As her mysterious employer broods in his library, she takes broom and duster to every other room and sweeps away the detritus of decades, ushers out a host of spiders who have dwelled there for generations. The housekeeper tuts and shakes her head but eventually, grudgingly assists (the gothic heroine is not quite sure what the housekeeper has been doing with her time for all these years, because it certainly wasn’t keeping house). The drapes are still faded but look much brighter after a wash, and a bit of polish and elbow grease really brings out the grain of the ancient floorboards.
Her mysterious employer rings a bell, echoing through the lofty halls, and the housekeeper worries off to see what he wants now. The gothic heroine is quite certain it won’t be her, as he has made his disdain for her quite clear, and the other thing she is sick and tired of is waiting for crumbs of his attention.
She makes a cup of tea, stares out of the now-sparkling window at the storm, and as lightning plays across the clouds and the rain settles in for the day, she wonders what the weather is like in the south of France this time of year.
Sarah McPherson loves folk tales and myths and finding the weird in the everyday. Her flash fiction has been widely published, nominated for Best Small Fictions, longlisted for the Wigleaf Top 50, and selected for Best Microfiction 2021. She lives in Sheffield, is a serial crafter, and spends her weekends doing live action roleplay in the woods. Find her on Twitter as @summer_moth, on Bluesky as @summermoth.bsky.social, or at https://theleadedwindow.blogspot.com/.
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