RiversD Posted April 21, 2020 Share Posted April 21, 2020 This was made for the wonderful Mr Tea, who says I can share it elsewhere, so enjoy! Dónal has to stay away from town during allergy season, because his sneezes are just too big to take the risk. As the breeze picked up on a bright morning in early May, the peace above the small town of Glenalys was broken by a series of powerful blasts that echoed across the valley and sent birds rising in fluctuating clouds from their roosts. The people of Glenalys were less startled, however. A few of them might tut to have their morning rest cut short, but for the most part the sounds elicited only tolerant head-shakes and small noises of sympathy. “Are you ready with that cart, Sion?” Sion, a sandy-haired young man who might appear to the casual observer to be 80% joints, called back into the house: “Yes, Ma! I’m only waiting for the bakers.” As though on cue, Sam Anderson rounded the far corner of the street, a white-wrapped package in his arms. He jogged down the road to meet Sion, hard shoes clopping along the cobbles. “Alright, lad? Sorry I’m late: I’ve put half a dozen sweet buns in today. Thought he might need a treat by now.” “Thanks, Sam.” Sion took the bundle from the baker and tucked it securely into his hand cart. “Alright, Ma, I’m off!” There was a scuffle of slippered feet and Sion’s mother appeared in the doorway, her undressed hair covered by a pale blue scarf. “Send the poor man my love, won’t you,” she said. “And give us a kiss if you’re going on after.” Sion gave her a peck on the cheek and a warm smile. “I will, Ma. I’ll see you for lunch-time today.” “Ah, that’s no time at all. Get on with you!” Grinning, Sion took charge of the hand cart and wheeled it briskly towards the small range of hills north of town. At the base of the one they called Carnwise, he turned from his direct approach and directed his cart towards a cluster of saplings on his left. He knew where to find the path now, and it was a good one, the earth well packed and easy enough to guide his small cart along. Partway up, he stopped by a post driven into the earth and rang the bell that hung from it. He waited there until he heard an answering bell declare that it was safe to approach, then pushed on up. Around a bend in the track sat a squat stone-walled cabin, perched on the edge of a steep incline. Moss and stubborn grasses grew between its roof tiles, so thickly now that the back of the house was almost being reclaimed by the hill itself. The door was propped open with a rock, an abundant resource in this vicinity, and as Sion approached he could see clear into the main room. The curtains were drawn back from the glassless windows and sunlight spilled through to the stone-flagged floor in wide beams, flecked with bright dust and pollen grains. Directly opposite the door, leaning against the unused fireplace, was a tall man with broad shoulders dressed in uncharacteristically loose-fitting clothes. His hair was a mess of thick, jet-black curls that reached halfway down his neck. His eyes were a soft brown, and today they were also red-rimmed and flooded. His nose was a matching shade of irritated red, and he held a handkerchief resignedly at his side. Dónal Petrie was well liked about town, despite his unfortunate condition. He was a highly respected lawyer, but wasn’t above putting those strong shoulders to the plough with the young men when the season came. And of course, he took every precaution to prevent his personal troubles causing any harm to his fellow men. “Ah, hello, Sion. Good to see you.” “Morning, Dónal. Ma sends her love, and Sam Anderson’s packed you some sweet buns with your loaf today.” “Oh. That’s kind of him. Sweets are one of the few things I’ll be able to taste by this afternoon. Kind of them both, I should say. Send my warmest regards back to your mother.” “We do appreciate you staying out here for the spring,” Sion told him, pulling his cart up to the wall next the door and securing it with a couple of rocks. “I know it can’t be easy.” “It could be worse.” Dónal went to blow his nose, grimaced to feel wet cloth against his nose, and walked quickly into the bedroom. When he came out, he had a fresh handkerchief tucked into his belt, and he ploughed on with his conversation as though there had been no cause to break it off. “I’d feel awfully guilty if I damaged something, and worse if I hurt anybody. It’s for the best.” “All the same, we appreciate the lengths you go to.” Sion looked around the living room again. “You ought to get some proper windows put in, or you’ll catch a chill on top of everything else.” Dónal shook his head. “No, they’d all get blown out eventually. Besides, it’s only really bad for a week or so each year.” “A week’s a long time to be sneezing.” Dónal acknowledged the truth of this with a smile and a shrug, but tried to knock the edge off Sion’s sympathy with a little humour. “Oh, it’s not just sneezing. There’s also rubbing and blowing and itching…” Dónal’s hands flew to his face. As though the word had summoned the sensation into his nose, he began to rub and scrub against an apparently intolerable itch. His eyes narrowed and closed, allergic tears