Thank you Quilly for challenging us with difficult, archaic words. To resurrect a good word is a good thing to do! If you love words, you should join us.
The challenge this week was to use any three words from any of the 3WT words from 2010 (so far). Here's my attempt. It is a continuation of the story from last week.
Philip found himself on the sidewalk outside the hospital. A man out walking his dog jostled him, “Hey, mister! You’re blocking the sidewalk!” the man growled. The dog growled as well. Philip blinked his eyes and shook his head. “My apologies,” he said, snapping out of his accidie, “I’m trying to figure out what to do next.” The man with the dog looked at him askance and ventured, “you might try just getting out of the way.” Philip sighed and turned to walk towards Logano South, the part of town he lived in.
Climbing the front steps wearily, he got out his key and reached forward to put it into the lock, and then noticed the door was ajar. The hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. He debated whether to call the police or investigate on his own. He’d feel a fool if the police showed up and nothing was wrong. But if it was a burglar, the police would want evidence and even better, Philip might catch the thief red-handed. A moment of bravery motivated Philip to nudge the door with his foot. It swung wide.
Philip cautiously stepped into the front hall and then relaxed. The house didn’t “feel” like a stranger was in it and he didn’t see anything immediately out of place. His collection of antique pocket watches, many quite valuable, was still intact in the shadow box hanging on the wall. Convincing himself that he had just failed to close the door completely, he laughed to himself, “here I was going on as if someone was waiting to thropple me!” He closed the door behind him and dropped his keys on the table by the door. A quick run up the stairs reassured him that he was alone in the house. He went back down to the front hall.
He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make himself a cup of tea. While it heated, he leafed through the mail. Amidst the usual junk, there was a small envelope addressed by hand. It was the size of a small invitation or thank-you card and had no return address. He couldn’t think of any occasion that might explain it, but still, it was a handwritten envelope, so he began to open it. Just then, the kettle began to whistle. Philip tossed the envelope on the kitchen table and brewed his tea. Taking mug in hand, and a couple of cookies, he stepped through to the living room intending to go to his back deck and enjoy his tea while he watched the birds.
As he rounded the sofa to get to the sliding door Philip stopped in his tracks. His eyes rested on a scarf, neatly folded, placed on the center cushion of his sofa. It was charcoal gray and covered in amoeba shapes. The pattern and colors were exactly the same as the one that the strange woman had been wrapped in, even as she had been transported in the ambulance to the hospital. Philip’s left arm came up and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. “This is incompossible,” he thought. “The scarf cannot be there and here at the same time. And it should not be here. There is no reason for it to be here.” He backed up slowly, moving away from the scarf.
Philip bumped into the doorframe, and suddenly craving human company, he put his mug of tea down on a nearby table, went back to the kitchen and ensured the kettle was off. As he passed the table, he grabbed the small envelope, and stuck it into his pocket. Snagging the keys from the entrance table, Philip left his house. This time he specifically locked the door and checked to make sure it was completely closed. He turned, went down the steps, and this time turned away from the river, heading to the pub at the end of the next block. He had to sit down and think this through.