Short Story: A trip to an antique store
I passed an antique shop as the sun calmed half way in the sky. I recognized the sign as if it were in one of my forgotten dreams. When I pressed open the door, the air inside gave me goose bumps. No one, not even a cashier, was to be seen.
Sweet, aged cinnamon and old paper twirled into my nose as I stepped towards the shelves within the store. My eyes scanned all of the old lipstick cases, china, jewelry, old books, etc. Everything twinkled from the sun’s light; my heart gasped at the all of their glistening. I continued to pass through the shelves when a painting on the wall struck my taste; it was a woman in a Victorian style dress with young angels. I browsed it for a minute when I heard a sound coming from the back of the store. I look toward where the sound came from and saw a shadow. “Hello?” I shouted. The cashier probably awoke from her nap or finally finished watching a TV show. A woman appeared from the back. She was average height, slick black bob, and dressed in what seemed like a flapper’s costume. Her black kitten heels clamped against the ancient wooden floor and her black flapper dress made noise as she walked. There was a glow around her and her face held what seemed like the most expensive makeup.
“Hello. And who are you?” Her voice was smooth and gave an electric change to the air. She moved gracefully towards an antique chair and took a sit.
“I thought you were open, the door was unlocked.” I said as my face reddened.
“Oh it’s open. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to come in.” Her eyes stayed on mine. She crossed her legs and offered a cushioned seat beside her. I finally broke her gaze and sat across from her. “I haven’t seen the owner come in yet and it’s been two hours already. I’ve just been getting lost in all of these trinkets.” Her face wondered around the room and settled back to me with a smile. I didn’t know how to further the conversation with her green eyes chocking my throat with nervousness. Her eyes wondered over to a display next to us; it was filled with jewelry. Her fingers brushed over the long, silky strands of pearls. “Why are these so popular?” I remembered studying historical cultures in college and pearls were a reoccurring figure.
“In ancient Rome, they were symbols of wealth and high status. Everyone wants those symbols in their lives.” I blurted. She giggled and took the strands off of the display. She dressed the pearls around herself.
“I don’t care about wealth but high status sounds fancy!” She did a twirl that made all the pearls and beads from her dress clang together. “Let’s dance! Get a radio!” She ran into the back of the store from where she came. With silence accompanying me, I asked myself why she just doesn’t get out her phone. Doesn’t she have an ipod? Headphones? I guess some people still are old fashion with some things. Also, why does she want me to dance? This is kind of weird; I just walked into an antique store and now this woman wants me to dance with her. I think I should leave. I got up from my chair and started to head toward the door. She made reappearance and I slowed my walk because I didn’t want to seem like I was leaving her alone. “I found one.” She held up a radio that looked like it should be in a museum.
“Does it still work?” I asked this cute, weird person. She placed the radio down on a table and turned a knob. When the channel didn’t work, she tried to turn the volume knob, but there was no use. She kept trying despite the radio keeping silent.
“It should work.” She said. I felt bad for her and searched the radio for an on or off button. There wasn’t one. “I don’t know why it isn’t. Come on radio!” She hit it but there was no use. The box of old technology just stood there. “Maybe we should try it the old fashion way. I’ll go find a record player.” She took the radio with her to find a player. What is her deal? I’m so confused. I just started walking around the shelves again. She came out in no time and put on a record. “May I have this dance?” she asked. Why not? It can’t get weirder than this I thought.
“Sure.” I said. She took my waist and led me into a slow dance. We were far apart like dancing like two little kids. The music sounded as if it belonged to the 20s. Of course she picked this record; she was dressed as a flapper so this would tie up her costume. Her hand in mine was soft and light like a feather. We spun around the store and I became dizzy. She was pretty even though she was a bit crazy. Her smile lit my heart up and her eyes held mine.
“You dance well, my friend.” She giggled. I smiled and started to laugh. That was probably a lie. I haven’t even danced since my senior prom.
“Thank you. You dance gracefully.” I said.
“Oh! I’ve never heard that before about MY dancing. Thank you. She said. Her eyes started to wonder around the store. “This world needs dancing or it would be just another joyous thing that happened in the past.” She was referring to the antiques. She made me think about how I don’t have time to dance. Maybe I should make time. We danced into a section where there were ancient guns and swords. She didn’t notice because she swung us into a display of swords. The collection on the table fell on the floor. It made a loud bang that seemed to be heard from five blocks away. We both stopped dancing and started to run out. What if the owner really is in that place? We were going to find out. She still held my hand as we ran. When she opened the door, I felt her hand let go. It was dark now. I looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be found. The door closed. I looked both ways down the street and saw no one. Her pearls or beads weren’t heard from any direction. Where could she have possible went? She couldn’t have been a figure of my imagination; the last creative thing I did was a stick figure picture. Where did she go?
Julie is a senior at Archer High School in Lawrenceville.