The Toasted Cheese Literary Journal has a 48-hour writing contest each year. These were the specs for this year:
Three Cheers and a Tiger Spring Contest Opens 5 PM Eastern Time, Friday, March 23, 2012 Closes 5 PM Eastern Time, Sunday, March 25, 2012
Write a mystery in which yarn bombing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yarn_bombing) plays an important role.
Word count: Between 1550 and 1650 words.
The Yarn-Circle: A Vision of The Future
(A Knitted Mystery)
February 1, 2015
“I can’t believe my eyes. I thought I’d seen everything, and I mean everything, that human beings were capable of, during my career, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s called yarn-bombing, Sheriff. It would be similar to a graffiti art installation.”
“You’ve seen this kind of thing before?”
“Naw, Sir. I just looked it up on my phone.”
Bogart, Georgia was experiencing a cold, foggy February misting, as the officers stood outside the abandoned shopping center.
“It looks like a knitting machine went into overdrive around this place,” stated the bewildered Sheriff as he took another sip of his very strong coffee. He shivered.
“Yes, it does brighten the place up. Oh no. The Press is here.”
A young man and a young woman were already taking pictures of the yarn-scene. “Yarn-bombing,” said the lady. “A pretty good job of it too, I’d say.”
The landscaped areas around the shopping center were a garden of rainbow colored, yarn-knitted flowers seemingly planted in beds of rich, soil-colored yarn.
“Spring has arrived,” observed the male reporter.
The trees had knitted green leaves and brown bark. On the side of the building there was a knitted, smiling, sun with black, knitted, sunglasses. Both of the reporters had digital cameras and were still taking pictures.
“Snap your pictures, kids. Then,” directed the Sheriff, “we need to take this stuff down.”
“Awww no,” said the reporters and detective together.
“Well, we can’t leave it. It’s vandalism.”
Stephen and Lucy, The Press, each plucked a rainbow flower, daisies with raised tubular centers, and hid them in their camera cases. When they arrived at the Veggie Bin Restaurant for lunch, they took their flowers out for further examination. Stephen noticed something.
“This fabric almost glows and it sparkles.”
“It must be some kind of special yarn. I do some knitting myself and this is beyond stripey-sock quality. Way beyond,” replied Lucy.
“It reminds me of my Grandmother,” Stephen said as he rubbed the flower against his cheek. “She always had homemade coasters.”
The love in his voice was tempered by a hint of sadness.
At the Sheriff’s office, everyone was examining the fabric.
“We should donate these to charity,” suggested a detective. “We can’t donate evidence from a crime scene,” said the Sheriff.
“Oh that sun would make a sweet little baby-blanket,” said another detective.
“No. It’s evidence!” The Sheriff actually did think the sun would make a nice baby-blanket, though. He smiled as he looked at it. He couldn’t help it. It was so pretty and bright.
“I wonder what will happen tomorrow, Sheriff.” Another detective was looking in the evidence bin.
“What do you mean, Husp? You know something I don’t?”
“Well. It’s just that, you know, well, tomorrow is Groundhog Day.”
“What does that have to do with the price of tea in China, Husp?”
“Well, nothing, probably. But someone seeking this kind of attention just might use the holiday to, well, um, drive home their point. If you know what I mean.”
“I don’t, Husp. Do you think some vandal is out there right now, knitting a special installation for Groundhog Day?”
“I’m sorry, but I really do believe that, Sir.”
The Sheriff looked into Detective Husp’s sincerely concerned face and considered that the young detective might be on to something, at that. Unthinkingly, the Sheriff opened the evidence bin with the cheery sun inside it and touched the fabric. He muttered only one word, “Magic!”
At home that night, Lucy was examining her knitted flower once again, when she heard a rustle outside her window. She placed the flower safely in a drawer and went to look out. She saw that there was a guy in his twenties or thirties, wearing a black suit and sunglasses in the tree directly outside her bedroom.
“Wahhh,” she screamed, “A Tom peeker! Wahhh! I mean a peeping Tom!”
He screamed too and fell to the ground. Lucy had already snapped a picture of the supposed pervert and dialed 911. Within moments, police officers arrived at her house in the usually quiet neighborhood.
When the officers questioned the man, he said, “I am a G-Man investigating a yarn-bombing. We, The Government, have reason to believe that this woman stole evidence from the scene.“
“Then anything you would have discovered would be fruit of the poisoned tree, wouldn’t it?
