Obviously it's better to receive something that keeps giving, right? Like a pregnant night-bird Or a clutch of Ilmatu eggs :) Although, thinking about it, if you're a fan of Marie Kondo perhaps it's better to give away all those things that do not spark joy....
Right, I've run over a bit again, sorry about that. And there's no answer to your question either, really, but the prompt does get to where I wanted to be at this point :)
Better to give or receive "Are those bloodstains on the floor?" asked Bartlett as they walked into the next room. It was hard to make out what was in here: there were shadowy piles of metal boxes with cables running between them, what might be a bookcase, or perhaps a welsh dresser, a slightly raised hexagonal platform with a pattern of black-and-white triangles etched into it and what looked like a laptop on a small table. The purple-white light was emitted brightly from overhead and was too bright for Bartlett or Sox to be able to see what was creating it. It washed out the colours of things so that everything was a purplish-grey colour and Sox's pale skin seemed to glow faintly. Bartlett, who was darker-skinned, seemed more shadow-like. "No," said Santa in a tone that suggested he wasn't going to talk about them. Sox didn't even glance at the dark, irregular patches across the floor -- Bartlett was starting to think it was steel plates rather than the polished concrete she'd assumed at first -- but seemed focused on the bookcase. "Put the gift on the platform." "In a moment," said Sox. He extended his arm, blocking Bartlett from obeying orders and she subsided a little, slightly embarrassed that she'd been just going to do it. "The gift has to be from Santa. Don't you have to be there too?" He adjusted his position and Santa pointed a long finger at him whose nail looked like a talon. "Don't move," he said. "Same rules apply. This is as far as you come, and no further." Sox said nothing and Bartlett tried to figure out what had just happened. Sox had barely moved from the spot, but if she had to measure things... had he got just a fraction closer to the bookcase? She squinted at it, trying to make out details, but it was all shadows and mystery to her. "No, I don't have to be on the platform. You would, if it was to be from you, at least the first time. The -- let's call it the postbox shall we? -- remembers the last... ah, postman I guess and fills that in." "Makes sense," said Sox, nodding. "You can shovel the junk on and sent it off."
"Junk?" Santa's tone was acidic. "You just said you give me an empty box every year." Santa and Sox glared at one another and Bartlett shifted uncomfortably. She realised the the gift she was holding seemed to be getting heavier and decided to do something about it. "Can I put this down somewhere?" she said, looking around. Shadows and irregular surfaces greeted here, leaving her with few choices. "On the platform," said Santa. "If Sox is sure about it now?" "You know my name," said Sox. "On both lists, every year," said Santa. "You think I wouldn't notice that?" "Fine, put it on the platform. Let's do this." "Finally," said Santa. Bartlett set the box down on the platform noting that even the little gold reindeer looked strangely feral and worrisome in the odd light and Santa poked at the laptop's keyboard. He looked over at Sox, who moved close enough to see the screen, and then he nodded. Without a word Santa tapped the enter key and there was a slight breeze, just enough to make Bartlett realise how warm the room really was and all the purple-white light seemed to be sucked into the present. Then the present was gone, there was a distant sound of "Ho ho ho," and then that was covered up by the jingling of string of bells. There was a moment of darkness and then it seemed like the light washed over like a curtain being pulled away from her face. Santa was stood over by the shadowy bookcase and Sox was about halfway between Santa and her, nowhere near where he'd been when looking at the laptop. "I said to stay still," said Santa, but there was a note of humour in his voice now. "But still, both lists. What was I to expect?" He didn't wait for an answer but picked something up and handed it to Sox. "Merry Christmas, little man." "You're giving him a present?" said Bartlett, the words escaping her with her surprise. "It's better to give than receive," said Santa. He shooed them back out of the room with his hands as though they were stray chickens needing herding back to the flock. "Though not everyone agrees with that. Some people, like your friend Sox here, rely on people thinking it's better to receive than give." Sox stared at the colourfully wrapped cube he was holding. "From the bookcase?" he said, sounding stunned. "Indeed," said Santa. "Now, get out of my house."
3 comments:
Obviously it's better to receive something that keeps giving, right? Like a pregnant night-bird Or a clutch of Ilmatu eggs :) Although, thinking about it, if you're a fan of Marie Kondo perhaps it's better to give away all those things that do not spark joy....
