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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2072815
Gerald, expert in magical tax, has become a snowman made of the books he wrote years ago.
         I brought my little brother to my favorite place to study on campus.
         “Look,” he said “look.”
         He pulled on the leg of my pants.
         “Just wait,” I said with a smile.
         “Why is it about to happen?”
I shushed him and pointed the bookcase. The volumes of black tax books were pointed facing out, and some were reversed in the shape of a pumpkin. The books began to turn in place as if the spines were spun around a pencil and formed into a snowman.
         “Hi Gerald, I love the new form,” I said.
         “I love changing the seasons,” said Gerald. “Will you finish me up?”
         I went over to the closet at the end of the bookcase and opened the door. Inside were rows of white shelving left empty and covered in dust, but the top level had a box for every season. I grabbed the ones labeled FALL and WINTER, and returned to Gerald. I took off the felt lantern eyes and mouth, and gave him his green scarf, white paper hands, and tie made of pink roses.
         “Thank you,” said Gerald.
         I looked at my little brother, and turned him around. “What do you think?”
          We turned back to the bookcase, alive with the image of a happy coal mouthed snowman.
         “Do you get bored in there?” said my little brother.
         “No, young one I don’t. You see most of these books that I’m made of, I wrote them with a team of others. We were the foremost experts in our little field of taxation.”
         “Well, how long have you been in there.”
         A book from Gerald’s chest edged itself out from the bookcase and floated in the air. The binding pointed to Gerald first.
         “Have a look, this is the last book I wrote.”
         The book floated over to my little brother. At the top, it said “Depreciation of Magical Artifacts, by Gerald Kelly, L.L.M, Ph.D. The bottom stated “1934”.
         “You are so old.”
         “Gerald, I’m sorry that my little brother said that, he is still learning these things called manners,” I said glaring at an embarrassed little boy.
         “It’s alright,” said Gerald, “Age is just a number.”
         “Can I come see you again next season?”
         “You sure can little one. Now what will I be next time?” said Gerald”
         “A sun?”
         “That’s right,” said Gerald and he turned into the Sun and turned back into the snowman.
         “A little hard to do out of season,” he said.
         “A sun with a scarf is kinda funny,” said my little brother with a smile.
         That was the only time I heard Gerald laugh, and he turned back into his snowman.
         “Can I really come back?”
         “You heard the snowman, sun, tax expert, of course you can,” I said.
         I had sat down to study, and he sat next to me. He fell asleep looking at the bookcase with a smile on his face.
WC: 495
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