SHORT FICTION – PROSE/LIGHT RANT

Harold Shea is an ordinary fellow, as fellows go. He has no grand stories about this girl or that girl. He is a simple chap who eats tuna on toasted rye. Harold and I are clerks at the Ministry of Useless Facts and Random Memories. A person becomes a clerk if they have a knack for remembering and cataloging trivial information. Our job is to sift through old documents and archives, searching for forgotten tidbits of knowledge that may one day prove useful.

Harold is a diligent worker, and he takes pride in his work. He always arrives early and stays late, poring over old manuscripts and dusty tomes. He has a particular fondness for historical trivia and, from time to time, found regaling his coworker Venus Milo with tales of obscure battles and forgotten rulers.

Despite his unremarkable nature and unassuming demeanor, Harold is a valuable member of our team. Without his tireless efforts, many of the useless facts and random memories that we collect would be lost to the sands of time.

Harold is also a kind and thoughtful person. He is always willing to lend a helping hand to his coworkers. Last week, for instance, one of our colleagues was struggling to find a particular piece of information for a project. Harold spent hours searching through old records until he found what she was looking for. He did all of this without expecting anything in return.

Despite his many admirable qualities, Harold is not without his quirks. For one thing, he can be a bit absent-minded at times. On more than one occasion, he has misplaced important documents or forgotten to submit reports on time. However, his forgetfulness is more than made up for by his enthusiasm and dedication.

Everything changed about six months ago. I came into the office, and everyone was in a tizzy. It isn’t like it was the first time the office was in this state. Harold usually got things in order rather quickly. However today, no Harold. He has never been late a day in thirty years. I tended to the disaster but never took my mind off what could have possibly happened to Harold. Then I was called into the Director’s office.

“Thank you for sorting out that dreadful mess.” said the Director

“It was nothing, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Harold?” She asked. I shrugged and walked out.

After stopping by Harold’s weekly for the next six months, I received a package at the Ministry. The package sat on my desk for another month before I remembered it. When I opened the package, there was a letter from Harold.

Dear Seamus,
I know this package has been sitting on your desk for about a month. I’m well. Venus and I have retired and living in my favorite place. Do you remember? Of course you do, you don’t forget anything. I miss you, ole chap. I haven’t had a decent conversation in months. Perhaps, you can down and keep Venus and me company.

~H

Well, that rascal, I thought. I had no idea that he and Venus had a thing. Why wouldn’t he tell me?

I guess there are a lot of things to consider when you’re thinking about “Pulling the Pen.”