Your wife loves purses. Coach's notched rectangle. Gucci's mirrored "G"s. Louis Vuitton's entwined "LV." But her latest bag, a grotesquely large patent-leather sack on the kitchen table, bears the unfamiliar brand "Alhazred of Damascus."
You hear her cell warble from the purse's depths. She yells from the garage for you to grab it. You reach down its maw. And down.
And down.
Around you rises a catacomb of cloth corridors. You wander them for -- hours? days? weeks? Time and space mean little amongst their alien geometry. Eventually, you find the phone.
Now if only you could find your way out.
Postscript: To listen to audio of this and other stories, please download Season One of the I Saw Lightning Fall podcast here.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
It could be worse.
My wife has THREE purses.
If she brings home one designed by Lovecraft's Mad Arab, run as fast and far as you can!!1!.
Fun premise. Got me wondering whether she's got a Library of Babel hidden in there as well.
I stole this one from real life. I can never find anything in my wife's purses. And if one happened to swallow me ... (shudders)
Post a Comment