The great blue sky seems larger today. The sun, hotter. A dozen intermixing fragrances are carried on the breeze down the long passage St. Ormand street, and people turn and chatter, trying to discern what could make such a wonderfully colourful smell.
At the top of the hill is a candle shop run by Mister O’Brierly. During the night, some process unknown to the cityfolk has transformed the material from Mister O’Brierly’s shop into a bright, clear crystal. The products inside survived this odd change, but the wax in the candles did not survive the morning sun, prismed into focused heat through the newly-crystalized shop walls.
A rainbow ooze folds down the steps of the St. Ormand street candle shop. Mister O’Brierly stands outside scratching his head, far too confused to be angry. He can’t think of any real reason this should have happened. But then again, what reason does the universe need for anything?
Paddy Dobson
30th May 2021