The Curio Shop

The strange shop was right where her roommate had said it would be – wood tinged with lichen surrounded wood framed windows on either side of a solid wood door that had a painting of a faun on it – it was the only wooden storefront Elle had ever seen. From the outside, the shop looked closed; brown paper was taped to the windows, no sign or store name, and the lights were clearly off. And yet with all of that, there was a “Help Wanted” sign on the door. At least, I think that’s what it says, she thought. The obviously handwritten script was so flowy and ornate that the sign was difficult to read. Elle tugged on the handle without much hope, but the door swung open easily before her.

The lights were on, now that she was inside she could see them clearly – string lights stretched across the drop down ceiling giving a warm cozy cast to the shelves and tables. A lingering scent of vanilla and faded incense pervaded the air and the distant sound of gentle music came from somewhere distant. She took all this in in a moment before her focus landed on the man sitting at the circular desk in the center of the shop, hunched over something in his lap.

Elle heard the door swing shut behind her and clicked closed against the rain. The man behind the counter looked up from his work and smiled at her. His hair was a tight bunch of deep red curls, and a pair of half moon spectacles sat on his round nose. A long soul patch grew from his chin and freckles dotted the skin under his eyes. He was wearing a light-brown leather vest which left his considerably hairy arms and chest exposed. His eyes twinkled as he met her gaze. “Welcome to Vaceere’s, I’m Vaceere. Let me know if you need anything.” His focus shifted back to whatever he was working on in his hands.

“Thank you.” She half-whispered as she began to peruse the shelves. The table nearest her was stacked with a hundred different earthenware mugs, each one a different shape and color than the one next to it, below it, or stacked on top of it. The shelves on the wall past the mugs were full of knick-knacks and baubles – cut glass mosaic bowls with plants inside, gems and polished rocks that sat on pieces of cloth or wooden stands, statuettes of creatures and people of all kinds, unlabeled bottles of shimmering liquid, mounted insects in framed boxes, and a thousand other tiny things that Elle could look at forever and never purchase.

Passing the shelves of random objects, Elle paused at a tower of wooden baskets that hung from the ceiling on ropes. Each bucket was stuffed with flowers, and as she got close she could tell that the vanilla smell she had noticed when she had entered was coming from them. Mixed in with the real flowers were occasional carved wooden ones set with polished stones or bits of glass. Next to the hanging flowers, along the back wall of the store was a series of bookshelves. At least, Elle thought, they might be bookshelves, but since they were empty, she couldn’t be certain.

“What are these shelves for?” The question came out as more than a whisper, but still quiet. Elle hadn’t even meant to speak it, but her curiosity had overridden her quiet contemplation of the store.

“They’re for books.” Vaceere’s soft voice answered her.

“Did you have a sale recently?” She said, chuckling lightly at the barren shelves that could have probably held a thousand books.

Vaceere chuckled back, “No no, I just… haven’t ever had the opportunity to fill them.”

Elle turned around and walked towards the circular counter that Vaceere sat in the middle of. “What do you mean? Are books just too expensive to stock?” She asked as she approached him. The back part of the circular counter was taller than the front and Elle leaned against it.

“Oh no, they just take too long, and usually I sell each book the moment I finish it.” He glanced up at her and smiled.

“What do you mean finish?” Elle asked, incredulous.

“Well goodness, have you ever written a book?” Vaceere asked easily, standing up and setting a leather bound book and a fountain pen down on the counter between them. “It takes forever! Each book takes me a month a least, and by the time I’m done writing it, someone wants to buy it.” He shrugged, “I’ve never been able to write fast enough to fill the shelves.”

“I’m sorry, are- Do you- You can sell other peoples books!” Elle finally finished, the words tumbling to a stop at her feet.

“Oh absolutely not!” He crossed his arms and shook his head, “I didn’t open this store to sell other peoples’ things. It’s Vaceere’s.” His eyes sparkled as he turned to look at his store, like a king surveying his kingdom. “And everything here is mine.”

“You made all of this?” Elle breathed the sentence out, barely more audible than an exhalation. She took in the shop again, really took it in. A daybed and matching chair sat around a beautifully carved wooden table that had a three foot tall stone statue of a faun playing a reed pipe on it. Along the far wall she hadn’t looked at yet were tiny pieces of art; postcards, oil portraits, acrylic landscapes, and watercolor still-lifes. The tables that dotted the room were all absolutely covered in hand carved figurines, origami flowers, crocheted blankets, knit sweaters, quilts, and woven blankets. Stone-wrought chess pieces on brilliantly polished wooden boards sat atop shelves, a dozen grandmother clocks hung in a loose group on the far wall amidst birdhouses of every imaginable color and design. Lastly, in the middle of one of the window displays was a large stone fountain, water burbling out of the top of the carved vase that was being held by a goddess who seemed to be encased in stone, or only partially carved from it.

