| General Fiction posted July 10, 2024 |
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Thank goodness for busy bodies
Slammed Doors and Nosey Parkers
by Claire Tennant
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. This was followed by angry footsteps storming past my door.
I did not need the alarm to wake me, the sound was loud enough to awaken every dog, cat, or hen for miles around. I was curious, nonetheless. Like most women, that curiosity had to be fed with an answer or two. How would I, the newcomer to the estate, approach the situation?
As flats or apartments go, I was happy with mine. It was within walking distance of shops, the railway station, and a lovely park. I thought I was settling in nicely. There was only one thing that disturbed me, and that was the neighbour at the end of the corridor, the one whose door I assumed had just been slammed. He or she did not make his or her presence felt, though there was evidence of life. On the due date, the rubbish and sundry other bins were taken out, or loud music or the television could be heard as you entered the building on occasion. Of course, my visiting and wanting answers could be interpreted as nosey.
There was only one thing for it. At the risk of being nosey, I had to check if the noise heralded a problem. So far, it seemed, no one else had tried or cared. I walked up the hall and knocked on the door. It opened. He was youngish and tall, with ginger hair, grey eyes, and a grumpy-looking expression.
"What do you want?" his tone was masking something.
"Hi, I'm Sue from flat two. I heard the door slam a while back. Are you okay?"
"What's it to you?" Wow, manners maketh the man!
"Concern, mate; that's all."
Suddenly, he looked as though he was going to weep.
"You had better come in. Sorry about the mess," he said.
"My name is Ted, Edward, obviously, but I prefer Ted," he said, closing the door gently.
"Please take a seat. It's too early for a drink, isn't it?"
"Yes, for me, it is," I replied
"Would you join me in a coffee?" Ted almost smiled.
Once he brought the steaming cups over to the table and sat opposite me, he spoke.
"In answer to your question, Mum was staying overnight. As usual, I did nothing right. The house was untidy, the meal was not cooked properly. You name it, I got it wrong. People talk about Mother and son and Father and daughter relationships and the bonds therein. Not with me. She is the bossiest old..." he took a deep breath.
"She left the flat hurriedly, slamming the door because I refused to do things her way. Sorry, we disturbed you."
"Whose house is it, Ted?" I asked.
"Mine, at least I pay the mortgage."
"Then you have it your way, mate. Even the best cooks have bad days. My own Mum reminded me of that years ago when the meal I made was a disaster. I suggest you give her a call."
"What for, Sue!"
"She too will be upset because you are not, as my mum would say, her 'wee boy' anymore."
He laughed, and I, being satisfied Ted was okay, made a move to leave.
I knocked on the door later in the day. This time there was a smiling youngster greeting me.
"How did you go, Ted?"
"Hey, I'm okay. Thanks for asking, Sue. Mum was apologetic. The dripolator is on. Do you fancy a coffee?"
I nodded.
I guess I am now forgiven for being a Nosey Parker neighbour.
The Door Slammed writing prompt entry
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. This was followed by angry footsteps storming past my door.
I did not need the alarm to wake me, the sound was loud enough to awaken every dog, cat, or hen for miles around. I was curious, nonetheless. Like most women, that curiosity had to be fed with an answer or two. How would I, the newcomer to the estate, approach the situation?
As flats or apartments go, I was happy with mine. It was within walking distance of shops, the railway station, and a lovely park. I thought I was settling in nicely. There was only one thing that disturbed me, and that was the neighbour at the end of the corridor, the one whose door I assumed had just been slammed. He or she did not make his or her presence felt, though there was evidence of life. On the due date, the rubbish and sundry other bins were taken out, or loud music or the television could be heard as you entered the building on occasion. Of course, my visiting and wanting answers could be interpreted as nosey.
There was only one thing for it. At the risk of being nosey, I had to check if the noise heralded a problem. So far, it seemed, no one else had tried or cared. I walked up the hall and knocked on the door. It opened. He was youngish and tall, with ginger hair, grey eyes, and a grumpy-looking expression.
"What do you want?" his tone was masking something.
"Hi, I'm Sue from flat two. I heard the door slam a while back. Are you okay?"
"What's it to you?" Wow, manners maketh the man!
"Concern, mate; that's all."
Suddenly, he looked as though he was going to weep.
"You had better come in. Sorry about the mess," he said.
