Scots terms
Bairn – child
Ma/Da – Mum/Dad
To gripe – to complain; to moan.
Crabbit – grumpy or grouchy.
A nosy – a look at something you’re not supposed to stare at. Essentially to be nosy but visually.
Ijit – idiot
Tele – TV
Bucky – Buckfast. A brand of fizzy wine, and apparently has caffeine in it. Can you tell I’ve never had it (?), but it’s quite famous in Glasgow during nights out.
Script
You remember that silence I used to love in the shop, the one I fervently wished would return? Turns out it’s not so great after all. It’s like when you’re a bairn, afraid of the dark, so you get a night light. Mine had crescent moons and stars rotating on a screen so they’d dance across the ceiling and walls, warped and stretched when they’d have to navigate over furniture. You remind your Ma and Da every time they tuck you in to leave it on, and they do, but when you wake up in the morning, somehow, it’s off. As you get older you realise being scared of the dark is for bairns, and you’re not a bairn, you’re going to be 8 this year. You’re Da goes to switch it on, and you tell him you don’t need it, you’re no longer afraid of the dark and the monsters that lurk there. He obliges. But when that door is shut, and the light pollution of the town isn’t enough to illuminate all the shadows, you find yourself leaning over and flicking that switch, sighing with relief when you see the stars and moons glide across the room.
Telling Reid to go is the same. I thought I’d be fine, not afraid of the beasts in the dark. Except the difference is no matter how hard I scramble around; I’m never going to find that switch because the night light is gone. I thought I’d like the silence, but I like it about as much as I liked the dark.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Fionn and Chronos. But sometimes, the days when Fionn isn’t in the shop, when Chronos is up the stairs with the Madam, the shop feels uncomfortably big, and I find myself unable to move around the antiques with as much ease as I’m used to. If something happens to me, if I touch something dangerous, then there’s no one to find me, no one to help. By the time the Madam comes down it might be too late.
But I’m not here to gripe about my woes. Not exclusively. This day it was Fionn and me in the shop. I could only assume Chronos was upstairs because I didn’t see him all day. Fionn and I had been spending most of our time staring at a floral brooch that’d appeared on the counter. Neither of us had taken it out or found it anywhere. A customer hadn’t donated it or returned it. There it was when I’d arrived. It’d also been there when Fionn had arrived an hour or two earlier. And that’d been our morning. Discussing what to do with it and daring each other to touch it.
Madam Norna found us both at the counter, a few metres away from this thing, both keeping our eyes on it like an arachnophobe does with the giant spider in the corner of their bedroom. Seeing the Madam come down to the shop, unprovoked and unsummoned, set dread simmering away in my gut. Fionn obviously felt the same kind of surprise as he asked her if anything was wrong. I inspected her, the way she walked towards us, steady, almost normal, the way her lips were closed, definitely normal, and the level look she gave Fionn at his question. Whatever it was obviously wasn’t urgent.
Carefully she placed a small piece ae white paper on the glass counter, just beside the possibly sinister brooch. The Madam said she was fine, but that a pal of hers might not be, and she wanted me to go to her house and check. The address was on the piece of paper. Careful not to touch the brooch, I picked the paper up and examined the address, feeling like I knew it or knew of it. It’d been in the news or someone had told me about the street. Some celebrity had bought one of the houses on this street, best part of a million quid apparently. They were old houses, built in the bustle of the industrial revolution by the people who’d benefitted the most. A few hundred years later and they were still occupied by the rich and morally questionable.
It wasn’t that far from the shop, a ten-minute bus ride at the most. I folded the paper up and slid into my pocket. Fionn, in a softer tone of voice than usual, offered to come with me. I stared at him, eyes narrowed and lips beginning to purse with suspicion. He’d never offered to come on a trip outside the shop. Not once. And aye, that could be because Reid always did, but that didn’t mean I always had to have a babysitter. Looking back with hindsight I may have been overly sensitive to the offer. Fionn was trying to be nice, to keep me company, and I just threw it back in his face like some crabbit bairn. I informed him I could go myself, and that I didn’t need a carer. The most embarrassing thing was that after my curt answer the Madam and he exchanged parental looks of concern before they both nodded, not believing a word I said but deciding they needed to let me make my own pig-headed mistakes.
