Scots vocabulary
Bairns – children
Nutter – crazy person
Dobber – idiot/dickhead
Story
We had a full house for a change. Except I was somehow, inexplicably, still alone down in the shop. It’d started with a bet between my two familiars about the most recent item in storage that Fionn had become interested in. I didn’t really catch all of the details, but it ended with the two of them buggering off to storage, telling me to come and find them if they hadn’t come back in a few hours. Chronos, seeing where the conversation had been going, retreated to the peace and quiet of the Madam’s lap.
I began to clean, waiting eagerly for the next customer. When the bell echoed around the cavern, I whipped my eyes gleefully to the door, but felt my face drop slightly when I saw Flora. It must’ve been bad because she joked that I looked disappointed but reassured me that what she had to tell me was just as good as any customer’s tale.
I went to fetch the Madam and Chronos as Flora said she didn’t have time to sit for tea. She starts to tell us that for a few months she’s been tracking a rather strange item. The as yet unidentified object could, reportedly, grant wishes.
I glanced at Chronos. He looked at me, and if cats could narrow their eyes in contempt, he would’ve. It wasn’t long before I heard a “don’t ask ‘is it a lamp’” in my head.
As much as I don’t believe in the story of Aladdin, whichever version you want to use, it had to be based in some kind of reality. Given all of the items in the shop, there had to be more out there unaccounted for. Why wouldn’t one of those grant wishes?
Seems too good to be true. Almost like there’s a catch.
Flora noticed my face contort into scepticism, waiting for the sour grape. She let a smirk dance on her lips and said, yes, it wasn’t as simple as granting wishes. Just like in the darker versions of Aladdin and his lamp, this object did give the wisher what they wanted…technically.
You wished to be married? One drunken elopement to someone you’ve known for a few months and who’s actually been stealing from your bank account since day one; you can’t complain, you’re married, you got what you asked for.
You wished for bairns? You marry someone who has bairns, so you become a step-parent, but find out you’re infertile. You can’t complain, you have bairns, they’re just not yours by blood.
You wished for a promotion at work? It’s yours for the steep price of loathing for everyone you work with, especially those underneath you. They gossip about you, treat you like shite, and ostracise you whenever they have an opportunity. Your underlings don’t respect you, and your superiors think you’re a talking doormat. You can’t complain, you wanted a promotion.
Sounds great. Why was Flora looking for this thing? Speaking of; what was this non-lamp?
A button.
At least, Flora thought it was a button. She’d never laid eyes on it herself, and tracking it down was proving to be difficult, but she was fairly certain that it was a very old ivory button, dating to at least the 14th century, perhaps older.
The previous owner had been very careful not to broadcast it about that they were in possession of a wish granting button, so records of where it’d come from, and its centuries long journey, were on the thin side. However, the only reason Flora had heard about it recently was because the previous owner was dead, and their estate sold during an auction.
What’s the chance of this button being the only vicious thing this person owned? Why did I get the feeling that this was going to cause problems later down the line?
The new owner wasn’t so subtle, and according to Flora had been renting out the button to the highest bidder. For Christ’s sake, does everything have to make money these days? Understandably, the owner’s customers weren’t too happy about the way wishes were granted, but guess what? You got what you wanted in the end, so you can’t complain. I hope this person has their own estate in order because they’re not going to be long for this world with an attitude like that.
Flora wanted to tell the Madam so she could arrange to have this button moved into storage where it could do no harm. She evidently didn’t know about Fionn. The Madam nodded and Flora left after thanking us, and before any useful questions could be asked, like who was the new owner? Where could we find them?
Instead, I asked my boss with the faint hope that she’d have a divining rod of some kind that’d just lead me to the problem.
The rabbit will show you the way.
I’m always waiting for the punchline with my boss, and 2 years later I’m yet to hear one. Yet, there was something familiar about what she said. Hadn’t I followed a brown rabbit more than a few times in the past? One that no one else but me could see? How did she know, and what the fuck was that thing?
The wee man was my guide. A spirit of sorts, an extension of the deeper part of myself that was a lot smarter than I was, a secret sense that had been trying to guide me since day one. Understanding that I was dense, it had manifested itself as a rabbit to show me the way to things I needed to see or people I needed to find. The more I became in tune with my sense, the more I began to listen to it, the less I’d seen my wee cotton-tailed pal.
