The Scots version of this script is at the end.
Glossary of terms
Roasters – idiots, wastrels
Tomfoolery – pranking, usually of a stupid nature (isn’t it always?)
Lassie – girl, usually young, but can be used for any woman
Cheesy Fridays – A themed night at the student union of my undergraduate universiy. Usually had a decade theme.
Doppelganger – This isn’t a Scottish term. I picked it up from American dramas. Means a double or a clone, usually evil.
Script
It’d been unusually quiet in the shop for days, stretching to a week or two. I was beginning to think the invisibility on the shop front was malfunctioning so even the people who needed to be inside were missing it. But Christ the shop is boring without customers. There’s only so much you can clean and re-organise. That hasn’t stopped Reid from trying, although anything he seems to do only riles Fionn up, and the insults are relentless between the two. Mongrel this, mongrel that, and Reid can never find a better comeback than “stop callin’ me that”. It’s painful to watch. Chronos and I leave them to it, whilst we play cards on the glass counter. I know how weird that sounds but somehow it works, don’t ask me why. He and I have come to a truce, both realising it’s better to stick together than get embroiled in the constant bickering of the other two. Every time a fight breaks out between the two roasters we roll our eyes at each other over the top of the strange vintage looking deck that I found in a wicker basket at what was arguably the perfect time. He’s even been teaching me how to play double solitaire, but I still haven’t been able to beat him once. My ego’s been taking a massive hit, but it keeps the boredom away.
A fight had just broken out between the two roasters, Fionn had snapped at Reid that he’d cleaned the same spot a thousand times, along with his signature insult of mongrel, and Reid had argued that it was better than doing nothing. Chronos was on his fiftieth win of the day, or it felt like it, when the bell resounded around the shop. It felt like it’d been ages since I’d heard it, even though every time I go in the shop it echoes around. There’s a different sound to it when a customer opens the door.
The young lad who came in must’ve felt conscious as all four of us stopped what we were doing to stare at him, marvelling that it was still possible to get a customer. He hesitated at the door, feeling our scrutiny weight down upon him, until he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and began to stride towards where Chronos and I were at the counter. Snapping out of my amazement I scrambled with the cards on the table, shoving them over to Chronos. I mean playing double solitaire with a talking cat may be my new normal, but it probably wasn’t his.
This lad was well-dressed, clean cut, and probably in his early thirties. You know, the office type. He arrived at the counter and without a word of greeting he snapped a familiar white card down on the glass and stood there. I didn’t really need to look at the business card to know it had the Madam’s name on it, but I glanced at it anyway, and then back up to the lad with a new level of curiosity. What could he want with the Madam? He didn’t have the look that I’d come to associate with a special customer, there was no deer in headlights, there was no looking round the shop in awe, he just stood there, staring at me expectantly. I’d half expected to hear the words that usually went with the card, but he kept his mouth closed.
I told him to follow me up the stairs, which is what I assumed he wanted. Did he think I was a mind reader? Along with the creaking of the stairs beneath our feet, I could hear the leather of the man’s brand new looking shoes groan as we ascended.
In no time I was sitting on the floor, in my usual spot, whilst he’d taken his position on the customer’s sofa, the madam in her position facing him, hearing things I could only imagine. She began in the predictable way of asking him what she could help him with. I’d just started to pour the tea when he answered that someone was casting a spell on him to make him look bad at work. I lost my grip on the teapot and it went spout first into the side of the teacup with such an enormous clang I thought it’d wake the dead. I was surprised to find the teacup still in one piece when I managed to get a hold of the pot. I muttered an apology before continuing to pour, two-handed.
My boss asked him what made him so sure, to which he explained that he was familiar with the use of magic, and that nothing about recent events in his life had been normal. I’ve given up on not staring at customers by this point. He was the first I’d seen to ever outright admit the existence of something supernatural, like magic. From what I’d seen they were usually reluctant to admit anything like that. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so shocked. It’s obvious by now that there are quite a few people in the know about these things, I’m just not one of them.
Madam Norna encouraged him to give her some more details. I half expected him to take out a list. He explained that he’d had a presentation to give at work the previous week, he’d furiously prepared for it, but come the morning of said presentation he woke up not being able to speak. Someone else on his team had to do it in his stead. He claimed he’d been fine the night before, and after the presentation his voice had returned. On days where he’d be ahead of his work schedule his computer had suddenly crash with no explanation, wiping everything he’d done, despite regular saves.
After a moment’s pause to take a sip of tea, my boss inquired if he knew the identity of whoever was trying to interfere with him. Apparently, a lot of people at his work stood to gain by his failure, and it could be any one of them. That was a bit of an exaggeration, I thought at the time, surely not every office employee has the means and knowledge to go round sabotaging their colleagues? Especially when he was claiming this to be magic, and not tomfoolery.
He told us he worked at Robertson & Son, on the fourth floor, as if we’d know what that meant. Madam Norna finished her tea and handed the empty cup back to me, never taking her gaze from the lad, thinking or scrutinising, I can never tell which. But I know by now what happens after these moments of silence, and I prepared myself to be sent to fetch something in the cabinet of wonders.
She informed him that she could give him an amulet that’d block any enchantment used against him, and that the price was the magic book he kept in his pocket. She really has a talent for always keeping me on my toes. You think she’s going to say one thing, and she adds one of those revelations of hers onto the end. The lad immediately covered the breast pocket of his suit jacket, where I assumed this book was hiding. I thought it must’ve been a small book if he could fit it in there, none of these elaborately decorated, leather bound encyclopaedias you see in films. He began to shake his head violently in refusal, claiming if she took it, he’d be helpless. The Madam pointed out that the amulet would keep him safe from all spells, and that with it he’d have no need of casting spells of his own to protect him. This time her tone was icier, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in warning. I could tell by this look that something worse would happen to him if he kept the damn thing.
