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heather99 · 12-04-2004, 11:26 AM

I'd appreciate your comments please: bad or good, short or long. Cheers

The Statue

It’s very dark here in the garage but at least we are together. We used to stand outside in a lovely garden. People used to admire us and take our photograph. When I say we I am referring to my base and I. My owner never knew what really happened to us.

It’s a sad and sorry tale. In fact I can’t bear to think about it. Her neighbours told our owner that we were blown over in the wind. “How could that be possible?” She couldn’t even lift us. Actually we were one then so I should say me. Her brother came over and carried me from the boot of the car along the straight, level path to the shared back garden. It is the largest open space I have ever seen in my life. Ben patiently moved me about from one position to another: lovely man. Eventually I was in a position where I could gaze out into the field next door. I loved it there. Even in the cold winter. I know you are thinking frost damage may have weakened me but that isn’t the case. I loved the wind: it caressed me; blew the dust off me and kept me dry.

Occasionally I hear my owner come in. She tuts and I know she is wondering how to repair me. Personally, I think she has taken on too much. We, my base and I, were moved into this garage about a year ago. She has never cleaned the garage. It is filthy. Maybe she is waiting for warmer weather. There is often a lot of activity: sawing, mowing, painting and banging. One day lots of huge items arrived. They were in many different shapes and sizes. I have no idea what they were. She found time for them, but not for us.

In happier times she gave me a name: Ariadne. I do look quite Grecian so it is appropriate.

We share the garage with what I can only describe as junk. Everything, except me, is covered with cobwebs. Even my base is covered with cobwebs. It’s funny you know, the other day our owner came over to me and blew all the cobwebs off me. I even think she came in specially to do it: just to see me. Perhaps she does care. Being blown over like that reminded me of the wind in the garden in late summer. The mower, now he isn’t junk, in fact he’s very handsome in a worn out kind of way, (I’d forgotten about him earlier when I was thinking of the cobwebs), anyway, the mower tells me the garden here is quite different to the other garden. He only saw the other garden briefly, because someone else mowed the lawn, but he adored it as much as I did. Anyway, I digress yet again. The garden here is very sheltered. There is much less wind but there are lovely trees and the garden is very private. He has four lawns to mow. They are as neglected as the garage is dirty, he tells me. There is moss all over the place and buttercups, dandelions and plantains. He even saw a violet in the middle of the lawn yesterday. Our owner saw it too. Mower watched her gently dig it out and put it in the nearest flower border. Then she went off to the outside tap, filled the watering can and gave the little plant enough water to help it on it’s way.

See! She has time for that! But not for me! I mean us.

Today has been a very sad day for Mower. A large, empty box has appeared near the door. It contained a Flymo Micro Lite. At first I told mower that despite the appearance of the photograph on the box a microlite is a little plane that flies in the air and carries only one or perhaps two people. He wouldn’t believe me. He is nowhere near as worldly wise as I. We were both quite stunned when the old, rejected and previously Wall-mounted Gas Fire pointed out the smaller writing beneath the name. It read “Lightweight Electric Hover Mower”.

Previously Wall-mounted Gas Fire said Mower would probably be sold off in the Bargain Basement column in the local newspaper. He would go to a much poorer home where the owner wouldn’t clean the grass off him and would never, ever sharpen his blades. He is a bitter and twisted old creature. And he’s ugly, old-fashioned and bulky. It’s no wonder nobody bought him.

We are all very dejected now. We await our respective fates. None of us has a kind word to say or a pleasant thought to think.

Personally I think I will be here forever. Perhaps it could be worse, but I don’t know how.

Ariadne’s head and shoulders.

12-04-2004, 11:26 AM	#1 (permalink)
heather99 Upright Location: Burton-on-Trent, England	The Statue - yet another short story I'd appreciate your comments please: bad or good, short or long. Cheers The Statue It’s very dark here in the garage but at least we are together. We used to stand outside in a lovely garden. People used to admire us and take our photograph. When I say we I am referring to my base and I. My owner never knew what really happened to us. It’s a sad and sorry tale. In fact I can’t bear to think about it. Her neighbours told our owner that we were blown over in the wind. “How could that be possible?” She couldn’t even lift us. Actually we were one then so I should say me. Her brother came over and carried me from the boot of the car along the straight, level path to the shared back garden. It is the largest open space I have ever seen in my life. Ben patiently moved me about from one position to another: lovely man. Eventually I was in a position where I could gaze out into the field next door. I loved it there. Even in the cold winter. I know you are thinking frost damage may have weakened me but that isn’t the case. I loved the wind: it caressed me; blew the dust off me and kept me dry. Occasionally I hear my owner come in. She tuts and I know she is wondering how to repair me. Personally, I think she has taken on too much. We, my base and I, were moved into this garage about a year ago. She has never cleaned the garage. It is filthy. Maybe she is waiting for warmer weather. There is often a lot of activity: sawing, mowing, painting and banging. One day lots of huge items arrived. They were in many different shapes and sizes. I have no idea what they were. She found time for them, but not for us. In happier times she gave me a name: Ariadne. I do look quite Grecian so it is appropriate. We share the garage with what I can only describe as junk. Everything, except me, is covered with cobwebs. Even my base is covered with cobwebs. It’s funny you know, the other day our owner came over to me and blew all the cobwebs off me. I even think she came in specially to do it: just to see me. Perhaps she does care. Being blown over like that reminded me of the wind in the garden in late summer. The mower, now he isn’t junk, in fact he’s very handsome in a worn out kind of way, (I’d forgotten about him earlier when I was thinking of the cobwebs), anyway, the mower tells me the garden here is quite different to the other garden. He only saw the other garden briefly, because someone else mowed the lawn, but he adored it as much as I did. Anyway, I digress yet again. The garden here is very sheltered. There is much less wind but there are lovely trees and the garden is very private. He has four lawns to mow. They are as neglected as the garage is dirty, he tells me. There is moss all over the place and buttercups, dandelions and plantains. He even saw a violet in the middle of the lawn yesterday. Our owner saw it too. Mower watched her gently dig it out and put it in the nearest flower border. Then she went off to the outside tap, filled the watering can and gave the little plant enough water to help it on it’s way. See! She has time for that! But not for me! I mean us. Today has been a very sad day for Mower. A large, empty box has appeared near the door. It contained a Flymo Micro Lite. At first I told mower that despite the appearance of the photograph on the box a microlite is a little plane that flies in the air and carries only one or perhaps two people. He wouldn’t believe me. He is nowhere near as worldly wise as I. We were both quite stunned when the old, rejected and previously Wall-mounted Gas Fire pointed out the smaller writing beneath the name. It read “Lightweight Electric Hover Mower”. Previously Wall-mounted Gas Fire said Mower would probably be sold off in the Bargain Basement column in the local newspaper. He would go to a much poorer home where the owner wouldn’t clean the grass off him and would never, ever sharpen his blades. He is a bitter and twisted old creature. And he’s ugly, old-fashioned and bulky. It’s no wonder nobody bought him. We are all very dejected now. We await our respective fates. None of us has a kind word to say or a pleasant thought to think. Personally I think I will be here forever. Perhaps it could be worse, but I don’t know how. Ariadne’s head and shoulders.