The Shop

Written for Creative Writing class. Prompt: Flaming mannequins. Our teacher's messed up.

            Sunshine poured through the windows as the bright blue blinds, summoned by the force of the pulled cord, flew upwards, revealing a small, colorful shop, and a young woman at the cord, controlling the blinds.

            The woman was nothing remarkable, with sandy-blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Her slight frame, with skin that had clearly once fit a larger woman, was pale and unrefined. Her loose blue dress draped flatteringly on her tiny form, but her boots, stretching almost to the hem of the knee-length dress, were dark and worn; ill-fitting things that once belonged to someone else.

            But on that day, a dazzling smile lit her tired face as sunlight hit her shop for the first time. The colorful clothing was neatly arranged on the racks, the black-and-white artwork tastefully arranged on the walls, and the sign, reading “Mary’s Dress Market,” shone in the sun.

            “Mary!” A slurred voice yelled from the back, and Mary turned from the windows, the light in her eyes dimming a bit at the sound. Her tired face fell as her husband stalked out of the back room.

            A dark, handsome man, Anthony’s thick head of black hair and olive skin gave him an exotic appearance that belied a selfish, jealous personality that could suck beauty from his expressions before you even knew it was there. He was dressed in a simple red polo shirt and blue jeans, and a cigarette dangled from his lips.

            “Mary, you got this rat-hole open yet?” He grumbled, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

            Mary smiled patiently. “I was just about to flip the sign.” She said, adjusting a mannequin. “I wanted to savor opening my shop for the first time.”

            Anthony grunted. “Takin’ too damn  long to open a stupid shop.” The word ‘stupid’ rang in Mary’s head, and she felt her heart grow cold.

            “Y’ got an ashtray in this wallet-suckin’ shop?” He asked. Mary mutely shook her head, feeling a strange tingling in her blood. Anthony cursed, and flicked his ashes into the air.

            Mary watched the embers land on a dress- a ruffled pink summer dress with large white flowers o it. The sight of that glowing spot on the dress made the tingling in her blood flare, and she snapped.

            “What the hell are you doing?!” She yelled. Anthony looked up, startled by the outburst from his normally patient wife. “This is a shop I’ve wanted since I was a little girl, and you flick your filthy ashes on it?!”

            Anthony clenched his fists. “You ungrateful little-” His voice failed him in his rage. “I give you my hard-earned money so you can start this pointless little project of yours, and-”

            “Your money?!” She shrieked. “You’re an out-of-work electrician who spends more in one night at a bar than I spent on this shop!”

            His face clenched. “I’ll teach you to talk to me like that, you li-”

            But the two of them froze as a wave of heat swept over them. The forgotten ember had taken at last, and the cheerful summer dress had been consumed by the fire almost instantly. And in that shop, with its dry air and dry cloth, was almost ablaze at once.

            Mary shrieked, her entire being going rigid with terror for her shop.

            “Anthony, the first extinguisher!” But he just stared, flabbergasted, at the fire. With a growl, Mary shoved him towards the door, and, snatching up the fire extinguisher from its case on the wall, started trying to fight the blaze.

            But it was in vain, for though she knew how to use the device, the fire was swiftly growing out of control, consuming the bright cloth and artwork before she had a chance to see them one last time.

            Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm- Anthony’s. “It’s too big!” He yelled over the crackling. Mary shook her head, knowing that if she walked out that door, her shop was doomed. But Anthony was firm- he dragged her screaming form from the burning shop, the cheerful jingle from the door chimes cutting momentarily through the roar of the fire before being consumed.

            When the door shut behind them, Mary collapsed to her knees, tears flowing. Anthony was telling her that he’s called the fire department and that they were on their way and that, really, this shop hadn’t been going anywhere, so it was no real loss. Mary ignored him, captivated by the mannequins in the windows, watching their expressionless faces melt slowly in the heat. Their clothes- for one, an elegant, off-the-shoulder red gown, and a short green dress for the other- were singed and roasted almost to oblivion. Sensing that she was ignoring him, for once in his life, Anthony fell quiet, and they watched in silence as her dreams burned.

Author's Note

Sorry about the text size and junk- copied directly from Microsoft Office. All resemblance to real people and their burned lives is unintentional.