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Floyd
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34
Seamus senses a ghost
A ghost? Seamus's stone-gray hair stood on end, his fluffy shag nervously tonguing the old secretary. The small candle had taken a cool ethereal whiff of hemlock needle resin, the eucalyptic scent mingling with the contents of the inkwell, which Seamus scattered about the desk erratically as he hastily turned to get to the bottom of the whiff.
Better said, he himself immediately went to the bottom of his scriptorium, having spied strange tracks in the damp moss on the earthy floor of his writing room, they led past his secretary into the shadowy, remote end of the room. Pushing himself on all fours through the green mud, he dug his face into one of the small brown tracks when he detected another scent besides the ethereal needles, the moss, and the earth. Possibly Bensdorp's cocoa powder. Seamus seemed unsettled, checked again. No, light chocolate, maybe whole milk. He felt in the soft mass with his fingers, felt small more consistent lumps, rubbed them into his nose. No doubt, ambertorrone.
Intrigued, he followed the trail into the dark indistinct corners. Closer and closer he guided his nose across the floor, yet the scent grew quieter and quieter, soon small pebbles of amber glowing beneath an ethereally smoldering green carpet of fir yarn and fibers of moss, finely colored chocolate threads and drier earths. And all he had woven himself with his erratic fingers, on his skin. Now he himself glowed dark green and yet bright and ethereal, very faintly and yet you could perceive him there in the dim corner, for about six hours, like a good ghost.
(With thanks to Chizza)
Hemlock fir
Chocolate
Oakmoss
Soil
Ink
Stone
Ambergris
Leather
Holscentbar
