| General Fiction posted November 3, 2018 |
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Story /Found it
Such a Skinflint !
by zanya
Locals who had lived in Dartmouth Street in Norfolk, for generations, described it as a freak winter storm. Just a week before Christmas, mid nineteen sixties, ancient trees were uprooted, roofs blown off and houses flattened.
Younger residents shrugged their inexperienced shoulders and muttered new and scary phrases like 'global warming,'
Older citizenry mulled over the horror with fear in their eyes.
"T'were nothing ever like it in these parts since I was a lad," John Philips declared."T'is more like a typhoon like we had in Korea during my army days."
Rosalina, who had moved to the street, years ago, with her late husband, Corporal Bill Wates, was distraught. The roof of her two- roomed stone house had been lifted in the high winds and deposited who knows where. Wooden rafters still lay in the front garden.
Rosalina wept bitter tears.
"T'was all we could afford after my Bill returned from the war," she wailed. "Bill were such a skinflint, never believed in spending money anyways. And now here I am, with nowhere to lay my weary head."
The roof of the back kitchen was still intact. Rosalina spent the night there, crouched beneath the old settle her aunt had bequeathed her.
Rosalina even turned down her neighbour, Dorothy's invitation to take refuge at her house down the street.
Rosalina was inconsolable.
Jimmy, the local handyman, showed up early next morning, having heard of Rosalina's plight.
In his old blue overalls, with his trusty hammer and saw, Jimmy attempted to salvage what he could.
Some of the rafters were like shelves, complete with drawers.
Jimmy worked meticulously, opening and examining each of the drawer-like structures. Rosalina arrived with some warm soup at midday for Jimmy.
Before eating the comforting soup, Jimmy tore out one more drawer with his hammer. Volumes of dust flew in all directions. A dark brown leather bag lay within. Jimmy dragged it out, blew the dust off and handed it to Rosalina.
"Jimmy," Rosalina shouted as she spluttered and coughed " too much rubbish and dust in these rafters. Just throw it away. Bad for my asthma."
But Jimmy was circumspect. Pecunious and God-fearing, he had seen many strange events down the years.
"Rosalina," he called out, " check the contents. There's probably more than dust in that old leather bag. Someone stashed something precious."
"Not at all, Jimmy, stuff and nonsense," Rosalina replied.
"Get rid of it. I want my roof back quick."
Meanwhile, Jimmy opened the dust-covered brown leather bag with care.
Rosalina was getting impatient.
" Jimmy," she shouted, " You didn't come here to rummage in the rafters. Get a move on, there may be another storm coming and I need my roof back."
Jimmy's eyes widened at the sight. Inside the brown bag lay wads of 10 and 20 pound notes, some of them, thick with dust.
"Rosalina, Rosalina," Jimmy shouted as loud as he could. He knew Rosalina was partly deaf from nursing service during World War II.
"Your money troubles are over, Rosalina," Jimmy said quietly, to no one in particular.
Rosalina stared at Jimmy.
"Come here Rosalina," he muttered.
Rosalina went to where Jimmy stood with the brown dusty bag, cradled in his two hands.
Rosalina eyes widened. She had to seat herself on one of the old rafters that lay on the ground.
"Don't count it yet," Jimmy urged, "take it into the kitchen and make sure not to lose any."
Rosalina stared at the old leather bag, stuffed with notes, tied carefully in bundles. She rummaged around inside and pulled out a faded piece of paper with some writing on it.
The date was illegible. It read:
" My beloved Rosaline. My war wounds mean I won't survive long. When I'm gone, I pray you will find this money. Finally, you'll know why I had to be such a skinflint, as you so often teased me. Kisses Bill."
Rosalina knelt on the grass, strewn with debris, as hot tears flowed down her widow's, middle-aged cheeks.
Found It writing prompt entry
Locals who had lived in Dartmouth Street in Norfolk, for generations, described it as a freak winter storm. Just a week before Christmas, mid nineteen sixties, ancient trees were uprooted, roofs blown off and houses flattened.
Younger residents shrugged their inexperienced shoulders and muttered new and scary phrases like 'global warming,'
Older citizenry mulled over the horror with fear in their eyes.
"T'were nothing ever like it in these parts since I was a lad," John Philips declared."T'is more like a typhoon like we had in Korea during my army days."
Rosalina, who had moved to the street, years ago, with her late husband, Corporal Bill Wates, was distraught. The roof of her two- roomed stone house had been lifted in the high winds and deposited who knows where. Wooden rafters still lay in the front garden.
Rosalina wept bitter tears.
"T'was all we could afford after my Bill returned from the war," she wailed. "Bill were such a skinflint, never believed in spending money anyways. And now here I am, with nowhere to lay my weary head."
The roof of the back kitchen was still intact. Rosalina spent the night there, crouched beneath the old settle her aunt had bequeathed her.
Rosalina even turned down her neighbour, Dorothy's invitation to take refuge at her house down the street.
Rosalina was inconsolable.
Jimmy, the local handyman, showed up early next morning, having heard of Rosalina's plight.
In his old blue overalls, with his trusty hammer and saw, Jimmy attempted to salvage what he could.
Some of the rafters were like shelves, complete with drawers.
Jimmy worked meticulously, opening and examining each of the drawer-like structures. Rosalina arrived with some warm soup at midday for Jimmy.
Before eating the comforting soup, Jimmy tore out one more drawer with his hammer. Volumes of dust flew in all directions. A dark brown leather bag lay within. Jimmy dragged it out, blew the dust off and handed it to Rosalina.
