48 Hour Short Story Contest

Unexpected Gifts

Sophia enjoyed waking up early. While her fellow college students aggressively avoided class before noon, she made sure that her academic day ended by then. The short walk back from campus gave her time to think and plan the rest of her day. It was Friday, and she saw the weekend stretched before her. Wally greeted her in his usual manner; by leaping onto her shoulder from the coat rack by the door. She had found the chipmunk a few months before, injured, on her way home from work. He miraculously survived, and instantly insinuated himself into the household. She stroked the tip of his nose with a finger and then let him root around in her hair. Despite the fact that she had never once hidden anything there, he was always convinced there was food somewhere in her mess of long red-gold curls.

While the small rodent playing in her hair was standard procedure her roommate, vertical and looking at least half awake, with newly wet hair, was a surprise.

“You're up early, Lily.” Sophia only allowed a hint of amusement to color her voice.

“I know, but you promised.” She held out a pair of scissors as justification.

“It has to be right now? I have work in a few hours and I wanted to start on my homework before I headed out.”

“Yes! I have a date with Howie tonight, and I need him to completely not notice so I can slid into a depressive funk and eat ice cream by the tub-full all weekend. You can do your homework later. Oh yeah, almost forgot, picked up the mail and there is a letter from the Fam for you.”

Sophia smiled at the letter, placed by itself next to the bigger pile of less personal mail.

“I'll read it later.” She promised no one in particular.

“you know it never ceases to amaze me. Here I am, flesh and blood of my parents, who ship me half way across the country and forget me, and there you are, adopted, and your parents send you letters every single week.”

“Your parents like you just fine, and it was your idea to move half way across the country.”

“I know, but aren't you supposed to feel rejected and out of place, and your that well meaning, but misguided, parents love you just a little less then their real children. Or you should be horribly abused by your foster parents until one day you find out you are really a princess, forcefully separated from your royal parents, who have been looking for you ever since.”

“I was a “safe surrender” baby. I'm probably the product of some stupid high school romance. I couldn't wish for a better family. You read way too many trashy romance novels. ”

“Don't I know it! Still, you are way to well adjusted. Now, on to the task at hand.” Lily pulled a chair into the middle of their outrageously small kitchen and arranged her self on it. She wrapped a waiting towel around her and then relaxed.

“Anything specific?”

“No, just work your magic.” Sophia picked up the scissors from the counter, where Lily had left them along with a comb.

“You know this is a hair cut, not cosmetic surgery, right?”

“Yep. Thank God, I would look horribly tonight if I had surgery right now.”


Sophia enjoyed the afternoon heat as she walked to the downtown veterinary clinic where she had a part time job. She wasn't in any hurry, so she stopped at the Spice Shop, which was a few blocks away. As she opened the door, the exotic smells of mingling spices, which had been a pleasant seduction outside, hit her with surprising strength. It was cool in the shop, and dark. She greeted Mr. Ambros with a small wave of her fingers, he returned the gesture with a wiggle of a large silver flask. He spent most of his time far from sober, but was always pleasant company, and by far the most knowledgeable person when it came to his wares. The small shop was crammed full of spices, herbs and incense. Each pot or jar held a new and exciting scent or flavor, and despite them all being clumped together, they didn't clash, but formed a wonderful symphony of smell. Sophia mingled with the spices, opening lids and sticking her nose into them. All too soon her time was up, and she bought a single cinnamon stick, her usual, and chewed on it as she finished her walk to work.


“Damn girl, what's the rush?” Sophia looked up at Jewels, the office receptionist.

“I don't know.” She replied. Her day had flown by. Usually she enjoyed every minute she spent in the clinic, surrounded by animals and people she liked. Today she couldn't remember a single concrete thing.

“You do know it's Friday, right? I mean normally you only tear out of here like the dogs got out on Tuesdays.”

“I know, I just have somewhere to be.” It was a lie, and even as she said it, Sophia wasn't sure why.

“Hot date, Firecracker?” Jewels asked with a suggestive wiggle of her penciled in eyebrows.

