Boring Evening

Reads: 56  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Boring Evening is a short story about a young woman named Agatha who is bored with her world. Her friend Thomas tries to open her eyes to the magic that surrounds her. The two of them have a captivating conversation with an unexpected resolution. A light and easy read, this enchanting short story is 4 delightful pages long. Wonderfully visual, and irresistibly captivating, this fun story delivers a concept that is both complex and beautiful. Boring Evening touches on the impact our thoughts may have upon our lives.

Submitted: November 10, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 10, 2016

A A A

A A A


Sitting down on a giant tangerine, Agatha Plumb straightened her dress. She was a lovely young woman with a delicate face, blue eyes and blond hair. Agatha wore a gown made of blue satin, chiffon, and scrunched silk. On her head she wore a flouncy cap made from the same materials as her dress. Agatha sighed quietly to herself. It was turning out to be such a boring evening. Leaning back against the zesty peel of the fruit, she propped her head up on one hand and gazed across the green rolling hills. Entirely serene, the atmosphere was faultlessly beautiful. A few butterflies lazily drifted though the air, and the blades of grass bent gracefully at the gentle sweeping touch of a virtually imperceptible breeze. The light was fading from the sky, and the ivory clouds were beginning to blush.

A blue parrot was perched on a section of the tangerine near the girl, his glossy feathers glistening magnificently in the evening light. A long-time friend, and beloved companion of the girl, the parrot was often seen accompanying her to the places she frequented.

“I don’t see why something exciting can’t just happen every now and again,” complained Agatha. The parrot cocked his head to one side and looked at her. He blinked, and his beady eyes briefly closed from the bottom up by a pair of light grey eyelids. “Really,” continued Agatha, “I don’t understand why everything has to be so frustratingly ordinary!”

Down below, Agatha spotted a young man coming her way. “Oh no,” she groaned, “Here comes Thomas Sweetheart, just when this day couldn’t possibly get any more mundane.” Fighting back a smile, Agatha casually reached up and touched her cap to make certain it was still pinned perfectly to her hair. Upon discovering that it was, she resolved to look everywhere but at Thomas. Meanwhile, the young man approached, smiling unpretentiously.

“Sweetheart, I don’t suppose you brought anything tasty to snack on?” inquired Agatha upon his arrival.

“I’m afraid you are stuck with tangerine for now,” replied Thomas with a grin. “It’s a good thing there’s plenty to go around.” He broke off a small chunk of the fruit and bringing it to his lips, drained it of its juice. Not tall for his age, Thomas was a hazel-eyed twenty-year-old with wavy chestnut hair and a charming smile. He discarded the fruit pulp that was left in his hands.

“However did you find me?” asked Agatha.

“It’s magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” said Agatha.

“But magic is all around!” exclaimed Thomas. He reached out his hand and a butterfly instantly landed on it. It slowly flapped its dusty wings, grateful for a resting perch. “Look at this exquisite little being,” said Thomas, looking down at the insect. “It lives! It is a living thing. Isn’t that remarkable!” He looked up at the girl.

“It is a bug that exists to pollinate flowers,” said Agatha sourly.

“Just because its existence serves a logical purpose does not mean it is not magical. Rather it is the other way around; its existence is magical because it serves a logical purpose on top of already being a beautiful living thing.”

Agatha sarcastically raised an eyebrow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” said Thomas, attempting to explain differently, “logic does not have to inhibit magic. It does not have to take the wonder out of life. For example, I know that it is dust and sunlight that makes the sky blue, but did you ever think that a bit of dust and sunlight could do that?” he gestured to the sunset. In the time they had conversed, vivid reds, magentas, pinks and yellows had spilled across the sky, creating a living masterpiece of slowly drifting giant clusters of vapor shot with piercing rays of sparkling gold.

“I mean, what’s it going to take to impress you?” exclaimed Thomas.

Agatha smiled, a spark in her eyes for the first time. She felt something stirring in her soul, and it was an unusual and breathtaking sensation. She pushed it back, determined to be right, and threw another question at the smiling Thomas Sweetheart.

“Do you expect me to sit here and watch the sun set every evening like a fool?”

“Why not?”

“Because I have better things to do!”

“Do you?” asked Thomas.

Agatha pursed her lips, “You must think I have nothing to do with my life at all other than twiddle my thumbs and spend every day looking at the same event taking place over and over again.” 

“Not at all, I just cannot think of a more meaningful pastime than to enjoy the magic of the sun,” said Thomas, “the warmth-giving star that so dependably remains our most crucial requirement for life.” The blue parrot blinked at the colorful sky. “Charleston gets me, don’t you buddy?” Thomas winked at the parrot, and the parrot cheerfully nodded back. Agatha shot the bird a nasty look, after which Charleston resorted to pecking at the fruit upon which he was perched.

Thomas looked once more at the setting sun. “Its beauty is inexplicable…”

“Nonsense. Beauty is a matter of perception, and it like everything else has a perfectly sound explanation,” said Agatha.

“You do know that we are on a planet spinning through outer space at an incredible rate at this very moment?” said Thomas, sitting down next to her and looking into her eyes. “And here we are sitting on a large tangerine that rolled right to this spot from the old citrus tree on the hill, the perfect spot, mind you, to enjoy the spectacle of the setting sun, and the fruit came to rest on a field of grass that no one planted and no one waters, yet the greenery remains unbelievably fresh and perfect. Here we sit together, sharing our understanding of the world. I dare say nothing, nothing at all is ordinary about this incredible day, Agatha Plumb.”

“Oh kiss me already, Thomas,” whispered Agatha.

“No,” said Thomas, getting up to leave.

“No?!” screamed Agatha in outrage.

“I will not be your brief spell of entertainment for the evening. Your boredom is entirely of your own creation, and only you have the power to dispel it.”

“Thomas Moylan Sweetheart, why I never—”

“—And you never have to,” interrupted Thomas, “but I sincerely hope you do because your forgiveness would mean a lot to me, and I do so enjoy our conversations.” With these words, the young man strode down the hill back towards town.

“Come back! I’m not through with you! And I will never forgive you, Thomas!” shouted Agatha, grabbing handfuls of her dress and taking several steps after him, but Thomas did not turn around and soon he was lost from view by the serene grassy hills that lay like countless buried treasure chests guarding secret riches.

Agatha sniffed and then retuned to sitting on the tangerine. She was quiet for a short while. As the first stars came out, she turned to her beloved parrot and said, “Oh Charleston, why does it have to be such a boring night?”


© Copyright 2017 Valya Boutenko. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Valya Boutenko

Boring Evening

Short Story / Fantasy

Popular Tags