But I hadn’t bridged that gap enough to just begin walking and end up where I needed to be, so I’d once again have to follow my pal. Madam Norna motioned to the door and right enough, there it was waiting.
I’m glad no one could see that I wasn’t merely walking down the street aimlessly but following a mental projection of some vault deep in my mind that had limited access. No public transport was needed, although it was a long walk. We eventually came to a wee builder’s café that served fried everything and offered the option of putting sugar in your hot chocolate.
As I opened the door, my wee pal made a beeline straight for a young lad, who could’ve been no older than 25, sitting at a table. He looked at me when I came in, then away, evidently not who he was expecting. He obviously didn’t see my wee pal, who promptly disappeared now that it’s duty was done.
I take a seat further inside the café, facing the door so I can keep an eye on this lad. As much as I trusted my inner self, I wasn’t sure how useful it’d be to approach this lad immediately.
I ordered a full Scottish breakfast, because what’s a Thursday without second breakfast, and a coffee. I could only have taken my phone out for a few seconds, skimmed through the subject line of the latest email from uni, when I felt a familiar sensation, a familiar presence, like gas from a leaking pipe.
I glanced up and there she was, Madam Anora, sitting opposite me at this café. Before I could say anything one of the women who worked there delivered my plate of high cholesterol with bottles of brown and red sauce, placing it down between Anora and I.
The brief look of disgust on my company’s face is something I’ll treasure.
After sliding my plate towards me and picking up my fork, I commented that we’d been seeing a lot of each other lately. I didn’t mean it as a good thing.
She said nothing.
I asked her what she wanted? To give me more cryptic warnings?
Madam Anora wanted my help. To destroy Fate.
My food turned to ash in my mouth so suddenly I had to look down at my plate to confirm it hadn’t actually arrived as charcoal. What the fuck was this woman on? Noticing my revulsion at this statement she carried on.
Ever since I’d known her, Madam Anora had been trying to get out from beneath Fate’s control. She didn’t want to be a Madam anymore; she wanted her freedom. The very first time I’d met her in the shop she’d been coming to have a talk with my boss about this very thing, hoping to get her on side. This hadn’t worked as she planned, so her next idea was to get me, make a deal with an apprentice; for them to cease being an apprentice. This hadn’t worked either. She knew she couldn’t kill me. That was news to me, but apparently since I’m fated to become a Madam I can’t actually die until I fulfil that fate. Her next opportunity was agreeing to work with the academic that I put into a home last year, but again, I’d ruined that opportunity as well.
Seeing a trend, Madam Anora had decided to involve me directly with her plans.
What a fucking nutter. She’s proof that age doesn’t bring wisdom or even sense! Even if what she was trying to do were possible, why the fuck would I help someone who has tried to hurt my pals on multiple occasions, and has openly admitted to considering killing me? I blurted as much, but Anora had come prepared.
She reminded me of the time she had pointed Reid and I in a dying Fionn’s direction. Without her interference I wouldn’t have been able to make my deal with Death to save his life.
In all the chaos and heartbreak of the last few months I’d brushed this fact aside. How had she known where Fionn was and what had happened to him?
Turns out the dobber who’d killed Fionn in that alleyway had gone to Anora for a weapon strong enough to kill a wyvern, and being her twisted self, she’d supplied it. But she assured me that almost immediately afterwards she came to seek me out and tell me.
Before I could retaliate, she also slipped in a reminder that if it weren’t for her Whuppity Stoorie would still be roaming free, or worse, trapped in a prison that she didn’t deserve.
What a sly cow. Everything this woman does is calculated, everything she says borders on manipulation. But hadn’t I done the same thing with Whuppity? Spared her in exchange for a favour? I’ll admit, the realisation that I was more similar to Madam Anora than my boss still chills me.
I hated to acknowledge that Anora had a fucking point. If she hadn’t come to the shop the day Fionn died, we’d have been none the wiser. If she hadn’t cryptically warned me that there was more to Whuppity’s story than I knew, then it’d be her in the book and not the awful husband from the tale. I didn’t even have the moral high ground to stand on because it’s not like I’ve been an angel this last year.
