Sunday, December 28, 2008

Manifested Crate


Harold stared at the crate, suspicion crowding his features but the crowbar in his hand itching to prise off the lid.

“What’s in it?” Jasfoup asked.
“It smells of
salt
and damp cinnamon.”


“The manifest says books and scrolls from Egypt and Mesopotamia,” said Harold. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like
you developed
an overnight stammer?”


“Oh that.” Jasfoup shrugged. “I was experimenting with haiga on my blog. It comes out better written down, apparently.”

“You have a blog? You didn’t tell me.”

“It’s a bit exclusive,” said Jasfoup. “I only let special people read it.”

“Am I not special?”

“Of course you are, Harold. Very special. Are you going to open this crate or not?”

Harold sighed and, stepping forward, levered the top off. The room was flooded with the mixed scents of cardamon, cinnamon and mildew. He pulled out a crumbling scroll. “It’s blank,” he said.

“Look in the bottom of the crate,” said Jasfoup.

“Perhaps
the words
have just fallen off.”

6 comments:

martha said...

ARGH!!!! But Clever.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you :)

DJ Kirkby said...

“It smells of
salt
and damp cinnamon.” Yum!

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you :)

stephanie said...

*claps* Very well executed. You are the master, and I bow to you, lady.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you, you are too kind :)