The Crickets
Crickets In Silence
I somehow got out of bed on the third day. The structure of the building brought with it a sort of nausea. Reminiscent somehow of a feeling remaining with me from childhood. From the days I spent at my cousin’s residence close to the southern border.
The librarian of the central district handled most of those issues on a daily basis. She had been in charge for a number of years, and had a reputation as one of the best in the area. I did not doubt that. There were, however, other things that were going to get in the way of a fluid and consequential process of transitioning. The golden outline of this story was a little bit of a disappointment to most of us, though. Serge, the holder of the contract, expressed quite some frustration and, if I may say so, disappointment. This he did not hesitate to make publicly known.
“I say, this is, if I can be frank, a letdown.” Serge was never the man to complain in general, which is of course why this came as a surprise, to say the least, to most of the board.
“Ah, well, I suppose this is what you get when failing to understand the rules of employment and engagement.” Evelin Moncrief had never been afraid of handling the darker side of things. Especially when concerned with bookkeeping and collection of antique train tickets and time tables.
“There, there. Let’s deal with it in an orderly fashion, shall we.” The Contessa, Van Der Geld, had an inner fear of disorder. Chaos. This some claim might be due to her upbringing. Her parents, the Von Fürsts, had always been averse to the idea of public schools, and her prIvate tutors - though highly educated - left a good deal to be desired.
The crickets outside woke me at seven. Not that the sound was unpleasant or anything but I just couldn’t help but notice the concerto. The nights by the end of June were so hot one had to leave the bay windows open. I had to order some tea and a sandwich. This made the concert all but acceptable.
“Your tea, Sir.”
“Good, James, there is lemon, I hope?”
“Yes indeed, Sir. There is also the tiny glass of Orange Ade, and your preferred marmalade of choice.”
All in all it was taking on the flavor of a very nice day. And the crickets kept serenading the sun.
"Ah, well, I suppose this is what you get when failing to understand the rules of employment and engagement.” Evelin Moncrief had never been afraid of handling the darker side of things. Especially when concerned with bookkeeping and collection of antique train tickets and time tables."
Priceless! There's Da-da and then there's Too-da-ism (which is more subtle and infinitely entertaining) the latter is so difficult to achieve. A fine story must always capture the finer points of a civilized existence, and you've not only captured it, you've given it the metaphor the award it deserves.