“Hey,” Elle said walking around the desk to the front of the store, “I could’ve sworn these windows were blocked from the inside.” She peered past the fountain display in one window, then glanced past the dressing dummy wearing a gorgeous red dress in the other. Pale gray-blue light came in through the glass and Elle watched as cars passed by outside.

“No no, they’re blocked from the outside.” Vaceere sighed woefully. “We don’t get enough sun here that I feel comfortable just shutting myself away.”

Elle stalked out the front door and glanced at the windows. They were blocked. That brown paper she had seen before was still there and the store looked completely empty from this angle. She pulled the door open and strode inside again. “What’s going on i-” The words died on her lips as she saw Vaceere standing in front of his counter, leaning back against, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips and an eyebrow expectantly raised. He’s a- he’s… She swallowed. “You’re a faun.”

Elle’s eyes worked up and down his body trying to make sense of what she was seeing. He didn’t have feet, because of course fauns had hooves. His legs bent backwards at the knee and, now that she was looking for them, Elle could spot the pointy tips of horns poking out from beneath the curls of red wool on top of his head.

“Welcome to Vaceere’s, I’m Vaceere. Let me know if you need anything.” He spoke through a light Irish accent, his previous accent vanished, along with his nonchalance.

Elle gawked openly now, her own nonchalance vanished behind the waves of shock and wonder and joy and fear that flowed over her. “Wh- wha – what?”

“I know it’s a lot, don’t worry I’m not offended, most people have never seen one of the fae and noticed it.” He raised a hand to cup his mouth and glanced around the empty shop conspiratorially before stage-whispering, “I actually enjoy when humans truly see me for the first time, I feel like a celebrity.” He winked at her and then strode around his counter and seated himself in a large lounge chair that had definitely not been there before. He popped his goat hooves up on the counter and crossed them, resting his hands on his stomach. Once again, he cocked an eyebrow at her expectantly.

Oh my god, this isn’t real, he can’t actually be faun. I must be on a prank show. She glanced around the empty shop again and then shook her head. Maybe I’m dead? No that doesn’t make sense. I’m dreaming? She looked at a sign on the counter that said ‘You’re not dreaming, I do actually look this good.’ Okay I can read, that means I’m awake. Maybe…

“Vaceere?” He voice shook slightly, wonder and curiosity overriding her panicked shock. He smiled at her and raised his eyebrows in unison, gesturing for her to continue. “Is Narnia real?”

Vaceere let out a loud sharp laugh that cracked the air like a whip, dust motes spun around the room and the smell of flowers and incense invaded her nostrils. “It’s been a while since someone asked me that.” He shook a finger at her in mock outrage, his smile never leaving his eyes. “Parts of it are real, parts of it are made up,” He shrugged, “Personally I never understood why humans care so much about what is real and what isn’t – the way it makes you feel is real, the questions it makes you ask are real, why worry about the rest, eh?”

Narnia is real. The thought was like a stone settling in her stomach bringing her feet back down to earth, says the faun… in the curio shop... Elle consciously took a deep breath. She shook her head to clear it and looked at Vaceere. He was waiting patiently for her to come to some conclusion or make some decision. She wet her lips and swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

“What do I need?” She asked quietly, looking towards Vaceere, but not looking at him.

He pulled his feet off of the counter and quickly sat upright, scooching to the edge of his seat and resting his elbows on the counter. His eyes bored into her over the top of his interlaced fingers. For the first time, there was no smile in them.

“I get asked a lot of questions, running this shop.” His voice changed to mocking version of a valley girl accent before switching back to his own, “‘Do you have a restroom?’ Of course I do, I don’t piss on the floor.” Next his voice was like a quintessential bored teenager, ‘Why don’t you sell any electronics?’ Because I don’t like the way they feel in my fingers.” Then his voice sounded exactly like Elle’s, ‘Is this real?’ Of course it is. What a dumb question.” The smile returned slowly to his lips and then touched his eyes. His accent was back to it’s lilting Irish brogue, “But I don’t think I’ve been asked that question in a long, long time.”

It was Elle’s turn to cock an eyebrow, “People come into a curiosities shop run by a mythical creature and don’t ask ‘What do I need?’” She walked towards him place her hands flat on the counter and peered down at him. “That seems like a missed opportunity.” She eyed him, “So Vaceere, what do I need?” She flashed her best smile at him.

