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The Knife Man
Nov. 16th, 2010 10:44 pmHere’s where we’re staying. It’s not quite like the houses in the stories our mother used to tell us. Houses in her stories had things in them like chocolate milk and beds and umbrellas. We came to these parts because we wanted to try those things, but it turns out you can’t just go into a house and drink the chocolate milk and lie down on the beds and open the umbrellas. The houses all have people in them who get flustered if you do.
So we’re staying here instead, and we like it well enough.
After we’d shadowed the people in these parts for a while, we got it into our heads to go to school. We’d collected stray bits of clothing, things that looked vaguely like what the kids here wear. You wear these things with no magic at all: if you do up all the fastenings, they hang about your arms and flap at your waist and ankles as if they were part of you, like feathers on a bird.
“You look like little hobos,” said the Knife Man. The Knife Man sometimes stays in this place too. We’re not sure if he’s from here or elsewhere, but we think elsewhere. People around here don’t line the insides of their coats with knives. Then again, I never met anyone elsewhere who did, either. The Knife Man doesn’t like to be called the Knife Man; he wants to be called the Knife Sharpening Man. He has a little square made of wood and leather, and he once said he could sharpen any knife on it so sharp it will slice clouds.
( Read more... )
So we’re staying here instead, and we like it well enough.
After we’d shadowed the people in these parts for a while, we got it into our heads to go to school. We’d collected stray bits of clothing, things that looked vaguely like what the kids here wear. You wear these things with no magic at all: if you do up all the fastenings, they hang about your arms and flap at your waist and ankles as if they were part of you, like feathers on a bird.
“You look like little hobos,” said the Knife Man. The Knife Man sometimes stays in this place too. We’re not sure if he’s from here or elsewhere, but we think elsewhere. People around here don’t line the insides of their coats with knives. Then again, I never met anyone elsewhere who did, either. The Knife Man doesn’t like to be called the Knife Man; he wants to be called the Knife Sharpening Man. He has a little square made of wood and leather, and he once said he could sharpen any knife on it so sharp it will slice clouds.
( Read more... )