Reluctantly, like a bairn forced to share their favourite toy, he reached into his pocket and pulled out this wee leather-bound book. It looked more like a miniature bible, or a book from the Victorian period, of which there were a few hanging round in the shop. It had a creased and cracked brown cover, discoloured in some places with heavy use, and tied round the middle with a cord. It had signs of wear and age, but was resilient enough to still look useable. A few more moments of silence ensued as he looked lovingly at this book of his, like the madam had asked him to part with his soulmate. The façade, for a moment, melted away, as he became human, the professional veneer cracking just a wee bit. His inner turmoil was obvious even to me, and it made me even more curious to see what was inside that book.
He was so torn I honestly thought he’d refuse and leave without his solution, but in the end, he crumpled, as they all do. My boss instructed me to go to the cabinet, to a drawer on the left-hand side, and there should be an amulet inside. I was hoping this amulet would be obvious to find because I’d never seen one before, for all I knew it could’ve been a crystal duck.
My confusion was further piled on to when I realised I’d never seen drawers inside the cabinet, only shelves, packed with mysterious vials and boxes. But, sure enough, as I opened the doors there was a set of tiny drawers right where she’d said there’d be. I don’t understand that cabinet, I swear every time I go in it’s a different experience. These drawers were no bigger than matchboxes, or jewellery compartments, and slid open with unusual ease. Inside was what I’d call a brooch, triangular, with gold on the outside and a large, raw amethyst in the middle. Around the edges of the triangle was writing I didn’t recognise, and had no hope of understanding.
Without further words or discussion, the brooch was exchanged for the lad’s book and he went on his way, and I thought that was the end of it. I should probably know better by now.
Just the next day, as the fighting was about to reach a new crescendo, a petite lassie blew into the shop, pointed toe heels and tailored suit telling me that she and the lad from the day before were related, not by blood, but by problem. Madam Norna, after a brief conversation, procured an almost identical amulet to the one she’d given the lad, except this one had rose quartz in the middle, and she was released back into the wild, less one battered, old brown spell book.
I sat with the Madam a while after the lassie had gone, staring at the two identical books, too afraid to touch them, but wanting desperately to know what was inside. I queried, aloud, if Robertson & Son handed out spell books to all employees. Was it possible that the lassie had been the one casting the spells on the lad, and vice versa? Now that they’d both had their toys confiscated, would the problems stop? I told my boss that Robertson & Son was a technology company, relatively successful, with offices in the area, where the two customers had told us they worked. I also knew from some of my pals it was highly competitive to get into. That was probably why once in, you had to fight to get ahead, and what better way than by casting spells to make your colleagues trip up? That still didn’t quite explain where they’d got them from in the first place.
My boss eventually spoke, telling me she needed me to run an errand for her the next day. I was to take Reid, and we were to talk to the first customer again at the company and ask him if he knew anymore about the book.
I’d never been allowed outside during shop time before, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I also didn’t mind having Reid with me, I could always use him as a shield and get away if anything should happen. The building that Robertson & Son has their offices in is a pretty typical red brick, five-storey eyesore that lines many a street in the town. Reid and I both stood outside, craning our necks to look up at the pristine windows and discoloured blinds, as if we both expected to see something out of the ordinary plastered in full view. When is it ever that easy?
Reid queried how we should get in since we couldn’t just walk inside. Unlike him, I’d been thinking of that issue for the entire journey, and knew exactly how. We’d walk in and ask. When I said this to him, he scoffed, but when I began to stride towards the doors it soon became a muffled grumble of disapproval. Mimicking the two customers who’d come to the shop, I squared my shoulders, and marched straight over to reception and stared at the lad sitting behind it. I introduced myself as though I were meeting someone important, and explained that we were both there for an internship position. I’ll admit, there was a part of me that thought this wouldn’t work, but to my stifled surprise we were both handed visitors badges and directed to the third floor.
Swiping the badges from the lad’s hand I put mine round my neck with pride. Reid and I went over to the elevator and piled in with the other employees. Instead of getting off on the third floor, we both remained until the fourth. Just before we could get off with the employees, Reid grabbed my arm and pulled me back, whispering that we couldn’t just wander round like lost lambs. He had a point, but what else were we supposed to do? I ignored hm and darted out of the elevator, forcing him to follow with his typical scowl.
The elevator opened directly onto an open plan office. Almost as soon as the doors closed behind us it was like we’d entered a vacuum. It reminded me a lot of when you’re underwater, you can hear others swimming or jumping in, even conversations, but all of its slow, muffled beyond recognition. The noises of the computer fans hung thickly, a lethargic whirring of the photocopier, but that was it. No one was talking, no one was at someone else’s desk having a quick chat. It was lifeless.
Reid needn’t have worried about someone noticing us, because no one took their eyes from their screens. I was beginning to think these weren’t people at all, and that this modest electronics company was the first in the world to have the most human looking robots anyone’s ever seen. Their eyes were glued to their computers, hands resting on mouses, or fingers flying over keyboards. I began to scan the faces and backs ae heads in search of the first customer, even the second.
It was the lad who I saw first, and after nudging Reid we both wound our way over to his desk by the wall, separated from his colleague by a grey felt board that charts and tables were pinned onto. I knocked on it and when his eyes caught sight of us he asked, accusingly, why we were there. Thinking time may be short before we were caught, I questioned if he knew anyone else in the office who may have a similar spell book to the one he had. He gave me an indignant look, eyes glancing to his computer screen where yet more tables and graphs were, before dismissively answering he wouldn’t know as he didn’t talk to anyone. When I attempted to press him, he rudely told us to leave him be.
