The Doom Of The Hollow - Extra content
The Jumble - Thursday 5th November, 13 Days Before Doomsday
The daydream of sitting and relaxing in the peace and quiet of his front room was interrupted by the click of the kettle indicating that, yet again, the water had boiled. Reverend Mason Gibbons leaned over the rinsed out teapot, his hands holding onto the edge of the kitchen work surface. As soon as he gathered his surroundings, and got over the fact that he was not day dreaming, he had to prise the lid from the tea jar and threw three teabags into the pot. He followed this with hot water and stirred the piping liquid until he felt a hand on his back. He turned, gave his wife, Gabby, a smile and finished making the tea. Out of habit he patted his trouser pockets and then the small pockets in his dark green cardigan whilst saying, “Milk, milk.”
“You’re not going to find it in there, try the fridge.”
Mason, turned, reached below him to the right, and opened the fridge.
“I would’ve done this for you,” said Gabby leaning against the work surface.
“I was just glad to get out of there for ten minutes.”
“That bad, huh?”
“This is the third pot, the THIRD pot, and not one of them has gone to the toilet yet. Where do they store it all?”
“Cakes as well, I’m presuming.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Robert reached below him to the left and opened a cupboard. He took out two boxes of French Fancies and placed them on the tray with the teapot and carton of milk.
“I’d put the cakes on a plate.”
With a little less patience than before, Mason, reached above him to the left and grabbed a plate from the cupboard. After tipping the cakes from the box, he arranged them neatly around the rim of the plate. “There, happy?”
“And, I would put the milk into a proper milk jug.”
Mason glared at his sniggering wife and, without taking his eyes off her, reached above him to his right, opened the cupboard and grabbed the nearest jug.
“Not that one, it has a chip,” said Gabby trying not to giggle.
Mason banged the jug back where he found it and reached for a smaller jug located at the back of the cupboard. He made sure he clattered the smaller jug against the rest of the items in protest at the fact that he had to use a milk jug. Why couldn’t they be happy with a cardboard carton? They were before. Picking up the tray, Mason turned to walk out of the kitchen until Gabby spoke once more.
“No plates for the cakes?”
Mason turned back, and calmly placed the tray back onto the work top. Four small plates were quickly put onto the tray and he turned to walk out of the kitchen smiling sarcastically at Gabby whose innocent expression disguised her next comment.
“Serviettes?”
Mason turned back and placed the tray back onto the kitchen work top a little heavier than last time causing the plates to clatter together. He grabbed a fistful of serviettes and untidily placed them on the plates.
“Teaspoons?”
The cutlery clashed together as Mason snatched open the drawer. Within seconds, more spoons than were required were thrown onto the tray. “Anything else?”
Gabby curled her lips over her teeth, “nope.”
As Mason entered the vicarage’s front room he was greeted with the wit of his elderly female guests. ‘Serviettes, I think he’s spoiling us’, was quickly followed by, ‘eh up ladies, we’ll get a plate EACH this time’, and, ‘oh look, this must be the first man to put the milk in a jug.”
The extra content for 'The Doom Of The Hollow' continues here
"The building of tension by using the reader’s imagination with locations that they can relate too is not always easy to do. But Pete has done something right when I'm not sure about walking into my junk store of a garage again.”
 |
 |
 |
 |