scene focusing on setting
I'm posting this on my blogger because the version of Word on this computer is wonky, and because I can acess it more easily from school. It's my scene focusing on setting, although it doesn't done yet, and I'm pretty sure it's entertainment, not art.
After thirty-five minutes of traversing a labyrinthine mess of sticky escalators and fake plants, Star was at last able to confirm that the mall directory has in fact been manufactured on another planet. One her left, plastered on the window of Tropical Bliss Tanning, was a collage of brown bikini-clad women, shining advocates of glamour, volleyball, and skin cancer. To her right, a women's clothing store sold clothes to match newly fried skin. Sandwiched between these peddlers of transmutation was the reason Star had come to this mall in the first place: Madame Zella, psychic guide.
Two floors higher than the mall directory claimed, Madame Zella's storefront stood out from the rest of the mall, an oasis of mystical commercialism in the midst of the glamourous, yet mundane, commercialism. Satin curtains of purple and ebony made it stand out like a bruise on the lighter, candied skin of the rest of the mall. The letters on Madame Zella's sign recalled rotting circus wagons and unemployed clowns, even as they guaranteed access to the wisdom of the heavens and lucky lottery numbers found in tea leaves and palm wrinkles. It was a portal to other worlds to paths illuminated by celestial light, and yet, the store fit all the same building codes as those around it.
Star yanked her right foot from the gummy tiles of the mall and stepped over the threshold, through a tinkling beaded curtain of faceted black beads, onto a gritty doormat with an Eye of Horus on it. Another step, and she was through the plastic cascade, which she now remembered seeing at Spencer gifts. The inside of the store was hung with black tapestries with prominent Eye of Horus and zodiac motifs. A rotating fan in the corner ruffled the draping cloth, occasionally revealing a muted paisley wallpaper.
After thirty-five minutes of traversing a labyrinthine mess of sticky escalators and fake plants, Star was at last able to confirm that the mall directory has in fact been manufactured on another planet. One her left, plastered on the window of Tropical Bliss Tanning, was a collage of brown bikini-clad women, shining advocates of glamour, volleyball, and skin cancer. To her right, a women's clothing store sold clothes to match newly fried skin. Sandwiched between these peddlers of transmutation was the reason Star had come to this mall in the first place: Madame Zella, psychic guide.
Two floors higher than the mall directory claimed, Madame Zella's storefront stood out from the rest of the mall, an oasis of mystical commercialism in the midst of the glamourous, yet mundane, commercialism. Satin curtains of purple and ebony made it stand out like a bruise on the lighter, candied skin of the rest of the mall. The letters on Madame Zella's sign recalled rotting circus wagons and unemployed clowns, even as they guaranteed access to the wisdom of the heavens and lucky lottery numbers found in tea leaves and palm wrinkles. It was a portal to other worlds to paths illuminated by celestial light, and yet, the store fit all the same building codes as those around it.
Star yanked her right foot from the gummy tiles of the mall and stepped over the threshold, through a tinkling beaded curtain of faceted black beads, onto a gritty doormat with an Eye of Horus on it. Another step, and she was through the plastic cascade, which she now remembered seeing at Spencer gifts. The inside of the store was hung with black tapestries with prominent Eye of Horus and zodiac motifs. A rotating fan in the corner ruffled the draping cloth, occasionally revealing a muted paisley wallpaper.
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