I left for the bus stop, regretting my words, and despising myself that I was so sensitive. The part of town I alighted at was like another world let alone the other side of the same place. This was lavish suburbia. There were trees lining the road, and every house was detached, sporting long driveways and double garages to fit their Bentleys and Porsches. The windows were large, shining as much daylight as possible into the high-ceilinged rooms with frescoes and carvings, and even a chandelier in one. Aye, I had a nosy into the windows, that’s what they’re for.
I continued to walk along the cleaner than clean pavement, not a piece of litter in sight, reading the numbers of these houses to try and find the one I was looking for. I eventually found it near the end, smaller than the others on the same row, but still beyond your average person’s mortgage amount. The large-slabbed pathway leading up to the door was spotless, the grass at the edges trimmed to ruler perfection. Someone had green fingers as the front garden was properly kept, bushes, shrubbery, and flower beds well-tended to. I eventually arrived at the door and searched for a bell, only to find none. Then I noticed the antique door knocker nailed to the navy-blue paint of the door. I don’t know how that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. It was a large bulbous bee, complete with markings on the wings and body. Its head was the hinge of the knocker, so in some respects it was pretty headless. Hesitantly I reached out, grabbed its arse, and used it as intended, hearing the faded brass as it connected with the wood.
I waited, checked my phone for the time, looked at the empty street with only a few cars passing by, and waited some more. There was no answer, so I used the knocker again, more forcefully this time. Still no one came to the door. After one last quick glance at my surroundings, at the street, at the neighbours’ houses, I crouched down, flicked the letterbox open, and squinted inside. I couldn’t see that much, and I saw even less when I felt the letterbox moving away from me as the door swung open. I barely managed to catch myself before I fell forwards with it and sprawled into this person’s hallway. The strange thing was that there was no one behind the door. It’d swung into an empty corridor.
Realising how bad this was starting to look, and regretting acting like such a brat when Fionn had offered to come along, I checked one more time for witnesses, before I bundled inside the house and shut the door behind me. It was only when I heard the click of the latch that I began to realise I’d just entered someone’s house without their permission. There could be anybody in here, anything could’ve happened to the occupant, and I’d just charged in like an ijit. One of these days I’ll need to start thinking about consequences.
Back against the door, I scanned the hallway, past the pairs of shoes under the coat rail, the colourful welcome rug, and to the doorways ahead. All were closed save for one, and I began to creep towards it. Peering around the door I found a living room, the walls painted with sea green and lined with family photos and the odd painting. Furniture all pointed at the giant tele mounted on the wall. It was the thing lying in the middle of the room, on yet another rug, that concerned me. I could only see their feet at first poking out from behind the sofa, and as I took a few more paces into the room I began to see the rest of their body.
She looked to be in her 50s, greying hair fanned out around her head like a halo. I bolted across the room, landing hard on my knees beside her to feel for a pulse. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much relief when I felt the steady beat of her heart beneath my fingertips. It was short lived, and replaced by a pit in my stomach as my eyes were drawn to an object that lay close to her hand. Under any other circumstances it’d be a perfectly normal thing to find in someone’s house, it wouldn’t even be unusual to see it fallen to the floor. But there was nothing normal about this vase.
I used to get similar feelings in clubs sometimes. I’d spot a bloke lingering at the bar of the club, like a hawk waiting for a field mouse to drop onto, eyeing up whichever lassie would be the easiest pray. Staring at this vase gave me the same feeling, a nauseating concoction of revulsion and fear ae what was going to happen next. This vase wasn’t your grannie’s crystal one she keeps her petunias in. It was made up of different coloured pieces of glass grotesquely stuck together with no pattern or order. Some were clear, others a sea blue, and some an alarming blood red. It wasn’t that big, not enough to hold an entire bouquet, and it was lying on its side beside the woman’s arm.
I knew I shouldn’t touch it. I always know, but I always seem to do the opposite. I only placed a few fingers on the smooth glass, feeling the grooves of where each coloured uneven tile met another. The only thing I can liken it to is when you’re trying to go to sleep and your mind reminds you of that stupid thing you said or did five years ago. You don’t know where this memory came from, what brought it back, but there you are, reliving the humiliation, squirming under the wish that you’d done or said something different. It didn’t show me a memory though, I think I would’ve preferred that.
