Thursday August 1st, 2013

The exercise:

Write something that has has to do with: appearances.

Good lord, it's August already? What.

Max seems to be doing well. I still have a minor heart attack whenever he wakes up at night though. But I'm sure that'll pass. Eventually.


It had been a long drive, preceded by not enough sleep. The sun had seared away any clouds that had dared consider getting between it and the earth below. The man stood on the sidewalk, feeling like a chicken roasting in an oven, and contemplated the shaded lawn before him.

The house appeared unoccupied at the moment. Traffic on the road behind him was light and it seemed like every other pedestrian in the city had enough sense to stay inside, or go to the beach, or... well, be anywhere other than that sweltering street.

He scratched his beard, which was far too enthusiastic for his liking, and considered his options. A nap was terribly tempting, and the cool grass delightfully inviting. But he didn't want any trouble, and there was one factor that he worried wasn't working in his favor.

In his current state, just how similar in appearance was he to a homeless bum?


Greg Bennett said...

Glad to hear that Max has had a quiet night and seems to be all well again! And yes, it's August already :) Time for a trip to Mejaran again soon, to see what those battles have wrought in our absence....
That's a curious tale to tell, and opens so many questions that need answers. I particularly like your metaphors.

Mr. Sticks was, to all appearances, an elderly man moving only with the aid of two walking sticks. He shuffled down the aisle of the supermarket, his sticks tapping on the floor and his shopping basket swinging slightly in his hand. People in the aisle heard him coming and moved subtly out of his way; no-one was so rude as to openly step aside, but it was curious that people suddenly decided that what they needed next was just... not in his way.
He reached the end of the aisle and turned left, passing out of sight. Janet turned to Joe, pausing for a moment from stacking shelves.
"Boss?" she said. "Did you that? That was weird!"
"That was Mr. Sticks," said Joe. "And you didn't spot what was really weird, did you?"
"You mean the way everyone moved out of his way?"
"Nope." Joe grinned. "How many walking sticks did he have?"
"Two. That's not odd though, lots of people have trouble walking when they're old."
"Yeah. Where were his sticks?"
"Both in the one hand... oh!"

Marc said...

Greg - thanks for the Mejaran reminder, as it might have slipped my mind otherwise.

Hurray, more on Mr. Sticks! What a wonderfully intriguing fellow :D