Old Mrs Hilda Pinkerton may have turned ninety, but she was no slug. She was as sprightly as a lively fifty year old. She drove her own car. She did her own shopping. She cleaned her own house. She volunteered twice a week to deliver Meals-on-Wheels to people around the town. But there was one thing she wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t knock on a door. No doorbell, no delivery. She simply would not knock with her knuckles. Knock! Knock! Knock! Anybody home?
She herself had a button to push at her front door. It would ring most pleasant chimes in the house. How lovely to get visitors! Talk! Talk! Talk! Could Mrs Hilda Pinkerton talk! And the kettle was always hot in case someone visited. But if someone knocked on her door she wouldn’t answer. Never. Never. Never.
It had been well-nigh seventy years since Mrs Hilda Pinkerton had physically knocked on a door. Since giving up such a practice she had married twice, had six children, been widowed twice, become a grandmother and a great-grandmother, and thrice won a potted plant and a large jar of marmalade at Bingo.
She could still hear it. In her head. That knock on the door seventy years ago. Knock! Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock! Knock! It was the policeman come to tell that her brother had been killed in the war.
With that last sentence, you have given a whole new dimension to the character of Mrs Pinkerton. The knock will always carry the weight of the untold story of a brother killed at war. The knock also ushers in the stark ugliness, numbing brutality and gratuitous chaos that wars are known to unleash on everyone involved. The knock also symbolises the eliminating potential of the bullets, cannonballs, mortar shells and shrapnels that blow away the living with each knock. The knock symbolise discord and hostility in the society. It’s not a wonder Mrs Pinkerton would not stand knocking for the rest of her life. What a twist! What a knock!
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Thanks, Uma. I kind of liked the ending to this story because it changed the whole tale.
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It certainly did.
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This was charming and wonderfully poignant Bruce!
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Thanks very much! Greatly appreciated!
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In one sentence, you conveyed a sense of loss that lasted a lifetime. This is beautifully written.
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Thank you. That is greatly appreciated.
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Oh dear, you’ve just made me ashamed of myself! I was starting to think that maybe people had removed their doorbells so they wouldn’t have to talk to Hilda, then you swept all that away with one line!
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Thank you! I wanted people to think it was going to be a Knock-Knock joke!
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This is among your best work Bruce. Truly brilliant.
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Thanks Alex. I humbly accept compliments!!!
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I really do mean it. This story lingers. If you did a greatest hits of your stories I’d expect this near the front.
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It’s funny how different things strike different people. One of my favourite stories no one seems to like it at all!
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Funny how that happens. I left a comment so it’s slightly more popular now 😃
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I knew from the start that you like your Mrs Pinkerton, and I expected a huge twist, but nothing of this kind. What a wonderful story!
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Thank you! Delighted you liked it and glad to have surprised you!
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