Grimm's Flood

Rachel Heffington at The Inkpen Authoress is hosting her monthly Chatterbox event.  This month's Chatterbox topic is water.  For it, I created a scene where Grimm's room in the Rottly Mansion gets flooded during a storm.  It is not a scene in the book (although I may or may not include it).  Instead I took the characters from my book and imagined how they would react in this situation.  The idea of flooding may or may not have been inspired by a recent event in my own life. ;-/   Here it goes:

 

    Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder boomed its warning.  Rain pelted against the dilapidated mansion as if determined to finalize its demise.  Grimm stalked through the halls to his assigned bedroom and opened the door, hoping for a temporary retreat from his deplorable situation.

     For a moment Grimm paused at the door, his hand lingering on the knob.  The scene before him bombarded his senses with signs of the disaster.  The sound of rushing water, shooting into his room at an alarming rate, competed with the sounds of the storm.  The dim light from the window reflected on the broken glass and on the streams winding their way across his floor.  As if to confirm it, lightning flashed again, burning the scene into his retina so that he could see it even if he shut his eyes.

     His room was flooding with water.

     Somehow his window had been broken during the storm, and a primitive construction, intended to divert water along the roofline, was channeling a great deal of water directly in his bedroom. 

     Grimm stared as a pair of his best socks began slowly moving across the floor, carried by a strengthening stream.  So this was his promotion?  He remembered the day a well-dressed messenger approached him with the offer that was certain to further his career.

     “In honor of your long and faithful service to the ruling class of Lerata, you have been selected for an advanced position, by order of our great king…should you choose to accept,” the servant told him.

     Grimm expected to be assigned to some nobleman or nobleman’s son in Leratova, and the fact that his position would attract the notice of the king was a thought that gave him pleasure.  This…this situation he now found himself in rather drowned all of his hopes.  Grimm was not happy about it.

     “Oh, dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Hinn’s voice.

     Grimm turned to see her and Chauncey close behind him.  Mrs. Hinn’s hand covered her mouth and her eyebrows puckered in concern as she stared at the scene.

     “It will ruin the floors,” Mrs. Hinn murmured.  Long service as a housekeeper made this one of her first worries.

     “They were ruined before any of us were born,” Grimm retorted.  His eyes were fixed and staring at his escaping socks as though he were watching his dearest dreams float away.  “The entire mansion is disintegrating…and it is taking us with it.”

     Chauncey squeezed past Grimm into the room and looked around.  “It’s not that bad, old chap,” he said cheerily.  He waded into the room and starting pulling Grimm’s suitcase to higher ground.  “We’ll lay these things to dry somewhere and everything will be well.”

     “Swimmingly,” Grimm answered bitterly.

     “Yes, that’s it,” encouraged Chauncey, rescuing the floating socks.  He beamed at Grimm and nodded.  “Swimmingly well!  That’s the spirit!”

     “If you will leave your things by the stairs, I will wash them for you,” Mrs. Hinn offered with a kind, motherly look.

     “What’s left of them,” Grimm responded with a clinched jaw.

     “Mrs. Hinn!” Annie’s voice called from downstairs.  “Hurry!”  Her voice sounded highly alarmed.  “There’s water running down through the ceiling!  It’s going to get our stuff wet!”

     “I’ll fasten a board across your window to block the incoming water,” Chauncey offered, darting out of the room.

     Grimm stalked into his room and pulled the blanket from his bed.  It was damp from the rain spraying in through the window.  Grimm glared at offending storm, and it answered with another flash of lightning.  The boom of thunder that followed matched the growl that rose in Grimm’s throat.

     What had he done to deserve such a "promotion?"