#Fiendish Friday – Inert – Tell the story of an inanimate object, from the object's POV | Rating: K | Genre: Family
She was built quite a time ago, she assumed. Not long for a building, but long for humans. As she grew and settled, she noticed that the humans dressed differently at notable points in her creation and upkeep.
She had been built by those who swung easily from her beams, nothing restraining them and the men always wore hats in the streets.
A young family inhabited her first, their hair large and their clothing bright. Music had filled her walls alongside giggling children and pattering footsteps. The wife and lovingly polished her wood lovingly once a week and the husband had tried to replace her doors with these beaded things. She did not appreciate that. The children grew up there, she was there when they came home after school, thumping their bags on her steep stairs and spilling milk across her floors. She heard their giggles as they experimented with makeup for the first time and their hushes, keeping secrets.
When the children grew up, they left, not returning much. The parents couldn't fill the house. They put her up for sale, piercing the earth by her door with a sign.
Lots of families passed through in the following years, each staying a shorter time than the last. No one seemed to be completely happy with her any more. Stairs too steep, the kitchen had a lot of strange corners, there weren't enough rooms.
Eventually, no one else came. She grew lonely and dust covered her surfaces. People still milled past her, in their hundreds, then their thousands. None seemed to see her.
Years passed without ownership. She thought no one could fill her again.
Then a man came. He was a dark skinned one, she didn't see a lot of those. She hoped that more would follow. Her walls needed to hear childish voices again! None did, the man didn't even stay. He spent a lot of spread out days looking in every room and muttering to himself.
She sighed, floorboards creaking loudly. Maybe her time had finally come.
The men in suits or the large machines never came. Instead the man came back, carrying tools and big sheets of paper. Drilling soon echoed across her walls as she was updated and restored. The man didn't seem to keep to a set schedule, which she found odd. She was used to scheduled and routines.
He worked tirelessly at her, sometimes for hours until the sky grew dark and others, he was stopped with the ringing of the small device that as always in his pocket. Either way he always left with a grin of satisfaction. She looked forward to him coming. That floorboard upstairs no longer creaked and the dust no longer aggravated her (oh, if only she could sneeze). For such a strong man he was tender with her, carefully handling her components. He was thoughtful too, making sure new pars matched existing.
But soon all his tasks were completed. She shone with many new coats of paint and the wood gleamed again with polish. She no longer heard him pushing the key through the door.
She missed him.
Days passed, or maybe weeks. New people had come, holding objects that flashed, reflecting off her now transparent windows, but not him.
She had given up waiting for him when he came back, this time with a woman in a smarty pressed suit and a young couple with a bundle in her arms. They talked on the front porch, figures being passed around and he spoke of all the work he had done.
The young couple were then left alone. They prowled through her rooms, opening cupboards and drawers. The woman laughed in delight at her kitchen, loving the wide counters.
The sky had clouded over when the man and woman came back. The group were soon in serious discussion in the kitchen. Cups of coffee being brewed for the first time (the man had always brought bottles of water with him). More precise figures were exchanged, a lot of shaking heads.
She waited with bated breath
The younger man argued, the smartly dressed woman frowned, and pressed some buttons on a device, showing them a glowing screen.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be?
Finally, everyone smiled. Hands were shook and papers exchange. Promises were made.
Then they all left. But, not for too long. A van soon pulled up in front of her doors, large bury men bringing in new furniture. A child's crib, an easy-chair and a gleaming fridge. It was chaos and she loved every moment. The young woman opened all the windows, airing her of the last vestiges of musty smells. The baby gurgled happily in a high chair.
Finally, the extra men left, leaving furniture in their place. The young couple looked around them in awe and happiness, disbelieving that she was theirs. A rap came from the front door. It was the dark man, he who had made it all possible.
"All settled?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.
The young couple vehemently thanked him, making his face tinge with red. They invited him for a toast in the new house. Apparently, he had directed them to her, knowing what they had been looking for. She suspected some of the renovations had been done specifically with them in mind.
"Glad to see her finally full again," he said softly, lingering briefly in the doorway as he left, rubbing her frame that he had so lovingly polished. She almost crooned at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan," the young wife said gratefully, embracing him.
"No bother," he replied with a smile. "It's what I do."
Yes, it was.
She never did see him again, but she never forgot him either as her walls filled with laughter again.