The Idea Thief
In my textiles evaluation I had to say it filled the specification of being inspiring by putting a sentence: "Hanging in a corner waiting for some inadvertent shopper to discover it..."
I had to do something about that didn't I?
This also seems to document how Joe Marder
caught my attention in the first place.
“Good, no-one there...
A person peeked round the fire exit door and glanced around. They looked at the room in front of them in bewilderment, why would anyone make a textiles room like this? Come on, four pillars in a square in the middle? The people on the table between the pillars must get annoyed at having to edge round them...
And why the pointy counter? Loads of people did fine with a ordinary rectangle surface like the one near the door, but along one wall they’d taken triangles out of it. Cloth-covered lumps sat next to the wall in the moonlight shadows, they seemed like lying wolves, waiting to pounce.
The person slipped into the room and softly closed the door. Streamers of moonlight shifted and settled. The man went left, away from the door into what seemed to be a cooking room. He headed behind the teachers desk and to the door hung with
a fabric wind-chime, shaped like a fish.
The eye seemed to watch him.
The man glanced behind him, was something watching? He turned his head back to the door, but behind him he swore the light falling on the floor near the pillars took on a different texture, just for an instant, then it was out of sight. Not entirely out of mind but out of sight would have to do.
The door opened silently after a moment with a pick, swinging gently inwards to reveal the textiles office. His eyes widened, a fortune in products! This would sell highly on the market when he got it back to the HQ. You had to admit that the Year 11's had known what they were doing with their coursework...
His eye fell on a gorgeous dress the mannequin was wearing. It was enough to make a designer cry with joy. A small label pinned to it read, “J. B. Wst. Sid. Stry.” A folder open on the desk was the same project, the phrase “I Feel Pretty” across the top of each page.
He turned and looked through the other work, a regency dress, a blue waistcoat, the Disney symbol almost like an eye for a moment. He considered a orange and red layered skirt for a while, drinking in the idea, another dress, this one red and
black, even a caterpillar, he paused when he saw the caterpillar head looking out of its bag. The eyes were watching him, and the dresses seemed to take up more space.
He shook it from his head and ignored the full moon shining through the window at him.
Then he spotted a roll of shadow in the corner, with both ends of two poles showing. He dug towards it and gently lifted a cushion odd it, a smaller rectangle of dark with Chinese symbols down a pale stripe down the centre. Then he unrolled it, the fabric falling through moonlight with a soft sound.
Lying spread and somehow contriving to look dusty and forgotten was a wall hanging, a phoenix soaring over a golden city and the viewer, underside only seen. The feathers shone dully in the moonlight as the man surveyed it, wide eyed.
He quietly rolled it up once more and put his hands on the ends, then spread the fingers. The poles showing fitted neatly onto them, two ends per hand holding it rolled. Then he tucked it under one arm, smiling, the girl had done her work well.
The man spun around as something whispered close to him, a sigh of air that carried muffled voices. There was nothing in the larger room, but somehow the pillars and roof seemed more... textured. Were they like that before? Must have been, ceilings don’t change, especially not school textiles rooms.
The watch told him he needed to leave, quickly. The man felt he should take the dress, but the hanging seemed to appeal to him more. He stepped into the large room once more, ready to flee...
The whisper sound and wind came more strongly, a gust that pushed his hair over his eyes. He brushed it out the way and saw that small, but somehow important details had changed. Like the way the ceiling now vaguely resembled leaves, and
raised lines spread almost like branches from the pillars across the ceiling.
The wind sighed softly as it rustled around him, making him turn to look at the square of pillars, moonlight streaming from behind him. The wind... I’m inside, there shouldn’t be wind here.
The idea thief thought, where’s that chanting coming from?
The ceiling really does resemble leaves, what clever... plaster-work, that’s the one...Were they so dark before? I swear the ceiling was whiter when I came in...
The wind is stronger, a whistling rush, stronger, buffeting him from all directions. He took a step forwards and tripped over a root, a root? The floor did look more...grassy, that’s the only word for it. The hanging fell from his arm and hit the floor, momentum unrolling it straight from the pillars towards the doors, lying straight?
The thief looked up slowly and crawled towards the hanging, wind blowing louder in his ears. He looked at the hanging to see whether it was damaged, but it was in perfect condition now, even more so then when he’d got it out.
The thing had been slightly dusty, the feathers duller, but now it was, shining. More... vividly. More than the moonlight could allow... Like it had an internal glow....Even
the eyes shone more... His mind skittered down a train of thought like a rodent in a tunnel as the wind whistled around him, coiling tighter as he stared at the phoenix and
his mind raced.
How come they weren’t there before?
How come I noticed it under all that stuff?
How come the door was open?