Huffing irritably, I asked her what this grand plan of hers was, the one that would somehow defeat the being that lingered over our heads like a storm cloud.
*laughs* She didn’t even have one!
She had approached me, knowing how bloody fond I was of her, and what, just expected me to come up with a plan to clip the wings of, arguably, the most powerful being in the world? Me? Christ, what had this woman taken?
I was growing irritated by this point, given she’d distracted me from my job for no good reason. To spout wishes and ideals there was no way in hell of breaking. The Madams were as old as humanity itself, Fate ruling over them and everything else, yet this one Madam Anora was dissatisfied and wanted out, so she was going to take on Fate? I don’t think there’s been a Madam who wasn’t unhappy with her situation. I’m not even Madam and I’m not eager to take that mantle. This is the way the world works, everyone has a fate, and everyone must follow it, or dire consequences follow. Madam Anora may have no one she cares about, no one who’ll face the consequences for her mutiny, but I do, and she can fuck right off if she thinks I’m having anything to do with this.
I stood up, my chair scratching painfully on the tiled floor. I told her that there was a part of me that would love for Fate not to exist, to get out from underneath the burden that’s waiting for me, but that it was impossible. Only something as powerful as Fate could beat it, and currently, there was no such thing.
I stormed over to the lad. I hadn’t noticed, in the midst of my heated discussion, that he had a customer of his own. Before a package could be exchanged between the two, I swiped it from his hands. He went to stand up from his chair, but I dug my hand into his shoulder and drove him back into his seat with more force than I thought I possessed. I could feel the lulling hum through my veins and in my ears, a tingling through my entire body as though something wanted to get out, to hurt someone.
Digging my fingers deeper into his skin, watching his face contort with realisation that the button wasn’t the only strangely powerful thing in the world, I told him I was taking the wish fulfilling item before he could cause more harm, and walked out.
When I got back to the shop, I opened the small package, and Flora had been right, a small ivory button was wrapped inside. I picked it up, ran my fingers over the smooth surface, and wondered, briefly, if I wished for Fate to disappear would it work?
Thankfully, my inner sense and I were in agreement this time. I may be stupid, but I wasn’t that stupid.
Author’s notes: Fun Fact: I did actually visit a small café in Glasgow, like the one I described, and got offered sugar in my hot chocolate, which if you haven’t experienced it, is already like drinking sugar water.
Announcement of series ending: People might have started to notice that I’ve been tying up a few loose ends, and that is not unintentional. So episode 50 will be the final of the antique shop. I don’t really know if this is good or bad news, perhaps both to some. I feel like apologising, but also not. It’s a weird mix of emotions.
When I began the antique shop I intended to end it after 50 episodes, then at some point between episode 10 and 30 I thought I could get to 60, but the last year and a bit has shown me that I can’t. I’ve never been one of those writers who can prolong or stretch a story for longer than I intend. Let’s face it, stories that are very long, such as anime or manga, are loaded with filler. Which is fine when your world building, but there gets to a stage where you’ve built your world and then what do you write?
I decided after episode 40 that 50 was going to be my last. And I mean that with regards to podcasting in general. I am, I suppose, retiring? Going on indefinite hiatus might be a better word for it. I know I floated the idea of the monster jars last year, and whilst I still think that would be such a great project to work on, I want some time to work on something else. Since I released TMS I’ve essentially only written the podcasts. I was, and still am, mainly a novel writer, I have plenty of finished (and even more unfinished) novels on my various cloud drives, but I’ve hardly written or planned anything like that since I began podcasting, even though there has been ideas I’ve wanted to develop, I’ve never had the time to really dedicate to them because I was always planning podcasts. Last year I did begin to submit to literary agents, which went as badly as it usually does for unknown writers like myself. I was never that bothered, and I didn’t really have the time to dedicate to that torturous task, and going forwards I’d really like to take it on seriously.
The last 3.5 years have been so much fun, I’ve loved building this wee community of mine and hearing all of the lovely things you’ve said over the years. This was definitely a project of love for me, I never wanted to make a profit, my only goal was to break even, and I eventually did that through the very generous donations by all of my wonderful listeners. I am a storyteller, and I wanted to share my stories. I’ve said plenty of times in the past that I think fiction is a sacred door to escapism because that’s what it’s always been for me, a safe haven from the trials of life, and I really wanted to give people that space with the podcasts, and I feel like I’ve done that. It’s not every day that someone can say they’ve accomplished all they wanted to from something they’ve done, but I pretty much can. Having said that I was hoping getting published would be slightly easier, but I’m very much ok with being a bit optimistic on that front.