There was a dark-haired bairn sitting at a wooden table, bent over a bowl with cereal in it, the milk jug just within reach. He spooned food and milk into his mouth, white liquid dribbling down his chin where he missed. There was something familiar about this bairn, not like I’d seen him before, but like he reminded me of someone. Not long after, a person came in, faceless. I don’t mean in the scary way, I mean they had a face, it’s just that I couldn’t quite see it. To be honest I wasn’t even sure what this person was. They were a genderless figure, with no detail that stood out. They approached the bairn and patted him on the head gently before bending down and wiping the milk residue off the bairn’s chin. I looked on with bemusement.
Everything became clear when a person I recognised strode in. A wee bit older, with the marriage gut poking through his shirt, but a bright smile on his usually grumpy features. Reid, an older version, had come into the room, plate of toast in his hand, and sat down at the table before kissing the faceless figure on the cheek. This was a family breakfast. They all sat around the table eating and talking, and I was the unwelcome fly on the wall. This was Reid’s happy life, the one I’d be keeping him from.
The picture suddenly changed to a familiar sight. I stood amongst the antiques of the shop, beside the record players, rails of dusty clothes, and a sewing machine or two. At the glass counter was another familiar face, but then equally unfamiliar because I’d never seen this person before, not even in the mirror. It was me, a version of me. Older, I don’t know by how much, but I wasn’t going grey yet. There was no one else in the shop, not even Chronos, and the silence was hard to bear. The look I could see in my eyes as I scanned around the shop, the emptiness, the sharp stab of loneliness as I realised that’s how it’d always be, made me turn away. There was Reid, content, happy with his family, settled into his happy life. And this empty shop was all I had, for the rest of my long life.
I felt this burning at the back of my throat, like I’d drank too much Bucky and was now about to expel it. Before I could start retching I was thrown out of these thoughts and back into my current reality, crouched beside an unconscious woman and vicious vase. I recoiled my hand from the coloured glass and felt pain as I did so. On inspecting my hand I found small blisters on my fingertips where I’d made contact with its surface, like I’d taken a tray out of the oven without an oven glove on.
I skipped past sad for a change and went straight to anger. How dare that fucking thing show me such shite. How dare a wee glass vase try to get cheeky with me. I was so bloody sick of not being able to touch anything without them wanting to break me that I stood up, and as hard as I could, kicked the vase into the wall and watched with vicious satisfaction as it shattered into pieces, jangling as they hit the floor.
Just to make my point I marched over to a green shard that hadn’t quite broken so well and drove my foot into it, hoping it wouldn’t poke through my shoes. There’s nothing quite as cathartic as the sound of crunching glass. I began to hear a low mumble and a few groans coming from the woman. By the time I rushed across the room to her she was trying to pick herself up off the floor. I helped her to her feet, but she was in no condition to stand so I ended up helping her sit on the sofa. I took a few steps back, letting her senses catch up, but when ma foot tapped something glass, I froze. I slid my eyes down to the floor and there the damn vase was, as though I’d never kicked it against the wall and watched as it exploded into pieces. I jumped as high as a cat after it’s seen a cucumber and couldn’t get away from the damn thing quickly enough.
The woman’s voice drew me out of my horror as she told me that I’d saved her life, before asking if the Madam had sent me. I inspected this person who my boss had tasked me with checking on and I could see her face clearly, no blurry lines or unfocused spots. She was human, so how did she know about the Madam? Noticing my confused face, not that it’s hard to miss, she chuckled lightly and explained that she was a friend of ma boss’s, although suggested that she was perhaps more like a passing acquaintance for someone like Madam Norna. She went onto inform me that she was a Collector and should’ve known better than to touch the vase.
Obviously, I asked her what a Collector was in this context, and she confirmed my suspicions. There are crazy people who actually collect the items in the antique shop. The cursed rings, enchanted boxes, and hellish vases. It was hard not to look at her like she belonged in an asylum.
