A Moment

Intro to Interventions

A Moment

 

Thick, calloused hands dug into the fresh dirt beneath the sapling tree, clawing away at the earth in large culminating clumps of pebble, grass and root. The smartly attired gentleman of imposing stature, wiped his sweat-dampened brow with the back of his hand and drew away a hanging strand of his long brown hair from his face. His muddied finger, left a streak of earth on his humble brow. Scoop after scoop, he continued to dig away at the ground now, mindless of the soil that now meshed with the cotton knees of his dark grey trousers.

 

Above, the sky cracked with a single peal of thunder, and the rain began to patter down around him a moment later, perhaps to aid in this man’s endeavour. Water began to mat the hair on the crown of the man’s head, yet he tired not in his digging. Not before long, he had dug down as deep as was needed. From an inside pocket of his three quarter length coat, he pulled out a small newspaper wrapped bundle, no bigger than the size of his palm. Delicately unwrapping the item, he caressed a finger gently against it’s shape only once, dusted the dirt from it with a puff his breath, then wrapped it up again, placing it into the deep hole beside the sapling.

 

With both hands, he dragged the earth beside the hole, back into where it belonged, covering the small, treasured parcel in soil. Once the last of the dirt had settled, he patted down the small mound with both hands, levelling it off with the ground around it.

Nodding in satisfaction of his handiwork, the gentleman pushed himself up with a hand planted on his knee, picked his top-hat up from the ground beside him then stood there for a moment.

In a deep and resonating voice, he spoke to the small grave.

 

“May you provide fortune for another one day, and be a treasure to them as you have to me.”

 

With a short bow, he placed his hat on his head, gave the top a slight tap to lodge it there, checked his pocket watch without so much as a word, and left towards the small town a short walk away.

Reviews

[Pema Dorje]

... go with it, Adster, it is a compelling story and I want to see what happens next. You have the gift/curse of a writer with eyes wide open and seeing every detail. As such you paint a very realistic scene and your characters are 'real' in the minds eye. I'm no critic, but perhaps 'less is more' in some parts, such as, 'The first tree he ever climbed, the one with the rope-swing still attached that his father once made, before the accident.' where if I were not told of the accident, I would have had the thought, 'what happened to dear old Dad?' thus grabbing me, the reader, to the stories later revellations.

Compelling read, Adster... oh yeah, Do you know why Meramids Sing?

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/AlchemiA/134039/

... seemed to fit with your magical Trinket ... regards

[Brianna Brie]

You have accomplished holding my attention which isn't easy these days. In days past, I used to read a new book every month and now my attention span lasts only for poems. This short story was interesting enough! You seem like you have a good grasp on human frailties and are able to make your characters real. The way you describe details and surroundings makes me feel like I am a part of the story. My questions weren't answered about the man in the suit, but that is all right. Now I have even more wonderment. Like does this trinket have some sort of power...to grant wishes or become riches, come alive or bring people back together?

[Brianna Brie]

There is an air of mystery in this story from the start. Great opening sentence by the way. I wonder who he is and why it was so important for him to bury this trinket. You leave your reader wanting more.