This collection contains writings for the I Write - 2014 Challenges and the miscellaneous
|I entered the costume shop warily behind my friend, Marisa. .
The shop was dark with a musty smell. Costumes hung everywhere. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their brilliance muted by the years of grim. A tremor ran through me. Muffled voices whispered around me. Marisa was talking to a shopkeeper who propped his stooped, crooked little frame on top of a stool.
A feeling of foreboding enveloped me. Other voices continued to mutter and whisper, but when I looked about I saw nothing or nobody else.
"Two costumes." The man croaked with disuse.
Marisa pointed out a few she liked, but the man seemed to not be listening. His eyes moved along the wall of costumes. I could swear he was listening to them.
"The costumes will fit you," he croaked moving along the walls slowly, his gnarled hands held up.
Marisa ignored him, but I watched frozen; my eyes glued to the man as the costumes began to tremble. The whispered muttering increased and I looked to Marisa.
Looking back at the man, I noted that he had stopped and was staring at the top of the costumes. I followed his gaze and watched as a gauzy, black taffeta gown rippled then seemed to slip from its moorings and fall into the man's arms.
"This will suit you." He croaked.
Silence stilled the room, like it was waiting for her approval. She moved towards him reaching out to feel the costume's voluminous skirting. A smile rose up and she nodded.
As Marisa moved into the back to try on her costume.... what looked to be a Gothic princess complete with tiara and black lace gloves, the little man edged over to me. His eyes peered at me as he tilted his head.
"You are not so easy..." He croaked, then pressed his lips together.
The room began to fill with muttered whispering again.
"They are not sure..." he croaked, then leaned in and grabbed my wrist firmly. I went to pull back, but he latched on tighter and closed his eyes, saying "He fights it..."
"Fight's what?" I asked watching him with a swirling sense of dread pulsing around me.
"The costumes call out their stories. They ask to be taken and worn... but you.... You perplex them...."
"I what?" I managed to squawk out.
"You will need a stronger costume...."
"No... no that is fine. I don't need a costume."
The little man's eyes flew open and he stared into mine with such a look of menace my breath froze in my lungs. "We all need costumes." He croaked out fiercely.
I forced my eyes from his penetrating gaze and retched my arm from his grasp. Rushing to the rear of the store I flung open the door to Marisa's change room. "We have to go." I shouted.
Before she could say a word, I dragged her half dressed in her own clothes out onto the street.
I was never going costume shopping again.
Words = 498
Day 10 - ▼
"Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story." ~Mason Cooley What story will your costume tell? Write a short story or poem about it.
This prompt has been more difficult because I am not a huge fan of dressing up.... I love Halloween, but not having to wear a costume.