beginning to wet the dark lashes as the irritation grew stronger and stronger and… “G-get clear!” Sean moved smartly back as Dónal made a stumbling dash for the nearest window, nose twitching and breath hitching towards an explosive climax. He groped for the window frame, grasped it, and aimed himself desperately towards the opening as an enormous sneeze tore out of him. “HH’RSCHHHOOOOHH!” On the hillside below, a pair of gnarled trees bent and cracked beneath the sudden gale, lesser-protected branches snapping clean off and scattering on the slopes below. Dónal gasped for breath, leaning half-out of the window as his body recovered. He raised a hand to his incandescent nose and gingerly touched the curve of one angry red nostril. Gentle though he was, even that touch made his nose burn with fresh energy, nostrils flaring wide as he forced out a stammered warning: “Oh, I th-think I’m going to- hhH!” Both hands resumed their grip on the window-ledge. There was no sense in Dónal trying to cover his sneezes. You might as well expect a sandcastle to hold back the tide. “hh…HAH-ERRSCHHHHH’OOOO! Hhh’SSCHHOOOOO!” One of the trees below was forced back so hard by the wind of Dónal’s sneezes that the ground beside it tore and some of its roots were exposed to the light. At his window, Dónal slumped forward with a thick sniffle and sought at his belt for the latest handkerchief. “Oh, Lord. Excuse me. In any case, as you can see, I’m hardly bored.” “Bless you!” Sion tried not to stare. Everyone in town knew about Dónal’s oversized sneezes, of course, but it wasn’t often that anyone got to see the reality for themselves. Except, of course, for the few weeks when the oak trees came into flower along the river and Dónal retreated to the hills to nurse his tormented nose through the unconquerable onslaught of their pollination. “Is it this bad all the time?” Sion couldn’t help but ask. “It comes and goes.” Dónal gave a liquid-sounding sniffle and swallowed hard. “Mornings are by far the worst. I can hardly wake up before my nose demands that I sneeze every sneeze that I was spared overnight by virtue of being unconscious.” “That sounds awful,” said Sion. He had started unloading his cart, but didn’t want Dónal to think he wasn’t listening. “It is. By the time the fit abates, I’m quite ready to go to bed again.” “Oh, of course. It must be exhausting. Shall I put the ham on the table with the bread?” “Yes, please. I’ll get everything in order later, don’t trouble yourself.” “It’s no trouble,” Sion assured him. He brought in the rest of Dónal’s little delivery: bread, milk, butter, a little cheese, new potatoes and some carrots from the grocer’s. Sion had picked the carrots out himself. Dónal always left a good sum to cover deliveries to his hermitage, and received from the best in return. “Mr Brown sent you a copy of Dodgson’s Drives as well, in case you were wanting for diversion up here.” Dónal sniffed. “That’s very good of him. I did bring some reading material of my own, but…” He gestured sheepishly to a chair by the fireplace. A book lay on its seat in a sad state of disrepair. Dónal had gathered the pages up and tucked them back between the boards, but it was plain to see how they had been ripped from the battered spine. “I rather underestimated how- ah!” Dónal rocked back with a sharp inhale that ruffled Sion’s shirt. Sion took an instinctive step backwards, for all the good it would do. Dónal pushed the heel of his hand hard up against his twitching nose and held it there, the two of them trapped in a stretched-out moment of tension until the terrible urge retreated, leaving Dónal sniffling and red in the face. “Ugh.” He pressed his handkerchief to his nose and blew. “I’m sorry, Sion. I’m going to stand by the window for a time, just in case.” “It’s not your fault,” Sion managed, though his heart was thundering in his ears. Dónal sighed. “It is so unpredictable during these weeks. My nose is so raw now that the slightest breeze against it might send me into an absolute paroxysm of sneezing.” “I thank God that I am not half so sensitive at other times of the year,” he mused, massaging the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. “I take care, of course, but on the whole I have very little- very little trouble.” He paused and rubbed beneath his nose, pushing it into a crinkle and back again. It didn’t look to satisfy much, for he was back to pressing at his nostrils with his handkerchief scant moments later. He lowered the cloth for a moment, sniffed cautiously, and grimaced. “I’m definitely going to sne-he- hehhHH!” Donal’s head fell back, the end of his prediction swallowed by its fulfilment. He rocked in place, breath mounting to its zenith, nostril’s wide and ready, but something in him hesitated to bring the piece to completion. His breath guttered and built again, each time coming close but disappointing at the last. “Oh lord. I- h-huh!” Dónal swayed against the windowsill, every inch of him weak with anticipation of the sneeze to come. “You- you may wish to step back, Sion, I- I have a-” Dónal lost his voice for a time, the disruption to his sinuses compelling him into a series of hitching breaths, each by the sound of it