my entries for the Construct Cup |
it appeared one rainy afternoon, set down an alley with antiques in the windows and a sign, painted glossy red and gold: “Ye Olde Christmas Magick,” and it drew me in because randomly misspelled words designed to simulate archaic-isms make me laugh and because my list was still lacking checkmarks beside very important names (including yours). the door rang in tune as it opened for me, a relief after the day’s discord. the air was still and quiet. no carols ringing in the year—instead, my ears felt muffled— as though I were walking through a feather pillow. it smelled of Christmas, piquant with cinnamon and oranges and evergreen and mint, so thick I could taste it. the proprietor looked at me over silver, square rimmed spectacles, his beard long and white, his coat red. “Do you need help, Rhyssa,” he said, and I shook my head and turned to view the merchandise. three steps more before I stopped, befuddled. he shouldn’t have known my name, I turned, but he was gone, leaving a sparkle of gold dusted cobwebs behind the counter and blank wall where the door had been. but I wasn’t scared although the exit was gone. instead, I caught a glimpse of a bound journal with a pen just waiting for epistemological adventures, a pair of dangly earrings in the shape of snowflakes and bells, and a book I’d been longing for and reached out to almost touch— but my eye was drawn past to a cat—white with blue eyes and a grin, staring at me from her shelf where she sat in ceramic glory, and it was as though she shouted Rhyssa, take me. I’m perfect for her! and he was at my elbow, reaching for the cat before I knew I’d decided it was hers. “Wise choice,” he said, and laughed so that his belly shook, “it’s better to give than receive,” and it was wrapped and I found myself walking out the door before I even got my wallet out, the floorboards creaking in tune as I left. enclosed is the cat. it swears it belongs. as for me, when I opened the packages from you, I found everything that had caught my eye. line count: 75 (I think. I tried counting several times and got 75 twice) Prompt ▼ |