That title was given to me by my poet brother when I asked him to help me with my daily free-write. If it is useful for a writer to keep a cat around the house, it is equally useful to keep a poet. Here’s what came of it: (Keep in mind that this is a free-write. As such, the quality is not wonderful. There are run-on sentences, repetitions, and even a completely new word or two. Just chill.)
New owners, new hours. The shop in the middle of town, in the middle of the street was being re-done, completely overhauled. The residents of the town didn’t know quite what to think of all the newness.
For many years, more than anybody could remember, the shop had been run by the same person, with the same hours, in the same way without any changes, let alone radical ones. Mrs. Tandy had only opened the shop in the mornings, and not on Sundays. Sure, it may not have been convenient, but it was what the people were used to. Sure, it may have been growing dingier by the year, but then so was everything else, and the people didn’t question it. Sure, it was stocked with an odd assortment of dusty packaged food, but the people knew what to buy and what to avoid.
But now Mrs. Tandy was gone. Now it was being thrown open and cleaned. Now there were people driving in from out of town every morning and standing outside looking at the building with fists propped on hips, or under chins. When they weren’t bustling about changing things, that is. The whole place had a foreign feel to it now. A feeling of energy, of ambition. The town didn’t know what to make of it.
The only person who seemed unmixedly happy about it was the local real estate agent, and nobody quite trusted her anyhow. She had too many ideas; too many schemes for improving the area. What was wrong with the area anyhow? It was just the way it had always been. Now she was always running around, showing the new owners the town, trying to find a house for them to live in now that they had taken over the shop and intended on bringing in their own new ideas.
Nobody had spoken to the new owners, except for young Will, and all he had discovered was that the shop would be open all day, and on Sundays. But the people could sense the new feeling. All this bustle was well and good for the big city, they thought, but their town didn’t need all this change. It had been running along for more years than anybody could remember.
So yeah, there’s that. I think it’s going to turn into something. And very quickly too. I’ve decided to completely pants my way through Camp NaNoWriMo in July. As of this morning, I had absolutely no intention of doing so, but what the heck, right? Carpe… Carpe Monthem. Or something like that… MENSIS!!! Carpe Mensis, everybody.