sufficient to back a most strenuous sneeze, but each one leaving him with a loose huff of frustrated impulse. After several false alarms, he wrested enough control to try again. “I have a sense that this w- will… be a strong one…” his head dipped to his chest, shoulders heaving. “That’s to be expected, I-” Sion began, before he grasped what Dónal was trying to communicate. “Oh, you mean- strong for you?” Dónal nodded, his eyes closed helplessly against the itch that tormented him, promising release at any moment yet failing to deliver. Sion retreated to the far wall of the cottage and set his back to the stones, not certain how serious Dónal’s warning would prove. From his new position he watched Donal struggle with the sneeze, the morning sun on his face making his nostrils seem to glow, flaring with the build-up of irritated tension within them. “hh-hhH! HHH….” Dónal gasped, his hands clenched tight to the window ledge: they seemed the only part of him able to stand firm as the mounting sneeze sent tremors through his supple body. “HA’RRSCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!” Dónal’s instinct had been correct. Conscientiously leaning into the window though he was, the backdraught of the sneeze still sent the table scudding across the flagstones towards Sion, who leapt aside into a corner. Pages were tugged from the ruined book and span about the room, caught in a miniature cyclone. The trees on the hillside didn’t stand a chance. One of the pair managed to cling to its former position by a handful of deep roots, though all the rest were torn free and the tree was left dangling precariously along the slope. Its twin was uprooted entirely and span away down the hill, lifted and buffeted by the enormous gust. Dónal himself was flung half-out of the window by the physical force of the sneeze, every part of his body having been conscripted to the cause. Now he sagged against the window frame, head still fully out of doors, awaiting the return of his energy to draw it back again. “Oh lord,” he groaned. “No more…” His prayer went unheeded, however. Sion watched Dónal’s shoulders tense as his breath caught, some remainder still tickling at the inside of his nose, and he struggled to support himself against the window frame with what little time he had left before- “hhAH’SCHHHOOH!” Dónal hadn’t had the chance to fully catch his breath and the second sneeze lacked the sheer destructive power of the first, only causing the remaining tree to swing back and forth on its roots. It didn’t appear to satisfy Dónal’s twinging nose, either. Sion could see it twitching, could almost sense the depth of its irritation written across Dónal’s face as he reared back, the desperate need to vanquish this itch obliterating all other concerns. He inhaled deeply, once, twice, a third time, and burst out with a trio of herculean sneezes that scoured the hillside, ripped the final tree from its moorings and sent it tumbling end-over-end towards the valley below. “HH’RRSCHH-ESSCHHOOH! AH’TSCHHHHOOOO! HH’RSCHHHOOOOHH!” That seemed to do it at last. Dónal took a shaky step backwards, clasped his handkerchief to his face and did his best to make himself presentable once more. “Poor trees,” he mumbled. “It’s incredible they lasted as long as they did, really.” Sion nodded, trying not to appear too gobsmacked by the titanic display he had just witnessed. Dónal looked thoroughly worn out. “Maybe I had better leave you to recover after that,” he suggested. Dónal glanced up at him over the handkerchief, eyes still glassy from the exertion. “I think you might be right. I do appreciate the company, but this…” “I understand.” Sion nodded, and Dónal smiled weakly back at him. “Thanks. I am tired. I might have a lie down, in fact.” “Yes,” Sion agreed. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in a few days, I expect.” “God willing. Take care of yourself.” “I will. Feel better, Dónal.” Sion watched him as far as the bedroom, and then set to turning his cart around. He suddenly felt very grateful for his own small difficulties in life. Perhaps he should try to think of some other little comfort he could bring Dónal next time… Link to comment
Bungee Posted April 22, 2020 Share Posted April 22, 2020 omg this is great. i've really been in the mood for "giant" sneezes lately and this really quelled the ....itch (finger gun) Link to comment
starpollen Posted April 22, 2020 Share Posted April 22, 2020 Ohh lovely! I do hope this will be continued?... 🤩 Link to comment
MidnightCatK Posted April 25, 2020 Share Posted April 25, 2020 Your detailed descriptions are absolutely marvelous! I do hope you’ll continue this with another chapter or two! Link to comment
Roza Posted April 27, 2020 Share Posted April 27, 2020 I do appreciate gigantic sneezes in fiction, I mean, it's fiction, realism is all good but...😉 Excellent job, keep it up! Link to comment
Kicker Posted April 28, 2020 Share Posted April 28, 2020 Oh my 😍😍😍 Your descriptions are so sinfully specific, wowow. Dónal’s sneeze shaking the WHOLE DAMN tree? Thank you, yes. The dialogue is also just super fun and engaging— sneeze stuff aside. Link to comment
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