting the operator!” she yelled to Henry as he headed toward the front door.

He paused in the doorway, turning to look at her, “Try once more Hannah. If you still can’t get anyone, just meet me out front with the blankets.”

“Alright.” Hannah gave the phone another crank. Nothing. She glanced outside and saw Henry beating back the flames with his overcoat. Hannah rushed down the hallway grabbing two quilts, and was headed for a third when she heard Henry scream her name.

“Hannah! Hurry!”

She tossed the quilts on her shoulders and ran to the front yard. “I’m here Henry. What should I do?”

“Take a quilt and beat any fire you see on the ground until it’s out Hannah! That’s our only hope if we are going to keep it from overtaking the house!”

By now the Gordons, had joined the effort. Mr. Gordon had buckets for water and Margery brought a broom to beat the flames into submission. In all, three old trees were engulfed. The tops of the trees were out of reach so everyone focused on the sparks and flaming branches that fell to the ground. It was dangerous and frightening. Their eyes and noses burned from the smoke. Occasionally a spark would land on their clothing leaving a singed hole as it dissolved to ash. After thirty minutes the fire brigade pulled up to the curb.

“We heard from the neighbors that lightening hit your trees Henry. We’re here to help.” In no time they pumped enough water to the tops of the trees to douse the flames.

While the fire crew packed their gear, Henry and Hannah stood with the Gordons in front of the house. Hannah didn’t even care that she was sopping wet and smudged with soot, though it was not how she had envisioned meeting the neighbors for the first time.

“Thank God you were here.” Henry gushed, “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.” He noticed Margery Gordon smiling at Hannah. “Forgive me, I don’t believe you have met Hannah. She is my new housekeeper.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you my dear,” Margery clucked, “Helen had nothing but wonderful things to say about you and your family. We must do tea some afternoon so you can tell me all about the Waverly Estate. Such a grand place it is. I’ve admired it since I was girl.”

“I look forward to that Mrs. Gordon.”

“Margery, you call me Margery, Hannah. I just know you and I are going to be fast friends.”

“Now, now Margery, let’s be getting home. I’m sure these folks are tired out from all this excitement. I know I am,” interrupted Margery’s husband, Joseph. He knew once she started talking, it would be impossible to get her to leave.

“Yes dear, of course you’re right,” she said, “we’ll have plenty of time to catch up, won’t we Hannah! Have a lovely evening, what is left of it, you two. Hannah, I will see you soon!”

The Gordons shuffled toward their house leaving Henry and Hannah alone in the front yard.

“Well, now you’ve met the neighbors,” Henry smiled, brushing a leaf from Hannah’s hair. His eyes met hers and his face softened.

Hannah couldn’t look away. What was she feeling? Who was this Henry? Hannah was swept up in a whirlwind of emotions when Henry stepped closer leaning toward her ear.

“So…Miss…Hannah is it?” he grinned, “Tell me, where were we when lightning struck.”

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This is the twelfth installment in a continuing series that is inspired by Jane Dougherty’s Weekly Microfiction Challenge prompts. I was inspired by this week’s painting, an exhilarating piece by Ilya Repin, more from the emotions that it evokes rather than a literal illustration for the story. If you would like to read the previous chapters, click HERE and scroll down to the story called Seasoning.


Seasoning – Part 11

With the parlor, dining room and entrance way thoroughly dusted and swept, Hannah ventured down the hallway to the bedchambers.

There were three rooms. The first was decorated in beautiful soft shades of lavender and green. A princess canopy perched over the head of a white cast iron bed was draped in delicate lace that cascaded down each side. Across the room there was a vanity with an oval mirror and a matching tufted stool. From the turned down bed sheets, Hannah guessed that Helen had likely spent her nights here. She put the bed back together and dusted the furniture before pausing to glance at an array of framed photographs on the walls.

“I wonder who these people could be.” Hannah thought. There were several family portraits. She had no trouble picking Helen out. Even as a young girl, Helen had that same round face, wild, curly hair and infectious grin. There were always four children in the family groupings. Helen, who appeared to be the oldest, another girl, a few years younger, more petite in frame with straight dark hair, a boy with curly dark hair, a year or so behind her and then there was the youngest, who looked to be several years their junior. His brooding demeanor was in stark contrast to the other’s happy smiles and his jet black straight hair, dark eyes and pale complexion left no doubt in Hannah’s mind that this sour youngster was none other than Mr. Chambers.

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Painting by Harald Slott-Moller

“Oh my! What a sad little fellow you were…and, I hate to say it, still are! We will just have to see about that.” Hannah’s father often called her his little ray of sunshine; always barefoot with flowers in her hair. She was never content around anyone who seemed unhappy, making it her personal mission to cheer them. True to form she mused, “You, Mr. Chambers, might be my greatest challenge yet!”

Hannah moved swiftly through the next room, or the “Red Room” as she decided to call it. It was decidedly more masculine in its furnishings with a tall wardrobe on one wall and an assuming full canopy bed, set in the far corner, adorned in soft red velvet.

Finally, she entered the master room. Its walls were painted a cool teal; the ceiling, doors and window frames ornately set in gold leaf. The centerpiece of the room was the bed, draped in a full, four post, canopy arrayed in valances and panels of cobalt blue silk.  Despite the room’s elegance, it was clearly in need of tidying. Soiled clothes covered the floor and seating. Hannah gathered the garments to launder and opened the drapes to let the afternoon sun in while she put the rest of the room in order.