It has started to feel like I’m going away as the podcast is just growing bigger and bigger. Every episode gets more downloads, the podcast feels like it’s gaining traction (through no effort from me, I’m really bad at advertising it), but I don’t want more attention and downloads at the expense of the story. I think that’s a huge problem these days, people cashing in on their success and ruining the legacy of whatever they’ve made a sequel to or prequel to. Star Wars is probably a good example, but I feel like a few podcasts over the last few years have done the same thing. I’m not trying to throw shade, but as a podcaster it’s been fascinating to watch the evolution of those that came before me.
I feel like TAS has run its course, and if it were to go on any longer I feel like it’d lose a lot of its soul and personality. So, a very big announcement. Episode 50 will be the final episode of TAS.
Scots-ish language version
We had a full hoose fae a change. Except I was somehow, inexplicably, still alone doon in the shop. It’d started wi’ a bet between ma two familiars aboot the most recent item in storage that Fionn had become interested in. I didnae really catch all ae the details, but it ended wi’ the two ae them buggering aff tae storage, tellin me tae come and find them if they hadnae come back in a few hours. Chronos, seein’ where the conversation had been goin’, retreated tae the peace and quiet ae the Madam’s lap.
I began tae clean, waitin’ eagerly fae the next customer. When the bell echoed roond the cavern, I whipped ma eyes gleefully tae the door, but felt ma face drop slightly when I saw Flora. It mustae been bad because she joked that I looked disappointed, but reassured me that whit she had tae tell me was just as good as any customer’s tale.
I went tae fetch the Madam and Chronos as Flora said she didnae have time tae sit fae tea. She starts tae tell us that fae a few months she’s been trackin’ a rather strange item. The as yet unidentified object could, reportedly, grant wishes.
I glanced at Chronos. He looked at me, and if cats could narrow their eyes in contempt, he wouldae. It wasnae long before I heard a “don’t say is it a lamp,” in ma heid.
As much as I dinnae believe in the story ae Aladdin, whichever version ye want tae use, it had tae be based in some kind ae reality. Given all ae the items in the shop, there had tae be more oot there, unaccounted for. Why wouldnae one ae those grant wishes?
Seems too good tae be true. Almost like there’s a catch.
Flora noticed ma face contort intae skepticisim, waitin’ fae the sour grape. She let a smirk dance on her lips and said, yes, it wasnae as simple as grantin’ wishes. Just like in the darker versions ae Aladdin and his lamp, this object did give the wisher whit they wanted…technically.
You wished tae be married? One drunken elopement tae someone ye’ve known fae a few months and who’s actually been stealin’ fae your bank account since day one , ye cannae complain, you’re married, ye got whit ye asked fae.
Ye wished fae bairns? You marry someone who has bairns, so you become a step-parent, but find oot you’re infertile. Ye cannae complain, ye have bairns, they’re just no yours by blood.
Ye wished fae a promotion at work? It’s yours fae the steep price ae loathing fae everyone ye work wi’, especially those underneath ye. They gossip aboot ye, treat ye like shite, and ostracise ye whenever they have an opportunity. Your underlings dinnae respect ye, and your superiors think you’re a talking doormat. Ye cannae complain, ye wanted a promotion.
Sounds great. Why was Flora lookin’ fae this thing? Speaking of, whit was this non-lamp?
A button.
At least, Flora thought it was a button. She’d never laid eyes on it herself, and trackin’ it doon was provin’ tae be difficult, but she was fairly certain that it was a very old ivory button, datin’ tae at least the 14th century, perhaps older.
The previous owner had been very careful no’ tae broadcast it aboot that they were in possession ae a wish granting button, so records ae where it’d come fae, and its centuries long journey were on the thin side. However, the only reason Flora had heard aboot it recently was because the previous owner was deid, and their estate sold durin’ an auction.
Whit’s the chance ae this button bein’ the only vicious ‘hing this person owned? Why did I get the feelin’ that was gonnae cause problems later doon the line?
