Well, it's been a slow week and I've spent most of it being really bored. This is what I've being doing with my time (please excuse spelling grammer and general awfulness).
Chapter One.
The postman trudged down the garden path, his heavy bag weighing him down. All around him the birds sang and the trees and flowers swayed softly in the warm summer breeze. He wished it were raining, the heat of the hazy summer morning and the lead weights that he was sure someone had hidden in his postbag were making it harder and harder for him to put one foot in front of another.
As he reached the smartly painted front door, he reached into his bag and pulled out a sheaf of letters. He bent over and pushed them through the letterbox one by one, he smiled to himself as he stood up and stretched his aching back. Only two more streets and he would be finished, two more streets and he would be on his way back to the sorting office, two more streets and he would be finishing work for his summer holiday. He closed his eyes and his mind filled with pictures of sandy beaches, palm trees and sangria.
He continued along his usual route, stopping occasionally to adjust the strap of his postbag. With every delivery his heart (and his bag) grew lighter. Then, not a moment too soon, he stood at the gate of the only remaining house on his round.
The tall hedge danced in the gentle wind, its green leaves swaying back and forth as if in a hypnotic trance. The small garden was alive with flowers of every colour and played host to a myriad of creatures. The butterflies painted the air with glorious colour and the gentle hum of the bees soothed his ears.
He walked down the path, his tired feet stepped one in front of the other until he stood in front of the ornately carved door. The door seemed out of place, its heavily engraved magnificence seemed to overpower the small house. He often marvelled over the fine detail in the dark wooden door, the animals carved there seemed to be almost alive, he would never admit it out loud, but sometimes he could swear that they moved.
He opened his bag and pulled out a parcel, it was medium in size and was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He slowly reached toward the doorknocker, a large silver cat at full stretch, and gently rapped the door. The knocker was warm to the touch, smooth and almost fluid in this hand. He stepped back from the door and held his breath as it slowly creaked open.
The door inched open until there was just enough room for the parcel, a voice from within asked him to push the parcel through the gap. The postman was unsurprised; he had been working the same route for 5 years and had never seen the occupant of the house. He had heard that a young woman had been seen leaving the house but that the owner was a total recluse. The only sign that someone actually lived there was the assortment of cats often seen stretched out in the window.
He bent down and gently pushed the parcel through the gap. As he straightened up the melodic voice thanked him for his trouble, he looked up and his smile froze. Looking back at him from the darkness and gloom within were a pair of striking golden eyes. He stuttered his goodbyes and walked quickly to the garden gate. He turned and stared back at the now closed door and then ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the sorting office.
By the time Albert, for that was the postmanâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s name, arrived back at the post office he had decided that those spellbinding golden eyes were merely a figment of his imagination. He was overworked and overdue for the holiday he was about to take. He reasoned that the eyes were probably one of the ownerâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s cats or a trick of the light. It seemed impossible that the pleasant-sounding voice had come form the direction of those appealing radiant eyes, even though in his heart of hearts he knew it to be true.
Albert punched his time card and walked out into the now gloriously sunny day. He had five hours before he needed to leave for the airport and he still hadnâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]t finished packing. He quickened his pace, eager to be home and then on his way to Spain. The image of the golden eyes quickly faded to be replaced by Mediterranean sun and sparkling azure sea.
Back at the house six pairs of eyes stared expectantly at the parcel. The package sat on a furry white rug in front of a large marble fireplace. The sun streamed in through the net curtains creating a curious dappled pattern on the walls and floor, the heavy velvet drapes pulled back to let in the day. The owner of the golden eyes was the first to move, she hooked the string tying up the parcel and pulled, the string fell away easily. She smiled and tossed the string over her shoulder.
All of a sudden the five other occupants of the room came to life, each trying to catch the string before the others. The room was a melee of bodies jumping, running and twisting, only the string would emerge unscathed. The owner of the golden eyes, who we shall call Carmen, watched the battle with interest. It never ceased to amaze her that they would go to such trouble over such a small thing. It soon became clear that they were not going to stop of their own accord. Carmen raised her arms and shouted ‘Enough!â€[emoji]8482[/emoji]
The five troublemakers froze, for a second the room looked like someone had snapped a photograph of the pursuit, and then slowly they all gathered back around the parcel, one of them held the string in their mouth.
Carmen expertly removed the brown paper and put it to one side, her flashing eyes warning the others to leave it alone, she noticed that the box was punched full of holes. On top of the box was an envelope, Carmen opened the envelope and read the letter it contained aloud.
Dear Carmen,
I found this little fellow wandering the streets, I took him in of course, but I think he may be more suited to staying with you. He seems to be somewhat gifted and I think he is in need of a teacher with more experience than I. He is a delightful little chap. We call him Jekyll.
Please let me know how he is progressing,
Your friend,
St. John.
The others looked at each other, excitement shining on their faces. It had been a long time since someone new had arrived at the house. Carmen smiled to herself as she caught sight of their eager faces. It was nice to know that they were as keyed up as she was. She made a mental note to remind St. John that travelling by post was not really an acceptable way to send her a new charge, no matter how gifted. Then slowly she began to peel back the cardboard flaps of the box, whispering words of encouragement as she did so. The tension in the room was palpable, as she finally opened the box six pairs of eyes, including her own, peered in at its contents. One pair of eyes stared back.