"My name is Ted, Edward, obviously, but I prefer Ted," he said, closing the door gently.
"Please take a seat. It's too early for a drink, isn't it?"
"Yes, for me, it is," I replied
"Would you join me in a coffee?" Ted almost smiled.
Once he brought the steaming cups over to the table and sat opposite me, he spoke.
"In answer to your question, Mum was staying overnight. As usual, I did nothing right. The house was untidy, the meal was not cooked properly. You name it, I got it wrong. People talk about Mother and son and Father and daughter relationships and the bonds therein. Not with me. She is the bossiest old..." he took a deep breath.
"She left the flat hurriedly, slamming the door because I refused to do things her way. Sorry, we disturbed you."
"Whose house is it, Ted?" I asked.
"Mine, at least I pay the mortgage."
"Then you have it your way, mate. Even the best cooks have bad days. My own Mum reminded me of that years ago when the meal I made was a disaster. I suggest you give her a call."
"What for, Sue!"
"She too will be upset because you are not, as my mum would say, her 'wee boy' anymore."
He laughed, and I, being satisfied Ted was okay, made a move to leave.
I knocked on the door later in the day. This time there was a smiling youngster greeting me.
"How did you go, Ted?"
"Hey, I'm okay. Thanks for asking, Sue. Mum was apologetic. The dripolator is on. Do you fancy a coffee?"
I nodded.
I guess I am now forgiven for being a Nosey Parker neighbour.
I did not need the alarm to wake me, the sound was loud enough to awaken every dog, cat, or hen for miles around. I was curious, nonetheless. Like most women, that curiosity had to be fed with an answer or two. How would I, the newcomer to the estate, approach the situation?
As flats or apartments go, I was happy with mine. It was within walking distance of shops, the railway station, and a lovely park. I thought I was settling in nicely. There was only one thing that disturbed me, and that was the neighbour at the end of the corridor, the one whose door I assumed had just been slammed. He or she did not make his or her presence felt, though there was evidence of life. On the due date, the rubbish and sundry other bins were taken out, or loud music or the television could be heard as you entered the building on occasion. Of course, my visiting and wanting answers could be interpreted as nosey.
There was only one thing for it. At the risk of being nosey, I had to check if the noise heralded a problem. So far, it seemed, no one else had tried or cared. I walked up the hall and knocked on the door. It opened. He was youngish and tall, with ginger hair, grey eyes, and a grumpy-looking expression.
"What do you want?" his tone was masking something.
"Hi, I'm Sue from flat two. I heard the door slam a while back. Are you okay?"
"What's it to you?" Wow, manners maketh the man!
"Concern, mate; that's all."
Suddenly, he looked as though he was going to weep.
"You had better come in. Sorry about the mess," he said.
"My name is Ted, Edward, obviously, but I prefer Ted," he said, closing the door gently.
"Please take a seat. It's too early for a drink, isn't it?"
"Yes, for me, it is," I replied
"Would you join me in a coffee?" Ted almost smiled.
Once he brought the steaming cups over to the table and sat opposite me, he spoke.
"In answer to your question, Mum was staying overnight. As usual, I did nothing right. The house was untidy, the meal was not cooked properly. You name it, I got it wrong. People talk about Mother and son and Father and daughter relationships and the bonds therein. Not with me. She is the bossiest old..." he took a deep breath.
"She left the flat hurriedly, slamming the door because I refused to do things her way. Sorry, we disturbed you."
"Whose house is it, Ted?" I asked.
"Mine, at least I pay the mortgage."
"Then you have it your way, mate. Even the best cooks have bad days. My own Mum reminded me of that years ago when the meal I made was a disaster. I suggest you give her a call."
"What for, Sue!"
"She too will be upset because you are not, as my mum would say, her 'wee boy' anymore."
He laughed, and I, being satisfied Ted was okay, made a move to leave.
I knocked on the door later in the day. This time there was a smiling youngster greeting me.
"How did you go, Ted?"
"Hey, I'm okay. Thanks for asking, Sue. Mum was apologetic. The dripolator is on. Do you fancy a coffee?"
I nodded.
I guess I am now forgiven for being a Nosey Parker neighbour.
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Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with this sentence: The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. Don't add to the sentence. The catch is this must be flash fiction. So the story should be between 100 and 1,000 words. |
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