I spent some time with this pal of Madam Norna’s, whose name was Flora, just to make sure she was fit enough to be left. Before I went, she told me to take the vase with me, as the Madam requested items like that be kept in the shop and not in a private collection. I told her what had happened, how it was indestructible, but she had no answers. All I could think was that my breaking it, even for a few minutes, must’ve snapped her out of whatever it’d done to her, mental torture or something else. The Madam would have all the answers.
Flora gave me a towel or three to wrap it up in as both of us agreed touching it was out of the question, and after putting it in my bag I returned to the shop where my boss and Fionn were waiting by the counter. After a quick greeting I lifted my bag onto the counter and announced that the Madam’s friend had sent a gift. Carefully unzipping the bag, I took a few steps back once the towels were exposed. I could tell by the way Madam Norna gazed at the vase that she knew exactly what it did, and Fionn, noticing her reaction, and mine, joined me in putting some distance between him and it.
Carefully, as if it was some kind of holy relic, the Madam removed the vase, ensuring to never make contact with the coloured glass. I didn’t need to ask questions aloud anymore for my boss to answer them. She informed me that the vase was enchanted to show people their worst nightmares, reaching into the corners of their minds and taking advantage of their deepest fears and insecurities. For normal humans it rarely let them go, pulling them into a cycle of torment they couldn’t hope to escape. For creatures, or a Madam’s apprentice, it took longer to take hold. That hadn’t stopped it from trying. I informed her about my breaking it, and she said that it couldn’t be broken by conventional means. It may look like glass, but it may as well have been titanium. The only solution was to store it in the shop, confirming my fears that the shop was just a storage space for the world’s most dangerous items.
As soon as the Madam left to go upstairs, with vase in hand, a strange atmosphere settled in the shop, and it was coming from Fionn. There was an unusual shadow of seriousness settled on his face, and this began to unsettle me almost as much as the vase had. Eventually he mustered the courage to speak and announced that he had something to ask me. I really hate it when someone tells you they’re going to say something, especially when they act like its world ending. Just fucking say it and stop trying to give me an aneurysm.
He told me he’d noticed how depressed I’d been since Reid left, and although he knew I’d never admit it, scared. He pointed out that he was in the shop all the time, almost as much as Reid had been, and the truth was that he loved the shop, loved being a part of the world it occupied. There was nowhere else in the world like it, he’d looked. So, why didn’t he become my familiar?
I probably let the silence go on for too long. I’d never seen Fionn look so sheepish. I needed to think. Did I need a familiar? Did I want one? Reid had kind of come out of nowhere. I hadn’t known what that kind of bond would entail. In the end I’d needed him more than he’d ever needed me, and now that he was gone, I was struggling. Fionn was offering. This wasn’t a way out of some problems, or a deal made blindly, we both knew what we were getting into. He was right, Fionn was practically always in the shop, by choice.
I also thought to the day’s events. What if that vase hadn’t let me go? Or I hadn’t fought my way out and been lying unresponsive on the floor like Flora until someone found me? As much as I hated it, I needed a guide. I checked with Fionn that it was what he really wanted. That there were no debt collectors after him this time. After a smile cracked his serious face, he confirmed there wasn’t.
So, I agreed, but on one condition. He told me what he was. He gave me a toothy grin, eyes glinting with a sharp mischievousness.
A wyvern, he said.
Well, fuck.
Wyvern – In real world terms, a Wyvern is a distinct creature from a dragon, in the UK at least. The difference is that Wyverns have less limbs than a dragon. A dragon has four legs, whereas a Wyvern sometimes only has two, but there are Wyverns with no legs at all. The consensus seems to be that Wyverns have 2 legs instead of 4 like a Dragon. Obviously, that’s this world, and the lore of TAS is a wee bit different. I take a lot of creative licence with things, as you probably know.
