Too Late

The man poked around the house in his musty, long coat, eyes fixed on the weird instrument clutched in his right hand. Arthur watched him as he scurried down the creaky wooden stairs to the cellars below, raising an eyebrow at his wife once the figure was out of sight.

A cacophony of banging and knocking ensued in the rooms beneath them, a sure sign the little man was doing justice to his notoriously clumsy self. Arthur sat down on a leather stool in the grand entrance hall he could now call his own, sighing gently as he waited for the creature below to emerge again.

Only a few minutes passed and the man was already scuttling back up the steps into the hallway. He was hyperventilating rather disconcertingly, so Arthur got up to offer him his sea, worried the poor man might collapse as a result of his athletic exploratory ventures beneath the house. Upon noting Arthur’s gesture, the man simply shook his head and continued on scampering to the front door of their new home.

“Hey!” called Arthur as the man ran off down the driveway, “did you find anything?”

The man stopped in his tracks and, spinning around, shouted back: “You need to get out of there! Now…now…now, before it’s…it’s too late!” He sprinted on past the entrance to the drive.

Arthur shook his head, stepping back into the mansion…

Suddenly the world was engulfed in flame – and all he could hear was his wife screaming, screaming, screaming…

~ Jordan Strobach-Morris, 31.12.2015


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