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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
#1067489 added April 3, 2024 at 11:30am
Restrictions: None
One Man's Junk
Prompt: One man's junk is another man's treasure. Write about this in your Blog entry today.

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One Man's Junk (A short story)


With his arthritic fingers, Paul shuffles through the boxes, lifting forgotten things: a broken toy, a yellowed photograph, a rusted hammer... Each holds a story.

He straightens up and looks around. He has inherited this antique store from his late uncle Marvin, a dedicated collector. Marvin saw potential where others saw clutter.

Paul lifts delicately a porcelain doll from a dusty box. Glass eyes and faded pink dress. This doll was not for sale. It was his daughter Charlotte's. Charlotte had passed away at age nine after her measles turned into pneumonia. Then her favorite doll, this one, sat on Paul's dresser for decades. He sighs. This doll has to go now.

This doll has to go with all the other so-called junk. He is having a sale, isn't he! Paul has difficulty keeping the store open with the rising prices and customers opting for newer, more modern merchandise. He has decided. He will definitely close the store.

Through the day, seeing the sale sign at the door, customers pour in. Some have wide eyes and eager expressions. Others simply wander in and out, and if Paul is lucky, some make a purchase. Is he lucky?

Suddenly, he looks up, startled, at a young woman. She has picked up the chipped porcelain doll, her fingers tracing the faded pink dress. She holds the doll close to her cheeks. Paul notices her eyes, then. Her eyes reflect the doll's beauty. She says, "This doll, almost speaks to me and I don't know why." So Paul lets her have the doll for free.

At the closing time, he looks inside the store. It is almost empty now. Most merchandise has been sold. Still, Paul thinks Marvin's Antiques Store has been a success and he has had the honor of tending to it. After all, he believes, for such a long time, one man's junk had indeed been another's treasure.

© Copyright 2024 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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