The new owner wasnae so subtle, and accordin’ tae Flora had been rentin’ oot the button tae the highest bidder. Fae Christ’s sake, does everythin’ have tae make money these days? Understandably, the owner’s customers werenae too happy aboot the way wishes were granted, but guess whit? Ye got whit ye wanted in the end, so ye cannae complain. I hope this person has their own estate in order because they’re no gonnae be long fae this world wi’ an attitude like that.
Flora wanted tae tell the Madam so she could arrange tae have this button moved intae storage where it could do no harm. She evidently didnae know aboot Fionn. The Madam nodded and Flora left after thankin’ us, and before any useful questions could be asked, like who was the new owner? Where could we find them?
Instead I asked ma boss wi’ the faint hope that she’d have a divining rod ae some kind that’d just lead me tae the problem.
The rabbit will show you the way.
I’m always waitin’ fae the punchline wi ma boss, and 2 years later I’m yet tae hear one. Yet there was somethin’ familiar aboot whit she said. Hadnae I followed a brown rabbit more than a few times in the past? One that no one else but me could see? How did she know, and whit the fuck was that thing?
The wee man was ma guide. A spirit ae sorts, an extension ae the deeper part ae maself that was a lot smarter than I was, a secret sense that had been tryin’ tae guide me since day one. Understandin’ that I was dense, it had manifested itself as a rabbit tae show me the way tae things I needed tae see, or people I needed tae find. The more I became in tune wi’ ma sense, the more I began tae listen tae it, the less I’d seen ma wee cotton-tailed pal.
But I hadnae bridged that gap enough tae just begin walkin’ and end up where I needed tae be, so I’d once again have tae follow ma pal. Madam Norna motioned tae the door and right enough, there it was waitin’.
I’m glad no one could see that I wasnae merely walkin’ doon the street aimlessly, but followin’ a mental projection ae some vault deep in ma mind that had limited access. No public transport was needed, although it was a long walk. We eventually came tae a wee builder’s café that served fried everything and offered the option ae putting sugar in your hot chocolate.
As I opened the door, my wee pal made a beeline straight fae a young lad, who couldae been no older than 25, sittin’ at a table. He looked at me when I came in, then away, evidently no who he was expectin’. He obviously didnae see ma wee pal, who promptly disappeared noo that it’s duty was done.
I take a seat further inside the café, facin’ the door, so I can keep an eye on this lad. As much as I trusted ma inner self, I wasnae sure how useful it’d be tae approach this lad immediately.
I ordered a full Scottish breakfast, because whit’s a Thursday withoot second breakfast, and a coffee. I could only have taken ma phone oot fae a few seconds, skimmed through the subject line ae the latest email fae uni, when I felt a familiar sensation, a familiar presence, like gas fae a leakin’ pipe.
I glanced up and there she was, Madam Anora, sittin’ opposite me at this café. Before I could say anythin’ one ae the women who worked there delivered ma plate ae high cholesterol wi’ bottles ae brown and red sauce, placin’ it doon between Anora and I.
The brief look ae disgust on ma company’s face is somethin’ I’ll treasure.
After slidin ma plate towards me and pickin’ up ma fork, I commented that we’d been seein’ a lot ae each other lately. I didnae mean it as a good thing. She said nothing. I asked her whit she wanted? Tae give me more cryptic warnings?
Madam Anora wanted ma help. Tae destroy Fate.
Ma food turned tae ash in ma mouth so suddenly I had tae look doon at ma plate tae confirm it hadnae actually arrived as charcoal. Whit the fuck was this woman on? Noticin’ ma revulsion at this statement she carried on.
Ever since I’d known her, Madam Anora had been tryin’ tae get oot fae beneath Fate’s control. She didnae want tae be a Madam anymore, she wanted her freedom. The very first time I’d met her in the shop she’d been comin’ tae have a talk wi’ ma boss aboot this very thing, hopin’ tae get her on side. This hadnae worked as she planned, so her next idea was tae get me, make a deal wi’ an apprentice fae them tae cease bein’ an apprentice. This hadnae worked either. She knew she couldnae kill me. That was news tae me, but apparently since I’m fated tae become a Madam I cannae actually die until I fulfil that fate. Her next opportunity was agreein’ tae work wi’ the academic that I put intae a home last year, but again, I’d ruined that opportunity as well.
