The shop wasn't anything out of the ordinary. There were a myriad of items that would have served better in the rubbish but Mr Cosgrove would keep everything. The dusty shelves were littered with papers and books, some of which were very old; some items were so consumed with dust they no longer deserved a title. The place was a mess. Despite this, the old dusty shop contained some 'magic'. The thousands of papers, books and bric-a-brac that filled every corner had a life force all of its own. Literary jewels with dusty crowns and crispy, curled edges waiting to be discovered and it was rumoured that the little store held an original document from the court of Henry VIII, although no-one knew if this was true. Jewels indeed. Lifting them from their dusty beds would only open up the box of curiousity and wonder, putting to rest all of those questions. They were best left alone.
Looking more closely, there were hundreds of trinkets scattered here and there. Items of devotion passed between lovers in years gone by. Once beautiful and treasured, now dull and no longer magnificent: sparkle faded and extinct.
The room itself was not very large and the items contained within made it look even smaller. The window to the high street had long seen the sunlight shining through and all the items placed there for the public to see, were invisible from the street. Dead spider and flies mummified on the cill only served to cement the stillness. For here, in this place, time stood still.
Mr Cosgrove was busy outside in the garden ruffling through old newspapers. He remembered he read somewhere there had been an outbreak of a so-called virus that had caught hold in the southern villages a few decades ago. He was darned if he could remember where he had read this and with all this junk around was becoming disheartened that he would ever find it. Why hadn't he put this somewhere safe? He was sure it would be of use to him in the future. Looking up from his endeavour, he sighed. His ever faithful cat Mozart was rubbing against his leg and this signalled feeding time. Mozart was very punctual. In fact, Mr Cosgrove didn't need a watch, the cat would ensure feeding and nap time were the same each day. Standing up, Mr Cosgrove made his way into the back of the house, stopping only to sniff the roses aside the back door. He loved his roses, they were his labour of love.
Inside the house, Mr Cosgrove laid down a saucer of milk for Mozart and cut two thick slices of bread for his lunch. He was unsure what to have in his sandwich today, but settled for cheese. After making his lunch and a cup of tea, he sat down at the small table to eat resting his elbows on the side of the chair. He looked over to Mozart lapping his milk and sighed. He was such a straggly mongrel of a cat, but faithful and loving. He didn't know what he would do without his company. His mind wandered to the day Mozart had arrived in the shop. It had been a very cold night and the rain had managed to work its way under the door. On opening the door, he had noticed a dark shape aside the post. As he bent down to touch the object, it moved and a pair of emerald green eyes had met his gaze. Shocked to see the object was actually a cat, he had proceeded to pick it up and carry it inside. He remembered how cold and wet the cat had been and how frail and weak he had looked. He had wrapped the cat in a blanket and placed in the corner by the piano. Now look at him, he thought. He's an old man just like me! Mr Cosgrove smiled and finished his sandwich, now where was this blasted newspaper. Back outside in the garden rummaging around in the piles of papers, he found it. 'UNKNOWN VIRUS SWEEPS DEVON...Twenty Four Dead...Panic Sweeps Town' . He took the newspaper inside and placed it on the table. Picking up his glasses, he put them on and continued to read...
Looking more closely, there were hundreds of trinkets scattered here and there. Items of devotion passed between lovers in years gone by. Once beautiful and treasured, now dull and no longer magnificent: sparkle faded and extinct.
The room itself was not very large and the items contained within made it look even smaller. The window to the high street had long seen the sunlight shining through and all the items placed there for the public to see, were invisible from the street. Dead spider and flies mummified on the cill only served to cement the stillness. For here, in this place, time stood still.
Mr Cosgrove was busy outside in the garden ruffling through old newspapers. He remembered he read somewhere there had been an outbreak of a so-called virus that had caught hold in the southern villages a few decades ago. He was darned if he could remember where he had read this and with all this junk around was becoming disheartened that he would ever find it. Why hadn't he put this somewhere safe? He was sure it would be of use to him in the future. Looking up from his endeavour, he sighed. His ever faithful cat Mozart was rubbing against his leg and this signalled feeding time. Mozart was very punctual. In fact, Mr Cosgrove didn't need a watch, the cat would ensure feeding and nap time were the same each day. Standing up, Mr Cosgrove made his way into the back of the house, stopping only to sniff the roses aside the back door. He loved his roses, they were his labour of love.
Inside the house, Mr Cosgrove laid down a saucer of milk for Mozart and cut two thick slices of bread for his lunch. He was unsure what to have in his sandwich today, but settled for cheese. After making his lunch and a cup of tea, he sat down at the small table to eat resting his elbows on the side of the chair. He looked over to Mozart lapping his milk and sighed. He was such a straggly mongrel of a cat, but faithful and loving. He didn't know what he would do without his company. His mind wandered to the day Mozart had arrived in the shop. It had been a very cold night and the rain had managed to work its way under the door. On opening the door, he had noticed a dark shape aside the post. As he bent down to touch the object, it moved and a pair of emerald green eyes had met his gaze. Shocked to see the object was actually a cat, he had proceeded to pick it up and carry it inside. He remembered how cold and wet the cat had been and how frail and weak he had looked. He had wrapped the cat in a blanket and placed in the corner by the piano. Now look at him, he thought. He's an old man just like me! Mr Cosgrove smiled and finished his sandwich, now where was this blasted newspaper. Back outside in the garden rummaging around in the piles of papers, he found it. 'UNKNOWN VIRUS SWEEPS DEVON...Twenty Four Dead...Panic Sweeps Town' . He took the newspaper inside and placed it on the table. Picking up his glasses, he put them on and continued to read...