Script – Scots
You remember that silence I used tae love in the shop, the one I fervently wished would return? Turns oot it’s no so great after all. It’s like when you’re a bairn, afraid ae the dark, so ye get a night light. Mine had crescent moons and stars rotatin on a screen so they’d dance across the ceiling and walls, warped and stretched when they’d have tae navigate over other furniture. Ye remind your Ma and Da every time they tuck ye in tae leave it on, and they do, but when ye wake up in the mornin somehow it’s aff. As ye get older ye realise bein’ scared ae the dark is fae bairns, and you’re no a bairn, you’re gonnae be 8 this year. You’re Da goes tae switch it on, and ye tell him ye dinnae need it, you’re no longer afraid ae the dark and the monsters that lurk there. He obliges. But when that door is shut, and the light pollution ae the town isnae enough tae illuminate all ae the shadows, ye find yourself leanin’ over and flickin’ that switch, sighing wi’ relief when ye see the stars and moons glide across the room.
Tellin’ Reid tae go is the same. I thought I’d be fine, no afraid ae the beasts in the dark. Except the difference is no matter how hard I scramble roond, I’m never gonnae find that switch because the night light is gone. I thought I’d like the silence, but I like it aboot as much as I liked the dark.
Dinnae get me wrong, I like Fionn and Chronos. But sometimes, the days when Fionn isnae in the shop, when Chronos is up the stairs wi’ the Madam, the shop feels uncomfortably big, and I find maself no able tae move roond the antiques wi’ as much ease as I’m used tae. If somethin’ happens tae me, if I touch somethin’ dangerous, then there’s no one tae find me, no one tae help. By the time the Madam comes doon it might be too late.
But I’m no here tae gripe aboot ma woes. No exclusively. This day it was Fionn and maself in the shop. I could only assume Chronos was upstairs ‘cause I didnae see him all day. Fionn and I had been spendin’ most ae our time starin’ at a floral brooch that’d appeared on the counter. Neither ae us had taken it oot or found it anywhere. A customer hadnae donated it or returned it. There it was when I’d arrived. It’d also been there when Fionn had arrived an hour or two earlier. And that’d been our mornin. Discussing whit tae do wi it and darin’ each other tae touch it.
Madam Norna found us both at the counter, a few metres away frae this ‘hing, both keepin’ our eyes on it like an arachnophobe does wi’ the giant spider in the corner ae their bedroom. Seein’ the Madam come doon tae the shop, unprovoked and unsummoned, set dread simmerin’ away in ma gut. Fionn obviously felt the same kind ae surprise as he asked her if anythin’ was wrong. I inspected her, the way she walked towards us, steady, almost normal, the way her lips were closed, definitely normal, and the level look she gee tae Fionn at his question. Whitever it was obviously wasnae urgent.
Carefully she placed a small piece ae white paper on the glass counter, just beside the possibly sinister brooch. The Madam said she was fine, but that a pal ae hers might no be, and she wanted me tae go tae her hoose and check. The address was on the piece ae paper. Careful no tae touch the brooch I picked the paper up and examined the address, feelin’ like I knew it, or knew of it. It’d been in the news, or someone had told me aboot the street. Some celebrity had bought one ae the hooses on this street, best part ae a million quid apparently. They were old hooses, built in the bustle ae the industrial revolution by the people who’d benefitted the most. A few hundred years later and they were still occupied by the rich and morally questionable.
It wasnae that far frae the shop, a ten-minute bus ride at the most. I folded the paper up and slid intae ma pocket. Fionn, in a softer tone ae voice than his usual, offered tae come wi’ me. I stared at him, eyes narrowed and lips beginnin’ tae purse wi’ suspicion. He’d never offered tae come on a trip ootside the shop. Not once. And aye, that could be because Reid always did, but that didnae mean I always had tae have a babysitter. Lookin’ back wi’ hindsight I may have been overly sensitive tae the offer. Fionn was tryin tae be nice, tae keep me company, and I just threw it back in his face like some crabbit bairn. I informed him I could go maself, and that I didnae need a carer. The most embarrassin’ ‘hing was that after ma curt answer the Madam and he exchanged parental looks ae concern before they both nodded, no believin’ a word I said but decidin’ they needed tae let me make ma own pig-headed mistakes.
I left fae the bus stop, regrettin’ ma words and despisin’ maself that I was so sensitive. The part ae town I alighted at was like another world let alone the other side ae the same place. This was lavish suburbia. There were trees lining the road, and every house was detached, sportin’ long driveways and double garages tae fit their Bentleys and Porsches. The windaes were large, shining as much daylight as possible intae the high ceilinged rooms wi frescoes and carvings, and even a chandelier in one. Aye, I had a nosy intae the windaes, that’s whit they’re for.
