The Little Lodge

The Little Lodge

A cold, misty gust from the sea rattled the half-shut windows and loose floorboards on the porch. Pine trees swayed gently and dried twigs cracked like someone stocking a fire. Swirls of the mist draped the old white house atop the cliff along the old expressway. Loose shutters and clapboards creaked and moaned. The worn out letters on the red wooden plaque read: The Little Lodge.

He stood on the veranda and looked out to sea, waiting for her to come. Within minutes, a slender, dark-haired woman drove a red jeep in through the peeling white fence and tucked it between thick overgrown hedges. A bouquet of wild flowers in one hand and a red hand bag in the other, she strode up to the house. He sucked in a deep breath and waited. Something was different about her; the way she walked, her sway. He studied the expression on her face, his heart pounding.

The aroma of her fruity perfume blended with the mist sailed into his lungs, reviving, energizing, and filling him with old hidden longings. To run his hands through her hair and hold her soft warm body in his arms.

Her brown eyes flashed with life as she stepped up the porch, paused at the entrance and walked past him into the house, just as she had done every day for the past seven years. She ran slim fingers over the paint-peeled plaque, stroking it lovingly.

She gently placed the flowers on the floor and knelt beside them.

He crouched beside her and listened to her mutterings while she brushed a single tear from her cheek. He reached out to touch her, to comfort her, but his hands went through. Her eyes, though bloodshot from crying, didn’t reflect the same sad demeanor they had years before.

She said: “We had plans. Plans to turn this place into a haven for weary travellers. Plans to raise our children in the same peace and solitude. You didn’t stay long enough…,” she sighed, “Tunde, I will always love you. I have found Jesus now and I can let go of you. Rest in peace, my dear.”

She held a white plaque against the red one and hammered it into place. It read:

Tunde Mafe

1960-2000

Founder: The Little Lodge

Husband

Father

Son

Brother

Tunde sighed. He felt the tug of heaven and knew he would never see his wife again.



21 thoughts on “The Little Lodge” by (@)

  1. You maintained this suspense till the end. When you wrote ‘his hand went through’, thought it was the woman who had died. Thought this was like their secret rendevous spot. Maybe the woman had died that day without the man knowing. But still ended well. Good one.

    1. Thanks for your points, Jaywriter. Will consider it in a future re-write.

  2. What a beautiful story! And you told it so well! Thumbs up.

    1. Appreciate the ‘thumbs up’, Lade.

  3. I really really liked this Maid. This is a remarkable piece of writing. The almost excessive description at the beginning is excused as it referred to the lodge, which is the title of the story.

    1. Lol @ ‘excessive descriptions’. Thanks for your feedback, Scopeman.

  4. liked tthe flow and also felt the same way Jay felt,thought the woman was the dead one,really nice liked how tis one is.

    1. Thanks, gretel. I see your point too.

  5. Maid, Maid, Maid, what can I say?
    i’m loving everything you put up here.
    you do it so well and in your own way. thumbs up!
    P.S. Do you have a blog? I’d love to follow. yes, I like you that much. lol :)

    1. Aawwww! You’re so sweet. Yes, I do have a blog. Will send the add to you. Thanks for the encouraging remarks.

  6. I indeed agree now that you are the queen of shorts! The way you achieve so much in such little space is breathtaking.

    Well done!!!

    1. Ahhh, you made my head swell. Thanks for the comment.

  7. WOWWWWWWWWW
    you rock maid
    i love every line here
    also want to let you know this piece inspired me to write a lovely poem.
    well done

    1. Awww, you rock too. I’m honored to be an inspiration. Kindly let me know when you put up the poem so I can read and comment. Thanks, Paul Anderson.

  8. Been reading up on writing; styles, setting, characterization, mood, foreshadowing et al. You managed to capture almost everything in this piece, very nice i must say. Thumbs up!

    1. Thanks for the thumbs up, Elly.

  9. @maid, you got me scared with this 1DAFUL piece. so sad for the woman, and like has been noted, love the way you kept us suspended till the end. well done

    1. Don’t be scared o. lol. Thanks, Xikay for the kind comments.

  10. This story also has an audio version HERE.

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