He stared at her speculatively for a moment then blinked. Once. The blink was slow and simple – like any blink – but as he lifted his lids Elle was hit with a with a wave of uneasiness. His eyes were now a deep purple color and sparkled as if twilight had been captured in them. She felt herself go limp and grow nauseous, like she had run too far, too fast. The room spun and Elle thought for a breath the felt like the length of eternity that she would fall. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it left. Vaceere blinked again, his eyes returned to normal and he cocked his head at her yet again. Elle broke out in a sweat.

“When your friend visited the other day and she told me you’d be visiting I didn’t quite believe her.” He stood and beckoned to her, exiting his counter and heading towards the back of the store, his hooves clicking on the wood floor. “Most people are too afraid of being seen as crazy, or they want to hide the secret of my shop, so they don’t share it, even when I tell them to.” Elle followed him as he talked and soon they stood in the back corner of the store, the one with the wooden buckets of flowers. “Tell me Elle, what do you smell?”

“I never told you my name.” She said as she moved to smell the flowers. “And I smell vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon. As if someone is baking cinnamon rolls in the back room.”

He nodded, “I knew your name the moment you entered. From the length of your stride, to the curl of your hair, to the scent of your sweat. Each piece of you proclaimed to me your name.” He shrugged, something he seemed to do a lot. “The same is true for all mortals.” He turned to face her and she turned to face him. “But what is uncommon for your kind is to be so attentive to magic.”

“What do you mean?” Elle asked.

“Pick that up.” He pointed to a small statuette of a bear sitting at a typewriter and wearing a newsboys cap. “What does it tell you? What does it feel like. Do not second guess yourself and tell me no lie.” Elle picked up the bear and studied it before closing her eyes and clasping the statuette against her chest.

“It’s… old. The wood…” She exhaled slowly, “This is crazy – the wood remembers when it was a tree. It makes me want to write a story.” She raised the statue to her nose and breathed in deep, “It smells like fresh rain and…”

“Yes?” Vaceere’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way off.

“And roses, and freshly turned soil.” She opened her eyes and found Vaceere staring at her, a near-manic grin splitting his face.

“Once more, if you please.” He gestured with one hand to the opposite wall, then tucked both hands behind his back and followed her steps as she made her way between the tables and shelves.

“Which one?” Elle asked, the gravity of the moment and Vaceere's tests weighing heavily on her.

“Anything you like. Pick something and tell me of it.”

Elle didn’t know exactly what the test she seemed to be passing was, but she was not going to rush it. She strolled along the shelves, inspecting art pieces, birdhouses, blankets, and various other oddments as she made her way in a slow circle around the store. After half an hour, she had almost made it back to where Vaceere stood when she stopped, surprise flooding her. She reached onto a small display table she hadn't seen before and picked up the single, solitary object on it.

The wooden statuette was of a faun crying. The tears looked almost real and the anguish on the faun’s face broke her heart. It was unpainted and clutching a golden wedding band that looked like a crown in its small hands. It was also the only metal object she had seen in the entire store. She clutched it to her chest and breathed. Tears flowed down her cheeks and a sob tore itself from her throat. She cried openly and without shame as the sense of loss overwhelmed her. After a minute, she set the statue down in it’s place and wiped her eyes.

“I am so sorry for your loss Vaceere. I cannot imagine what it is like to lose someone you knew for so long and loved so deeply.” She raised her head and faced him again. His face was stony and there was no smile in his eyes.

“The smell?” He said calmly.

“Cardamom, the heat of the sun on stone, and incense.” She paused for a moment, “Almost the same as the smell when you laughed earlier.” Vaceere slowly let out a held breath and nodded, wiping his eyes once each.

“You asked me earlier what you need, and unless I miss my guess – and after a thousand years of life, I doubt it – you need a job.” He raised an eyebrow at her, his smile not yet returned.

Elle considered for only a moment before, “Yes.” The word came out with more conviction, desire, and self-worth than she had ever felt before.

Vaceere nodded and his smile returned, though it did not crinkle his eyes as before. “I will teach you how to run this shop, how to pursue these art forms, and how to imbue them with emotions and memories. There is a spare room in the back which you are welcome to, and I promise to pay you enough so that you never want for anything reasonable.”

“Why?” Elle asked, fear and joy and excitement and trepidation all swirling inside her.

“I have owned this shop for nearly 200 years and I need a vacation.” He shrugged again and finally seemed to return to what Elle thought of as his normal self. “You can smell and sense magic, and these items speak to you louder than they should to any mortal…” He eyed her pointedly, “It means you are the person I have been waiting for, for a long time.” He held out his hand to her.

Elle reached out ,clasped his hand and shook it, “When do I start?”