I continued tae walk along the cleaner than clean pavement, no a piece ae litter in sight, readin’ the numbers ae these hooses tae try and find the one I was lookin’ fae. I eventually found it near the end, smaller than the others on the same row, but still beyond your average person’s mortgage amount. The large slabbed pathway leadin’ up tae the door was spotless, the grass at the edges trimmed tae ruler perfection. Someone had green fingers as the front garden was properly kept, bushes, shrubbery and flower beds well-tended tae. I eventually arrived at the door and searched fae a bell, only tae find none. Then I noticed the antique door knocker nailed tae the navy blue paint ae the door. I dinnae know how that wasnae the first ‘hing I noticed. It was a large bulbous bee, complete wi markings on the wings and body. Its heid was the hinge ae the knocker, so in some respects it was pretty headless. Hesitantly I reached oot, grabbed its arse, and used it as intended, hearin’ the faded brass as it connected wi the wood.
I waited, checked ma phone fae the time, looked at the empty street wi only a few cars passin’ by, and waited some more. There was no answer, so I used the knocker again, more forcefully this time. Still no one came tae the door. After one last quick glance at ma surroundings, at the street, at the neighbours’ hooses, I crouched doon, flicked the letterbox open, and squinted inside. I couldnae see that much, and I saw even less when I felt the letterbox movin’ away frae me as the door swung open. I barely managed tae catch maself before I fell forwards wi it and sprawled intae this person’s hallway. The strange ‘hing was that there was no one behind the door. It’d swung intae an empty corridor.
Realisin’ how bad this was startin’ tae look, and regrettin’ actin’ like such a brat when Fionn had offered tae come along, I checked one more time fae witnesses, before I bundled inside ae the hoose and shut the door closed behind me. It was only when I heard the click ae the latch that I began tae realise I’d just entered someone’s hoose withoot their permission. There could be anybody in here, anythin’ couldae happened tae the occupant, and I’d just charged in like an ijit. One ae these days I’ll need tae start thinking aboot consequences.
Back against the door I scanned the hallway, past the pairs ae shoes under the coat rail, the colourful welcome rug, and tae the doorways ahead. All were closed save fae one, and I began tae creep towards it. Peerin roond the door I found a living room, the walls painted wi’ sea green and lined wi’ family photos and the odd painting. Furniture all pointed at the giant tele mounted on the wall. It was the ‘hing lying’ in the middle ae the room, on yet another rug, that concerned me. I could only see their feet at first pokin’ oot frae behind the sofa, and as I took a few more paces intae the room I began tae see the rest ae their body.
She looked tae be in her 50s, greying hair fanned oot roond her heid like a halo. I bolted across the room, landin’ hard on ma knees beside her tae feel fae a pulse. I dinnae ‘hink I’ve ever felt that much relief when I felt the steady beat ae her heart beneath ma fingertips. It was short lived, and replaced by a pit in ma stomach as ma eyes were drawn tae an object that lay close tae her hand. Under any other circumstances it’d be a perfectly normal ‘hing tae find in someone’s hoose, it wouldnae even be unusual tae see it fallen tae the floor. but there was nothin’ normal aboot this vase.
I used tae get similar feelings in clubs sometimes. I’d spot a bloke lingering at the bar ae the club, like a hawk waitin’ fae a field mouse tae drop ontae, eyein up whichever lassie would be the easiest pray. Starin at this vase gee me the same feelin’, a nauseating concoction ae revulsion, and fear ae whit was gonnae happen next. This vase wasnae your grannie’s crystal one she keeps her petunias in. It was made up ae different coloured pieces ae glass grotesquely stuck together wi’ no pattern or order. Some were clear, others a sea blue, and some an alarming blood red. It wasnae that big, no enough tae hold an entire bouquet, and it was lyin’ on it’s side beside the woman’s arm.
