Writing Prompt: The scent of the furniture polish stained the air.

Good morning and welcome to the weather known as the wintry mix. Yup we have rain we have a few white flakes that might be snow and we have the harder bits that are certainly ice. Or at least a thin sheeting of ice around an otherwise regular water droplet. It’s that kind of morning with the temps just hovering around 32.If you are in the area and driving, watch yourself. If you don’t have to leave the house, just stay home. As for me, I am going to write my morning prompt, then have my coffee and see if the weather has made up it’s mind. So Timer’s set if you are joining un and let’s get fifteen minutes worth of words put onto the paper.

This feels like the calm before the storm to me. This group is working off the punishment and now when they think they are done phase two begins, but before it really gets started something happens. I don’t know what is going to happen, it just has the feel that his is where something happens. But the timer went off so I didn’t find out what. I may circle back to that a little later.

Thursday, February 2nd: The scent of the furniture polish stained the air.

The scent of furniture polish stained the air.  At this point I was certain that it seeped into every pore of my hands and probably stained my lungs as well.  I wondered if it was toxic and if I would soon be growing a lemon furniture polish scented tumor in my left lung.  I took a deep breath and realized that the left side of my ribcage probably still hurt from the bruising just now coming out on my skin from yesterday’s fight rather than a spontaneous growth.

This morning when I arrived for punishment duty, the action of slow and constant movement helped my stiff and sore body limber up.  Now after polishing every stick of furniture in the house I was no longer enjoying stretching my muscles to east the stiffness.  I was a whole new level of sore.  I looked around and saw that every bit of furniture now gleamed as though it was factory showroom fresh instead of more than a hundred years old.  It was the heaviest furniture I had ever touched in my life.  The few pieces I was required to shift around had been murder on my abused body.

The multitude of carved details weren’t any better.  They didn’t require a lot of movement but they did require precision to get into each and every crevice to make certain every speck of dust was removed.  But now we were finished.  I eyed the other miscreants caught with me and saw that they too were beginning to wear thin.  The fact that those of us caught were not the instigators rankled.  None of us were looking for a fight. 

We were quietly going out our business when we were attacked.  The attackers however were part of the elite.  They were protected and when the fight was broken up, they were let go with a warning while we were sentenced. 

Our jailor, Mr. Hopkins walked through the rooms we worked so diligently to prepare, inspecting our efforts.  His presence throughout the day was constant.  He loomed, he lurked and he waited.  He finished his inspection.  “Satisfactory,” he pronounced.

We all sagged with relief.  “You may start in on the baseboards, the door and window frames and don’t forget the crown molding.” There was an audible groan from the other side of the room.  I didn’t know who made it but Mr. Hopkins made a guess and focused his attention on the one he felt responsible.


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