"Jimmy," Rosalina shouted as she spluttered and coughed " too much rubbish and dust in these rafters. Just throw it away. Bad for my asthma."
But Jimmy was circumspect. Pecunious and God-fearing, he had seen many strange events down the years.
"Rosalina," he called out, " check the contents. There's probably more than dust in that old leather bag. Someone stashed something precious."
"Not at all, Jimmy, stuff and nonsense," Rosalina replied.
"Get rid of it. I want my roof back quick."
Meanwhile, Jimmy opened the dust-covered brown leather bag with care.
Rosalina was getting impatient.
" Jimmy," she shouted, " You didn't come here to rummage in the rafters. Get a move on, there may be another storm coming and I need my roof back."
Jimmy's eyes widened at the sight. Inside the brown bag lay wads of 10 and 20 pound notes, some of them, thick with dust.
"Rosalina, Rosalina," Jimmy shouted as loud as he could. He knew Rosalina was partly deaf from nursing service during World War II.
"Your money troubles are over, Rosalina," Jimmy said quietly, to no one in particular.
Rosalina stared at Jimmy.
"Come here Rosalina," he muttered.
Rosalina went to where Jimmy stood with the brown dusty bag, cradled in his two hands.
Rosalina eyes widened. She had to seat herself on one of the old rafters that lay on the ground.
"Don't count it yet," Jimmy urged, "take it into the kitchen and make sure not to lose any."
Rosalina stared at the old leather bag, stuffed with notes, tied carefully in bundles. She rummaged around inside and pulled out a faded piece of paper with some writing on it.
The date was illegible. It read:
" My beloved Rosaline. My war wounds mean I won't survive long. When I'm gone, I pray you will find this money. Finally, you'll know why I had to be such a skinflint, as you so often teased me. Kisses Bill."
Rosalina knelt on the grass, strewn with debris, as hot tears flowed down her widow's, middle-aged cheeks.
Younger residents shrugged their inexperienced shoulders and muttered new and scary phrases like 'global warming,'
Older citizenry mulled over the horror with fear in their eyes.
"T'were nothing ever like it in these parts since I was a lad," John Philips declared."T'is more like a typhoon like we had in Korea during my army days."
Rosalina, who had moved to the street, years ago, with her late husband, Corporal Bill Wates, was distraught. The roof of her two- roomed stone house had been lifted in the high winds and deposited who knows where. Wooden rafters still lay in the front garden.
Rosalina wept bitter tears.
"T'was all we could afford after my Bill returned from the war," she wailed. "Bill were such a skinflint, never believed in spending money anyways. And now here I am, with nowhere to lay my weary head."
The roof of the back kitchen was still intact. Rosalina spent the night there, crouched beneath the old settle her aunt had bequeathed her.
Rosalina even turned down her neighbour, Dorothy's invitation to take refuge at her house down the street.
Rosalina was inconsolable.
Jimmy, the local handyman, showed up early next morning, having heard of Rosalina's plight.
In his old blue overalls, with his trusty hammer and saw, Jimmy attempted to salvage what he could.
Some of the rafters were like shelves, complete with drawers.
Jimmy worked meticulously, opening and examining each of the drawer-like structures. Rosalina arrived with some warm soup at midday for Jimmy.
Before eating the comforting soup, Jimmy tore out one more drawer with his hammer. Volumes of dust flew in all directions. A dark brown leather bag lay within. Jimmy dragged it out, blew the dust off and handed it to Rosalina.
"Jimmy," Rosalina shouted as she spluttered and coughed " too much rubbish and dust in these rafters. Just throw it away. Bad for my asthma."
But Jimmy was circumspect. Pecunious and God-fearing, he had seen many strange events down the years.
"Rosalina," he called out, " check the contents. There's probably more than dust in that old leather bag. Someone stashed something precious."
"Not at all, Jimmy, stuff and nonsense," Rosalina replied.
"Get rid of it. I want my roof back quick."
Meanwhile, Jimmy opened the dust-covered brown leather bag with care.
Rosalina was getting impatient.
" Jimmy," she shouted, " You didn't come here to rummage in the rafters. Get a move on, there may be another storm coming and I need my roof back."
Jimmy's eyes widened at the sight. Inside the brown bag lay wads of 10 and 20 pound notes, some of them, thick with dust.
"Rosalina, Rosalina," Jimmy shouted as loud as he could. He knew Rosalina was partly deaf from nursing service during World War II.
"Your money troubles are over, Rosalina," Jimmy said quietly, to no one in particular.
Rosalina stared at Jimmy.
"Come here Rosalina," he muttered.
Rosalina went to where Jimmy stood with the brown dusty bag, cradled in his two hands.
Rosalina eyes widened. She had to seat herself on one of the old rafters that lay on the ground.
"Don't count it yet," Jimmy urged, "take it into the kitchen and make sure not to lose any."
Rosalina stared at the old leather bag, stuffed with notes, tied carefully in bundles. She rummaged around inside and pulled out a faded piece of paper with some writing on it.
The date was illegible. It read:
" My beloved Rosaline. My war wounds mean I won't survive long. When I'm gone, I pray you will find this money. Finally, you'll know why I had to be such a skinflint, as you so often teased me. Kisses Bill."
Rosalina knelt on the grass, strewn with debris, as hot tears flowed down her widow's, middle-aged cheeks.
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Writing Prompt Write a story where your character found something that impacts his or her life. Maximum word count: 2,000 words. |
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