im dying over this thread of algorithmically-generated/otherwise low-effort Kindle covers
don’t forget
grossly inappropriate copy of animal farm that is on my nightstand at this very moment
…When you’re getting ready to design a book cover and you’re not sure what you do is going to be good enough.. it’s always reassuring to see something like [all of the above].
Quite Contrary - Part 3
Mary stumbles onto the big street. There are a couple of closed shops and an open café. She dashes towards it; her feet slip on the cold asphalt. The man might be about to catch her hand, her clothing, her delivery bag, yank her back, use his knife. She recoils from the imaginary touch.
She runs into the café, and the barista looks at her as if she were a wandering cockroach, eyeing her huge bag that doesn’t quite fit into the tiny space. Mary tries to put together her case and turns to point out the man with the knife.
He is not there. He is not behind her.
“Hey, so, um, the delivery window is, like, back. If you can just, like, go there, please?” says the barista.
“Oh, I am not. There is…”
Someone chasing me? Another magical reality? Doors between worlds? The barista doesn’t seem sympathetic to either and, though the street has not become less dangerous, Mary can’t force herself to say anything to his not-sneering face.
“Like, now, please?”
She turns and walks out. Her face is sore, red with shame, fear, and exertion.
Mary doesn’t see the man on the street outside.
However, she has to go somewhere.
There is a cheap 24-hours convenience store. Yes, that will work. She needs to be inside right now, with people, cameras, and normal things. Normal things are very much needed right now.
Mary pushes the door open and steps into the…
Not convenience store. It’s too dark to tell much of anything, but one thing is painfully clear.
She is face-to-face with a tall man wearing a lion mask; it appears to be made of wood. He is covered in dark fabrics from head to toe, and his mask grins at her. Mary means to scream, but she is exhausted with the whiplash of the last hour and can only whimper.
The man places a package in her hands. His mask’s mouth opens to reveal a set of yellowed teeth, stained with tea and tobacco; he reeks of both and something else, maybe cinnamon.
“This is for the woman in the basement. Great for your first job.”
Mary feels the significant weight of the package, a smallish box with a black silk ribbon, and stops screaming, internally.
“What job?”
“I saved your life, darling. The job I am giving you.”
“Does it pay?”
Dumb question.
“I mean, what the hell?”
Infuriatingly, the lion mask closes in place. The man turns away and walks away.
“I believe in learning on the job, my child. Oh, the basement, you already have the address, same one you just ran from. Just make sure she gets it in the next 48 hours, and do be careful; the magic door is not always available on demand.”
Mary is about to explode with unanswered questions. She wants to understand the magic, the lion, the ridiculous things happening to her since she decided to deliver the hamburgers. But the lion man is walking away, already into the darkness.
Reblogging because it’s a damn potato and I want to encourage people to assume potatoes are magical.
w-what if potato is actually lucky
Quite Contrary - Part 2
Go in, she’s desperate for the money
Mary’s eyes dart between the pinging phone, her one source of livelihood and in desperate need for an upgrade, and the dark foyer, the place where she might just be murdered by a “Jake.” She can’t afford to give up the money, and if she doesn’t survive this delivery, well, no more worries about her debt, her mother, or anything else ever again.
She extends her arm, holding the bundle of burgers like a bag of garbage. Then, Mary walks to the foyer and shines her phone’s flashlight. The door is ajar, and all it reveals are shoes and coats.
Oh. Nothing dangerous. As far as she can see, which is not very far.
Mary just needs to put the food in and skedaddle. Easy. Safe. Yeah.
The burgers (and her hand) cross the threshold. The green door creaks near her right shoulder.
Mary blinks, almost expecting an attack, but nothing happens. She lowers the package and intends to back away and laugh at her own silliness, maybe tweet about her being a big chicken, get a couple of likes out of it. She deposits the burgers on the floor and is about to retreat when movement blinks in the far side of the hallway, among the dark.
Run, run, run NOW!
Something clasps her wrist and yanks her whole body forward, and Mary loses her footing.
I am an aspiring writer and as such I love good stories, whatever package they come in. You can find some of my work here: http://yukime-no-lady.deviantart.com
This is a multifandom blog, a very multifandom blog, so be warned!
