By Nancy Lou Henderson
Hanging on a new hook now, but what the existence I have had.
My first owner was a man. After purchasing me, for some reason, the man took me to a tailor then instructed the tailor to add a secret pocket in my lining. At different times, strange items hid in this hidden pocket, some heavy and some lite. I held those items securely regardless of the weather conditions or the man’s haste.
Not being much of a talker, I heard very few words from this mysterious man. If he answered the phone, I would hang on the hook in the hall and listen to him say, “Yes, no, maybe, when, where, or what time.” The rest of the time, he was silent. Although my owner listened to music, he never had visitors. The only time I heard words from others was when my owner wore me after leaving his home.
The last time I heard my owner talk was as he placed what he called a key to secrets in my hidden pocket. The object felt light but had a strange shape, which was long, with one end feeling round, then my owner hung me on the hook in the hall. Later that evening, the phone rang, but I could not hear the conversation, then my owner ran out of the house, leaving me hanging on the hook. He never returned.
Soon a new person came into my owner’s house, searched my pockets, but did not discover my secret pocket. I tried hard to keep my owner’s key to secrets safe. Finding nothing in my other pockets, the stranger left. Not understanding what was going on, I continue to hang on my hook.
Days passed, then someone took me from the hook, folded me, and placed me in a container, but that same day, I was placed on a hanger then hung on a rack. There was lots of activity with many people talking around me. Soon a soft voice not as deep as my owners came close to me. A deeper voice asked the soft voice, “Young woman, may I help you?”.
Taking me off of the hanger, the young woman answered, “I want to buy this trench coat.”
My new owner took me to a new place, then the young woman decided to go through my pockets, and she found the key to secrets. She seemed surprised startled, and questioning, as she exclaimed, “A key! What is it doing in my trench coat? It looks like a key to a bank safety deposit box!”
The next morning, the young woman took me off the hook, placed the key to secrets in my secret pocket, put me on her small body, then left her home. After a short stroll, she went into a building, asked to check her safety deposit box. Once inside another room, she took the key to secrets out of my hidden pocket. For a moment, the room was silent then I heard the young woman gasp as she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness! Is this real?”
3 thoughts on “The Trench Coat”
Beautifully written, Nancy! Well done 🙂
Thank you so much Jim. It was one of my favorite short stories to write. I just love to let Inanimate objects tell the stories
God Bless You,
Oh, I just love your stories Nancy. I would have reacted the same way!