Hello, book lovers.
Here’s another short story. A bit of an explanation behind this one: this was a task we were asked to do during the first couple of weeks of my degree where we had to come up with words of our own, add them in and to write a short story using these. I struggled with this task at first but after a little while I managed it. So, here you go. I hope you like it, and hopefully you get the gist of what I’m talking about! I tried to make it so that you can
The Silver Spoon
Father shooed me across the room and dagged the cleaner for being a ‘bloody Beager’, saying she ‘ain’t meant to do any more than she’s told of her’. I stepped outside and into the hall, marvelling at the grand beauty that is our open stairbox. The design created by ancestors of ours from centuries ago, it is a real divine thing to be able to say I own. My eyes pointed at the floor, I splod out across the marble tile flooring and scutter up the stairs towards my bedroom.
I open the door and a quiverring happiness stirred in my belly at the sight of the enormous, gandering masterpiece stood beside my bed. Tall and round, covered with a glorious pink and silver patterned wrapping could only be the gift for a silver-spooned silborn like myself. But the guttling sensation of guilt filled my innards when I memoired as to why such an item was in my living quarters in the first place. Because of the narker that was my little brother. He was the one who had suggested the gift to Father.
‘Rory!’ I dagged in my most enormous bellow of the evening.
He came running in, wearing only his little undergarments. Silly narker. He giggled. I laughed. He ducked when I reached to patter him on the belly and it didn’t take long before he’d stuck his foot out in front of him and I tripped and fell face-first onto the granite floor. Dagging loudly in his face, I screamed, ‘You little brunt!’
Rory giggled multiple times. He didn’t find it too amusing when I dagged him but when I screamed the words, he only laughed. ‘Ellie loves Billy!’ he belled. ‘Ellie and Billy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-‘
He shupped just as father came storming into my bedroom and pucked him up by the collar of his t-shirt so that his little feet were dangling in the air before practically throwing him through the door and out of the room. Father placed his hand up against the wooden surface of Rory’s bedroom door and marched him through it. ‘Get in there now, and stay until I say you can come out. Understood?’
Guilt flooded my chest as Rory started to cry. I could just hear it from where I was stood in the doorway of my bedroom and the sound of his sobbing wasn’t particularly something I wanted to hear. His tears got to me every time.
When Father headed back down the stairs, everything was quiet. An eerie silence took over and so I peeked my head around the doorframe and whispered, ‘Rory!’ He poked his head back around the bedroom door and gawped at me, his little eyes wide like two round moons.
He ran. I darted after him and bugged him along by the elbow before he had a chance to get away. But he was fast. Too fast. I watched with a bitter expression on my lips as the unviewed annual gift crashed to the floor of my bedroom and shuttered into a zillion pieces.
A reflective. The beautiful, enormous reflective that had been scattered down through the family had been my gift. And now it was in pieces.