Bird Box Curios
Bird Box Curios is a whimsical collection of enchanted crafts that tickle the fancy and drive the conversation. Straight out of Echo, the novel, it occupies unique coordinates in Story Space, thusly:
Trish McKuen here. I walked away from the TSCV (time-space continuum vehicle) into what looked like a New England seaside resort. The harbor was full of sailing yachts, some of them schooners, i.e., “tall ships.” Very appropriately, the TSCV had merged with an existing telephone booth straight out of Earth’s past. However, my crewmate Jason’s location was a mystery. Only moderately concerned, I let intuition lead me down a narrow street to a shop on the right.
“Bird Box Curios” was painted in bold letters across the scarlet storefront door. I made my way to the back of the shop, where a girl sat at a display case, sewing by hand, what looked to be a voodoo doll. Tilted to the side of her curly golden hair sat a tiny top hat, decorated with various gears, skeleton keys, and exotic feathers. She worked quietly, her pale fingers moving diligently and steadily on the needlework.
Occasionally, she’d peer over the top of her black-rimmed glasses at me. She canted her head, curiosity painting her face as though trying to decide if she recognized me. I walked to the counter to get a closer look at her unique creations displayed in the case, when I spotted among them, a small, deep violet crystal box with a silver-plated gramophone. It desperately needed some T.L.C. but was otherwise exquisite. I fell instantly in love with it.
Not even looking up from what she was doing, she said bluntly, “Not for sale, just display.”
“I just wanted to hear it, that’s all.”
“Can’t help you there either.” She sighed as though my presence were an inconvenience, and reached into the case to pull out the box. She turned the little silver handle as she looked me directly in the eyes. “There’s no cylinder in it.” She tapped the ratchet lever and let it spin freely. “See?” she said, returning it to the case.
“O-kay,” I drug out the word, wondering which nerve I struck. “Thanks for the demo.” Nice, I thought, concluding that I liked her much better when her mouth was closed. Annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, I started for the front door.
“Wait a minute,” her tone more animated as she called after me. “It’s you.”
Aha! We are in Story Space, in which neither we nor the TSCV exists, even though we merge temporarily with some of its features. It’s in the nature of temporal mechanics and gives me a headache.
For the rest of the story, read Echo, an engaging young adult novel from the world of Zöe Chance. Bird Box Curios is part of that world. Trish McKuen, Jason Viers, and the TSCV are not.
Visit Bird Box Curios here.
Talk about it here.
Trish McKuen here. I walked away from the TSCV (time-space continuum vehicle) into what looked like a New England seaside resort. The harbor was full of sailing yachts, some of them schooners, i.e., “tall ships.” Very appropriately, the TSCV had merged with an existing telephone booth straight out of Earth’s past. However, my crewmate Jason’s location was a mystery. Only moderately concerned, I let intuition lead me down a narrow street to a shop on the right.
“Bird Box Curios” was painted in bold letters across the scarlet storefront door. I made my way to the back of the shop, where a girl sat at a display case, sewing by hand, what looked to be a voodoo doll. Tilted to the side of her curly golden hair sat a tiny top hat, decorated with various gears, skeleton keys, and exotic feathers. She worked quietly, her pale fingers moving diligently and steadily on the needlework.
Occasionally, she’d peer over the top of her black-rimmed glasses at me. She canted her head, curiosity painting her face as though trying to decide if she recognized me. I walked to the counter to get a closer look at her unique creations displayed in the case, when I spotted among them, a small, deep violet crystal box with a silver-plated gramophone. It desperately needed some T.L.C. but was otherwise exquisite. I fell instantly in love with it.Not even looking up from what she was doing, she said bluntly, “Not for sale, just display.”
“I just wanted to hear it, that’s all.”
“Can’t help you there either.” She sighed as though my presence were an inconvenience, and reached into the case to pull out the box. She turned the little silver handle as she looked me directly in the eyes. “There’s no cylinder in it.” She tapped the ratchet lever and let it spin freely. “See?” she said, returning it to the case.
“O-kay,” I drug out the word, wondering which nerve I struck. “Thanks for the demo.” Nice, I thought, concluding that I liked her much better when her mouth was closed. Annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, I started for the front door.
“Wait a minute,” her tone more animated as she called after me. “It’s you.”
Aha! We are in Story Space, in which neither we nor the TSCV exists, even though we merge temporarily with some of its features. It’s in the nature of temporal mechanics and gives me a headache.
For the rest of the story, read Echo, an engaging young adult novel from the world of Zöe Chance. Bird Box Curios is part of that world. Trish McKuen, Jason Viers, and the TSCV are not.
Visit Bird Box Curios here.
Talk about it here.