Before I could try a final time, I felt a shock in my fingertips, like static electricity. Assuming I’d brushed against Reid’s coat I snapped my eyes to him, because it was his stupid coat, but he wasn’t looking back. His eyes were scanning carefully around the office at the other people, the muscle in his jaw protruding against his skin. It was like watching an animal look for predators, and it made my palms sweat.
When he confessed that something didn’t feel right it was hard not to agree. Ever since leaving the elevator there’d been an oppressive force hanging in the air like a bad smell. I looked where he did, at the screens, at the heads, at the coffee cups and pen holders. Then I saw it, in the other corner of the office, in front of the door that led to the stairs.
A perfect sphere of electricity, as though it were a plasma ball without the glass. Jagged spikes of purple and blue darted out from the centre, a burning mass of reds, violets, and greens. The heavy atmosphere became more oppressive, static permeating every inch of space, like the hours before a summer storm. Every dart of electricity out of the centre was a different colour, a different shade, fanning out randomly. It began to move backwards, towards the door, until it was gone, some of the atmosphere with it.
Before I realised what was happening I found myself halfway across the office in its direction, and heard Reid’s curses from behind me. Bursting though the door to the stairs I noticed it on the next flight up, and so began our chase. Up and up we climbed, but no matter how many stairs we took in each stride it was like we were running in a dream, unable to catch up with it. The climb was never ending, one flight of stairs was the same as the one before, and the one before. And that’s when it hit me and I stopped abruptly halfway up.
My lungs were burning, my throat dry, and my legs screaming in pain, but just hold on a minute here. Didn’t this building’ only have 5 floors? We’d started on the fourth, and had run at least ten times the amount of stairs that should’ve been there to reach the top. I slid over to the banister and looked up, an immeasurable number of stairs stretching up into infinity. This building had no top. I told Reid, who was hanging onto the wall for dear life as he panted frantically.
I was all ready to collapse onto the stairs and never get back up, but when I looked to the top there was a door. I don’t remember ever seeing a door on the countless other floors we’d ran past. Gulping in air like it was going out of fashion I dragged myself towards it, hearing Reid’s frustrated growl as he followed.
The door was pitch black, not a glean or shine to it. The handle was silver, unassuming, but I still hesitated before reaching for it. A part of me expected it to be locked, and I’m sure I groaned aloud when it opened. I let it swing forward, feeling like I was safer behind the threshold than over it. It was gloomy inside, my eyes taking a moment to adjust and see. It was an office space, just like the one a thousand floors down, but this one was empty; no furniture, plants, computers, or printers, just squares of dull grey carpet, and wee windows on the far side looking out into nothingness, like they faced onto a wall. It was daylight outside, but you would’ve thought it was dusk in that room.
I scanned around for the plasma ball I’d seen before, the one I’d ran a marathon after. Gingerly I stepped into the room, followed closely by Reid. I could’ve sworn neither of us were breathing. I eventually noticed the ribbons of lightning, except this time they were coming from a lassie who stood in the middle of the empty room where there’d been nothing before.
I inhaled through my teeth, and stood still, feeling the static atmosphere returning. Trying to fight through the oppressive atmosphere I distracted myself by looking at this lassie who was leaking lightning. Now obviously the slashes of purple electricity rolling off her were unusual, but so was the way she was dressed. I know the 60s’ are constantly trying to make a comeback, but the attention to detail was impressive. The weird hairstyle, to the doll-like makeup, and vintage print of her drably coloured dress. Some people commit to the vintage lifestyle, or so I thought.
I asked her who she was through tightened jaw, feeling every hair on my body rise. It was like standing under an active pylon. At first, she let my question echo round the room, swallowed by the electric atmosphere. I thought she wasn’t going to answer me, the crackle in her eyes made me more certain she’d hurt us. But then she began to tell us her story.
She used to work in the building before, a woman in a man’s world. She clawed and climbed her way up until she was the one getting all the promotions and important work. But women didn’t get very high, especially not above their male colleagues. She was envied, looked down upon, judged. To them she was a jumped-up secretary, her real place was answering phone calls and smiling. They tried to undermine her at every corner, and one day it worked. One mistake was all it took for her to go tumbling down the mountain, rolling past the smiling faces of these men. They let her go from the company after all the work she’d done, all the hours she’d sacrificed. But she wouldn’t leave the company, not after all that effort.
Now by this point I began to think. A man’s world? Men thinking women shouldn’t be successful, were only good as secretaries? That doesn’t fly these days. That sounds more like back in the days when women used to dress like her. And I’d just been downstairs, there were at least as many women as men. She wasn’t…. she wasn’t a ghost was she? So embittered by her dismissal from a job that was her life that she’d lingered at the company? Ghosts aren’t real, right? I mean memories, or whatever the madam called them are one thing, but ghosts that shite electricity another. Then there came the problem of what she was doing in the building if she’d been there for 50 years. All the men she was bad mouthing were long gone, if not dead by this point.
Then she went on to tell us about this woman who’d visited her. A mysterious woman she’d never seen before, dressed in well-fitted clothes whose colours didn’t compliment or match, and whose dark hair was pin straight, and bluntly cut. She’d offered to help and had handed over a small leather book filled with curses and spells. She’d wanted nothing in return, and after giving her gift she’d left and had never returned. Upon receipt of this gift the embittered ex-employee had set about getting her revenge on the men who she thought had torn her down.
