The Conversation

Writers Ink were asked to write a piece using a word selected at random, 'Conversation'

The Conversation

© Allan Shipham 2014

“Well, the most awful thing happened.” Marion lowered her voice and looked around to see if anyone was in ear-shot. The Women's Institute meetings could be quite informative, but everyone's ears pricked up when there was a bit of gossip. Marion sho'ed her friend gently to some chairs that had already been put out . They both sat down.

“Of course, I'm only repeating what I heard, I've no idea if it's actually true, but you hear about these things all the time.”

“What happened?” asked Gloria, concerned the story might be about someone she knew.

“Well, you know that male lodger that lived with spotty Mike at number five?”

“Yes.” Gloria shuffled closer in her seat. Marion suspected she was a little uncomfortable talking about him.

“Well,” Marion checked around again. “Well, the curtains were slightly open on Tuesday night and Mrs Scrimshaw-Jones claims her husband could see through the gap inside his room.

“What did he see?”

“Well, apparently.....” Marion lowered he voice to a whisper, barley audible against the chatter in the background from the jams and sponges demonstration table.

“Well, he had no bits!” Marion used her eyes to glance down to her own private area.

Gloria pushed her glasses up her nose and took a sharp intake of breath.

“What did he have...?”

Author's Note

Inspired by an episode of One Foot in the Grave in the back of my head somewhere.