It has been an unremarkable couple of days. The Parlour had remained dark and quiet while the shop had continued with business as usual through the weekend.
Weaver had noticed the drop in energy levels within the quiet room but had not had the time nor spoons to properly investigate what exactly had changed. Still recovering from a lengthy battle with a chronic illness, she yet tired fairly easily and running the shop was strenuous. She felt extremely fortunate that, almost without exception, the folk who have found her little store have been amazing.
The intervening days passed quickly without much change so that, when the energy did return, it was noticeable by even some of the less sensitive patrons present. Manifesting more strongly than it had previously, the bright spark that coursed through the Parlour threshold was experienced by those present as a faint static discharge that sparked harmlessly as it passed them.
Easily dismissed by those without the senses to pick up on the otherness of the momentary chill it left upon the skin, it dove for the very table that had been used for an RPG game by some local youths. The fresh imprint their adventures and youthful imagination still hung in the air above and cavorted in the shadows beneath it.
With a soundless sense of triumph, it licked its nonexistent lips at what promises to be a very fruitful hunt indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment