Friday 16 March 2012

Make A Wish, a short story in 609 words

I was given three words and asked to write a story which featured all three. It's a teensy bit contrived, but here goes . . .

Make A Wish

Danny was accustomed to doing several impossible things before breakfast, not least because he rarely saw food until well past eleven, by which time it was an early lunch. He finished his burger, and phoned the office to confirm he was about to close the trumpet deal.

Danny was on a mission to bring a smile to the face of the oldest and grouchiest resident of The Laurels. He sympathised with the old fella, Bob, what with his arthritis, his one deaf ear, and neighbours who were all inconsiderate enough to be born twenty years after him.

Danny was a fixer for The Club. His patch was the Frampton Estate, which included The Laurels. Part of his job was making friends with residents (seldom an easy task), teasing out their dreams (easier with some than others), and then finding a way to make them happen (often impossible).

Bob was an ex-musician in a jazz band who revealed that the one thing that would bring a smile to his face was a trumpet.

“Just one last time Danny me boy. Just for one night. Just to see if I can still do it.”

Bob was unaware that the dapper gentleman on the Second Floor had a granddaughter who was learning to play the trumpet. Once a month she accompanied her mother to see her grandfather on the way home from her music lesson. Danny also knew, because he had asked, that an overnight loan of said trumpet was his for the princely sum of £20.

“You’re confusing me with someone who can punch a few numbers into the hole-in-the-wall and fill my pockets with cash” said Danny, who immediately beat him down to a tenner.

Danny already knew where he could find £10 because the Manager of The Laurels had named that price in his search for an urgently required second hand pair of hedge trimmers.

After a quiet word with his brother Jamie, who worked in the shop of the Garden Centre on the bypass, it was just a matter of time. Eventually, a customer had bought new hedge trimmers and Jamie had asked for the old pair as part of the deal.

Now, standing outside the shop, Danny waved to his brother, held up the bag containing his prize, and gave him the thumbs up.

The bag was soon exchanged for a grubby banknote and Danny rushed straight upstairs to get the trumpet. After an hour promising that no harm would come to it, he was knocking on Bob’s door, with a huge grin on his face.

“Hello Bob. Here’s a present for you. Remember that conversation? When you told me you wanted to do something one last time? Remember that?”

Bob stood up quickly, pulled his cardigan down, and swept his hand over his head as if he was looking in a mirror.

“Danny my boy. You haven’t? I wasn’t being serious. I didn’t think there was any chance.”

“It wasn’t easy but here it is. One night only mind you. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to pick it up.”

Bob’s forehead creased in confusion as he took the bag, removed the trumpet, and sank into his chair with a deep sigh.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a trumpet. You said you wanted one last night with a trumpet. See if you could still do it? Remember?”

“Trumpet? Trumpet? You stupid bugger! I’ve got no use for a trumpet at my age. If I tried blowing that, me brains would start leaking from me ears. What I wanted, what I thought for a minute you had got for me, for one night only, was a strumpet!”