In the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories may go. If you've arrived and a story is your desire, come take a seat where what you require is a tale from the second storyteller. Now where is it? Every time I'm in here I get so hopelessly distracted by all this lovely, lovely junk. Oh, aha! There's my jar of pickled- Oh, oh. Hello there. Goodness. I was so distracted I missed you come in. I am the second storyteller, and welcome to my oddities room.
Mostly this grand old tower collects stories. However, this room in particular just collects things I don't know what else to do with. You know, perhaps that's why I so often find myself in here. I really should have organized this room from the start, but now it seems far too late for that sort of thing. Yeah, you know, that seems like a good excuse.
Still, whenever I'm looking for anything, like a spell book I lost a few weeks ago as a completely random example, I tend to find what I'm looking for here. But enough of that. You're here for a story, of course. Fortunately my rather, uh, unique organizational talent means there should be a few lying around here. Now let's see what we have. Hm. Uh, infinity mouse? No, not this time. Hm. Unlikely pie contest? Not likely, I think. Oh, here's a good one. A story about a mysterious object.
Seeing as we're already in a room full of mysterious objects, it seems very appropriate, does it not? Well then, feel free to have a seat on whatever mound of junk you judge as the comfiest. All set? Then today's story will be... Corset. Corset. We met through the internet. She scrolled through picture after picture until she found me. Number 5542. And it was as simple as that. Seeing me wrapped around a model evoked a deep burning desire in First.
First wanted me to curve her body and lift her breasts. She wanted my laces pulled tight across her back, crossing themselves over and over. She wanted my company at clubs and bars. First loved everything I was and everything I could provide. And so I arrived on her campus in a white box. First knew exactly what was inside. And so she refused to open the box without her roommates gathered for the ceremony. I imagine that birth is similar to this experience. There was a ripping, tearing sound.
The tissue paper wrapped around me allowed fragments of light through until First pulled it away. I saw First's face. Her pale skin would shine smooth and lovely under my satin. I noticed this instantly. Her wiry black hair was pulled back and away from her face, which featured monochrome eyes. Gray and white and black, these eyes absorbed me as First lifted me from the box. Her mouth twisted in a menacing smile, like a person plotting murder and selecting their weapon.
There were three other girls watching this event. Second was a short girl. Short but petite, with features like a doll. Her eyes widened when she saw me. The shine of my satin locked those pale green eyes of hers onto me. Third was a very large girl. I could never imagine squeezing all of those pudgy rolls into an attractive shape. But I liked Third. She saw that if only I was larger, the appropriate size for her frame, she could have smooth laces running over her spine, too.
But there was also Fourth. I hated Fourth the moment she glanced at me. She was neither fat nor thin. She was attractive, but in a barely visible way. She looked at me with no interest. Fourth congratulated First on my purchase and left the room. My satin failed to steal her eyes. She paid no mind to my laces. Though First, Second, and Third busily admired me, I could not let go of the idea that Fourth was lingering elsewhere.
First, Second, and Third broke into a rapid chorus of, FASHION SHOW, FASHION SHOW! And First whisked me into her room, with Second and Third on her heels. Second and Third hid their eyes as First shed her shirt and bra, the idea of resting on that thin waist, wrapping myself possessively around her pale back and cupping her soft breasts. She surged through my fibers as she covered herself with me. First called to Second and told the girl to lace me up.
Second rejoiced at the chance to play with my long, insinuous laces. And so, one lace over the other, I was pulled tighter to First. As I gripped her tighter, I could feel her breathing. Her breath became mine, her heartbeat, mine. For the very first time, she and I were one. Second finished tying the laces and stepped back. I was whole, locked together with First. Second and Third were close to tears of joy as First spun slowly in tight circles.
First brought a hand under her chin and sighed thinly, AM I BEAUTIFUL? Second and Third erupted into cheers and compliments, wrapping an invisible layer of loyalty around First, which made her skin shimmer with an even more beautiful pale glow. Eventually though, the celebration ended. Third retreated to the opposite end of the apartment, where she shared a room with that wretched Fourth.
