D.I.Y

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Crossing another task of my long list of them, I looked through the pages; some computer typed and others handwritten which were stabled together, at the other jobs there. They were all D.I.Y tasks like; paint the fence, fix the bottom draw in the kitchen, put the wheel back on the shelf unit, replace the doorbell.

It was was strange to think that once I hardly had the time or else I would say I’d do it tomorrow and now I needed to fill the daytime up because my job was on hold. What better way to pass the time then getting through my lists?

Everyone else was in the same place and constantly I would hear the whirl of drills, the teeth-on- edge scrapping of a spade against rocks and the blasting chugging of a chainsaw. Voices would drift from other back gardens; children playing, neighbours talking loudly over their fences and the wind slapping shut doors.

I frowned over a scrawling of words at the bottom of the list but couldn’t make them out. The one below it appealed to me more then anything else; build wood plants for herbs and butterfly/bee liking flowers.    

That sounded like a nice thing to get making.

Noise

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Debbie paused from typing up her report and looked around the office. Everyone was busy working. There was the low mutter of voices and the beat of music coming from the turned down radio.

There was also something else; a high pitched whining sound. It reminded her of the sound of the cleaning drill at the dentist.

She turned to a neighbouring colleague, ‘do you hear that whining sound?’ Debbie asked.

‘What sound? I don’t hear anything.’

The phone ring and the colleague answered it.

Debbie shook her head but she carried on hearing the sound.

She checked her PC and those of her neighbours, she turned the radio on and off, asked around the office and tried hard to find the source of the noise but couldn’t located it.

Leaving the office, the sound was still whining in her ears. Debbie crossed the car park and looked over the road, there were builders digging.

Debbie turned and walked over to them till she could see clearer that one of the builders had a scanning device.

‘It runs right here!’ that builder called, ‘mark it up!’

Debbie sighed, the noise was solved. She wasn’t going insane after all.

Bust #FFfAW

The trucker drove through another semi-abandoned town, just like the last few he had passed. Looking out of his rain splattered window at building sites and abandoned yellow machinery. The economy had fallen and work had stopped everywhere.

A sign went by, an advert for new houses; Move in by Christmas! The trucker looked at the dirt field behind. No chance, unless you put up a tent, he thought. Shaking his head, he drove on, heading away from failed towns and the out fall of other peoples’ decisions. He felt lucky to still have a job.

 

(Inspired by; https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/11/12/fffaw-challenge-191st/ with thanks).

Igloo

Igloo, Ice, Snow, House, Home, Polar, Region, Shelter

 

It was a crazy idea, but still as Vince drew out the plan, the paycheck rang in his ears. He grabbed the metal ruler and began working out the height, length and width of the half sphere shape and attached long arched entrance. He shook his head, still feeling the eddies of madness. Of all the things he’d been asked to make over the years; doll houses, kids play dens, tree houses and rocking horses, this took the biscuit. Looking down at the blueprint, he admired his art work then wondered how he was going to build an igloo out of wood.