top of page
Writer's pictureA.J.N. Gallagher

Vincent the Vole. Part II


With a gasp, the blue-eyed girl rose to her feet, her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed.



Vincent thought she was going to scream and braced himself for the coming shriek.



But then, with the softest smile from those clear blue eyes, said with the most apologetic voice

“Oh… I am so sorry Mr. Vole. For indeed, you are not a mouse, but a vole, and such a loverly little vole.”



The blue-eyed girl gave a little curtsy, and with the biggest smile turned to the dolls and said. “Let us welcome our guest who has arrived on such a marvellous day and become the bestest present of all.”



The dolls did not move. As dolls are known to do. But their eyes reflected their thoughts in a way that only dolls can only do. They bowed, and curtsied, and smiled with such grace, and spoke unspoken words that brought a smile to the little vole’s face.



Vincent bowed. As much as his vol-ish body would allow, which to Vincent seemed the right thing to do. For isn’t that what you do in the company of ladies? be a gentle-man or gentle-vole? whichever the case. 



Vincent was rewarded with a round of rousing applause and enthused delight, which warmed little Vincent’s heart washing away the last bitter taste of being called a mouse. 



From that moment on, Vincent’s life would never be the same. It was filled with life and laughter, tea parties with the finest china. Lavish banquets and balls with candlelit chandeliers and treks through mythical forests where mystical creatures lurked in the shadows, where Vincent saved the girls on no less than five occasions. All on one rainy Sunday afternoon.



This became Vincent’s routine when the blue-eyed girl came home from school, and more so in the weekends after the blue-eyed girl’s chores were done.




Vincent would wait for her in his usual spot in the corner of the basement window. He would listen for her footsteps on the street above. She would skip as she passed, and Vincent would smile, for he knew that with each skipping step she said that she loved him and always would. 



That was until the day when the sound of thunder echoed outside on a sunny, mid summers day, the day Vincent would never forget…



To be continued…






Picture created by AI on Canva

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page