9-5-09: We are proud to present yet another story written by 'Misus'. This time the writer has decided to a fictional situation instead of drawing from actual experiences. We believe that you would enjoy reading "The Fool on the Hill" and have published it hereunder. Thank you, 'misus' for your continuing support of our webpages.                                                                  The Fool on the Hill    by Missus Tom drove through the village and glancing absent minded at the map on the seat beside him, took the right hand fork in the road. His thoughts strayed back to the last 24 hours. He needed time to think. He was still angry and yet the image of those beautiful brown eyes staring sorrowfully into his, softened his thinking, then - 'Damn it! I WAS right.' The car jolted and his mind suddenly registered that the road he was on was not as well defined as before. It was now almost a lane, weeds encroaching onto the cracked surface of the bitumen. He braked to slow down and swore as the car swerved. 'Hell! How long have I been driving along here?' Trees grew close to the roadside spreading back in clumps until well out of sight; and ahead the road disappeared into more greenery as it curved away. 'This doesn't look as though it leads anywhere' he thought as he peered around looking for a place to turn the car; 'Too narrow, I'll have to go further on'. By this time he had reached the curve in the road and on rounding the bend, there it was, standing in its silent loneliness at the top of the hill; a forlorn edifice, someone's home - or was it? He felt an inexplicable urge to drive right up to it, a totally illogical thought to his normal, totally logical mind. He should turn round and find his way back to the fork in the road and go in the other direction… He drove slowly up the rise until he reached the beginning of what once must have been a beautiful garden but now was a tangled maze of neglected shrubs and invasive weeds. 'Surely no-one could be living here now.' Pulling up in front of the house he gazed through the car window at the dilapidated building, neglected for the past few years by the look of it. The shutters hung down at varying angles, paint peeling from their frames, glass cracked in some of the windows. Evidence of nesting birds undisturbed by human presence, was everywhere in the white splodges of droppings on the slate roof and brick walls. Getting out of the car Tom walked up to the front door glancing at the windows at either side with empty window-boxes perched on their sills. The door showed signs of disrepair, screws missing from one hinge, a piece of wood nailed across the opening in an attempt to stop unwanted intruders, apparently unwarranted for there were no signs of vandalism either there or to the rest of the house as he strolled around to the rear of the building. A welcoming sight greeted his eyes on reaching the back of the house. The garden wasn't so overgrown as in the front; the shrubs, although scraggy, had a haphazard array of self-sown colourful flowers amongst them, A wooden seat nestled under an apple tree; tempting the explorer to sit for awhile and Tom DID sit, and gazed at the beautiful view that fell away from the cottage, tumbling down the hill and across the valley. Silence surrounded him and then gradually small sounds penetrated the stillness - the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chattering of birds, a frog croaking somewhere not too far away. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and slid out the photo of Annie, cradling it gently in the palm of his hand. 'He was a fool; she had tried to tell him that life wasn't all about deadlines to be met and being at the beck and call of your bosses. She'd said he could write just as well in the country as the city, perhaps even better if he didn't have work at the office to worry about. It was his stubborn pride; he couldn't give away his job in the city just to focus on writing, and trying to do both was driving him mad. She'd pleaded with him, saying they could sell their home in the city and after paying out the difference there should be enough left to get a small place away from the pressures of constant schedules. She would get a job teaching and he could concentrate on his writing. All the frustration of the past twelve months had welled up and spurted out between lips white with anger. 'Are you mad', he'd yelled at her, 'How could we manage like that?' She'd given up then and that was when she had gazed at him with those beautiful brown eyes and said sorrowfully, 'Do what you want Tom' and he had - he'd slammed out of the house, into the car and drove away; logic and caring clouded by his own obstinacy.' A movement at the kitchen window passed unnoticed by Tom. The indistinct figure watched Tom and slowly nodded as he relaxed in the peaceful surroundings. Tom's eyes gradually closed and the lines of disquiet on his face eased as he succumbed to the seductive warmth of the sun. Time passed in a cocoon of contentment until he woke with a start, surprised that he should have nodded off. He picked up the photo of Annie from where it had dropped on his lap looking thoughtfully at it once again and then gazed around at the tranquil surroundings. Sighing he got up to walk back to the car; his shoes crunching on the gravel path as he made his way around to the driveway. As he neared the front door there was a flicker of movement at the window, which once again Tom was unaware of, his attention being drawn to the sign propped up in front of it - 'FOR SALE - Price Negotiable'. 'How could I have missed that?' he wondered, 'I'm sure it wasn't there when I arrived.' He shrugged, 'I must have been too pre-occupied to see it.' Standing back he looked at the house again. He idly mused that it wouldn't take too much work to tidy the old place up; it wasn't as run down as he had first thought. He noted down the contact address and phone number. As he drove off down the driveway the figure at the window once more nodded and with a smile turned and disappeared. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to: HOME            Back to: Short Stories