...lost in the book store...
...the art of finding...
There are few things better in life than being a bike courier in a relatively small city like Amies, though there are those that would have to argue the safety of it. Racing between people and vehicles, the wind licking around your ears and tickling your neck, all gave one a sense of freedom that was otherwise difficult to procure. The only improvement on an overall pleasant occupation was when the location was fresh, new, and referred to something you loved - say, a book store?
William cut neatly across main street, just barely managing to maneuver his way past a rather agitated shopowner who even went so far as to shake his fist at the spry young man. Waving somewhat apologetically back to the man, Will turned his head just barely in time to avoid winding up the new fixture of a wall, jerking himself neatly around the corner. Sasha was one of his most beloved items, a cherry red bicycle with a basket and a little silver bell, so he was usually a good deal more careful with her, but this was an antique book store, a place of must and dust, and which tempted the bibliophile just barely hidden beneath the young man's surface.
It didn't take long to get there, fortunately, the small, seemingly abandoned shop that stuck out from the pretty and decorated glass shop on its left and the distinctly pastel children's shop on its right, it was every bit the shady shape of mystery one might expect was plucked clean out of the stories that it promised with the embellished gold leaf lettering splayed across the window: Emilie's Antique Bookshoppe. It was hard to see much of anything past that, though, as William noticed, parking Sasha in front of the shop. Despite the glass front and door, all he could see was a deep shade flanked by tall shelves of books, displays of books, stacks of books. There didn't seem to be a single available surface within the store that wasn't holding books of some nature.
A single brass bell caught the light and jangled in warning as he pushed the door open, shifting the hefty satchel on his hip so that he could seek out the package that was to be delivered here. The counter was at the back of the shop, strange but advantageous, but it seemed to be unattended. Will wasn't in any hurry to leave, of course, and so he meandered towards it slowly, his eyes drifting over the shelves he passed, picking out interesting titles and logging them away in memory. Absentmindedly, he called, voice sounding muted in the cool, shady store, "Hello? Rabbit Express delivery service... hello?" There was no answer, his voice trailing off into silence that weighed heavily on his ears. He stood before the counter a few seconds longer before a sound called his attention around the corner; it was a shuffling sort of sound, whispery, like paper being carelessly rifled through.
He called again, but again, there was no answer, and so, as a vague nervousness settled over him, he made his way deeper into the store, passing by the rows of shelves slowly. He was trying to find that noise, a chill prickling along the back of his neck and causing him to draw up short before the rustling could be heard again, this time to his right. A sudden breeze shocked him, breaching the thin fabric of his shirt and casting an unwelcome coolness up his spine, causing goosebumps to ripple over his arms. He stumbled sideways with a small yelp of surprise, his hands pressing against his mouth while he flinched and shivered.
It was only then that he noticed that he had been foolish enough to knock books from the shelf in his haste to escape the strange trickle of breeze, undoubtedly from a fan somewhere. Aghast, William bent to pick them up, gathering them into a small pile and tucking them back onto their shelf. This time, unfortunately, in a stroke of bad luck, the young man managed to overturn the bookend, the circular end tumbling away towards the floor. It took a quick movement indeed, and the books he had just been trying to put away are left to fall once more, but he manages to catch the odd orb, plummeting to the ground along with it.
The orb in his hands, books on his back, and his bag digging into his side, William decided that this was, indeed, not as pleasant a delivery as he had hoped. An odd golden light distracted him from his own indulgence in his fresh new bruises, a light emanating from the orb - no, bottle - he had only just managed to keep from breaking into pieces on the shop floor. He stared at it in silence, brushed his thumb over its surface, caught a faint, tangy scent and heard the whispery rustle once more. He tried to pull the stopper, but only got a small cut on his thumb from the pointed tip of the crystal plug. While he was more than aware that it wasn't really his, there was something about the bottle that suggested it need not be put aside just yet, and so, as he climbed carefully to his feet, he tucked it into the cushioned confines of his delivery bag so that he could use his hands to put the books back on the shelf.
He returned to the counter, deciding that, if no one had showed up yet, it was unlikely they ever would, but, as he began to take out the package, square and heavy and likely a book, he saw a note on the counter he had missed before.
Dear trusted courier,
Thank you for your delivery of the expected package.
Please take care with it, as it is quite delicate.
I am afraid I have misplaced your tip, so please feel free to take any single item from the shop in exchange for your wonderful service.
You may leave the package on the counter, as I am most likely detained elsewhere at the moment.
Truly yours,
Emilie
It seemed, in truth, a little too convenient, but as all bibliophiles know, never look a gift horse in a book shop in the mouth. While the books around him all called to be picked up instead of what was likely just an over-glorified reading lamp, William slid a hand into his satchel, resting it on the strangely warm surface of the bottle and backed away from the counter. Another sudden touch of coolness sent him trotting from the store altogether, the bell jangling behind him and the heat of the day hitting him like a solid brick. It was shady in the store. Of course it was cold in there. No, it wasn't too cold. No, it wasn't haunted. Just get on Sasha and go.