She held this spell book in her hands, identical to the ones Madam Norna had confiscated from the customers. How was that possible? The woman still had the one she’d been given, so how could two or more people have it as well?
The atmosphere had grown almost unbearable, and Reid fell to his knees beside me, purple ribbons of electricity practically rolling off him. I reached out for him, hoping that my meagre immunity would help him. Thankfully it did and he was just able to get back to his feet.
I checked with the woman that she’d somehow been giving out these books to the employees downstairs. She seemed affronted I wouldn’t think it was her. Of course she’d given them out. They thought just because they’d been given jobs that they were safe, but that wasn’t true. She claimed she was doing them a favour. By giving them the power to harm each other’s work she was teaching them to not to be so complacent, and not to trust each other. She was preventing what happened to her happening to them.
Twisted logic I know. This woman may have looked like anyone in the street, a woman down the club on Cheesy Fridays*, but there was something very inhuman about her. Obviously, people in the club don’t usually have electricity oozing fromthem, yet it was something more than that. It was like she was a shadow of someone, the worse parts of a decent, hard-working woman left behind. She was something closer to a shell, with no real substance. All she knew was hatred and bitterness, and it no longer mattered who it was directed at.
I told her she couldn’t stay in the building, tormenting the employees below. Just because she’d been in an office full of arseholes didn’t give her the right to turn other colleagues against each other. She didn’t like this, the pressure in the room wound up until I could see the slashes of purple electricity snapping at my fingertips.
She refused to leave, screamed it. Feeling the weight of a storm edging ever closer and beginning to feel like I was constantly getting shocked by static electricity from a shitty Christmas jumper, I shouted back at her to fuck off. There was a thunderous crack, not unlike what you’d hear during a thunderstorm, and for a moment I thought the concrete floor beneath us had given way. But afterwards the tension, the electricity hovering in the air dissipated. We breathed a sigh of relief, until we noticed that there was a crack in the floor. A small sliver at first from underneath the woman. With a deafening ripping sound it began to grow, and edge its way closer to us. One blink it was 5 metres, the next 3, the next an arm’s length. By the time we both turned to run for the door to escape I think we both knew it was too late.
The ground vanished beneath us, and we fell like we were in a dream. Gravity had gone, the air had vanished, and all there was to see was darkness. Until I realised that darkness was the inside of ma eyelids. I peeled open my eyes, worried about what I was going to see. Light shone in from the large sparkling windows to illuminate the landing of the stairs. We were on the top floor, looking towards the door to the offices and desks beyond. There were no more flights of stairs, no never-ending floors above. Had I… imagined all of that? Had I blacked out somehow from running up one flight of stairs?
I was just about to ask Reid when I noticed something on the ground, rolling towards the stairs. It was a small purple marble, not unlike something you’d get in a Christmas cracker. Before it could disappear forever down the stairs, I lunged for it and inspected it. It was a purple violet colour, not unlike that of a plasma ball, and the strange power that’d been rolling off that woman. Reid came over to inspect it and we gave each other a questioning glance. At least I knew I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
The only thing to do with it was take it back to the shop, and to the source of all answers. Upon reaching the shop the Madam was waiting upstairs with fresh tea brewing on the table, and I swore I could see the sliver of a smile as we walked in. We relayed what had happened and handed over the marble before waiting for answers. She explained that the woman was a shade, which wasn’t really an explanation at all. Even Reid didn’t jump in as he usually does. A shade is a kind of dark doppelgänger, something that’s born from a person’s intense bitterness or hatred. Eventually it consumes the person who it initially came from, and it never dies. Trapping it is the only way to stop it. Apparently, me telling it where to go was good enough. My triumph is limited though as if all it takes is a marble to keep it in check was it really that dangerous to begin with? The madam announced she’d put it in storage, which raises even more questions. Does the shop have a basement I’ve never been to, and if so what the hell’s in there?
But there is a more pressing question that’s been steadily bothering me since this encounter. That woman, that shade, was what, about 50 years old? This woman she described, the philanthropist that gave her the spell book in the first place. The description bothered me at the time but it’s only now that I’ve began to think that it’s gnawing at me even more. Clothes that didn’t match; dark, sharply cut hair. I’ve met this woman, or someone like her, very recently. She sounds a lot like Madam Anora. Causing chaos and misery for nothing in return? That sounds like Madam Anora. It sounds exactly like the woman I met in the shop a few weeks ago. Exactly.
So how has she not changed in 50 years? Do all Madam Anora’s look the same? I don’t look even slightly like Madam Norna, but is it different for her opposite? Or is there something more sinister and unpleasant going on here? No doubt I’ll find out eventually, but for now, best not to think on it.
Scots version
It’d been unusually quiet in the shop fae days, stretching tae a week or two. I was beginnin’ tae ‘hink the invisibility on the shop front was malfunctionin so even the people who needed tae be inside were missin’ it. but Christ the shop is borin’ withoot customers. There’s only so much ye can clean and re-organise. That hasnae stopped Reid fae tryin’, although anythin’ he seems tae do only riles Fionn up, and the insults are relentless between the two. Mongrel this, mongrel that, and Reid can never find a better comeback than “stop callin’ me that”. It’s painful tae watch. Chronos and I leave them tae it, whilst we play cards on the glass counter. I know how weird that sounds but somehow it works, dinnae ask me why. He and I have come tae a truce, both realisin’ it’s better tae stick together than get embroiled in the constant bickerin’ ae the other two. Every time a fight breaks oot between the two roasters we roll our eyes at each other over the top ae the strange vintage lookin’ deck that I found in a wicker basket at what was arguably the perfect time. He’s even been teachin’ me how tae play double solitaire, but I still havenae been able tae beat him once. Ma ego’s been takin’ a massive hit, but it keeps the boredom away.