Seein’ a trend, Madam Anora had decided tae involve me directly wi’ her plans.
Whit a fuckin’ nutter. She’s proof that age doesnae bring wisdom, or even sense! Even if whit she was tryin’ tae do were possible, why the fuck would I help someone who has tried tae hurt ma pals on multiple occasions, and has openly admitted tae considering killing me? I blurted as much, but Anora had come prepared.
She reminded me ae the time she had pointed Reid and I in a dyin’ Fionn’s direction. Withoot her interference I wouldnae have been able tae make ma deal wi’ Death tae save his life.
In all the chaos and heartbreak ae the last few months I’d brushed this fact aside. How had she known where Fionn was and whit had happened tae him?
Turns oot the dobber who’d killed Fionn in that alleyway had gone tae Anora fae a weapon strong enough tae kill a wyvern, and bein her twisted self she’d supplied it. but she assured me that almost immediately afterwards she came to seek me out and tell me.
Before I could retaliate she also slipped in a reminder that if it werenae fae her Whuppity Stoorie would still be roamin’ free, or worse, trapped in a prison that she didnae deserve.
What a sly cow. Everythin’ this woman does is calculated, everythin’ she says borders on manipulation. But hadnae I done the same thing wi’ Whuppity? Spared her in exchange fae a favour? I’ll admit, the realisation that I was more similar tae Madam Anora than ma boss still chills me.
I hated tae acknowledge that Anora had a fuckin’ point. If she hadnae come tae the shop the day Fionn died, we’d have been none the wiser. If she hadnae cryptically warned me that there was more tae Whuppity’s story than I knew, then it’d be her in the book and no the awful husband fae the tale. I didnae even have the moral high ground tae stand on because it’s no like I’ve been an angel this last year.
Huffing irritably, I asked her whit this grand plan ae hers was, the one that would somehow defeat the being that lingered over our heads like a storm cloud.
*laughs* she didnae even have one!
She had approached me, knowin’ how bloody fond I was ae her, and whit, just expected me tae come up wi a plan tae clip the wings ae arguably the most powerful bein’ in the world? Me? Christ, whit had this woman taken?
I was growin’ irritated by this point, given she’d distracted me fae ma job fae no good reason. Tae spout wishes and ideals there was no way in hell ae breakin. The Madams were as old as humanity itself, Fate ruling over them and everything else, yet this one Madam Anora was dissatisfied and wanted out, so she was gonnae take on Fate? I dinnae think there’s been a Madam who wasnae unhappy wi’ her situation. I’m no even Madam and I’m no that eager tae take that mantle. This is the way the world works, everyone has a fate, and everyone must follow it or dire consequences follow. Madam Anora may have no one she cares aboot, no one who’ll face the consequences fae her mutiny, but I do, and she can fuck right aff if she thinks I’m havin’ anythin’ tae do wi’ this.
I stood up, ma chair scratching’ painfully on the tiled floor. I told her that there was a part ae me that would love fae Fate no tae exist, tae get oot fae underneath the burden that’s waitin’ fae me, but that it was impossible. Only somethin’ as powerful as Fate could beat it, and currently, there was no such thing.
I stormed over tae the lad. I hadnae noticed, in the midst ae ma heated discussion, that he had a customer ae his own. Before a package could be exchanged between the two I swiped it fae his hands. He went tae stand up fae his chair but I dug ma hand intae his shoulder and drove him back intae his seat wi’ more force than I thought I possessed. I could feel the lullin’ hum through ma veins and in ma ears, a tinglin’ through ma entire body as though somethin’ wanted tae get oot, tae hurt someone.
Diggin’ ma fingers deeper intae his skin, watchin’ his face contort wi’ realisation that the button wasnae the only strangely powerful thing in the world, I told him I was takin’ the wish fulfilling item before he could cause more harm, and walked oot.
When I got back tae the shop I opened up the small package, and Flora had been right, a small ivory button was wrapped inside. I picked it up, ran ma fingers over the smooth surface, and wondered, briefly, if I wished fae fate tae disappear would it work?
Thankfully, ma inner sense and I were in agreement this time. I may be stupid, but I wasnae that stupid.