Second helped First to undo my laces, and then First placed me lovingly in her top drawer, sweeping everything else in the drawer onto one pile to make space for me. It was here that I rested for the week. Occasionally, First would tease me by opening the drawer and smirking at me, but she would always choose some other, less interesting article of clothing instead.
I began to wonder what my purpose was, was I simply made to lie in the corner of a drawer, only to be glimpsed at by First, my only love? My fears dissolved when Friday night came. The drawer opened quickly, and before I realized what was happening, Second was binding me to First yet again. I rejoiced. Finally, I was reunited with my lovely First. She put on a skirt and a pair of shoes, which had been designed, I imagine, for the sole purpose of crippling young women.
First threw only a light white blouse over me, and wore it open, signifying that my love for the blouse was extremely boring compared to me. After adding chemicals to her face to preserve its beauty, and a large cloud of perfume to follow her wherever she walked, First walked out the door, with Second and Third trailing behind. Judging by the way Second and Third were dressed, it was clear to me what First intended with them.
Second and Third would make the perfect accents, allowing First to stand out above all others, with me wrapped around her waist. The car ride to the club was nothing particularly special. First sat in the back, grinning, while Second drove, and Third twisted herself around in the passenger seat to get a better look at First. It did feel wonderful to be there, just the four of us, with no Fourth lurking somewhere on her own.
When we arrived, First, Second, and Third walked into the club and headed for the bar immediately. They each ordered drinks, which smelled sweet and strong. The moment we entered, I could feel everyone's gaze. The women in the club glowered at First with jealousy. They all wished that I was with them instead of her. All of the men smiled, and I know that they were wishing that all women were as beautiful as my First.
As the night progressed, Second and Third wandered away, leaving only First and myself at the bar. First continued to order her sweet drinks, when suddenly a hand slid a new drink in front of her. This hand belonged to a man, a man whom I hated instantly. His hair was dark and greasy, and he smelled as though he had bathed in cologne for all twenty years of his life. To my surprise, First giggled and accepted the drink he offered her. I couldn't understand.
My First, my perfect First, was enjoying the company of this man. The man continued moving his mouth, and even though First wasn't actually listening, she laughed every time his mouth moved. Suddenly he reached out and placed a hand on First's waist. I loathed the touch of his filthy hand. I wished that he and his greasy hair would leave my First alone and stop stealing the sheen of my satin with his nasty fingers. But things would only get worse that night.
The man whispered something in First's ear, and she laughed harder than ever, but winked at him. He led First to his car, and, as a horrible sensation of dread washed over me, we returned to the campus. First had a difficult time opening the door, because she kept attaching her face to the man's face, an act which repulsed me. When she finally did, we found Fourth sitting on the couch. However, she quickly retreated to her room.
First pulled the man into her room and flung her blouse to the ground. It was then that First gave an order which I could never forgive her for. She ordered the man to undo my laces. Those stubby, dirty fingers tore at my laces in a frantic, sloppy fashion. Before my laces were even properly untied, when First decided they were loose enough, she tore me away from her and flung me into her open closet.
That night I lay in First's closet, in true misery, with her shoes and fallen sweaters, as I listened to the sound of that man, stealing First away from me. I have no idea when that man left, because I remained in the closet for the remainder of the week. Over the next few days, I heard Second and Third tending to First, who had apparently become ill from the sweet drinks she had consumed. I didn't care. I was glad that First was sick.
I took pleasure in knowing that the pain she had inflicted in rejecting me was returning to her. It was then that I realized what I had to do. Seeing joy in First's suffering, I decided that if I was ever given the chance, I would make it so that First and I would never be separated again. I decided to kill First, so that in her death I could hold her forever. I waited in the closet, desperately wishing for First to remember me and ask Second to lace me up once more.
Many times, First would pull something out of the closet, a shirt or a pair of shoes. But not me. I lay there waiting and perfecting my plan. My opportunity came sooner than I expected. When Friday night came once more, memories of me must have suddenly returned to First. I heard her frantically pulling her dresser apart, searching for me. Her voice was panicked and laced with obscene words. Finally, she found me lying in the closet and sighed with relief.
