this is slightly a different theme to my normal writing but its based on a writing task I had to complete at school. Anyways, enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Mother was at the table laying out the cutlery, the soft clatter of metals harmonizing with the delicate song from the thrushes in the yew tree in the fields. The sun was shedding that last of its bright rays and an orange haze was settling over our cottage. I was sat at the table, devastated by the amount of homework that was set by the teacher. The Latin books lurked in the shadows of my satchel reminding me of the tedious grammar exercises that I had to complete. Mother put down a white and blue stripped jug, full to the brink with fresh milk, and a dish of potatoes, with jackets, as brown as the soil from which they can from. A thick slab of butter was placed on a red rimmed dish, imprinted with an image of a swan dipping its head. Both were then gently placed on the table as Mother sat down and folded her hands in her lap out of mindless curtesy. We discussed nothing in particular but I perked up when she told me of a lady who had an airmail letter from America. It just seemed so far away and so distant that I'd never really thought about its but it was interesting. I was used to the safety of this cottage, my private little paradise. The outside world seemed foreign, alien. After that, she mentioned how tired Father would be, she told me he'd been in the fields all day but he would rather be dead than return home without a smile on his face. Mother said that he would never be too tired to forget his manners and that he will always say grace before every meal. She reminded me of Father's smile every time that I took out my Latin books because, she said, your Father finds wonders in learning. Father came in after she had finished saying that, with a smile on his face, even when he washed himself. He was exactly as she described. After grace was said, the only sounds in the room were the kettle noiselessly humming and the persistent, rhythmic ticking of the clock. These all turned into background noise as I glanced at the china dogs on the mantlepiece, forever looking across at one another and marvelled at the peace of our little Eden.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
photo taken by me at Christchurch, England
YOU ARE READING
chaotic good
Short Storyjust a series of short stories that I thought would be fun to do! they're all based on random images off the internet and I'll try to update daily if possible and feel free to request! /I have no idea who the cover photo is by but credits to the cre...