It would take a few days of riding through town before he'd ever realize that the shop, Emilie's Antique Bookshoppe, had seemingly gone out of business, leaving a musty old building in its wake.
William cut neatly across main street, just barely managing to maneuver his way past a rather agitated shopowner who even went so far as to shake his fist at the spry young man. Waving somewhat apologetically back to the man, Will turned his head just barely in time to avoid winding up the new fixture of a wall, jerking himself neatly around the corner. Sasha was one of his most beloved items, a cherry red bicycle with a basket and a little silver bell, so he was usually a good deal more careful with her, but this was an antique book store, a place of must and dust, and which tempted the bibliophile just barely hidden beneath the young man's surface.
It didn't take long to get there, fortunately, the small, seemingly abandoned shop that stuck out from the pretty and decorated glass shop on its left and the distinctly pastel children's shop on its right, it was every bit the shady shape of mystery one might expect was plucked clean out of the stories that it promised with the embellished gold leaf lettering splayed across the window: Emilie's Antique Bookshoppe. It was hard to see much of anything past that, though, as William noticed, parking Sasha in front of the shop. Despite the glass front and door, all he could see was a deep shade flanked by tall shelves of books, displays of books, stacks of books. There didn't seem to be a single available surface within the store that wasn't holding books of some nature.
A single brass bell caught the light and jangled in warning as he pushed the door open, shifting the hefty satchel on his hip so that he could seek out the package that was to be delivered here. The counter was at the back of the shop, strange but advantageous, but it seemed to be unattended. Will wasn't in any hurry to leave, of course, and so he meandered towards it slowly, his eyes drifting over the shelves he passed, picking out interesting titles and logging them away in memory. Absentmindedly, he called, voice sounding muted in the cool, shady store, "Hello? Rabbit Express delivery service... hello?" There was no answer, his voice trailing off into silence that weighed heavily on his ears. He stood before the counter a few seconds longer before a sound called his attention around the corner; it was a shuffling sort of sound, whispery, like paper being carelessly rifled through.
He called again, but again, there was no answer, and so, as a vague nervousness settled over him, he made his way deeper into the store, passing by the rows of shelves slowly. He was trying to find that noise, a chill prickling along the back of his neck and causing him to draw up short before the rustling could be heard again, this time to his right. A sudden breeze shocked him, breaching the thin fabric of his shirt and casting an unwelcome coolness up his spine, causing goosebumps to ripple over his arms. He stumbled sideways with a small yelp of surprise, his hands pressing against his mouth while he flinched and shivered.
It was only then that he noticed that he had been foolish enough to knock books from the shelf in his haste to escape the strange trickle of breeze, undoubtedly from a fan somewhere. Aghast, William bent to pick them up, gathering them into a small pile and tucking them back onto their shelf. This time, unfortunately, in a stroke of bad luck, the young man managed to overturn the bookend, the circular end tumbling away towards the floor. It took a quick movement indeed, and the books he had just been trying to put away are left to fall once more, but he manages to catch the odd orb, plummeting to the ground along with it.
The orb in his hands, books on his back, and his bag digging into his side, William decided that this was, indeed, not as pleasant a delivery as he had hoped. An odd golden light distracted him from his own indulgence in his fresh new bruises, a light emanating from the orb - no, bottle - he had only just managed to keep from breaking into pieces on the shop floor. He stared at it in silence, brushed his thumb over its surface, caught a faint, tangy scent and heard the whispery rustle once more. He tried to pull the stopper, but only got a small cut on his thumb from the pointed tip of the crystal plug. While he was more than aware that it wasn't really his, there was something about the bottle that suggested it need not be put aside just yet, and so, as he climbed carefully to his feet, he tucked it into the cushioned confines of his delivery bag so that he could use his hands to put the books back on the shelf.
He returned to the counter, deciding that, if no one had showed up yet, it was unlikely they ever would, but, as he began to take out the package, square and heavy and likely a book, he saw a note on the counter he had missed before.
Dear trusted courier,
Thank you for your delivery of the expected package.
Please take care with it, as it is quite delicate.
I am afraid I have misplaced your tip, so please feel free to take any single item from the shop in exchange for your wonderful service.
You may leave the package on the counter, as I am most likely detained elsewhere at the moment.
Truly yours,
Emilie
It seemed, in truth, a little too convenient, but as all bibliophiles know, never look a gift horse in a book shop in the mouth. While the books around him all called to be picked up instead of what was likely just an over-glorified reading lamp, William slid a hand into his satchel, resting it on the strangely warm surface of the bottle and backed away from the counter. Another sudden touch of coolness sent him trotting from the store altogether, the bell jangling behind him and the heat of the day hitting him like a solid brick. It was shady in the store. Of course it was cold in there. No, it wasn't too cold. No, it wasn't haunted. Just get on Sasha and go.
It would take a few days of riding through town before he'd ever realize that the shop, Emilie's Antique Bookshoppe, had seemingly gone out of business, leaving a musty old building in its wake.
