Previous Volumes
Volume 2 No. 4
The Midnight Shoppe
by Chelsey R. Knapp
She was out of breath when they finally arrived.
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He jumped up into the immense library scene, unaffected by the run as if having barely moved. “Dazzling scene if I say so myself.”
“Devastating.” She stared up at the towers of literature glowing above the mantle. “I may be wasting your time. I can’t afford this.”
“I didn’t show you because I thought you had money. I know you don’t.”
“How do you know that? Are you psychic?”
He rolled his bulging eyes. “Mortal terms; I just know. I work in trade as well if you’re interested.”
“I have nothing to trade.”
“Everybody does.” He leaned in closer. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“I try to be a good person.”
He rolled his eyes into the back of his head. “Well, good for you, I can’t work with that nonsense.”
“You should talk to my sister. She’s well-versed in lies and deception.”
“I see,” he said.
He held up a twisted finger and hurried off, returning remarkably fast and handing her a tiny corked bottle.
She sneered. “Some sort of poison?”
“Of course not.”
“Then drink it.”
“I’m not usually so insulted when I try to help someone.” He tipped the bottle back into his mouth. “Delicious. Convinced? Don’t worry, I have more.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Visualize what you want, take a sip, or more, if you’re ambitious, then let this do all the rest for you. Which tends to be more personal, so it varies. What you envision is yours as long you drink, no exceptions. If you don’t drink, you’ll take on debt for anything you claim here. I wouldn’t recommend that. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Of course I won’t lie.”
“Humans always lie.”
She awoke on the attic floor from a heavy, dreamless sleep, unable to recall ever returning home. She stumbled down the stairs, through the fireplace, piecing together her memories of the night. On the outside, the shop was such a tiny, quaint, classical structure. On the inside, it became a castle full of trap doors leading to the outskirts of existence, a whole universe of its own.
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She clenched the cold bottle in her fist and let it seep over her tongue, drier and more bitter than any wine or whiskey. After several slurps left her gagging, she poured the rest of the bottle into the stew she was preparing, trying to envision what outcome she wanted. An empty house came to mind. The only house she knew. Then came solitude. The only life she knew. A sourness fell over her stomach as she struggled to picture a new life for herself. She focused as she stirred it invisible with a worn wooden spoon.
Nina peered out from the cellar. “You cooked? It smells delicious.”
Sara tasted the stew, the bitter blood colored liquid now savory and soothing. “You’ll have to let me know what it’s missing!”
They sat across from each other at the table, delicate bone china sets before them, and gilded candelabras lighting up their gaunt faces.
Sara considered her words with each slurp, noting the intricate, unfamiliar dishes she was using. “I never realized you collected such lovely antiques.”
“They had it hiding in their room.”
“What else did you find?”
Nina shook her head and slurped. “Nothing really.”
“Nothing worth mentioning? Like a frilly canopy bed? Or a library of books? Or a museum of paintings? Or a mountain of fetid toys? Or have you had all of that lying around the whole time?”
Nina stayed silent for a long moment. “I was hoping you’d respect my privacy.”
“You were being treated like royalty for God knows how long, and you watched them abuse me, isolate me, starve me. What else?”
“It only started recently. They’d come into a heavy debt. Somewhere in town. Mother said they had to do something unforgivable to pay it back, and if I didn’t stay silent, I’d be blamed for all of it. Or worse, you. Then, father was gone and my room became a palace overnight.”
“With a mound of toys coated in ashes.”
“She said if they were ever touched, it could ruin everything, but the debt had been paid, and we would all have a better life now. All I wanted was to believe her.”
Nina started crying. The pigment was sucked from her skin. She groaned over her meal and hammered her fists against the table, choking. Her body went limp before collapsing to the floor, frozen and twisted into a position that made her appear broken in half.
Sara crouched close to her sister and grazed her skin, clammy to the touch and growing colder.
She sprinted towards the shop only to find ruins where it once stood.