Good morning all. We have a surprise today. Its called The SUN. It has put in a surprise appearance. And you know what? That means right now it is sunny and still only sixty five degrees. Humidity is through the roof of course, but still it is actually pleasant outside. I might have to actually take my coffee onto the porch and sit for a few minutes. Usually I only get to do that in October and November, but today, I might squeak a few minutes out, even if I can’t get through a full cup of coffee. So with this goal in mind, let’s get to the morning writing prompt. Ready, set, GO!
Interesting. Not my favorite this week, but interesting.
Thursday, September 2nd: The dog growled from its place under the sofa.
The dog growled from its place under the sofa. Ian shifted and lightly tapped the dog in the ribs with his socked foot. The dog quieted but Ian could still feel the vibrations and knew Old Charlie had just taken the growl down in tone so that it registered less to human ears.
Quite frankly, Ian couldn’t blame him. Charlie was a good dog, protective of his home and his family and the man sitting opposite Ian was clearly a threat to both. Ian wished he could display his own distaste and unease as well. Now however was not the time.
The man before him was important. He owned large tracks of land and most of the businesses in town including the local mill. Ian may have owned his farm outright, but Mr. Gregson could easily ruin him. He could refuse to allow the mill to process his grain. He could convince the necessary field hands to hire on somewhere else when Ian most desperately needed them. And those were only the two most obvious methods that sprung to mind. Gregson had been known to employ much more devious schemes in the past.
Rumor had it that at least half of his properties came to him through nefarious means. At the moment Mr. Gregson wanted a mere moment of his time not his land or his livelihood. So he silenced Old Charlie as gently as possible and refrained from growling at Gregson himself.
“I do like a man who knows how to keep his house in order,” Gregson said. A steel complement. Ian inclined his head.
“I brook no such inappropriate displays in my home either. I am pleased to see we have a similar disposition.”
Again Ian inclined his head. He had a momentary flash of memory and he tried to squash it. Gregson gave his request, which he knew was more in the nature of a command. Ian thought he could accomplish it without losing his soul. All that was necessary was for him to officially accept the commission and then Gregson would be on his way.
“I believe I can accommodate you,” Ian relied, ignoring old memories and the comments upon his house. “You said the seventh?”
“Yes,” Gregson said. His ice blue eyes locked in on Ian’s watery green ones and Ian felt a chill slide through him.
“I can clear the seventh and be at the station at nine in the morning as requested.”
“And you know that escorting the shipment will take the bulk of the day and that you probably won’t be returning into the small hours of the following morning?” Gregson prompted.
“I understand and will take appropriate measures for the tenth as well.”
“Excellent,” Gregson said. The ice seemed to melt slightly as Gregson seemed to feel genuine relief. He set down the teacup he accepted upon arrival. The contents remained untouched. It had merely been a prop of civility. The cup and its saucer were set aside and Gregson rose. Ian too stood. Old Charlie remained safely under the sofa. Ian felt a momentary relief that the dog would not be joining them. As silly as the notion was, he didn’t want the dog in full view of Gregson.