I knew I shouldnae touch it. I always know, but I always seem tae do the opposite. I only placed a few fingers on the smooth glass, feelin’ the grooves ae where each coloured uneven tile met another. The only ‘hing I can liken it tae is when you’re tryin tae go tae sleep and your mind reminds ye ae that stupid thing ye said or did five years ago. Ye dinnae know where this memory came frae, whit brought it back, but there ye are, reliving the humiliation, squirming under the wish that you’d done or said somethin’ different. It didnae show me a memory though, I think I wouldae preferred that.
There was a dark-haired bairn sittin’ at a wooden table, bent over a bowl wi cereal in it, the milk jug just within reach. He spooned food and milk intae his mouth, white liquid dribblin’ doon his chin where he missed. There was somethin’ familiar aboot this bairn, no like I’d seen him before, like he reminded me ae someone. No long after a person came in, faceless. I dinnae mean in the scary way, I mean they had a face, it’s just that I couldnae quite see it. Tae be honest I wasnae even sure what this person was. They were a genderless figure, wi no detail that stood oot. They approached the bairn, and patted him on the head gently before bending doon and wiping the milk residue aff the bairn’s chin. I looked on wi’ bemusement.
Everythin’ became clear when a person I recognised strode in. A wee bit older, wi’ the marriage gut pokin’ through his shirt, but a bright smile on his usually grumpy features. Reid, an older version, had come intae the room, plate ae toast in his hand, and sat doon at the table before kissing the faceless figure on the cheek. This was a family breakfast. They all sat roond the table eatin and talkin’, and I was the unwelcome fly on the wall. This was Reid’s happy life, the one I’d be keepin’ him frae.
The picture suddenly changed tae a familiar sight. I stood amongst the antiques ae the shop, beside the record players, rails ae dusty clothes, and a sewing machine or two. At the glass counter was another familiar face, but then equally unfamiliar because I’d never seen this person before, no even in the mirror. It was me, a version ae me. Older, I dinnae know by how much but I wasnae goin’ grey yet. There was no one else in the shop, no even Chronos, and the silence was hard tae bear. The look I could see in ma eyes as I scanned roond the shop, the emptiness, the sharp stab ae loneliness as I realised that’s how it’d always be, made me turn away. There was Reid, content, happy wi his family, settled intae his happy life. And this empty shop was all I had, fae the rest ae ma long life.
I felt this burnin’ at the back ae ma throat, like I’d drank too much bucky and was noo aboot tae expel it. Before I could start retchin’ I was thrown oot ae these thoughts and back intae ma current reality, crouched beside an unconscious woman and vicious vase. I recoiled ma hand frae the coloured glass and felt pain as I did so. On inspectin’ ma hand I found small blisters on ma fingertips where I’d made contact wi’ its surface, like I’d taken a tray oot ae the oven withoot an oven glove on.
I skipped past sad fae a change and went straight tae anger. How dare that fuckin’ ‘hing show me such shite. How dare a wee glass vase try tae get cheeky wi’ me. I was so bloody sick of no bein’ able tae touch anythin’ withoot them wantin’ tae break me that I stood up, and as hard as I could, kicked the vase intae the wall and watched wi’ vicious satisfaction as it shattered intae pieces, jangling as they hit the floor.
Just tae make ma point I marched over tae a green shard that hadn’t quite broken so well and drove ma foot intae it, hopin’ it wouldnae poke through ma shoes. There’s nothin’ quite as cathartic as the soond ae crunching glass. I began tae hear a low mumble and a few groans comin’ frae the woman. By the time I rushed across the room tae her she was tryin tae pick herself up aff the floor. I helped her tae her feet, but she was in no condition tae stand so I ended up helpin’ her sit on the sofa. I took a few steps back, lettin’ her senses catch up, but when ma foot tapped somethin’ glass I froze. I slid ma eyes doon tae the floor, and there the damn’ vase was, as though I’d never kicked it against the wall and watched as it exploded intae pieces. I jumped as high as a cat after it’s seen a cucumber, and couldnae get away frae the damn ‘hing quickly enough.
The woman’s voice drew me oot ae ma horror as she told me that I’d saved her life, before askin’ if the Madam had sent me. I inspected this person who ma boss had tasked me wi’ checkin’ on and I could see her face clearly, no blurry lines or unfocused spots. She was human, so how did she know aboot the Madam? Noticin’ ma confused face, no that it’s hard tae miss, she chuckled lightly and explained that she was a friend ae ma boss’s, although suggested that she was perhaps more like a passin’ acquaintance fae someone like Madam Norna. She went ontae inform me that she was a collector and shouldae known better than tae touch the vase.
