The exercise:
Let's see what we can do with: the collector.
Kat taught her first yoga class in Osoyoos this morning - she was subbing for another teacher at the local studio. But next week she starts teaching yoga for kids and beginning in November she'll be teaching adults at least a couple times a week.
The winter chapter of our lives here is about to begin. But until then, we've got another restaurant order to pick/deliver tomorrow and a market on Saturday to prepare for.
Mine:
John McKee's shop was located on a dusty street in a town too small for most maps to mention. He spent no money on advertising and the sign above his door was so faded that you needed a magnifying glass and a little luck to make it out.
But he never lacked for customers, for those who had need of him knew where to find him.
John stocked his shelves with oddities and rarities and all sorts of other-ties that he'd collected in the course of his biannual trips to the far flung reaches of the planet. A man could wander that store for days and not find a single thing he could name with any certainty.
But then, that sort of man wouldn't have even known John's place of business existed in the first place.
The authorities left him alone, for the most part. They looked the other way when he'd had a sudden influx of baby tigers; they ignored the ruckus of exotic birds that surely must have been endangered, they were so beautiful and strange; and they found themselves busy with paperwork the week he'd had working voodoo dolls in stock.
4 comments:
I hope Kat's class went well! I hadn't though that kids would want to do Yoga, but I guess parents would be quite interested in getting them involved (and now I have visions of an angry mother saying "If you don't start behaving right now I won't let you practise the Downward Dog this evening!"). How old are the kids in the classes typically then?
That's an intriguing store you have there, and I wish I knew where it was; baby tigers are cute! And I can always find a use for a voodoo doll :) It feels like it might need a continuation though...?
The collector
Bones rattled on the counter as Grimmerie tipped the contents of the bag out. Little yellow leg bones barely longer than his finger bounced, nearly reaching the raised lip at the edge fo the counter, and other, smaller bones rolled and clattered against each other. The other bag, the one containing the skin and the little clay canopic jars of organs, was put under the counter into a lockable cupboard which he then locked and padlocked.
He pressed a switch recessed into the bench and the overhead lights, angled to keep the desktop free from shadows, shone like miniature suns. There was a gentle sussuration and a soft padding sound like a teddy-bear moving around its den and then silence again.
Grimmerie sighed, and picked up tweezers, a reel of silver wire, and a whalebone needle. The collectors who came to his shop looking for articulated teddy-bear skeletons and genuined stuffed Grimmerie(TM) originals were getting more demanding and it was becoming harder and harder to find high-enough quality specimens.
A footfall behind him made him straighten, and he laid the tweezers down.
"You may call me the Collector," said a raspy voice. "I think you may be of service to me."
[If this seems vaguely familiar, it's related to this from a year or so ago.]
Typically it's split into three age groups, but with a smaller population here they split it into 5-10 and 11-16. It's a lot less about the postures than an adult class and lot more fun (yes, I've had to be her test student for when she's practicing).
Yeah, continuing that is an option. I'll think it over.
I knew that felt familiar! Though my recent watching of Dexter made me think in that direction originally.
Marc- I'll take a unicorn, please. Do they come housebroken?
Ever hear of House on the Rock
?
-------
Alex sat quietly outside the door of his home breathing in the crisp air of a Wisconsin autumn. The chill of the day bore into his arthritic knuckles bringing his advancing age sharply to mind. It was his 75th birthday and he would likely spend it alone. He smiled at the thought. He'd finally achieved what he had wanted most of his youth. Peace and quiet. He'd never imagined that the phrase was a fancy way to say loneliness. Taking a deep breath, he felt an ache in his lungs. It wouldn't be much longer, he knew, before that life affirming pain was no longer felt. Cancer had ravaged most of his family and he believed from an early age that it wouldn't be any different for him.
Looking at his watch told him that his only possible visitor would not be coming. His mailbox would remain empty. Not even a coupon would bring him a little company. Slowly he shuffled through his door, up the staircase, and to his balcony. "At least," he thought as he looked over the numerous collections that had overrun his home and extended into the adjacent buildings, "I'll have hundreds of visitors after my death."
I hadn't heard of that, but now that I have I'd love to go :D
Fantastic final paragraph - particularly liked the bit about not even having a coupon for company.
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