A fight had just broken oot between the two roasters, Fionn had snapped at Reid that he’d cleaned the same spot a thousand times, along wi’ his signature insult ae mongrel, and Reid had argued that it was better than doin’ nothin. Chronos was on his fiftieth win ae the day, or it felt like it, when the bell resounded roond the shop. It felt like it’d been agees since I’d heard it, even though every time I go in the shop it echoes roond. There’s definitely a different sound tae it when a customer opens the door.
The young lad who came in mustae felt conscious as all four ae us stopped whit we were doin tae stare at him, marvellin’ that it was still possible tae get a customer. He hesitateed at the door, feelin’ our scrutiny weight doon upon him, until he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and began tae stride towards where Chronos and I were at the counter. Snappin’ oot ae ma amazement I scrambled wi the cards on the table, shovin’ them over tae Chronos. I mean playin double solitaire wi’ a talkin’ cat may be ma new normal, but it probably wasnae his.
This lad was well dressed, clean cut, and probably in his early thirties. Ye know, the office type. He arrived at the counter and without a word ae greetin he snapped a familiar white card doon on the glass and stood there. I didnae really even need tae look at the business card tae know it had the Madam’s name on it, but I glanced at it anyway, and then back up tae the lad wi’ a new level ae curiosity. Whit could he want wi’ the Madam? He didnae ha’ the look that I’d come tae associate wi’ a special customer, there was no deer in headlights, there was no lookin’ roond the shop in awe, he just stood there, starin’ at me expectantly. I’d half expected tae hear the words that usually went wi’ the card, but he kept his mouth closed.
I told him tae follow me up the stairs, which is whit I assumed he wanteed. Did he ‘hink I was a mind reader? Along wi’ the creakin’ ae the stairs beneath our feet, I could hear the leather ae the man’s brand new lookin’ shoes groan as we ascended.
In no time I was sittin’ on the floor, in ma usual spot, whilst he’d taken his position on the customer’s sofa, the madam in her position facing him, hearin’ ‘hings I could only imagine. She began in the predictable way ae askin’ him whit she could help him wi’. I’d just starteed tae pour the tea when he answered that someone was castin’ a spell on him tae make him look bad at work. I lost ma grip on the teapot and it went spout first intae the side ae the teacup wi’ such an enormous clang I thought it’d awake the deid. I was surprised tae find the teacup still in one piece when I managed tae get a hold ae the pot. I muttered an apology before continuing tae pour, two-handed.
Ma boss asked him whit made him so sure, to which he explained that he was familiar wi’ the use ae magic, and that nothin’ aboot recent events in his life had been normal. I’ve geein’ up on no starin’ at customers by this point. He was the first I’d seen tae ever outright admit the existence ae somethin’ supernatural, like magic. Fae whit I’d seen they were usually reluctant tae admit anythin’ like that. I suppose I shouldnae ha been so shocked. It’s obvious by noo that there are quite a few people in the know aboot these ‘hings, I’m just no one ae them.
Madam Norna encouraged him tae gee her some more details. I half expected him tae take oot a list. He explained that he’d had a presentation tae gee’ at work the previous week, he’d furiously prepared fae it, but come the mornin’ of said presentation he woke up no bein able tae speak. Someone else on his team had tae do it in his stead. He claimed he’d been fine the night before, and after the presentation his voice’d come back. On days where he’d be ahead ae his work schedule his computer’d suddenly crash wi’ no explanation, wipin’ everythin’ he’d done, despite regular saves.
After a moment’s pause tae take a sip ae tea, ma boss inquired if he knew the identity ae whoever was tryin’ tae interfere wi’ him. Apparently a lot ae people at his work stood tae gain by his failure, and it could be any one ae them. That was a bit ae an exaggeration, I thought at the time, surely no every office employee has the means and knowledge tae go roond sabotaging their colleagues? Especially when he was claimin’ this tae be magic, and no tomfoolery.
He told us he worked at Robertson and Son, on the fourth floor, as if we’d know whit that meant. Madam Norna finished her tea and handed the empty cup back tae me, never takin’ her gaze fae the lad, thinkin or scrutinisin, I can never tell which. But I know by noo whit’ happens after these moments ae silence, and I prepared maself tae be sent tae fetch somethin’ in the cabinet ae wonders.
She informed him that she could gee’ him an amulet that’d block any enchantment used against him, and that the price was the magic book he kept in his pocket. She really has a talent fae always keepin’ me on ma toes. Ye think she’s gonnae say one ‘hing, and she adds one ae those revelations ae hers ontae the end. The lad immediately covered the breast pocket ae his suit jacket, where I assumed this book was hidin’. I thought it mustae been a small book if he could fit it in there, none ae these elaborately decorated, leather bound encyclopaedias ye see in films. He began tae shake his heid violently in refusal, claimin’ if she took it he’d be helpless. The Madam pointed oot that the amulet would keep him safe fae all spells, and that wi’ it he’d have no need ae castin’ spells ae his own tae protect him. This time her tone was icier, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in warnin’. I could tell by this look that somethin’ worse would happen tae him if he kept the damn ‘hing.
Reluctantly, like a bairn forced tae share their favourite toy, he reached intae his pocket and pulled oot this wee leather-bound book. It looked more like a miniature bible, or a book fae the Victorian period, of which there were a few hangin’ roond in the shop. It had a creased and cracked brown cover, discoloured in some places wi’ heavy use, and tied roond the middle wi a cord. It had signs ae wear and age, but was resilient enough tae still look useable. A few more moments ae silence ensued as he looked lovingly at this book ae his, like the madam had asked him tae part wi’ his soulmate. The façade, fae a moment, melted away, as he became human, the professional veneer crackin’ just a wee bit. His inner turmoil was obvious even tae me, and it made me even more curious tae see whit was inside that book.
