beetle wheels

“No, no! I’ve got it, thank you!” Voice strained as much as his muscles, bulging out every which way, as passing people occasionally stopped and asked if Alistair needed help with his quarry. That being a large crate roughly the size of a volkswagon beetle on tiny, precarious wheels tied to several ropes. All of which, were in his hands and around his arms. Thanks to Jordan’s (frankly brilliant) suggestion that he offer himself up to the Library as a fellow custodian, he actually had a new job. Not only a new job, but a whole library to himself. It seemed the city had forgotten all about it in their haste for everything else despite the fact that the pair of little old ladies that worked the place did not survive the piercing cold the Yuki-onna had brought. So when he came in asking about a position there, there was a rush of sudden activity at city hall and he was promptly given the job, and the keys, within the hour. Alistair was in such a state of elation that he hadn’t stopped to think before borrowing the crate from one of the other shops down the way and immediately filled it to the brim with books. A decision that was now teaching him a lesson as he slowly dragged the load across town, stopping traffic and blocking other shops for several minutes. The only good thing about this was the spattering of the people left in Beacon Hills giving him constant directions, keeping him from going in the wrong direction for an hour and ending up in the next town over somehow.

Alistair finally pulled the box up a sidewalk ramp in the park across town center and decided that the corner there was a good spot to take a break. He was out of water, his white shirt now translucent with sweat and the remains of his bottle to try and refresh himself, and his face red and pockmarked from strain. The crate, at least, wasn’t going anywhere. He took a moment to catch his breath and rested his head in his arms, unaware of anyone nearby.