Right, I've run over a bit again, sorry about that. And there's no answer to your question either, really, but the prompt does get to where I wanted to be at this point :)
Better to give or receive
"Are those bloodstains on the floor?" asked Bartlett as they walked into the next room. It was hard to make out what was in here: there were shadowy piles of metal boxes with cables running between them, what might be a bookcase, or perhaps a welsh dresser, a slightly raised hexagonal platform with a pattern of black-and-white triangles etched into it and what looked like a laptop on a small table. The purple-white light was emitted brightly from overhead and was too bright for Bartlett or Sox to be able to see what was creating it. It washed out the colours of things so that everything was a purplish-grey colour and Sox's pale skin seemed to glow faintly. Bartlett, who was darker-skinned, seemed more shadow-like.
"No," said Santa in a tone that suggested he wasn't going to talk about them. Sox didn't even glance at the dark, irregular patches across the floor -- Bartlett was starting to think it was steel plates rather than the polished concrete she'd assumed at first -- but seemed focused on the bookcase. "Put the gift on the platform."
"In a moment," said Sox. He extended his arm, blocking Bartlett from obeying orders and she subsided a little, slightly embarrassed that she'd been just going to do it. "The gift has to be from Santa. Don't you have to be there too?" He adjusted his position and Santa pointed a long finger at him whose nail looked like a talon.
"Don't move," he said. "Same rules apply. This is as far as you come, and no further."
Sox said nothing and Bartlett tried to figure out what had just happened. Sox had barely moved from the spot, but if she had to measure things... had he got just a fraction closer to the bookcase? She squinted at it, trying to make out details, but it was all shadows and mystery to her.
"No, I don't have to be on the platform. You would, if it was to be from you, at least the first time. The -- let's call it the postbox shall we? -- remembers the last... ah, postman I guess and fills that in."
"Makes sense," said Sox, nodding. "You can shovel the junk on and sent it off."
"Junk?" Santa's tone was acidic.
"You just said you give me an empty box every year."
Santa and Sox glared at one another and Bartlett shifted uncomfortably. She realised the the gift she was holding seemed to be getting heavier and decided to do something about it.
"Can I put this down somewhere?" she said, looking around. Shadows and irregular surfaces greeted here, leaving her with few choices.
"On the platform," said Santa. "If Sox is sure about it now?"
"You know my name," said Sox.
"On both lists, every year," said Santa. "You think I wouldn't notice that?"
"Fine, put it on the platform. Let's do this."
"Finally," said Santa.
Bartlett set the box down on the platform noting that even the little gold reindeer looked strangely feral and worrisome in the odd light and Santa poked at the laptop's keyboard. He looked over at Sox, who moved close enough to see the screen, and then he nodded. Without a word Santa tapped the enter key and there was a slight breeze, just enough to make Bartlett realise how warm the room really was and all the purple-white light seemed to be sucked into the present. Then the present was gone, there was a distant sound of "Ho ho ho," and then that was covered up by the jingling of string of bells.
There was a moment of darkness and then it seemed like the light washed over like a curtain being pulled away from her face. Santa was stood over by the shadowy bookcase and Sox was about halfway between Santa and her, nowhere near where he'd been when looking at the laptop.
"I said to stay still," said Santa, but there was a note of humour in his voice now. "But still, both lists. What was I to expect?" He didn't wait for an answer but picked something up and handed it to Sox. "Merry Christmas, little man."
"You're giving him a present?" said Bartlett, the words escaping her with her surprise.
"It's better to give than receive," said Santa. He shooed them back out of the room with his hands as though they were stray chickens needing herding back to the flock. "Though not everyone agrees with that. Some people, like your friend Sox here, rely on people thinking it's better to receive than give."
Sox stared at the colourfully wrapped cube he was holding.
"From the bookcase?" he said, sounding stunned.
"Indeed," said Santa. "Now, get out of my house."
Greg - sign me up for the Kondo approach to your suggestions, thank you kindly.
And that's what I'd call a successful prompt then!
Huh. Now I'm really wondering what's going on here, both with the present and receiver, and with Sox and Santa... and the bookcase! Yeesh.
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