Sunday February 22nd, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the hole in the wall.

Had a nice, lazy Sunday with my family. Pancakes and bacon for breakfast, a short walk in the neighbourhood, watched a few videos. Just what the doctor ordered.

Hoping to go for a photography outing tomorrow morning. Will share a few of the results if that happens.


"Jeez, Dad... where did you get that hideous painting?"

"It was up in the attic, buried under a box of your mother's clothing. It was the only thing I could find on such short notice."

"There's no way this belonged to Mom... wait, what? Short notice? What was the hurry?"

"I needed to cover the hole in the wall."

"What? A hole in... what happened while I was out? I was only gone for like twenty minutes!"

"Had a little accident. Nothing major, really. The hole isn't even that big, in my opinion."

"Not sure I believe that."

"Huh? Why not?"

"If it's not very big, why rush to cover it up?"

"Oh, well... the voice coming from inside the wall was very adamant about maintaining his privacy."


Greg said...

Sounds like a very nice Sunday, though I confess to now being confused by what is meant by videos... DVDs or Youtube? And, of course, I'm now slightly surprised that a word that was probably only coming into the language like that when I was born is now slipping out again...
Hmm, I liked everything about your tale this morning, especially the slow but steady way things escalated. I'd expected the theme to be more about the picture than the hole, so I got a very pleasant surprise!

The hole in the wall
"There's a hole in the wall," said Dave. He still sounded a little dazed, and maple syrup pooled around his feet as it oozed off his clothes.
"But why is the wall there at all?" asked Vince. They were both looking at a wall, about waist-height on the two men, that had been neatly constructed across one of the bunker rooms. The ceiling here was about eight metres high, and the wall was nearly a metre across, easily wide enough for a man to walk confidently along. It was made from yellow house-bricks, mortared together, and was otherwise utterly uninteresting.
"Whuh?" said Dave. He kicked a brick at the edge of the hole, and it grated as it slid slightly.
"I said," said Vince patiently, "why is it here? What's the purpose of the wall? It's not like it's keeping anything in, or out, or up."
"Canadian brick mountain?" asked Dave. He kicked the brick again, and it slid out a little further.
"Bit small for a mountain, Dave," said Vince. "And anyway, that's in Bunker XII. Bet you're glad we weren't opening the doors in there, hey Dave?"
"Whuh?" said Dave. He gave the brick another kick, and it slid out of place completely, and fell silently through the hole.
"That's odd," said Vince, stepping back.
"Whuh?" said Dave.
"Bricks normally make a noise when they hit the floor," said Vince. "And the don't normally fall sideways for a good metre, either."
"Whuh?" said Dave.
"Why don't you stick your head in there and see what's on the other side?"

Anonymous said...

Oh, that's an image. Sorry I've been slacking both on commenting and on writing. It's been a hectic couple of weeks.

The Hole in the Wall:

He just knew it didn’t exist. James told himself over and over that it was simply a figment of little Rose’s imagination. A fairy hole? Ha! It was no fantastic a story as anything he came up with when he was five. Yet there he was, shifting his weight from elbows to knees, his belly scraping the dirt like a serpent, trying to get to the base of the stone wall. Rose wanted to show him her new playmates. And, like the intelligent older brother that he was, James had obeyed her wishes.
He silently cursed his affection for her as his arm raked against a thorn branch. Not only would he get dirt on his new shirt, effectively ruining his appearance for the ceremony later that day, but he would also have to make a visit to the healer if he kept hitting those blasted thorn bushes. And to have the healer’s hands on his skin once more? James tried not to think about it.
“It’s up here,” Rose shouted. She pulled up along the side of the wall, her small frame fitting easily under the bushes.
“Let’s see what you’ve found.” James tried to make his tone light, but all he wanted to do was get back to the marketplace and spend time with his friends.
Rose had been right—though most children had a seed of truth to their imaginative musings. Some stones near the base of the wall had been torn or crumbled away, leaving a hole that pierced straight through the wall. While Rose could no doubt fit through the space with ease, James doubted he could get one shoulder through, much less his whole body. The edges of the hole were jagged; he was starting to wonder if he should even try.
“That’s a nice hole in the wall,” James muttered, trying to think of what else to say to Rose.
“It’s pretty over there,” she said. “Jamie, go see how pretty it is.”
He sighed. There would be no salvaging his shirt after that. But one look at her wide willow bark eyes pulled so ferociously at his heart strings that he could do nothing by run a hand through her raven curls and stare at the hole.
He set himself as low to the ground as he could and, ever watchful of the sharp stone points reaching out to him like claws, James edged his head through the hole.
And there, before his eyes, was the shortest, slimmest, woman he had ever seen.

morganna said...

Couldn't resist, Marc.

"Oh, hell, Dad, there's a voice on the other side of the hole? That's impossible. The other side of that wall is the kitchen. And there's no one else in the house with us."

Dad looked a bit sheepish. "Guess you're right, son. Let's take the picture down and I'll show you the hole." He lifted down the picture, revealing a hole in the drywall about 4 inches across. But before Jeff could say anything, an angry male voice floated out of the hole.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to get a shower here!" And when Jeff listened hard, he thought he could hear running water. What was going on in the house's walls?

"Dad, you stay here. If anything comes out of the hole, grab it. I'm going for a pry bar."

Marc said...

Greg - movies on Netflix. Max calls them videos, apparently I've gotten into the habit as well.

Yes, Dave, why don't you stick your head in there? We're all quite curious to see what you'll fine :)

Ivybennet - no worries! I hope things are settling down for you, and that you're able to find more time to join us.

Some great details here, and such an enjoyable tale. I like the references that fill in the world (ceremony, marketplace, healer) and that ending leaves me wanting to read more.

Morganna - hah, I'm glad you couldn't!

The idea of whoever is in there having a shower just makes me laugh. A lot :)