Thursday July 17th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: window shopping.

The car has its new ignition, though I realized this morning I probably should have provided a link to the recall yesterday. Well, better today than not at all, yes?

Spent the morning weeding in the garden with Kat and Becky while Max hung out with his local grandparents. We're making progress out there, slowly but surely.

Oh, that theme week I mentioned yesterday? It's starting tomorrow.

Don't worry, I've got a few tweaks planned to make things more manageable. All will be explained soon.


The display was carefully arranged each morning, with loving care and nearly excessive attention to detail. Each piece had its place, never crowding any other sale item, always adding to the whole.

When the first rays of sunshine landed on the window every morning a collective, audible sigh escaped from the store's employees. It was perfect. Couldn't be better.

If only it could last.

But no, right on schedule Mrs. Strawbucks would arrive ten minutes after opening, her twin hellions in tow. After that it was only a matter of minutes before the boys were jumping and crawling all over the display, ruining everything.

Until the morning one especially motivated employee managed to stick a price tag on each of them and an unsuspecting, overly optimistic retired couple took them away for the low, low price of ten dollars each.


morganna said...

What do you see?
I see something I really
Need. I would
Do anything for that
Original object, there in the shop

morganna said...

And then I wrote a 2nd poem (about a prowling cat & an angry robin) from the prompt, and shared it over on my blog:

Greg said...

@Morganna: great little acrostic! You make them seem so easy :)

@Marc: Theme week is sounding ever more exciting! Unless, of course, the theme is going to be "six words or less" to make your adding comments to them easier... :-P
I like both the description of the window display and the solution the shop found to the problem, ultimately. Very nicely done, both in the narrative feel and the delicately-delivered punchline.

Window shopping
The Needle was lying on the grey paving stones of the street amidst the shattered glass of the window he'd been thrown through. His eyelids were twitching spastically, and one leg kicked out like it was beating out a rhythm he could hear in his head. Noura, who'd been pretending to window-shop two shops further down had turned at the sound of the shattering glass and frozen still. Above her head, like a demonic halo, Dax could see the Oni hovering, claws hooked into her shadow, tethering it to the world. Then she and it threw their heads back as one and screamed together.
The sound echoed round Wesson Street as vibrantly as the shattering glass had moments earlier, and the street-life stayed unmoving, staring at the tableau in front of them. The smell of frying shrimp, caramelising sugars and toasting broccoli swept past on an errant breeze, unheeded by the watchers.
Dax finally unfroze himself and reached to his side, remembering only as his fingers brushed against the torn ends of the belt that the gun had been ripped away five minutes earlier. His hand carried on, his arm stretching down and pulling him forwards, reaching for the knife he kept strapped to the back of his calf. His head stayed up, his eyes bright with tears, unwilling to look away.
Then Noura moved, running to the Needle with tiny, rapid steps. Her heels pik-pik-pik-ed on the pavement and the Oni clutched her shadow ever tighter, drawing darkness around them both. As she reached him, glass shattering further under her feet shadows curled around her like a protective coat, and she scrabbled at his hand, forcing a pen into it. Then she pulled the Book of Prophecy out from under her jacket and started turning the pages.
"She's going to write his survival," said Anna-Mix. Dax looked across at her, wondering where she'd come from, but she was already walking away, the only person moving on the street. "You're going to be too late."
Dax straightened, hefting the knife in his hand, ignoring the writing on the blade that seemed to writhe under anyone's gaze, defying them to read it.
"You think?" he said.

Marc said...

Morganna - just as I've gotten out of the habit of looking for your acrostics, you slip this one right past me!

Greg - six words or less is actually a pretty great idea...

Fascinating, fascinating scene. A whole world unfolding here, with some intriguing characters. I'm particularly enthralled with the Oni.