Short stories to be consumed with a favourite beverage
Thursday, 29 August 2019
The Clockwork Mouse Part 1
steamed copper tea
moon disappeared behind a pearly white veil of cloud. Its subtle luminance
remained hidden and the inky darkness of the night sky was uncorrupted by stars
and no ray of light fell upon the narrow alleyway beneath.
was in darkness.
the walls of the alley were towering with thick rough stone that ran thick with
silvery veins that appeared at first to be only of mundane grey then as the tiny
flecks of light penetrated its surface further, it gleamed with multi-faceted
glimmers of dazzlingly bright colours that seemed almost out of place here. As
the fleeting light dallied, the bright coloured died away.
the narrow entrance to the alley,was a crimson door with old peeling paint and an
opaque brassy knocker, sculpted into the shape of a mouse’s head. Locked and
bolted for the night. a large grimy window stood alongside, poorly lit,
displaying an odd assortment of goods with yellowing price tags attached. One
point on the left side of the window was reflecting a small circle of bright
light. It appeared that within the circle of light was inscribed several darkly
coloured roman numerals, though it wasn’t clear if the numbers were a product of
the light or simply something in the window was illuminated by the
was casting it?
from the shop window, an imperious black void. Almost blacker than the night
itself. No light seemed to penetrate it. One could only imagine what lay within.
It was impermeable and cold and full of everything and somehow it was full of
nothing. The eye was soon drawn away from the void and onto a low standing
ornate metallic lamppost, powered oddly by gas. Its luminescence was golden and
warm and in the chilled darkness it was a welcome sight, if not a peculiar one.
Around it was cast a pure halo of light upon the grey cobblestone floor which
gleamed from the now thickly falling rain drops that plummeted down from the
darkened heavens and landed sharply and silently.
delicate beauty seemed most out of place in an alley such as this.
talked there opposite the streetlamp for a time in the darkness. It was not long
until I realized that the alleyway – if it had been possible – was a fraction
darker than it had been when we had arrived there not a few short minuets ago.
It was not the streetlamp that had died. What other luminance had there been
here? Out of curiosity, I grabbed his wet hand with mine and pulled him towards
the window, it was the disk of light that had illuminated the roman numerals
that had died. Looking behind me, I could not see what had been casting it. It
was gone anyway. I felt my sudden moving of him to the window had irritated him,
as if I wasn’t listening to his words so I softly moved us back to our previous
position opposite the strange streetlamp.
it was in the darkness that we first heard it: a soft mechanical pattering of
tiny metallic feet pattering at a speed across the rain weathered stone