Those beautiful eyes and that lovely skin, I could not allow First to make the mistakes of the weekend before. I knew that I had to take her for my own or risk losing her forever. First barked at Second to lace me up. Second obeyed and tied my laces in the way she had before. The second my laces were tied, I pulled them even tighter. I felt First's heart flutter and her breath suddenly changed. You- you tied it too tight! Are you trying to choke me or something? Second wasn't. But I was.
Second reached for the knot and tried to untie the laces, but I would not allow it. The knot won't untie, Second said with a look of confusion. I pulled myself even tighter to First's delicate frame. Now her breath quickened, even though it was beginning to sound strained. I could feel her heart thudding in a panic. You made it even tighter, you dumb bitch! Untie me! Untie me! First demanded. But her words were useless.
I could feel her life vanishing slowly under my embrace as I pulled myself tighter and tighter. Suddenly the door flew open and Fourth entered the room. What the hell is going on? Through panicked and desperate tears, Second explained the situation. Have you tried cutting it off? Fourth asked. It was such a foolish idea. They had attempted to cut me away from First, but their dull scissors could do nothing against my fabric. I'm calling campus safety.
Fourth left the room and was replaced by Third, who joined Second in her panicked tears. Tire and tighter, I pulled myself to First. She was beginning to understand that we would never be separated. I felt such joy. Finally, I would be able to prove to First just how precious she was to me, and she would never cast me aside again. A man in a jacket with a plastic badge burst into the room with a pair of shears. I panicked. I realized what he intended to do.
This man wanted to separate me from First. Finally I pulled myself even tighter to First. She whimpered and gasped for air as I attempted to make her mine. The man with the shears lunged forward and began cutting. I never felt such pain as when those shears began ripping me away from First. The moment I was cut, I felt First's breath ease. Her heart began to calm. I was losing her, and I knew that it would be forever.
The shears tore their way up my side and First hurled me away from her, terrified and sobbing, as Second and Third covered her with a towel and comforted her. The man with the shears and the plastic badge shook his head and picked me up. He left the apartment and tossed me into the closest dumpster. I lay there among the garbage, a pathetic excuse for a garment which was once beautiful. I longed for First, but I knew that I would never see her again.
The next morning, hope rushed into me as I saw the lid of the dumpster lift. I waited eagerly for First to reach in and rescue me. But no, it was not First that stared into the dumpster that morning. The last face I would ever see was the leering, uncaring face of Fourth. She spotted me among the bags of garbage and smiled. I heard a cruel giggle escape her lips before she threw her own bag of refuse into the dumpster with me and let the lid slam down. I had always loathed Fourth.
Huh, what an odd story indeed. I can see why this one ended up here. Hmm, I still do need to find that spellbook though. I don't suppose I was due to it and that's why it's hiding. Me referring to it as thick was a little too forward on my part. Oh wait though, there's a note stuck in this book and ah, with a locking charm scribbled on it. This is perfect. I should still try to find that book though. What's under here? Oh, it's a shoebox filled with cards from that game I played ages ago.
Oh man, Yoghurt Hill was so great. I wonder if they still print them. Oh, oh sorry sorry. I'm getting myself completely distracted again and something gives me the feeling I'll be in this room for a while longer. Ah, oh well. As always though, please do let me know if there is a particular type of story that you would like to hear. For today, be well and carry today's story in your heart. Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend.
Return to this tower and its mysterious dweller for more from the library of The Second Storyteller. Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller. If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com. If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode. Today's prompt was Inanimate Object Love Story, submitted by Sue.
If you would like to help support the future of this podcast, please consider becoming a patron by going to patreon.com slash the second storyteller. A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going. A donation of just $10 a month puts you on the list of current library card holders, and your name will be read at the end of the episode. The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie Chacon.
The role of the second storyteller is played by Charles Scott. Today's voice of the story was provided by Katie Chacon. The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's worked on at rix.itch.io. That's r-i-k-s dot itch dot i-o. The music was written by Finton, who can be found at garbagebag, all one word, dot itch dot i-o. The second storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story to tell.