When the moors were empty, it made them far better to walk upon, Wish decided. There weren’t noisy children running around or dogs barking or horses clopping everywhere. There was just the wind blowing through the dry grasses and heather. The sweet smell of just flowering plants and spring. Birds singing off in the distance and nothing more.
Wish came to a stop and looked around. She spread her arms out and threw back her head. The sky above was a lovely pale morning blue. Not a cloud insight, she noticed. Smiling, Wish dropped her head and arms, she got back to walking, feeling totally calm and satisfied.
The cave hadn’t seemed a welcoming place to spend the night, but he’d no choice. Entering slowly and flashing his torch around, Brad made his way along. The cave seemed naturally made in the side of the mountain range and not well traveled.
He paused and looked over his shoulder at the mouth of the cave. Rain was hammering down and large puddles spread across the floor whilst the wild wind blew a tune across the rocks. Night was also coming fast and with being unable to put up his tent safely, he was lucky to have find this shelter.
Brad didn’t feel grateful though. This cave wasn’t marked on the map he had been following and it was by pure change he had noticed the curving of the rock face. Walking on again, he looked for a good place to stop, but the ground looked too wet. Sighing, he carried on, thinking about how much he’d really had enough of this hiking trip.
Heading further into the cave, Brad passed by amazing features; stalactite and stalagmites growing to meet each other, pools of clear water, shining quartz and green oxidation patches along the walls. He was deep in thought when he stumbled over something.
Swearing loudly, Brad bent to rub his leg and catch his breath. Shinning his torch on the floor, he saw it wasn’t actually a rock he had tripped on but a large metal box. Puzzled, he knelt down, shrugging off his hiking bag. He felt along the lid of the box then easily opened it.
The shine of cans met his eyes. Brad frowned and rummaged through the box. Labels showed that all the tins were food and there must have been over a hundred of them. Mumbling the strangeness of this, Brad stood up and shone his torch further down. The ends of metal shelves placed against both walls of the cave flashed up.
Walking on, he began to inspect the items on the shelves and open more metal boxes on the floor. It wasn’t until he found a book about nuclear war that he realised what he had discovered.
Jasper loved money. There was something comforting and reassuring about the feel of coins in his hands. He liked the weight and the coldness which quickly became warm. The sounds the coins made as they clinked together or on to things was music to his ears.
He marvelled at all the different designs there were on the backs of coins from all over the world. He enjoyed watching the British Queen’s face changing through the years, the USA Presidents switching around and special editions for events like the Olympics.
Coins was not were it ended though, Jasper also enjoyed paper notes. He liked the rustle sounds of them, the feel between his fingers and the oily printing smell of them. He hung on to notes that were crisp from the machines, not parting with them till he had no choice.
Jasper’s collection was huge and though it took over his house, he wouldn’t give it up for the world. He had perfectly fitted cabinets and drawers made to protect and store the money. The most valuable coins and notes lived in numerous safes hidden in the walls, floors and ceilings.
Even his job in involved money handling! Jasper would hurry to the bank five times a week and carry out his role as a finical accountant manger. He loved watching money roll in and out of accounts and the stock market changing. Sometimes he would go into the vault and look at what was on display down there.
However, he loved home time when he could return to his collections and study his coins in greater detail.
When Larry had got the job he hadn’t expected his office to be so small. He told himself it was only temporary and he’d be promoted soon enough. However, five years had now past and he was still stuck in this closet they classed as an office.
Sitting at his desk which was hard because his knees banged against it, Larry wondered what to do. A part of him wanted to quit but the more sensible part knew it wasn’t worth it. The job paid very well and the hours were good to, but how much long could he put up with being inside this room?
He looked around at the orange walls, done to try and make the room brighter and warmer. There were no windows, only a single door and beside from his desk and chair there was nothing else in the room. There wasn’t space for anything more really! And even the desk was pushing it.
Larry looked out of the door which he always kept open to let some air and general background noise in. He couldn’t see much, other then part of a dividing white screen and the edge of a filing cabinet.
He knew though that all the offices on this floor were just the same as his. Many of the other workers also kept their doors open and when he past by he would catch snatches of conversations. He had never talk to anyone in these rooms though. There was never the need to.
He would often talk with the women receptionist and admins though. Their desks were all in the long corridor outside of his door. He welcomed their chatty voices and tapping of keys as it made him feel not so lonely. Sometimes he would go out and ask one of them for a file or a pen, just to stretch his poor legs and break up the monotony.
I should quit, he thought as he tapped a pencil on the edge of his desk, I’m worth more then this!
He watches and awaits by the front door, listening as footsteps go up and down the street. He growls as he hears the mailman approach and a shuffling of papers. The letter flap is fluttering and it’s raining inside the house. He jumps, catching white and brown papers which he rips and throws about. He snatches the last few out of a hand he can’t see and tears the letters up.
Afterwards, he sits, tail wagging and tongue lolling, his task of defending his home and family complete.
The empty bus pulled smoothly to a stop and the doors opened. The bus driver peered out and watched the old lady getting on with the aid of the handrail.
‘Hello, Doreen!’ he said cheerfully as he recognised her, ‘terrible evening.’
‘Oh, no, Terry!’ Doreen cried with a little wave of her walking stick, ‘it’s quiet perfect!’
She pressed her pensioner’s bus pass to the ticket machine. There was a beep and some words flashed up.
‘For ducks maybe,’ Terry muttered with a glance out of his window.
The rain was coming down heavily and the wind was whipping up into a storm.
Terry closed the bus’s door to contain some heat. Then he waited for Doreen to shuffle off and sit down at the back, like she always did. Checking she was settled, he started up the bus and smoothly drove off.
Doreen smiled and watched the rain hitting the window next to her. She turned up her hearing aids and listen to the rain splashing and the wind howling. Under her, the bus’s engine rumbled away and waves of gentle heat brushed her.
She took off her big pink flowers decorated hat which she always wore on her rainy evening bus rides and set it to dry out next to her. Doreen placed her small red handbag flat next to it, then took off her bright pink rain mac. She was wearing a huge, fluffy green jumper that she had knitted herself.
Turning back to the window, Doreen relaxed into the ride.
There’s nothing, she thought, quite like a drive in the rain to make you fall asleep.
Work has been so stressful these last few weeks. I’m so in need of a holiday but no luck! My hours have changed, so they are longer now and due to there still be staff shortages, no one can really have time off. Of course, if I did ask for a few days or a week off I would get it, though my supervisor might not like it!
I’m meant to be training like four volunteers to do my job which would be really useful, but none of them turned up this week. Hopefully, they might next week. I don’t mind training as it means less work for me but it just takes time away from other things.
Everyone thinks being on reception is a cushy job but it’s not! You get rushed off your feet answering the phone and greeting visitors. I don’t mind answering and sending emails though because at least you have longer to deal with them. I’ve always been a happy friendly person, but work expects you to be like that all the time!
My face feels numb from smiling and I’m so weary of being cheerful even when I totally don’t feel like it.
I shouldn’t complain. I like my job and the money is great, but sometimes it just gets too much. I think everyone feels like that sometimes. We get grind down like wood in a sanding machine. Everyday we lose more of ourselves and we can never get it back.
I’ve been reading too many morbid books!
I need to get some more sleep too. That would really help. Maybe trying to get sometime off work wouldn’t be that bad an idea.