The Cursed Closet

March 13, 2018

Writing Club

Reading affects writing.  I find one good story makes for another.  I've been delving into my son's library lately.  I relish a good fantasy!  Probably why it's trickling into my spontaneous thought process.  And I'll admit fantasy is fun because it can float off in any direction.  It makes for quick prose because you can just follow your own crazy logic instead of remaining grounded in reality.

Time: 20-25 minutes.  

I'm guessing on the time allotted on this one and I was writing up to the last second.  I had to tone the details down so I could squeeze a story in. 

Prompt:  "Lucile dragged the --------out of the closet.  It didn’t look bad for something that was --------."

“All you do is complain about that hall closet.  Why don’t you do something about it?”  

Arnie Botts was busy tying his boots with a tight double knot as he brought up the daily sore spot with his wife Lucile.  He tugged his purple trench coat, the patched one off the peg and wrapped his scarf around his neck.  

It was bad enough to mention the closet out loud.  He couldn't meet Lucile’s eyes.  They were probably burning holes in the back of his coat this moment.  

         His eyes darted to the topic of contention.  One innocent looking burled oak door with a gleaming brass door knob. What waited behind the door brought on almost every row.

         Lucile was stomping her foot.  Arnie dared to look at her.  

         “You know how frightening it is just to open the door.”  She chided.  “It’s an all-day project.  One I really shouldn’t take on alone.”  

         Arnie bravely gave her a peck on the cheek and opened the front door to dash into the daylight, off to another day mending other people’s misfortunes.  Too bad he couldn’t just shrug off his own. 

Honestly, he hoped Lucile would pull on her hip waders and rubber gloves and dig in.  Arnie’s favourite hat was on the top shelf somewhere in the jungle that was the front hall closet and he missed it.

         Lucile kissed him back and wished him well he left.  As the door closed behind him, she heard the shudder and thump, thump of items loosing their ground and falling in the closet beside her.   She groaned and opened the door.

         Dodging to the side, prepared for the riptide of goods ready to come free of containment in a landslide.  A basket ball bounced by, a fishing rod fell forward, some lumber lurched out as the main bulk fell out into the foyer.  

         What would she lay eyes on now?  Yesterday, it was a dragon, the bearded kind, green and still smoky from fire breathing. She popped the extinguisher in its mouth, slammed the door shut and wished it away.  

Today was no better, lush green ferns filled the dark void below the top shelf where Arnie’s hat used to sit.  Two yellow eyes met hers in the darkness.  Today she’d do battle with a Bengal.  The tiger sat in the corner.  Lucile picked up her sword from the umbrella stand.

         With a deft strike of her blade into the depths of the massive maw of the beast, Lucile retrieved the old fur coat from the closet.  It didn’t look bad for something that had just jumped from one dimension to the next.  She gave it a good beating.  Out fell Arnie’s favourite hat and a few dust bunnies.  Lucile tossed the coat back in, the closet gave a roar as she swung the door closed with a shudder.

Time's up.  I see Lucile left alone with Arnie's hat resting on the teak floor boards.  Should she pick it up?  Hmm.  I bet there's something under it.  I want to expand this story.

 Housework is kind of adventurous in Lucile's world.  I could see this story unfolding as I wrote it down.  Too many fun ideas of what the closet could lead to.   Good ole escapism, cause I hate housework.  Who doesn't have way too much stuff in their hall closet?  I'm no minimalist myself.