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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1832783-A-Most-Unusual-Gift
by Shaara
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Fantasy · #1832783
Her fairy godmother brought her a most unusual gift.
The Writer’s Cramp prompt: 24 hours/ 1000 words or less:
Write a STORY or POEM with the following title - you must use it exactly as it appears below, and it MUST be the title of your static item.

A Most Unusual Gift




A Most Unusual Gift








When I came home from work, I found a box on my porch -- big as a television, wrapped in purple with red-striped paper. The curls of lime green ribbons that tied it together wiggled.

What in the world?

“Clever, William,” I said out loud, but my thoughts turned into something quite different when I brought the box inside and discovered scissors didn’t cut the ties, knives couldn’t pierce them, and the razor-blade I sawed them with broke.

I wished William had presented the present in person, or even called me to talk, but he hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Since the break-up, he avoided me. Friends, that’s all we were now. At least that’s what he said. So why the present?

I slid my hand under the stretchy band of squirmy green, pulled at it. All that brought me was a bad paper cut. Drops of blood dripped down my fingers. I ran to the medicine cabinet, bandaged myself.

When I returned to the kitchen, the package remained, its ribbons still wiggly as a Medusa head.

How did he get it to do that?

I punched in William’s number. “Hey, how am I supposed to get into this silly package? I can’t cut the ribbon.”

“Package?” he said. He let out a yawn louder than a cement truck.

William had recently switched to the night shift. Whenever I saw him, he acted sleepier than a hibernating bear.

“You know perfectly well -- the package you sent me, the one with the green ribbons that jiggle like soft gelatin."

“Uh . . . oh, no,” he said. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Shoot. Why had I assumed the present was from William? Just because we used to be . . .

I disconnected, stared down at the box, searched for a tell-tale card. Who’d remembered my twenty-first birthday?

I found no information, but I did come up with an idea about how to open it. I dashed into the garage and got the pruning sheers, the kind used for thick branches.

I hacked at the ribbon, ended up with a blister on my right hand.

The doorbell rang. William. He hugged me, wished me a happy birthday. My heart did major flip-flops, but I poker-faced it, handed him the pruning sheers.

Without a word, he chopped, broke through the wiggly curls. The ribbon shrieked, dropped on all sides, hissed like an angry cat.

“That’s weird.”

I nodded. My eyes watched the ribbon shrivel -- time-lapsed photography of a dying fern.

“Open it,” William said.

“I don’t know who it’s from. Should I really open it?”

He nodded.

The moment I lifted the top off, a misty cloud ballooned out the opening. It expanded, climbed upward, a beanstalk of talcum powder.

“What in hell’s bells?”

I shook my head, backed away. “I don’t know, but I think we better run.”

Too late. The powder turned into a marble column which molded itself into a woman -- a stunning blonde.

“Who are you?” William said with a smile so broad it took over the entire bottom half of his face.

The svelte beauty ignored him, smoothed out her slinky red dress, and turned to face me. “Marmalee Susanna Groger, happy twenty-first birthday. I’m your fairy godmother.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said and curtseyed like I’d been introduced to the queen.

The woman smiled, her teeth, white as pearls, sparkled as if polished by shavings of diamonds.

“As your present, you may choose whatever grace you desire,” she said.

“Grace? What in hell’s b..."

With a wave of her hand, William's mouth remained in its “b” position, his hands raised in the air like they held an invisible ball.

I kind of froze, too -- closed lips, wide staring eyes -- total shock.

“Oh, dear,” the woman said. “Didn’t your parents warn you about me? They should have prepared you, given you thinking time.”

My parents died in a car accident when I was seventeen. I didn’t want to tell her that. I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders.

She stared into my eyes. “I see. They departed from this world, didn’t they? How sad. Well, then, I will have to explain. You may choose between gracefulness, beauty, happiness. Or if you like, something similar – charm, joy, serenity. Which do you favor, Marmalee?”

“Do . . . do I need to pick one right now? Couldn’t I think about it?”

She plopped down in a chair, rested her high-heeled shoes on the pad of a second chair, sighed.

“I see you’re going to be difficult. With a name like Marmalee, what else could one expect?”

“I like the name Marmalee,” I said, even though people teased me about it.

The woman laughed. “You’re named for me, child.”

She eyed me a moment, then shot up, whirled around three times, and zapped me with a sparkly wand I hadn’t noticed. “That's it. I give them all to you.”

With another burst of tinkly laughter and a white puff of smoke, she disappeared. So did the box with its wilted ribbon.

William lowered his hands, closed his mouth. “What happened? Where is that most unusual gift?”

He turned to look at me, did a double-take, blinked, opened his mouth, squawked. “Oh, my God. You’re beautiful, Marmalee.”

He reached out, grabbed my hand, placed it against his mouth, kissed it. “I’ve been blind, my love. Blind. You’re my happiness, my serenity, my joy. Why didn’t I realize it before?”

I wiggled my hand free, sat down on the kitchen chair, and thought about the gifts my godmother had given me, the change in William. Was this what I really wanted?

I smiled. Yes!

William saw my expression, bent down, touched his lips to mine. Then he got serious about it, kissed me again deliciously.

My toes curled, wiggled about like the ribbons on the mysterious package.

Thank you, Fairy Godmother. Thank you. I whispered mentally, threw the thought up into the air.

You’re very welcome, my darling godchild. Enjoy.


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1,000 words


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