Here it is in 347 words.
UNCLE ALBERT'S DESK
She knew right away the stamps were no good — no good for mailing anyway. They were, if anything, Marci thought, even stranger than the other weird artifacts in the oversized roll-top desk that crazy old great-uncle Albert had bequeathed to her. He had disposed of most of the detritus of his picaresque life before his final illness laid him low. But either he never got around to the contents of this desk, or they were things he simply couldn’t bear to part with.
There was the quill he used as a writing pen, that he claimed was a hippogriff feather, and a vicious-looking, foot-long bony spike he said was a manticore's sting. Marci unrolled the tattered scrap of what looked like starched silk, but felt like a rubbery membrane. Uncle Albert claimed it was a torn remnant of a fairie's wing. The only time Marci had ever seen him break down in tears was when he told her that story.
With a sigh, she rerolled what was left of the wing and returned to the strip of stamps. Each was the size of a playing card, and as she touched each one, its picture seemed to come to life for a brief instant. The sad-eyed fairy fluttered her wings and hid her face in her hands. The threatening-looking unicorn aggressively stomped a fore-hoof. The lascivious
Suddenly aroused, Marci shuddered and, blushing, put the stamps away and closed the desk. Here in uncle Albert's study was not the place to explore those kinds of ideas. Before Rob moved off to Lansing, she'd have him and his friends move the desk to her apartment.
There she could explore the many oddities of this old desk, and ponder the things she found there at her leisure. Most specially those stamps. Maybe that shy fairy had a sad tale to share. Maybe the
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Reduced to a haiku
Desk full of relics:
Dust of a life, portal to
Some strange adventure