He was so torn I honestly thought he’d refuse and leave without his solution, but in the end he crumpled, as they all do. Ma boss instructed me tae go tae the cabinet, tae a drawer on the left-hand side, and there should be an amulet inside. I was hopin’ this amulet would be obvious tae find because I’d never seen one before, fae all I knew it couldae been a crystal duck.
Ma confusion was further piled on tae when I realised I’d never seen drawers inside the cabinet, only shelves, packed wi’ mysterious vials and boxes. But, sure enough, as I opened the doors there was a set ae tiny drawers right where she’d said there’d be. I dinnae understand that cabinet, I swear every time I go in it’s a different experience. These drawers were no bigger than matchboxes, or jewellery compartments, and slid open wi’ unusual ease. Inside was whit I’d call a brooch, triangular in shape, wi gold on the outside and a large, raw amethyst in the middle. Roond the edges ae the triangle was writin’ I didnae recognise, and had nay hope ae understandin.
Without further words or discussion the brooch was exchanged fae the lad’s book and he went on his way, and I thought that was the end ae it. I should probably know better by noo.
Just the next day, as the fightin, was aboot tae reach a new crescendo, a petite lassie blew intae the shop, pointed toe heels and tailored suit tellin’ me that she and the lad fae the day before were related, no by blood, but by problem. Madam Norna, after a brief conversation, procured an almost identical amulet tae the one she’d geein’ the lad, except this one had rose quartz in the middle, and she was released back intae the wild, less one battered, old brown spellbook.
I sat wi’ the Madam a while after the lassie had gone, starin’ at the two identical books, too afraid tae touch them, but wantin’ desperately tae know whit was inside. I queried, aloud, if Robertson and son handeed oot spellbooks tae all employees. Was it possible that the lassie had been the one castin’ the spells on the lad, and vice versa? Noo that they’d both had their toys confiscated, would the problems stop? I told ma boss that Robertson and son was a technology company, relatively successful, wi offices in the area, where the two customers had told us they worked. I also knew, fae some ae ma pals, it was highly competitive tae get intae. That was probably why once in, ye had to fight tae get ahead, and whit better way than by castin’ spells tae make your colleagues trip up? That still didnae quite explain where they’d got them fae in the first place.
Ma boss eventually spoke, tellin’ me she needed me tae run an errand fae her the next day. I was tae take Reid, and we were tae talk tae the first customer again at the company, and ask him if he knew anymore aboot the book.
I’d never been allowed ootside durin’ shop time before, and I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasnae excited. I also didnae mind havin’ Reid wi’ me, I could always use him as a shield and get away if anythin’ should happen. The building that Robertson and son has their offices in is a pretty typical red brick, five-storey eyesore that lines many a street in the town. Reid and I both stood ootside, cranin’ our necks tae look up at the pristine windaes, and discoloured blinds, as if we both expecteed tae see something oot ae the ordinary plastered in full view. When is it ever that easy?
Reid queried how we should get in since we couldnae just walk inside. Unlike him, I’d been thinkin’ ae that issue for the entire journey, and knew exactly how. We’d walk in and ask. When I said this tae him he scoffed, but when I began tae stride towards the doors it soon became a muffled grumble ae disapproval. Mimicking the two customers who’d come tae the shop, I squared ma shoulders, and marched straight over tae reception and stared at the lad sitting behind it. I introduced maself as though I were meetin’ someone important, and explained that we were both there for an internship position. I’ll admit, there was a part ae me that thought this wouldnae work, but tae ma stifled surprise we were both handed visitors badges and directed tae the third floor.
Swiping the badges fae the lad’s hand I put mine roond ma neck wi pride. Reid and I went over tae the elevator, and piled in wi’ the other employees. Instead ae gettin’ aff on the third floor, we both remained until the fourth. Just before we could get aff wi’ the employees, Reid grabbed ma arm and pulled me back, whisperin that we couldnae just wander roond like lost lambs. He had a point, but whit else were we supposed tae do? I ignored hm and darted oot ae the elevator, forcin’ him tae follow wi’ his typical scowl.
The elevator opened directly ontae an open plan office. Almost as soon as the doors closed behind us it was like we’d entered a vacuum. It reminded me a lot ae when you’re underwater, ye can hear others swimmin’ or jumpin’ in, even conversations, but all ae its slow, muffled beyond recognition. The noises ae the computer fans hung thickly, a lethargic whirring ae the photocopier, but that was it. No one was talkin’, no one was at someone else’s desk havin’ a quick chat. It was lifeless.
Reid needn’t have worried aboot someone noticing us, because no one took their eyes fae their screens. I was beginnin’ tae ‘hink these werenae people at all, and that this modest electronics company was the first in the world tae have the most human lookin’ robots anyone’s ever seen. Their eyes were glued tae their computers, hands restin’ on mouses, or fingers flyin’ over keyboards. I began tae scan the facees and backs ae heids in search ae the first customer, even the second.
It was the lad who I saw first, and after nudgin’ Reid we both wound our way over tae his desk by the wall, separated fae his colleague by a grey felt board that charts and tables were pinned ontae. I knocked on it and when his eyes caught sight ae us he asked, accusingly, why we were there. Thinkin’ time may be short before we were caught, I questioned if he knew anyone else in the office who may have a similar spellbook tae the one he had. He gee’ me an indignant look, eyes glancin’ tae his computer screen where yet more tables and graphs were, before dismissively answerin he wouldnae know as he didnae talk tae anyone. When I attempted tae press him, he rudely told us tae leave him be.
