Crunch: The End of the Day
Writing Exercise #44
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This is the last writing exercise before I take a break thru December and January. I’ll be back with writing exercises and flash fiction 2/1/25, but don’t worry—that doesn’t mean I won’t be writing and that certainly doesn’t mean this space will be devoid of life.
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Enjoy!
Crunch: Closing Time
“It’s almost time, sweep up will you?”
I smiled. The bookstore always closed for Advent. It probably wasn’t good for business, but it was good for me. It meant I could run around with my friends and spend Christmas with my family. There would be work to do, chores even, but small price to pay.
The old man huffed and grumbled as he put donated books on the shelves, by some pattern known only to him, perhaps changing with the day and mood.
As I swept the floor near the door, a shadow fell on the space I was sweeping. In the door, stood a well dressed man with a top hat and a long red scarf. He knocked playfully on the glass window of the door.
The old bookseller looked up. “What? You’re early!” He said as the man entered the bookstore.
“That’s right,” he replied in a cool and calm tone.
“You’re never early. Why are you early?”
“I wanted to catch you before you closed.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s—”
“I’m afraid it does.”
The old bookseller screwed up his face and put a hand on his hip, frustrated. “Won’t you let me—”
“’Fraid not. Time to go.”
“Oh alright. Well let me pack my things at least.”
“You don’t need any things.”
“It makes me feel better to have a bag in hand. Undignified to leave everything, you know?” He suddenly became aware of me, standing frozen with my broom. “Uh, Kid—take over will you?”
“Take over what?”
The old bookseller stepped through the door the well dressed man was holding open. He turned back briefly to answer, and waved his hand at the store—“Uh, everything.”
The well-dressed man put a finger politely to his cap, and closed the door behind him. I watched them walk into the street until I couldn’t see them anymore.
(312 words)
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Thank you and God bless!
It's weird how leaving the ending somewhat ambiguous gives it a certain mysterious appeal. But if I had written it..."You're dead, old man," said the well dressed man.
"Where we're going you don't need a bag..."