Friday June 25th, 2010

The exercise:

This week's four lines of prose shall be about: the empty house.

Don't know what the internet situation is in Osoyoos, so I'm scheduling tomorrow's post tonight. Beyond that... we shall see. Hopefully I'll have something for you for Sunday, one way or another.

Today has been a real long day.

Mine:

Okay, so it's not completely empty. But it's pretty damned close - the couch, dresser, and coffee table are in the truck downstairs, and all other major furnishings (besides the bed, which goes in the morning) have been gotten rid of already. There are a few boxes sitting around to get packed up in the morning but that's about it.

I'd end on a witty note but I'm too tired for that crap, so I'm just going to bed now that I've got my four lines done.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

Well done, and congratulations on getting everything packed! It can't have been that easy, since you're not long appendectomized, and you've not complained once about it (here).
And good luck with the internet, too. I believe there's a protocol somewhere for IP over Pigeon, so maybe you can find an avian ISP....

The empty house

The leaves start falling from the trees in October, and mounds of bright, orange and gold leaves pile up in the yard. Any other year and Mr. Hudson would have been out already, in his blue lumberjack shirt, carrying his long-handled rake. He swept from the road to the house; long, even strokes with a fludity of motion other people his age envied. Now the leaves pile up like shimmering hills, and for the first time I realise that I miss Mr. Hudson.

Heather said...

Marc- If I ever move, I'll hire movers. Good description of such a horrid task.

Greg- Love the way time plays out here. Feels like so much has passed and likely, whoever the narrator is glanced out a window or drove by on her way to work.
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The little cottage at the top of the hill seemed such a pleasant place. Night flowers bloomed in planted pots and a fire burned, yellowing the windows with warmth in the eve. Smells of home cooking and laughter floated on the breeze during the day. None of the villagers ever visited and travelers stayed away; they all knew the house stood empty.

Marc said...

Greg - thanks, though I basically seem to be fully recovered from the surgery now. Which feels fantastic.

I will see what I can do about tracking down a reliable Pigeon :)

Those were four excellent lines of prose, good sir. Consider me impressed.

Heather - movers are great, if you can afford to hire decent ones :)

Your four lines were delightfully haunting. I find myself wanting to see that house... but get nowhere near it!