Before I could try a final time I felt a shock in ma fingertips, like static electricity. Assumin’ I’d brushed against Reid’s coat I snapped ma eyes tae him, because it was his stupid’ coat, but he wasnae lookin back. His eyes were scannin’ carefully roond the office at the other people, the muscle in his jaw protruding against his skin. It was like watchin’ an animal look fae predators, and it made ma palms sweat.
When he confessed that somethin’ didnae feel right it was hard no tae agree. Ever since leavin’ the elevator there’d been an oppressive force hangin’ in the air like a bad smell. I looked where he did, at the screens, at the heids, at the coffee cups, and pen holders. Then I saw it, in the other corner ae the office, in front ae the door that led tae the stairs.
A perfect sphere ae electricity, as though it were a plasma ball without the glass. Jagged spikes ae purple and blue darted oot fae the centre, a burnin mass ae reds, violets and greens. The heavy atmosphere became more oppressive, static permeatin’ every inch ae space, like the hours before a summer storm. Every dart ae electricity oot ae the centre was a different colour, a different shade, fannin’ oot randomly. It began tae move backwards, towards the door, until it was gone, some ae the atmosphere wi’ it.
Before I realised whit was happenin’ a found maself halfway across the office in its direction, and heard Reid’s curses fae behind me. Burstin’ though the door tae the stairs I noticed it on the next flight up, and so began our chase ae it. Up and up we climbed, but no matter how many stairs we took in each stride it was like we were runnin’ in a dream, unable tae catch up wi’ it. The climb was never endin’, one flight ae stairs was the same as the one before, and the one before. And that’s when it hit me and I stopped abruptly halfway up.
Ma lungs were burnin, ma throat dry, and ma legs screamin in pain, but just haud on a minute here. Didnae this buildin’ only have 5 floors? We’d starteed on the fourth, and had run at least ten times the amount ae stairs that shoulae been there tae reach the top. I slid over tae the bannister and looked up, an immeasurable number ae stairs stretchin up intae infinity. This buildin’ had no top. I told Reid, who was hangin’ ontae the wall fae dear life as he panted frantically.
I was all ready tae collapse ontae the stairs and never get back up, but when I looked tae the top there was a door. I dinnae remember ever seein’ a door on the countless other floors we’d ran past. Gulpin’ in air like it was goin oot ae fashion I dragged maself towards it, hearin’ Reid’s frustrated growl as he followed.
The door was pitch black, no a glean or shine tae it. The handle was silver, unassuming, but I still hesitated before reachin fae it. A part ae me expected it tae be locked, and I’m sure I groaned aloud when it opened. I let it swing forward, feelin’ like I was safer behind the threshold than over it. It was gloomy inside, ma eyes takin’ a moment tae adjust and see. It was an office space, just like the one a thousand floors doon, but this one was empty; no furniture, plants, computers, or printers, just squares ae dull grey carpet, and wee windaes on the far side looking oot intae nothingness, like they faced ontae a wall. It was daylight ootside, but you woulae thought it was dusk in that room.
I scanned roond fae the plasma ball I’d seen before, the one I’d ran a marathon after. Gingerly I stepped intae the room, followed closely by Reid. I couldae swore neither ae us were breathin’. I eventually noticed the ribbons ae lightnin’, except this time they were comin’ fae a lassie who stood in the middle ae the empty room where there’d been nothin’ before.
I inhaled through ma teeth, and stood still, feeling the static atmosphere returnin. Tryin tae fight through the oppressive atmosphere I distracted maself by lookin at this lassie who was leakin’ lightning. Noo obviously the slashes ae purple electricity rollin’ aff her were unusual, but so was the way she was dressed. I know the 60s’ are constantly tryin tae make a comeback, but the attention to detail was impressive. The weird hairstyle, tae the doll-like makeup, and vintage print ae her drably coloured dress. Some people commit tae the vintage lifestyle, or so I thought.
I asked her who she was through tightened jaw, feelin’ every hair on ma body rise. It was like standin’ under an active pylon. At first she let ma question echo roond the room, swallowed by the electric atmosphere. I thought she wasnae gonnae answer me, the crackle in her eyes made me more certain she’d hurt us. But then she began tae tell us her story.
She used tae work in the buildin’ before, a woman in a man’s world. She clawed and climbed her way up until she was the one gettin’ all the promotions and important work. But women didnae get very high, especially no above their male colleagues. She was envied, looked down upon, judged. Tae them she was an jumped up secretary, her real place was answerin phone calls and smilin’. They tried tae undermine her at every corner, and one day it worked. One mistake was all it took fae her tae go tumblin’ doon the mountain, rollin past the smilin’ faces ae these men. They let her go fae the company after all the work she’d done, all the hours she’d sacrificed. But she wouldnae leave the company, no after all that effort.
Noo by this point I began tae think. A man’s world? Men thinkin’ women shouldnae be successful, were only good as secretaries? That doesnae fly these days. That sounds more like back in the days when women used tae dress like her. And I’d just been doonstairs, there were at least as many women as men. She wasnae….she wasnae a ghost was she? So embittered by her dismissal fae a job that was her life that she’d lingered at the company? Ghosts arenae real, right? I mean memories, or whatever the madam called them are one ‘hing, but ghosts that shite electricity another. Then there came the problem of whit she was doin’ in the building if she’d been there for 50 years. All the men she was bad mouthin’ were long gone, if not deid by this point.