As she prepared dinner, Hannah thought about the photographs, and about Alice, speaking to her out loud as if she were in the room. “I wonder how you were able to get Mr. Chambers to smile, Alice. I am assuming of course, that you did, because I am certain that no woman would even think of marrying such a petulant man as I have witnessed these last few days. At least I would like to think there is another side to him. And I believe it’s totally understandable that he is likely heartbroken to have lost you!  Oh Alice, you can be sure that I will take good care of your Henry. Don’t you worry.”

Mr. Chambers would be returning home soon. Hannah decided to freshen up before dinner, starting with brushing the dust and cobwebs from her hair. She applied a hint of rouge to her cheeks and lips and pulled her hair up into a soft swirl tying it in place with ribbon. Finally, she selected a modest tea dress to wear. “It’s going to be a lovely evening,” she told herself.

The front door opened just as Hannah returned to the kitchen. She glanced through the doorway to see Henry’s back as he took off his coat. For the first time Hannah noticed his tall frame and broad sturdy shoulders. “If he wasn’t scowling all the time, some people might even find him quite attractive,” she thought. When he turned around, Hannah, who had lapsed into a mindless stare startled, and then quickly regained her composure.

“Oh! Good evening Mr. Chambers.” Hannah’s face flushed red. “I hope you had a good day. I’ve prepared dinner.”

Henry looked at her and shook his head with his usual grim expression. “You’re still here I see. Well, at least I won’t have to deal with my sister this evening! But Miss…Hannah is it?”

“Yes sir, it’s Hannah.”

“Well, Hannah, I thought I made it clear that there would be no cooking for me in this house. As I said, I take my meals out.”

“Sir, I have strict instructions from your sister …”

“She is an infuriating, old bag of meddlesome trouble. That’s Helen. I would prefer, Hannah, now that she has gone back to where she belongs,” Henry let out an exasperated sigh, “I would prefer that you take your direction from me. I can see that you could be useful to me here. I don’t have time to keep this house in order. And Helen mentioned you were a gardener. I would very much like someone to take the time to revive that eyesore into something, anything green.”

“I am happy to help in any way that is useful. And yes, my father taught me gardening. Have you had dinner yet?” Hannah wasn’t going to let him rush out like the night before. “You might as well have a seat and let me serve you dinner here. By the looks of it,” Hannah glanced out the window, “we are in for a bit of a storm tonight.”

“I think you’re right. About the storm.”  Henry walked into the dining room. “Now don’t think for a moment that I’m going to make a habit of this. However, I am not in the mood to get caught in a downpour.” He sat down. “I only see one plate. You are going to join me, aren’t you?”

“No sir!” Hannah blurted. “I mean, I assumed I would have dinner in the kitchen.”

“Nonsense! I detest eating alone. Why do you think I eat at the pub?”

Much to her surprise, Hannah noticed the corner of Henry’s mouth curving upward ever so slightly and his eyebrow lifting. “A smile! Could it truly be, or am I imagining it?” she wondered to herself.

“Well I don’t like eating alone either,” Hannah responded, “I certainly do understand Mr. Chambers. I’ll have dinner served in just a minute.”

Hannah began to think that she may have misjudged Henry Chambers; that he might not be as surly and unsociable as he seemed. She quickly arranged roasted vegetables and beef and a loaf of bread saucer of butter onto a large serving tray, grabbing a plate and extra set of silver for herself.

Meanwhile in the dining room as Henry waited, he thought about the last time he had sat like this, warm aromas wafting from kitchen, his beloved wife chattering happily as she served him dinner. A dark cloud of melancholy overtook him as the storm outside began to worsen.

By the time Hannah returned he was pushing himself away from the table.

“Please sir, just have a bite or two. It saddens me to see you suffering so.”

Henry fumed, “What makes you think I am suffering? You probably don’t know the first thing about suffering, Miss! This was a bad idea. A very bad idea!”

Hannah set the tray on the table and slumped into the nearest chair. She would not beg him. What a fool she had been to think that this evening would be any different from the night before.

The steaming food on the platter caught Henry’s attention, “Maybe I will have a bite.”

Hannah looked up, smiled and began dinner service when a monstrous bolt of lightning ripped through one of the trees in front of the house. The lights flickered for a second, before going completely black. As thunder shook the house, neither of them moved, sitting there silently in the dark.

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Part 11 in a continuing series prompted initially by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. While I still try to incorporate the wonderful artwork that Jane presents to us each week, this story has taken on a life of its own and I am rarely able to limit the word count. I hope you don’t mind. I will continue to link it here because many of you are following along. If you’d like to read other chapters, I have assembled them HERE. Thank you Jane for the inspiration and encouragement to keep this little story alive. I’m sure I’m doing this all backwards, but I am loving the ride! 🙂


Seasoning – Part 9

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.

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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.”

 

 


Seasoning – Part 4

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.

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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.



History Repeating


“Let me see your happy faces,”the artist was clearly frustrated with his subjects. Never had he met such disagreeable children.

Behind him their mother sat in the corner of the parlor sipping tea, her pinkie finger raised perfectly. She was clearly apathetic to the artist’s plight, sighing incessantly from boredom.

When her tea grew cold she bloviated, “Come now children, smile for mommy. Chocolates for each of you when we finish.” The two sulked, barely complying.

Hours later, when the artist presented the mother with the portrait, she tossed his fee on the table without even the courtesy of a “thank you”.

Decades later, these children grew up to become dreadful adults. The girl is now a self-absorbed shrew who spends her time on perpetual holiday amongst the elite, and the boy? Well, I heard that he is running for president.

~kat – 25 June 2016
(142 Words)

For Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge #1. I am afraid that life and work limited my writing time last week. But this half written story begged a finish, even if it is a bit late to the party. There is already another wonderful prompt waiting to inspire. Be sure to visit Jane’s Blog for a good read or to enter one of her challenges!