Story 17 - Mr Hobblestone...with added synaesthesia

For this was the effect he had.

Illustrated by Isabella Martins-Allen (much better than AI!)

STORY:

Mr Hobblestone limped down the road towards the old post office, a brown envelope firmly clutched in his withered and worn right hand. A stern set of wrinkles creased his face, spiralling in every direction across his skin as he wheezed and coughed and croaked and mumbled. Two boys stopped their game as he passed, their eyes down and their mouths firmly sealed shut. For this was the effect he imposed. Once he had passed and they were safe, they kicked off again.

Further down the road stood Mrs Magoo. It had taken her weeks to summon up the courage to speak, but today she was ready, and so she asked, “How is your day, Mr Hobblestone?”

There was no reply. This grump old man kept his words short and his thoughts to himself. She would never ask again. For this was the effect he inflicted.

“You ‘ave a spare copper?” an old beggar asked.

“I do, but not for you!” he barked. His voice rattled like the coins in his pocket and made the beggar feel like he was sitting on broken glass. 

Eventually, he entered the post office. His mere presence filled the room with a malodour of angst. The customers in the queue shuddered as the squeak of his shoes against the polished floor cut with a sharpness that bled the atmosphere of calm. It drew the attention of the staff, the people in line, and even the now-sobbing baby, who up until this moment had been soundly asleep. On reaching the tail of the queue, he nudged into the back of a thick-set man who clutched his two enormous packages in his two enormous hands. It was a slight touch, yet somehow it sent a screaming warning through the man, and he immediately turned to the side to offer Mr Hobblestone a place in front of him. For this was the effect Mr Hobblestone commanded. The others tried to hold firm, but a cough on the back of their necks, an unrhythmic cracking of his knuckles, and comments like, ‘Is that all you’re posting?’ and ‘No one respects elders anymore’ did for the rest of them. Before you could say blithering-old-fool, Mr Hobblestone had found his way to the front.

“G-g-good day, sir,” said the stuttering post office clerk, who was glad to be shielded from the cantankerous man by a thick window of glass.

“Is it? Nice for you. For me, it’s another miserable morning.”

“Oh,” said the clerk, “s-s-sorry to hear that. Are you posting just the one letter today, sir?”

“No, it’s a thousand!” Mr Hobblestone announced, his reply drenched in sarcasm.

Before the poor little clerk even made sense of the remark, a shrill voice sprang from the back of the queue as a little old lady stepped forward. “Well, there is no need for rudeness like that. Who do you think you are? You should never speak to others like that! I jolly well ought to teach you a lesson!”

The sharp, loud gasp from the others ran through every sense in your being: it deafened you like a foghorn; it choked your throat like poison; it twisted your gut into a tangle of knots; it set alight to your nose hairs; and it flashed so brightly you could feel the wires at the back of your eyes fizzing and burning.  

Mr Hobblestone turned. Slowly. Very slowly. Then he squinted, for the lady stood like a blur in his misty eyesight. Gradually, her frayed edges began to stiffen, and in just a few moments, she was clear, clear as a crystal. A gem. A diamond. Mr Hobblestone’s jaw dropped. He had no words. Who was this woman? This amazing woman. She had hair so grey that storm clouds would be jealous, and eyes so bloodshot they flowed like crimson rivers. Her withered hand clutched a cane with a strength even Goliath would have feared, and across her ghostly face, trenches of wiry wrinkles told each of her stories; Mr Hobblestone read every single one of them. And he loved them. He couldn’t put them down. He couldn’t look away. He loved them and he loved her. For this was the effect Miss Stumblerock radiated.  

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EXPLANATION:

For a while, I’ve been referring to this technique as ‘Mixing Senses,’ unaware that it actually has a name: synaesthesia. It’s a fascinating concept, grounded in science, and I believe artists like Van Gogh and Billie Eilish have experienced it. Synaesthesia occurs when the brain perceives one sense through another, such as hearing colours or tasting sounds. To me, that sounds incredible!

I love using it in writing because it allows us to express something in a more imaginative way. Take the line, his voice “made the beggar feel like he was sitting on broken glass"—readers immediately understand the effect, but it's delivered through a sensory experience that sparks their imagination. And let’s not forget, imagination is the most powerful tool we have; with it, anything is possible…A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

It’s fun. It’s engaging. It’s interesting. It’s everything writing should be! Below, I’ve listed examples of synaesthesia from my own writing. I’ve also provided standard sensory descriptions for you to practise with. If it helps, think of it as ‘Mixing Senses,’ but know that it’s really called synaesthesia.

Synaesthesia Examples from the Text:

• "His voice…made the beggar feel like he was sitting on broken glass."
  (Hearing → Touch: A very uncomfortable sound.)

• "The squeak of his shoes against the polished floor cut with a sharpness that bled the atmosphere of calm."
  (Hearing → Touch/Sight: The pain of ‘sharpness’ and the vision of bleeding.)

• "The sharp, loud gasp from the others ran through every sense in your being: it deafened you like a foghorn; it choked your throat like poison; it twisted your gut into a tangle of knots; it set alight to your nose hairs; and it flashed so brightly you could feel the wires at the back of your eyes fizzing and burning."
  (Sound → EVERY SENSE: I’ve had some fun with a list here, and trying to compare the sound against all five senses.)

• "His presence filled the room with a malodour of angst."
  (Emotion → Smell: Mr Hobblestone's mood is described as an unpleasant smell of nervousness.)

Sensory Descriptions for Practice:

Now, it’s your turn! Below are five straightforward sensory descriptions. Your task is to turn them into synaesthetic experiences, just like the examples above. Try to ‘mix the senses’ and see how creative you can get!

1. "His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty street."
   (Hearing)

2. "His hands were rough and cold to the touch."
   (Touch)

3. "He had an angry look on his face."
   (Sight)

4. "He was filled with sadness."
   (Emotion)

5. "His voice was low and gravelly."
   (Hearing)

Have fun experimenting with these and see how you can turn ordinary descriptions into something extraordinary by blending the senses!