Obviously I asked her whit a collector was in this context, and she confirmed ma suspicions. There are crazy people who actually collect the items in the antique shop. The cursed rings, enchanted boxes, and hellish vases. It was hard no tae look at her like she belonged in an asylum. I spent some time wi’ this pal ae Madam Norna’s, whose name was Flora, just tae make sure she was fit enough tae be left. Before I went she told me tae take the vase wi’ me, as the Madam requested items like that be kept in the shop and no in a private collection. I told her whit had happened, how it was indestructible, but she had no answers. All I could ‘hink was that my breakin’ it, even fae a few minutes, mustae snapped her oot ae whitever it’d done tae her, mental torture or somethin’ else. The Madam would have all ae the answers.
Flora gee me a towel or three tae wrap it up in as both ae us agreed touchin’ it was oot ae the question, and after puttin’ it in ma bag I returned tae the shop where ma boss and Fionn were waitin’ by the counter. After a quick greeting I lifted my bag ontae the counter and announced that the Madam’s friend had sent a gift. Carefully unzipping the bag I took a few steps back once the towels were exposed. I could tell by the way Madam Norna gazed at the vase that she knew exactly whit it did, and Fionn, noticing her reaction, and mine, joined me in putting some distance between him and it.
Carefully, as if it was some kind ae holy relic, the Madam removed the vase, ensuring tae never make contact wi’ the coloured glass. I didnae need tae ask questions aloud anymore fae ma boss tae answer them. She informed me that the vase was enchanted tae show people their worst nightmares, reaching intae the corners ae their minds and takin’ advantage ae their deepest fears and insecurities. Fae normal humans it rarely let them go, pullin’ them intae a cycle ae torment they couldnae hope tae escape. Fae creatures, or a Madam’s apprentice, it took longer tae take hold. That hadnae stopped it frae tryin. I informed her aboot my breakin’ it, and she said that it couldnae be broken by conventional means. It may look like glass, but it may as well ha been titanium. The only solution was tae store it in the shop, confirmin’ ma fears that the shop was just a storage space fae the world’s most dangerous items.
As soon as the Madam left tae go upstairs, with vase in hand, a strange atmosphere settled in the shop, and it was comin’ frae Fionn. There was an unusual shadow ae seriousness settled on his face, and this began tae unsettle me almost as much as the vase had. Eventually he mustered the courage tae speak, and announced that he had somethin’ tae ask me. I really hate it when someone tells ye they’re gonnae say something, especially when they act like its world ending. Just fuckin’ say it and stop tryin’ tae gee me an aneurysm.
He told me he’d noticed how depressed I’d been since Reid left, and although he knew I’d never admit it, scared. He pointed oot that he was in the shop all ae the time, almost as much as Reid had been, and the truth was that he loved the shop, loved bein’ a part ae the world it occupied. There was nowhere else in the world like it, he’d looked. So, why didn’t he become ma familiar?
I probably let the silence go on fae too long. I’d never seen Fionn look so sheepish. I needed tae ‘hink. Did I need a familiar? Did I want one? Reid had kindae come oot ae nowhere, I hadnae known whit that kindae bond would entail. In the end I’d needed him more than he’d ever needed me, and noo that he was gone, I was struggling. Fionn was offerin’. This wasnae a way oot ae some problems, or a deal made blindly, we both knew whit we were getting’ intae. He was right, Fionn was practically always in the shop, by choice.
I also thought tae the day’s events. Whit if that vase hadnae let me go? Or I hadnae fought ma way oot and been lyin’ unresponsive on the floor like Flora until someone found me? As much as I hateed it, I needed a guide. I checked wi Fionn that it was whit he really wanted. That there was no debt collectors after him this time. After a smile cracked his serious face, he confirmed there wasnae.
So I agreed, but on one condition. He told me whit he was. He gee me a toothy grin, eyes glintin’ wi a sharp mischievousness. A wyvern, he said. Well. Fuck.