|Beauty (i_tame) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2013-10-28 12:28:00
|Entry tags:||errol partridge, honour bellaforte, zz:status complete|
Something like Heaven, Something like Hell (Errol)
Some years ago, four scarred and stained and spindly wooden table legs held up a singular tiled tabletop -- a tabletop that itself had been itself holding up a number of brightly-colored bits and baubles. In the middle of this chaos, hiding under tarnish and tangle, Beauty found a small chandeliered string of tiny bells no larger than the length of her palm. She loved the set immediately, rescued it, polished it to gleaming brightness, then brought it to Bookmark Books and gave it a position on the inside railing of the front door. Since then, the delicate sound of bells heralded the coming or going of anyone passing through the front door.
From the force she put on the door this afternoon, the sound turned dissonant and harsh. It was neither a bound that set her over the threshold of the door, nor a leap... Someone watching might have called it a storming, if storms could ever be deployed from such a slender frame as hers. Before the door closed, Honour stalked from the front of the store to the middle aisle that ran the length of the bookstore. She hurried down that aisle, looking for customers -- and when she found the only one in the store, she approached that man with a very bright smile.
"Congratulations!" she said cheerily. "You're Bookmark Books' ten-thousandth customer! Your purchase today is on us. But naturally, there are conditions -- aren't there always? We can only allow you to take as many as you want if you can get to them and get out the door within 60 seconds. Ready?" She checked her watch on her wrist. "One-- two-- three -- go! Go!"
Fifty-three seconds later, Beauty cheered, "Great job, sir!", threw the lock to the door, flipped the sign so that 'Open' was facing into the bookstore, and closed all the blinds. When the shadow of the last customer passed across the blinds, she raked a hand through her hair and turned.