Running a bit late this morning I’m afraid. I got up on time, but had the devil of a time getting started. part of it I think was the rabbits. I made coffee and saw several of them frolicing in the yard and a couple aiming for one of the beds. I defended the cucumbers and then inspected the damage. It took longer than I thought. But I am ready to get back on track for the day. So let’s get on with the writing prompt.
This could be interesting. At least i want to know why Frederick throws so many temper tantrums. Once I do the story will either interest me enough to write or I will be happy with the mystery solved and feel no need to write it. I think this one could go either way. I’ll just have to figure it out before I know.
Wednesday, July 21st: A crash shook the entire house.
A crash shook the entire house. I stayed seated at the kitchen table and quietly sipped my tea. Sarah looked nervously up from her place across the table. She turned her eyes to the ceiling. A few smaller crashes sounded in rapid fire succession.
I suspected books hitting the floor one by one.
“Shouldn’t we …do something,” Sarah asked.
I set my cup down china clinking lightly as cup and saucer met. The sound was masked bu another large thump. I thought it might be the dictionary.
“He will calm down momentarily,” I explained.
“But…” she began.
“If we attempt to do anything it will just prolong his temper tantrum,” I explained. “If we leave him be, he will get it out of his system and then come down the stairs out of breath and still in a temper. He will then shout something about going out and then stomp off to his club. He’ll sulk over a good meal and return in a better frame of mind.”
There was a series of small breaks sounding like china hitting the wall. I lifted an eyebrow in surprise. I wasn’t aware there were and more small ornaments left in the room for him to break.
I lifted my cup to my lips. The upper parts of the house grew quiet. Sarah took nervous little sips of her tea and jumped, sloshing it out of the cup as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Frederick stomped down the steps making each as loud as possible. Sarah trembled. By this point I was used to the show.
“I am going to my club, if anyone cares,” he yelled vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. I made not a sound and continued to sip my tea instead. He stomped to the door, grabbed his coat with enough force to knock the heavy coat tree askew and plopped his hat onto his head. The door was flung open with enough force that I heard tinkling glass as one of the panes broke. The door then rattled as it slammed shut.
I frowned as I placed my cup back in the saucer. “He usually confines himself to destroying his own quarters. If you will excuse me a moment.” I stood and turned, walking out of the kitchen. By skirts swished as I moved down the hallway to the door. I passed the untouched parlors. I should have asked Sarah to join me in one of them for tea instead of cowering in the kitchen, but he had been in a mood all day and I knew that should we be in the direct line of sight, it would be courting insults.
The damage caused by words was harder to repair than broken glass.
As I thought one of the panes had been shaken loose. I opened the door and lifted my skirts enough to step over the broken bits without dragging them in my wake. Once clear I lowered them to a decorous length. I stepped out on the front stoop and signaled one of the small boys who served as runners in our neighborhood. I informed him that the glaziers were needed to repair a glass pane and retreated inside.