Then she went on tae tell us aboot this woman who’d visited her. A mysterious woman she’d never seen before, dressed in well-fitteed clothes whose colours didnae compliment or match, and whose dark hair was pin straight, and bluntly cut. She’d offered tae help and had handed over a small leather book filled wi’ curses and spells. She’d wanted nothing in return, and after giving her gift she’d left and had never returned. Upon receipt ae this gift the embittered ex-employee had set aboot gettin’ her revenge on the men who she thought had torn her doon.
She held this spellbook in her hands, identical tae the ones Madam Norna had confiscated fae the customers. How was that possible? The woman still had the one she’d been given, so how could two or more people have it as well?
The atmosphere had grown almost unbearable and Reid fell tae his knees beside me, purple ribbons ae electricity practically rollin’ aff him. I reached oot fae him, hopin that my meagre immunity would help him. Thankfully it did and he was just able tae get back tae his feet.
I checked wi’ the woman that she’d somehow been givin’ oot these books tae the employees doonstairs. She seemed affronted I wouldnae ‘hink it was her. Of course she’d given them oot. They thought just because they’d been geein’ jobs that they were safe, but that wasnae true. She claimed she was doin’ them a favour. By geein’ them the power tae harm each other’s work she was teachin’ them tae no tae be so complacent, and no tae trust each other. She was preventin’ what happened tae her happenin tae them.
Twisted logic I know. This woman may ha’ looked like anyone in the street, a woman doon the club on cheesy Fridays, but there was somethin’ very inhuman aboot her. Obviously people in the club don’t usually have electricity oozin’ fae them, yet it was somethin’ more than that. It was like she was a shadow ae someone, the worse parts ae a decent, hard-workin woman left behind. She was something closer tae a shell, wi’ no real substance. All she knew was hatred, and bitterness, and it no longer mattered who it was directed at.
I told her she couldnae stay in the buildin’, tormentin’ the employees below. Just because she’d been in an office full ae arseholes didnae gee her the right tae turn other colleagues against each other. She didnae like this, the pressure in the room wound up until I could see the slashes ae purple electricity snappin at ma fingertips.
She refused tae leave, screamed it. Feelin’ the weight ae a storm edgin’ ever closer, and beginnin’ tae feel like I was constantly getting’ shocked by static electricity fae a shitty Christmas jumper, I shouted back at her tae fuck off. There was a thunderous crack, no unlike what you’d hear durin a thunderstorm, and fae a moment I thought the concrete floor beneath us had geein’ way. But afterwards the tension, the electricity hoverin’ in the air dissipated. We breathed a sigh ae relief, until we noticed that there was a crack in the floor. a small sliver at first fae underneath the woman. Wi a deafenin’ rippin’ it began tae grow, and edge its way closer tae us. One blink it was 5 metres, the next 3, the next an arm’s length. By the time we both turned tae run fae the door tae escape I think we both knew it was too late.
The ground vanished beneath us and we fell like we were in a dream. Gravity had gone, the air had vanished, and all there was tae see was darkness. Until I realised that darkness was the inside ae ma eyelids. I peeled open ma eyes, worried aboot what I was gonnae see. Light shone in fae the large sparklin windaes tae illuminate the landin ae the stairs. We were on the top floor, lookin’ towards the door tae the offices and desks beyond. There were no more flights ae stairs, no never endin floors above. Had I… imagined all ae that? Had I blacked oot somehow fae runnin’ up one flight ae stairs?
I was just aboot tae ask Reid when I noticed somethin’ on the ground, rollin’ towards the stairs. It was a small purple marble, not unlike somethin’ you’d get in a Christmas cracker. Before it could disappear forever doon the stairs I lunged fae it and inspected it. it was a purple violet colour, not unlike that ae a plasma ball, and the strange power that’d been rollin’ aff that woman. Reid came over tae inspect it and we gee each other a questionin’ look. At least I knew I hadnae imaginaed the whole ‘hing.
The only ‘hing tae do wi’ it was take it back tae the shop, and to the source ae all answers. Upon reachin’ the shop the Madam was waitin’ upstairs wi fresh tea brewin’ on the table, and I swore I could see the sliver ae a smile as we walked in. We relayed whit had happened and handed over the marble before waitin’ fae answers. She explained that the woman was a shade, which wasnae really an explanation at all. Even Reid didnae jump in as he usually does. A shade is a kind ae dark doppleganger, somethin’ that’s born from a person’s intense bitterness or hatred. Eventually it consumes the person who it initially came from, and it never dies. Trapping it is the only way tae stop it. Apparently me tellin’ it where tae go was good enough. My triumph is limited though as if all it takes is a marble tae keep it in check was it really that dangerous tae begin wi’? The madam announced she’d put it in storage, which raises even more questions. Does the shop have a basement I’ve never been tae, and if so whit the hell’s in there?
But there is a more pressin’ question that’s been steadily botherin’ me since this encounter. That woman, that shade, was what, aboot 50 years old? This woman she described, the philanthropist that gave her the spellbook in the first place. The description bothered me at the time but it’s only noo that I’ve began tae think that it’s gnawin’ at me even more. Clothes that didnae match, dark, sharply cut hair. I’ve met this woman, or someone like her, very recently. She sounds a lot like Madam Anora. Causing chaos and misery fae nothin’ in return? That sounds like Madam Anora. It sounds exactly like the woman I met in the shop a few weeks ago. Exactly.
So how has she no changed in 50 years? Dae all Madam Anora’s look the same? I dinnae look even slightly like Madam Norna, but is it different fae her opposite? Or is there something’ more sinister and unpleasant goin’ on here? No doubt I’ll find oot eventually, but fae noo, best no tae ‘hink on it.