Wednesday's Words on a Friday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.
This month the words/prompts are supplied by Charlotte and can be found here.
This week's words/prompts are:
Here is my story:
Claudia closed the gate behind her and rested her suitcase by her feet. She gazed at the big old house, feeling the memories begin. It had been so long since she was here last. The house had been in the family for centuries, built from granite and local stone, it was almost castle sized. First built in 1563 on land given to a great-great (How many greats was it she wondered?), ancestor after he had helped a Lord something-or-other when he and his horse had been wounded in a battle of some sort. The field of battle had been close to the small village where her ancestor had lived and though small, the gifted parcel of land was large enough for the house and some farming activity.
Over time, the farming became less active and the house was extended as the family grew in numbers. Generations later, families were smaller in size and sons built their own homes for new wives. The huge empty rooms were closed for most of the years, opening only for large gatherings at times like Christmas.
The house and contents were passed from Father to eldest son time and again until eventually Claudia’s father became the owner. Before that however, Claudia remembered visiting at least three times a year, at Christmas, Easter and at her great-grandfather’s Birthday. Her grandfather kept a small animal shelter within the grounds to please his old parent who liked nothing better than showing off his goats and chickens to the small great grand daughters when they arrived.
Claudia picked up her suitcase and rounded the corner of the house, to where the huge entrance door was hidden from the road. Fitting the big old key into the lock, she thought to herself how lucky she was that her sisters hadn’t wanted the house. There were some male cousins, but they all had their own homes and were quite happy to stay there. Claudia wondered if they would come at Christmas times again, so the house would once again hear the laughter of children, the murmurs of the parents as they sat toasting bread by the open fire.
Stepping through the hallway to the enormous old kitchen, Claudia drew open the heavy curtains to let the sunshine in, savouring the warmth it brought with it. The work area of the kitchen took up one end, while the other end had the open fire with two large couches flanked by carved wooden lamp tables. One of these held an old cut glass ashtray, long since cleaned of cigar ash and Claudia decided it would be a good place to keep the house keys. She dropped them in and went in search of a bedroom. The house held eight bedrooms and each was inspected with care. Claudia wanted one close to the kitchen and bathroom (thankfully modernised), but with a window that faced the morning sun.
She left her suitcase in the room and returned to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She would unpack later, needing first to open the box that had been delivered a week before, containing bed linens and bath towels. She sipped her tea, hearing a distant rumble of thunder, hoping the storm would pass her by. She wasn’t yet ready for drenched fields and crackling fires. Claudia glanced up at the big old Grandfather clock in the corner, thinking to herself she would clean the circle of glass covering its dial and wind the key to set it going before doing anything else.