Okay so I’m doing M’s prompts and going to try and do a full month as one long story with no planning. Today it is ‘morphing into magma.’
The instructions are to simply write for ten minutes or so each day and that’s about it.
“He wont get to it” the voice continued. “just let him go”
I spun around and was faced with a kind faced old woman wearing a flower print dress, yellow cardigan and a broad welcoming smile.
“Margaret Plumduff” she said confidently thrusting out a hand. Her grip was far firmer than I had anticipated.
“Armitage” I replied rather timidly.
“Indeed you are my boy, Indeed you are” she said still shaking my hand rigorously. “I’ve been waiting for you, they said I’d find you out by the tree.”
“They did?” I replied.
“Oh yes, yes” she continued, eventually releasing my hand at last and flashing me a broad toothy smile. She was no more than 5 feet tall with a face full of character and short soft white hair. She wore tan nylon stockings and black patent leather shoes and a black handbag hung over her left arm rounding off her outfit.
“Are you sure about him?” I asked pointing back towards where Henry continued to wander towards the tree in the distance.
“Oh yes, don’t you mind yourself with him” Margaret insisted. “The tree takes care of his type.“
My face obviously gave away that I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
“Some are sent to serve the greater needs of the in-between.” She said still smiling. “She will feed on him and put him out of his miserable existence. Once she has absorbed him he will be far more comfortable.”
Again I could tell that my face gave away my shock at the idea.
“He was an accountant, beastly type who fiddled the books and had a quite awful habbit of interrupting people. No real redeeming qualities and he won’t feel a thing I assure you.”
By now I obviously looked appalled or terrified, I am unsure which, but she obviously felt the need to put me at ease.
“I wouldn’t worry dear, you’re perfectly safe” she insisted. “Now we really must get going we have places to be.”
“Oh yes, yes” she replied enthusiastically. “There are so many things to see and you must start your training straight away.”
I suspect at this point she was growing weary of the array of confused looks I was continuing to sport.
“Please, just follow me” she said, and out of nothing a door appeared. It was in no way a special door, unless of course you would count it appearing out of nowhere as special, but that aside it was simply a brown wooden door with a matching gold letterbox, handle and brass lion head knocker. “Come come, let’s be going.” She said and with that she turned the handle, pushed the door open and stepped through.