They all glanced at the tree and then the officers and the G-Man said together, “Would have discovered?”
“Would have if you could have, but you couldn’t, so you didn’t. I want to press charges against this man for trespassing, Officers!” Lucy helped fill out the report and watched as the G-Man was driven away in the backseat of the police car.
A couple of hours before dawn, across town, in the park across from the Municipal Building, a large gazebo was already decorated. And had recently been redecorated. The entire park had also been embellished. The Sheriff arrived at the park at 5:45, well before sunrise, only to discover he was already too late. It was another yarn-scene, all right. Several almost glowing suns which seemed to be emitting light from their fabric were aimed right at the groundhog Georgie’s pin and house. Whoever was doing this appeared to be set on altering Georgie’s view of the sun. Were there actually people who believed in that silly story? The Sheriff considered this as he climbed one of the trees and collected one of the knitted suns. He couldn’t resist; since it wasn’t logged in as evidence, it would make a nice gift for his new nephew, Andy, he thought. After hiding the sun under the passenger seat, he radioed in for back-up.
Lucy, still upset, made a phone call too. It took several rings to awaken Stephen, who had gone to sleep with his stolen, knitted flower on the pillow next to him.
“Stephen, I think he’ll be back.”
“If he’s in jail, how can he come back?”
“He’s The Knitter,” Lucy said with a strange certainty.
“What? Lucy, that can’t be right.”
“I think he was here to retrieve his flower. Maybe.”
“Call the cops if he comes back. I’ve got to go back to sleep now.”
Back at the park, the Sheriff and Husp were observing the decorations.
“So, Sheriff, should we take all this stuff down or what?”
“No.”
“But why not? It isn’t long until sunrise now. Everyone will be here to watch Georgie.” “That is exactly what I’m hoping, Husp.”
“I see, Sheriff.”
Earlier, the two policemen who had arrested the self-described ‘G-Man’, booked him for trespassing. He tried to explain but those guys weren’t having any of it. It wouldn’t have been safe to allow a lurker back out on the streets on the same night as his arrest anyway. He was locked in a cell and the officers went back to their jobs. The next morning, around the time the Sheriff was across town, up in a tree stealing a sun, the mysterious G-Man somehow disappeared from his cell. Also, at approximately the same time as the Sheriff had felt compelled to climb that tree in the park and collect the sun, Stephen had returned to sleep and his sweet, warm dreams. The dreams weren’t only of his childhood and his grandmother, there were also dreams of a beautiful future, of settling down and good times with friends and family. All the while, the knitted flower glistened on the pillow beside him.
Across town, the Sheriff’s phone rang. “It’s Detective Franklin, Sheriff. I’m out on Nowhere Road. You have to get out here and see this.”
“I’m waiting for The Knitter in the park. Georgie is about to come out and see his shadow. The Knitter is sure to be here for it. It is all somehow related.”
“Sir. No it isn’t. I believe that yarn-scene is simply a diversion. What I’m looking at right now is the real point.”
“What is it, Franklin?” When the Sheriff arrived out on Nowhere Road, about fifteen miles from the park, The Media, not just the Local Press of Stephen and Lucy, The National Media, from Atlanta, had arrived. Also, what seemed to be all of the people who had been waiting for Georgie the Groundhog in town were there too.
“I thought I’d seen everything, Franklin.”
Before them, in a formerly fallow corn field, was a large, knitted, yarn-circle. The design on it was a peace sign surrounded by doves, hearts and a multitude of flowers. A shimmering, golden light rose from the circle. Inside the sphere of light, about fifty feet off the ground, was the mysterious G-Man, suit, sunglasses and all. He was on a knitted, flying carpet. He was smiling.
“I know, Sir. It’s a shock.”
The Sheriff stared bewildered and smiling up at the G-Man on the carpet.
“I could try shooting him down, Sir. He has apparently absconded from our very own jail. He is a fugitive, whatever else he happens to be.”
“Nah. That won’t be necessary or probably even possible. Whatever he is, he is trying to give us a hint.”
None of the observers could help but smile back at the man on the carpet. They waved and he waved back at them. G-Man took off on his carpet. First, he zoomed east and then west. Finally, he rose straight up, until he became a tiny dot in the sky, then disappeared out of the atmosphere.
The End!
Like this:
2 bloggers like this post.
