Writing Prompt: “I dabble,” he confessed.

I know I am running a little behind today. It is cold and rainy, the rain one shade warmer than ice and I hit that snooze button one too many times for a Wednesday morning. It just didn’t seem like it was time to start the day. But apparently it is. So pens or keyboards at the ready? Timers set? Then let’s go.

Its amazing how calm and unrushed I feel once I have written out my prompt. my brain stopped racing and worrying about the fifteen minute lag. Kind of a nice side benefit actually.

Wednesday, December 16th: “I dabble,” he confessed.

“I dabble,” he confessed.

“Dabble,” Marcus replied, his tone affectionately mocking.  He rolled his eyes skyward.

Quinn looked at the two of them.  “Am I missing something?”

Marcus shook his head and smiled.  “Only if you don’t realize that when he says dabble he means completely obsess over.”

“I’m not obsessed,” David replied.  Marcus stared at him.  “It relaxes me.”

Marcus clucked at his brother.

“I don’t suppose I could see?” Quinn asked.

Marcus looked to David who shrugged.  “If you’d like.” He turned and ambled towards the door, to Quinn it looked like he was waiting for her to back out, to say that she wasn’t really interested, that she was just being polite. 

The truth was she was interested.  When she was a child the tiny model villages that sometimes served as attractions in small village centers attracted her.  She remembered visiting a small town in Britain when staying with her grandparents over the summer.  They took her to one that was the town’s pride and joy.  The fact that the entire town was obsessed with what was essentially a set of doll’s houses fascinated her.  When she saw them, the fascination grew.  They weren’t merely doll houses.  They were identical replicas of the town itself.  All of the shops miniaturized. She remembered looking at one of the small shops and been fascinated by all of the details.  She then looked up and saw the adult, real life one sitting across the street.  Later her grandparents took her into the shop to buy postcards for her parents.  It tickled her that the ones she chose were the exact ones pictured on the tiny replica in the village center.

Over the years she saw many smaller, and less impressive versions, some were merely basement railway sets.  None had that level of detail or held that much fascination so she relegated it to a fond memory.  Now here she found someone who apparently had created something worth notice. 

As she followed David through the house and into the garden, she tempered her expectations.  Thus far nothing had lived up to that first model village and she had to accept that nothing ever would.  They stepped out of the building and she smiled at the feel of the warm sunlight on her skin.  This past winter had been brutal and this early into spring she was taking every reminder that it’s hold was finally loosening on the world as a blessing.  Later she knew she would complain about the heat, but for now she basked.

Then David stepped to the side and Quinn let out an involuntary gasp.  The set up was the same as in the model village she remembered as a child.  An enclosure had been created and then within it had been landscaped and built upon.  She was drawn to the entrance as though it was a magnet.  Just before entering she looked to David, who gave her a shy nod.  She accepted that as invitation, turned back and stepped inside. 

Instantly she felt like she was six years old again and visiting her first model village.  She half expected to turn and find her grandfather by her side. She didn’t turn lest the stab of pain she still felt at his loss dim the pleasure in the sight before her.  The village before her was the perfect replica of a medieval village.  She didn’t know which one, but as the details were so intricate and the buildings placed in a way that looked more realistic than any railroad model or artificial plan could create, Quinn knew it was based on a real village that once existed somewhere.

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