“Something like that.” Sophia muttered, and went back to rushing through her chores. Jewels watched the younger woman's back as she practically ran out of the room.

“You ask me, something's definitely wrong with that girl today,” Jewels muttered under her breath.

Sophia was out of the clinic in record time. She walked briskly in the cool of the early evening. She didn't walk far, just the few blocks to the Spice Shop, and then she stopped. The need to move, to get somewhere subsided, and she was left feeling strange and hollow. She stared at the shop. Finally she walked in. Mr. Ambros smiled at her absently over a man's shoulder. Sophia couldn't see his face, but he was bent with age, and what little hair he had left was pure white. She smiled back, and then started towards the jars of whole spices. She spent a hasty minute looking at all the different jars. Then she grabbed a waxpaper bag and started filling it with cinnamon sticks.

“You want to hand me one of those?” The voice made her startle and turn. The old man was behind her.

“I didn't hear you.” She said.

“I asked for a cinnamon stick, Red.” He spoke with the voice of the extremely old, barely above a whisper.

“Sure.” She handed him a stick and he stuck it between toothless gums and started sucking vigorously. She watched him for a second and then his eyes caught her's. They were a startling shade of violet, and the only part of him that was unworn by age. They stood staring at each other for a minute, the vibrantly blue eyed girl, and the unusually purple eyed man. Finally he winked at her, and then wandered in the other direction. Sophia watched him for a second more, and then went back to stuffing cinnamon into her bag. When it was full to bursting, and the shop was due to be closed, she went to the counter, where the owner was consuming his liquid dinner.

“Wow, stocking up, Firestarter. Afraid our shipment won't come?” He teased as he rung her up. She smiled back, but did not reply. This time she noticed when the old man come up behind her. She turned just enough so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. The brown stick of spice was hanging out of his mouth and bobbing up and down as he sucked on it. In his long fingers he clutched two bags.

“What did he buy?” She heard herself asking.

“Frankincense and Myrrh. Guess the Wisemen are doing their holiday shopping early this year. Avoiding the rush!” He chuckled at his own joke. She accepted her change and the packet of spice from him and then turned to leave. The old gentleman was blocking her exit. He was grinning and he was on fire. He wasn't screaming or waving his arms about. He looked content.

“You can't do that in my shop!” Mr. Ambros blurted out. Then he realized what he had just said, and what was happening. The fire, which appeared to have just burst into existence on the old man, wasn't staying there very long. It spread quickly to the dry herbs and old wooden shelves. Mr. Ambros paused only a moment before grabbing his flask and running headlong for the back exit.

Sophia stood there and watched the man burn. She was unable to move, unable to look away, secretly horrified that it did not horrify her. It didn't take long. He was there grinning, and then he was a pillar of fire. Rather than consume him it seemed to convert him, until he was nothing but flames, a grin and a wink. It was peaceful and she remembered, in those brief moments, all her childhood dreams of fire and how she had always woken up calm. Sophia walked forward. Where she had expected to find nothing more than ash, there was a baby. He was so small, with a little tuft of red hair and was resting on a pile of long red and gold feathers. She stared at him for a minute, utterly confused. He opened his mouth and screamed. The noise broke her stupor. Bending down she went to pick up the small boy, but found that she was still clutching her bag of cinnamon sticks in her hand. She placed it on the ground and held him close to her. I didn't help, he kept screaming. For the first time she didn't feel a thousand miles away from herself. The screams drilled down to her very bones. She tried rocking him for a frantic minute, but it made him louder. She looked around for something to wrap him in, but the whole shop was engulfed in brilliant flames. Finally she reached down and stuck a cinnamon stick into her mouth. The familiar taste calmed her. Because she couldn't think of anything else, she gave the baby one too. This is probably a really bad idea.
She thought, but he seemed to like it, finally quieting, and waving his little fists as she held it in place so he wouldn't choke.

“However shall I explain you?” She asked the tiny person in her arms. He did not give any answer. Together they let the flames kiss their skin, for it did not burn them. And the world was reborn around them.

wc: 2058

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