Post by misspolly on Mar 20, 2008 19:01:35 GMT
Philippa Roy had doused her face with water and pulled on her dress and cloak, missing a few buttons as she murmurs to herself. "Must go get my sweet something nice...Oh yes...'e will love it. Sick 'e is." She chanted to herself as she grabbed her large carpet bag.
No one could know for sure what exactly was in that carpet bag of Polly's. Many people claim that they hear small chirps coming from it, others a strange odor. However, Polly had owned the bag for years and years. You name an item and it was probably in the bag, including a few illegal devices.
The bag was heavy, but Polly did not notice as she slung it over her back. It was Thursday. The Bar was closed on Thursdays, and seeing as no one had stayed at the inn for over a month, Polly did not feel guilty leaving the empty tavern and house alone for the day.
"I'll be back soon my loves." She called to the empty bar, the chairs upside down a top the tables. Polly needed to get some help in the bar. She was getting to old to pick everything up her self. Even though no customers had come the night before, Polly still scrubbed the floors and counters, cleaning the tables and picked up all the chairs. It had taken her a mighty long time. Maybe she would put an add in the paper soon.
Polly didn't think about this as the bell over the front door sounded as she walked outside. Polly turned and locked the large black door with a rusted key, the lock making the tell-tale click. Polly shifted her bag and wrapped her cloak tight around her. Hunched over, she walked down the street, her eyes to the cobble stones below her.
She had reached the candy store when she looked up. She spotted a boy, about her sons age. Polly's mind clicked and she went over to him and grabbed his shoulder. "My dear...My dear..." She said the boy, her wild eyes bulging. "What are you doin' out 'ere. You must get back 'ome. Your father mus' be worried sick." She began to pull the boy along with her. "tsk. tsk." she sounded, still pulling the boy toward her home. "You 'ave got a cold. What do you think your doin' out 'ere?" she cooed, patting the boys head.
No one could know for sure what exactly was in that carpet bag of Polly's. Many people claim that they hear small chirps coming from it, others a strange odor. However, Polly had owned the bag for years and years. You name an item and it was probably in the bag, including a few illegal devices.
The bag was heavy, but Polly did not notice as she slung it over her back. It was Thursday. The Bar was closed on Thursdays, and seeing as no one had stayed at the inn for over a month, Polly did not feel guilty leaving the empty tavern and house alone for the day.
"I'll be back soon my loves." She called to the empty bar, the chairs upside down a top the tables. Polly needed to get some help in the bar. She was getting to old to pick everything up her self. Even though no customers had come the night before, Polly still scrubbed the floors and counters, cleaning the tables and picked up all the chairs. It had taken her a mighty long time. Maybe she would put an add in the paper soon.
Polly didn't think about this as the bell over the front door sounded as she walked outside. Polly turned and locked the large black door with a rusted key, the lock making the tell-tale click. Polly shifted her bag and wrapped her cloak tight around her. Hunched over, she walked down the street, her eyes to the cobble stones below her.
She had reached the candy store when she looked up. She spotted a boy, about her sons age. Polly's mind clicked and she went over to him and grabbed his shoulder. "My dear...My dear..." She said the boy, her wild eyes bulging. "What are you doin' out 'ere. You must get back 'ome. Your father mus' be worried sick." She began to pull the boy along with her. "tsk. tsk." she sounded, still pulling the boy toward her home. "You 'ave got a cold. What do you think your doin' out 'ere?" she cooed, patting the boys head.