Chapter One.
The postman trudged down the garden path, his heavy bag weighing him down. All around him the birds sang and the trees and flowers swayed softly in the warm summer breeze. He wished it were raining, the heat of the hazy summer morning and the lead weights that he was sure someone had hidden in his postbag were making it harder and harder for him to put one foot in front of another.
As he reached the smartly painted front door, he reached into his bag and pulled out a sheaf of letters. He bent over and pushed them through the letterbox one by one, he smiled to himself as he stood up and stretched his aching back. Only two more streets and he would be finished, two more streets and he would be on his way back to the sorting office, two more streets and he would be finishing work for his summer holiday. He closed his eyes and his mind filled with pictures of sandy beaches, palm trees and sangria.
He continued along his usual route, stopping occasionally to adjust the strap of his postbag. With every delivery his heart (and his bag) grew lighter. Then, not a moment too soon, he stood at the gate of the only remaining house on his round.
The tall hedge danced in the gentle wind, its green leaves swaying back and forth as if in a hypnotic trance. The small garden was alive with flowers of every colour and played host to a myriad of creatures. The butterflies painted the air with glorious colour and the gentle hum of the bees soothed his ears.
He walked down the path, his tired feet stepped one in front of the other until he stood in front of the ornately carved door. The door seemed out of place, its heavily engraved magnificence seemed to overpower the small house. He often marvelled over the fine detail in the dark wooden door, the animals carved there seemed to be almost alive, he would never admit it out loud, but sometimes he could swear that they moved.
He opened his bag and pulled out a parcel, it was medium in size and was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He slowly reached toward the doorknocker, a large silver cat at full stretch, and gently rapped the door. The knocker was warm to the touch, smooth and almost fluid in this hand. He stepped back from the door and held his breath as it slowly creaked open.
The door inched open until there was just enough room for the parcel, a voice from within asked him to push the parcel through the gap. The postman was unsurprised; he had been working the same route for 5 years and had never seen the occupant of the house. He had heard that a young woman had been seen leaving the house but that the owner was a total recluse. The only sign that someone actually lived there was the assortment of cats often seen stretched out in the window.
He bent down and gently pushed the parcel through the gap. As he straightened up the melodic voice thanked him for his trouble, he looked up and his smile froze. Looking back at him from the darkness and gloom within were a pair of striking golden eyes. He stuttered his goodbyes and walked quickly to the garden gate. He turned and stared back at the now closed door and then ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the sorting office.
By the time Albert, for that was the postmanâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s name, arrived back at the post office he had decided that those spellbinding golden eyes were merely a figment of his imagination. He was overworked and overdue for the holiday he was about to take. He reasoned that the eyes were probably one of the ownerâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s cats or a trick of the light. It seemed impossible that the pleasant-sounding voice had come form the direction of those appealing radiant eyes, even though in his heart of hearts he knew it to be true.
Albert punched his time card and walked out into the now gloriously sunny day. He had five hours before he needed to leave for the airport and he still hadnâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]t finished packing. He quickened his pace, eager to be home and then on his way to Spain. The image of the golden eyes quickly faded to be replaced by Mediterranean sun and sparkling azure sea.
Back at the house six pairs of eyes stared expectantly at the parcel. The package sat on a furry white rug in front of a large marble fireplace. The sun streamed in through the net curtains creating a curious dappled pattern on the walls and floor, the heavy velvet drapes pulled back to let in the day. The owner of the golden eyes was the first to move, she hooked the string tying up the parcel and pulled, the string fell away easily. She smiled and tossed the string over her shoulder.
All of a sudden the five other occupants of the room came to life, each trying to catch the string before the others. The room was a melee of bodies jumping, running and twisting, only the string would emerge unscathed. The owner of the golden eyes, who we shall call Carmen, watched the battle with interest. It never ceased to amaze her that they would go to such trouble over such a small thing. It soon became clear that they were not going to stop of their own accord. Carmen raised her arms and shouted ‘Enough!â€[emoji]8482[/emoji]
The five troublemakers froze, for a second the room looked like someone had snapped a photograph of the pursuit, and then slowly they all gathered back around the parcel, one of them held the string in their mouth.
Carmen expertly removed the brown paper and put it to one side, her flashing eyes warning the others to leave it alone, she noticed that the box was punched full of holes. On top of the box was an envelope, Carmen opened the envelope and read the letter it contained aloud.
Dear Carmen,
I found this little fellow wandering the streets, I took him in of course, but I think he may be more suited to staying with you. He seems to be somewhat gifted and I think he is in need of a teacher with more experience than I. He is a delightful little chap. We call him Jekyll.
Please let me know how he is progressing,
Your friend,
St. John.
The others looked at each other, excitement shining on their faces. It had been a long time since someone new had arrived at the house. Carmen smiled to herself as she caught sight of their eager faces. It was nice to know that they were as keyed up as she was. She made a mental note to remind St. John that travelling by post was not really an acceptable way to send her a new charge, no matter how gifted. Then slowly she began to peel back the cardboard flaps of the box, whispering words of encouragement as she did so. The tension in the room was palpable, as she finally opened the box six pairs of eyes, including her own, peered in at its contents. One pair of eyes stared back.
