The old man showed the cleaning lady around the mansion, through all the rooms he wanted her to keep clean. Five bedrooms (all but one unused), two bathrooms, the toilets, the breakfast and dining rooms, the kitchen and pantry, and the library. There was also the study, which the old man made quite clear that she was only to clean under strict supervision, and the workshop, which was strictly…
It started with a tiny crack that crossed the main street of the village, barely perceptible to the naked eye. As it slowly grew wider over time, the inhabitants of the village adapted, taking a large, careful step over the fissure, by then nicknamed the Gap. The people considered it not much more than a nuisance, primarily for cyclists (who’d have to get off their bike and carry it over the Gap)…
In the empty valley stands a house. It has stood there for a century, but it had drifted away from the ones surrounding it, or perhaps it was the other houses that had drifted. In the house lives a man who is mute, or maybe just never speaks. He has made many attempts at excising the hills that form a barrier around the area, but they are relentless. He keeps trying because he does not want to…
The last sliver of sunlight had disappeared, and now the groundskeeper ushered the two women between the gravestones towards the cast-iron cemetery gate. “It has been so good to see you, but I’ve really got to close up for the day. Good night, Mrs. Jackson, Mrs. Massey.” Mrs. Jackson turned towards the groundskeeper, and regarded him with a curious expression on her face. “Mrs. Massey? She’s…
All Robert wanted was to finish his crossword puzzle in peace, but his woman wanted to make conversation, and the incessant ringing of the doorbell — those darned kids — was driving him up the wall. Gertrude stood up, visibly upset. “I’m going for groceries,” she said. “Do that,” Robert snapped. “Want anything?” There was no answer, so she left. The doorbell rang again, and Robert threw down his…
I Rob sat at his writing desk, with his laptop in front of him. On it, a blank text document, with not a single word written. Just a cursor, blinking away, ready to move as soon as the first character had been typed. But for the time being, there was nothing but a blinking cursor. He took another sip of tea, and stared through the rain-covered window. He’d rather not have to worry about this…
As the sun rose over the verdant landscape, the white-painted house reflected the sunlight like a beacon. This was Dorothy’s house. A ray of light fell through the bedroom window onto her face and she woke up, for the first time in the new house since the move yesterday. She smiled, got up, admired the view on the majestic garden through her bedroom window, got ready and headed downstairs to set…
The abattoir is the only place I’ve ever worked. I naturally fell into this job, following in my father’s footsteps. I had never really given it any thought to pursue a different line of work—until recently. Being a slaughterhouse worker means honest and rewarding work: you’ve got a job to do, and you do it. I don’t know what it’s like for other jobs, but this one’s simple and straightforward.…