Thursday, March 05, 2009

Overnight Stocktake


Alone in Harold’s shop for the first time in the years that she’d worked there, Julie could feel the steady background hum in psychiatric activity. Contrary to expectation, this diminished at midnight, to be replaced by an odd sound coming from the kitchen at the back of the shop.

“Tink… tink…tink…”

She investigated, creeping slowly to the door and pushing it open. There was an imp at the old pine table. It looked up as the door creaked, one hand tracing the lines of text in a book.

“I’ve made tea,” said John, stirring sugar into his cup. “Tink… tink…tink…”

6 comments:

aims said...

That sound is sometimes only recognizable when you see the spoon moving - but it is a very distinctive sound anyway.

Then there's the final sound as you tap the spoon on the side of the cup. It goes......?

Leatherdykeuk said...

Ah! That one goes 'ting ting ting...'

martha said...

I've always been rather fond of John - practical sort 'e is.

Leatherdykeuk said...

He is, rather. A studious lad.

stephanie said...

I love your myth-busting. :)

Aside from that, I rather enjoyed this. John is so matter-of-fact, and there is comfort to be had in the sound of ritual, including tea making.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you. John's a pragmatic chap.