Sunday August 30th, 2015

The exercise:

Write something that takes place at: the fashion show.

After a very, very quiet morning around the house, we took Max into town for a lunch out. While we were eating there was a rather impressive downpour, with a brief period of hail. I don't think it hit the farm, at least I haven't heard any complaints about it damaging apples, but it was rather worrisome while it lasted.

It also cooled things off significantly and cleared away the lingering smoke. So when we stepped outside after it had finished it was... fantastic.

Fingers crossed for continued clear skies for the foreseeable future.


"This was the best idea I've ever had bro."

"No doubt. I never would have thought of it myself. I mean, fashion designer? That sounds so g-"

"Right? But then you give it some more time and you realize you can design the skimpiest, sheerest outfits and then g-"

"Get the hottest girls on campus to parade around in them! Seriously, dude. I'm so jealous I didn't think of it first. At least you're letting me hang out backstage though. That's super awesome of you."

"For my best bro? Of course! And, again, sorry I couldn't invite you to the pre-show party at my place last night. No way I wanted too many dudes around, you know what I mean?"

"Obviously, dude. Obviously. I mean, I guess you had to have Sheldon there, since he's your, like, director or whatever. And he's not the least bit of competition for you anywaaa... hey Sheldon! What's up my man?"

"Whatever. Listen, I've got two things to tell you guys and you're not going to like either of them."

"Bro... maybe you should just not tell me either of them then?"

"Yeah, not an option since the first is: all your models are in the hospital with food poisoning."

"What? All of them? How is that even possible, dude?"

"Something about the sushi you served them at your party last night. I thank my guardian angel I didn't eat any of that crap."

"Same, bro. I was too busy drinking to eat."

"Yeah, I noticed. Anyway, we're two hours from curtain so here's the second thing: there are no other models available. So you two are going to have to wear the outfits on the catwalk."

"What? Hell no, bro. Hell no."

"Then Mrs. Fletcher will fail you and you won't get the last credit you need to graduate this year. She just told me that herself."


"Oh, and she sends her best wishes and says she is very much looking forward to your show. And, I think it's safe to say, even more so now that you'll also be modelling your designs."


Greg said...

Hail's quite impressive, suggests that it's been fairly smokey all around you for a while! Still, it sounds like the downpour was just what was needed to clear the air (and hopefully dampen everything down so there's no more wildfires).
Heh, you definitely got inspired today, and I like the extra detail that the longer piece has allowed you to write. The general idea is a nice one, and the rendition with the (clearly teenaged) boys is neatly done. But then the turnaround at the end is neatly slipped in as well; though I knew there had to be a twist somewhere I couldn't see what you were going to do until it was delivered. A rather nice come-uppance for the boys, really! Let's hope no-one's planning on posting pictures of the fashion show to facebook....

The fashion show
Waves crashed against black rocks generating a haze of white noise. White spume was thrown fifteen or eighteen feet into the air and pattered down on the massed, fused piles of bones that gave Mostlybony its name. A lone albatross wheeled in the air above, its thin, shrieking cry carrying through the wave-noise and grating on the nerves of Melric who was stood below. He looked around him and sighed.
His mother was sure that yet another of his illegitimate siblings had become a fashion designer and so Melric had set up plans for a fashion show – the first that Mostlybony had ever seen. The first, because the countryside of the land was mostly... well, bony, and so scraping a subsistence living here was hard enough for people not to spare much time thinking about what they might be wearing while doing so, or if that would attract anyone else. However, the ulterior motive was to murder his sibling and thus remove yet another obstacle that might challenge his right to rule the whole of Iskemia, so the show would be held here, on this spur of land, where a casual fashion designer might be tragically washed away by an unexpected wave.
He would need a catwalk, and as he understood it, this was not something that a cat might enjoy walking on – the current ossified mess would serve admirably for that! – but rather a long flat surface down which thin, bony women might stalk. There were rumours that the fashion designer was a necromancer and that his bony women were, in fact, genuinely skeletal, but Melric disdained such gossip.
He looked around, and drew the green-bladed sword Thundercome. The blade was the colour of bile and the light reflected from it with an odd liquid tinge. He held it aloft, braced himself, and let the sword's power loose. A blast of sickly light lanced into the sky, and seconds later thunder crashed and lightning hammered down around him. He concentrated, channelling the lightning onto the promontary, and when he relaxed and set the sword down, his muscles aching and burning as though he'd been carrying dragons, the lightning had melted and fused the promontary into a catwalk.

morganna said...

Frugal yet
Alluring, everyone wants to
See the latest
Hat creations
Incredibly formed
Out of
Newly found trash.

Marc said...

Greg - pictures? I was thinking video...

Wonderful atmosphere in this piece. And I always enjoy your visits to Mostlybony :)

Morganna - yeah, not having much trouble seeing this actually happening. That might be my somewhat biased opinion of fashion trends shining through though... :)