Kit

by Melinda Jane - The Poet Mj

Chapter 1

Kit fumbled with the latch her tiny lace fingers groaned under the weight as the lid of the wooden chest heaved open.

White butterfly paper blew away crumple, crinkle, crunch colour array.

The inches uttered lemon, wattle, then canary yellow motif hissing, spread curled out, on this wondrous object.

Kit held her breathe, seeing crochet like silk ample length of tangerine tail which creased her jeans and woollen knits.

Stepping up, on tip-toes the tail grew in bows and twirls a box like shape and sharpen tail took her full body shape the colours blossomed canary sun yellow tangerine, mango orange and this strange motif which frightened her limbs to stiffen with an intake and gasp.

Before her, a Dragon in brutal anger, eyes amber fire from its nostrils fangs hungered curls of lizard like bodice this pearl symbol clasped in its nails stung her imagination.

Chapter 2

Grandpa packed the wooden chest with great care placing the gift centre stage cloud like paper fluttered and crumpled.

The gypsy glint in Grandpa's eyes as he shut the lid with a thud.

The rich tapestry of carvings on the chest Empirical Shogun reposing composure under silken wrap, temples pleated shingles, bell like rooves, grooves held symbolic travels Japan Cornwall to Maori’s hands.

The lock was whale bone motif, chiseled leafy vines bear tooth wedged the latch intramural, hidden a cherry warm amber flower etched.

Chapter 3

The note written in illegible calligraphy on rice paper was deciphered by his son.

“Dear Kit this trunk was your grandmas which was haggled for in a market place in Hakone I found myself there at the end of the war it was a surprise for Eva back in Cornwall.”

Kit squirming, asked if the magic chest could be placed in private and Dad gently hoisted the box into Kit’s room and a gathering of teddy bears, viewed the opening surprise.

Chapter 4

Her Dad garnered the wondrous object from the boot of their Volvo.

Kit held the tangerine tail of bows and twirls down the steep cliff to the bottom where margarine sand tempered their tread.

The sand between her toes the excitement spread rising inside Kit.

Dad planted his feet instructed Kit to run north into the wind for her lace fingers to fling this wondrous object to heaven.

Gush, rip from her grip whoosh the luscious Box Kite mastered it’s majestic place within the horizon of peppered clouds and sea-gulls.

This Dragon-Kite loved its freedom as its tail flagged, rejoicing all over Kits creased face.

Dad leaned holding the entwined string and boisterously laughed at the glow of Kit and flew back to his own childhood on those craggy cliffs of Cornwall flying his kite.