The Walking Stick

(Over at Magpie Tales a weekly photo is posted and those who want to can write short stories or poems that may be triggered by the photo. They then post their link to the story at Magpie Tales. I thought I'd give it a try this week. How about you?)

The click of her heels on the tile floor echoed through the empty house. Well, almost empty. Placed in strategic locations were a few large and colorful bouquets. Silk flowers.

The woman walked to the mantle and adjusted the placement of the vase by moving it off center. She stepped back to view it. Yes. Off center was best.

When she had first started using flowers to bring some warmth to an empty room she used real ones, but it didn’t take long for her to see the folly in her ways. The real flowers triggered allergic reactions in a couple of viewers so she quickly switched to silk. Besides, they could be used over and over again. It saved her money.

The woman turned and looked around critically at the space. Everything looked in order for the open house. A card table with four chairs sat in the corner out of the way. Flyers were stacked neatly and flowers were placed for dramatic effect. Sunlight flowed into the rooms. All was well.

There was one last thing to do. The woman walked over to the table and grabbed a black walking stick and took it into the den. She leaned it up against the wall. If she was going to sell this house she would, indeed, need a miracle. Who knows, perhaps a viewer would remember the movie and the importance of the walking stick and what it represented. Stranger things than this have triggered a sale.

 

“Besides” she thought to herself, “this house screams for a walking stick. Its on 34th street, for gawd sake!”