As Gunnar pushed open the door of the shop, his eyes remained on the sign that hung overhead. “Overton” was painted in green script consisting of lazy loops across the weathered plank that waver lightly in the wind. The paint was chipped and the wood cracked—hints at the age of the sign. When the door swung open a few more inches, a soft bell chimed above Gunnar to announce his entrance. The sound distracted the ex-ranch hand and attracted his gaze as he continued to step forward, hand still perched on the wrought iron door handle. Thunk! The door bumped into something solid when it was almost at a right angle to the wall. The sudden stop jarred Gunnar and he jerked his hand back as if he’d touched the glowing red end of a branding iron. Stepping to the side, he let the door swing shut on its hinges and reveal what it had collided with. A crate? His bushy eyebrows lifted as he eyed the container. It came almost up to his chest and was just as wide and deep. Who puts something like that right behind the door? He asked himself as he swung his gaze across the room and got his answer. The same kind of person who leaves stuff like it everywhere, anywhere. There was a clear path, at least compared to the rest of the cluttered floor, to a counter with an old-timey register on the other side of the room.
“Not like I can go anywhere else,” he muttered and walked forward. The floorboards creaked beneath the thick soles of his work boots with each step he took. Gunnar glanced to either side as he walked and realized that every couple of steps revealed new winding paths branching from the one he walked. Shelving units and barrels and crates, some open and some still nailed shut, created the aisles in the store. The disorder of the merchandise that made up the short walls dividing the shop’s floor space sent a chill up Gunnar’s spine. Steeling himself, he continued onward until he arrived at the counter. “Great… no one’s here,” he grumbled Gunnar as he looked around that small open area. He spied a door behind the counter with a notice posted beside it: “RING BELL FOR SERVICE”. Another bell? thought Gunnar as he searched the counter. The small bell was easy enough to find as it set beside the register. Reaching forward, Gunnar tapped it, depressing the button at the top. The ding of the bell filled the room. All that was left for Gunnar to do was wait.
“Not like I can go anywhere else,” he muttered and walked forward. The floorboards creaked beneath the thick soles of his work boots with each step he took. Gunnar glanced to either side as he walked and realized that every couple of steps revealed new winding paths branching from the one he walked. Shelving units and barrels and crates, some open and some still nailed shut, created the aisles in the store. The disorder of the merchandise that made up the short walls dividing the shop’s floor space sent a chill up Gunnar’s spine. Steeling himself, he continued onward until he arrived at the counter. “Great… no one’s here,” he grumbled Gunnar as he looked around that small open area. He spied a door behind the counter with a notice posted beside it: “RING BELL FOR SERVICE”. Another bell? thought Gunnar as he searched the counter. The small bell was easy enough to find as it set beside the register. Reaching forward, Gunnar tapped it, depressing the button at the top. The ding of the bell filled the room. All that was left for Gunnar to do was wait.
Last edited by Gunnar Sigmond on Fri Aug 06, 2010 12:11 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Closed the thread!)