The Silver Brush

word count 2,424





Tabatha threw the napkin on the table. “I have had enough!” her voice was low, mindful of the other restaurant patrons. “Diane, you don’t seem to care about our friendship. You find fault in everything I try to do to help you. If you don’t want me around anymore that is fine with me.” She stood and wove her way through the tables and out the door; leaving Diane to pay the bill.

As she walked down the street, the conversation turned over in Tabatha's mind and she was oblivious of the window displays she usually noticed.

A coat stand with a beautiful black cloak, lined with red satin and a floppy brimmed hat; caught her attention. It was just outside an open door. She looked up at the sign that read; The Curiosity Shoppe, Alice, Entrepreneur. There was no continuing she had to enter.

Inside the shop the unique aroma intrigued her. She couldn’t put a finger on the exact scent; but it was pleasant. She had not seen this store before. This part of town was made up of small storefront businesses that catered to the eclectic taste. How had she missed this one before?

The items in this store appealed to her sense of adventure. There was a steamer trunk that begged to be opened. When she did, it was full of personal items, as if transported directly from a ship's hold. A bird was singing inside a cage shaped like a house; its tune was somewhat familiar.

“Good afternoon. I hope you are having a pleasant day.” The woman standing before her wore a beautiful traveling dress from the early 1900’s. The creamy background with the tiny navy stripe was accented by the navy lapel, collar and cuff of the matching jacket. Her hat was navy and she looked, to Tabatha, ready to leave on a cruise.

“It seems better at this moment. I was feeling a bit upset, but stepping into your shop I feel,” she paused. “Not peaceful but, content is the word.”

The woman smiled. “You have come to the right place. My name is Alice and this is my cat.” Tabatha felt the animal rub against her leg and her anger from the earlier conversation drained away. The cat moved to Alice, and with a jump, she was in Alice’s arms. “Come, I think I know just the gift you need.”

“Oh, I didn’t come here to buy anything. I was just-“

“I know my dear, but you need to give this to your friend. It is something that she will come to appreciate.” Alice moved along the rows of wonderful dishware. Tabatha started to pick up a cup decorated with ivy that formed the handle. “Don’t touch that!” Alice ordered.

Tabatha drew her hand back quickly and looked up. Alice smiled. “Not everything in my shop is meant to be handled. They are unique pieces and meant for a special person. Just as I have found for you. Here it is.” The cat jumped out of her arms on to the table and sat next to an ornately carved box.

Alice opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver hairbrush. It was nestled in a bed of fine blue satin, the color of royalty.

“Oh, that is beautiful.” Immediately her mind was filled with the picture of Diane seated at her dressing table, brushing her hair and admiring herself in the mirror. There would be no gifts to her former friend anymore.

“I think you need to reconsider, this is a special brush that would mean something to the very person you thought of.” Alice shut the lid and pressed the ornate lock. The scent that had been so light before was almost overpowering her. She followed Alice to the antique register. The cat walked along the counter and rubbed against her arm. Tabatha had no resistance to the impulse that caused her to open her purse and take out her credit card.

Alice smiled and turned her back to Tabatha. She put the silver box into another ornately decorated fiber box. It was then tied with a beautiful ribbon and placed in a colorful bag with matching tissue paper.

“There you are my dear, take this to your friend. I am sure that when she has used your gift, you will find she is changed.”

Tabatha frowned. “Do you think so? At one time we enjoyed the same things and had so much in common. When she married, she began to change. She began to concentrate on her looks and what she could buy.”

Alice patted her hand as she reached for the handle of the bag. “You just give this to her. I am sure you will be hearing from a changed person when she calls you.”

The scent from the shop followed Tabatha as she went out and turned toward the parking lot. It filled the car as she arrieved at Diane's house, not knowing woh ro why she came to be there She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Tabatha left the gift with Diane’s houseman and drove home. She felt very tired. The argument and the overpowering scent from the shop had given her a slight headache. Even though it was still early, she curled up on her bed and slept.

She woke the next morning to the phone ringing. “Hello?” her voice hoarse from sleep.

“Tabatha, how could you? You have to come here right away!” It was Diane’s crying, frantic voice.

“What is wrong?”

“Just get here as fast as you can.” There was a long wail and the phone went dead.

Donald, the houseman let Tabatha in and pointed up. Crying was heard throughout the hallways.

Tabatha pushed Diane’s bedroom door open. There she sat at her dressing table. The silver brush in hand and she was brushing her hair, or what was left of it. Her long blond hair lay in a pile on the floor around her.

“I can’t stop brushing,” Diane wailed.

Appalled Tabatha reached for Diane's hand and tried to make it stop brushing. It was as if it were controlled by something. The repeated brushing continued.

“Where is Phil?” Tabatha asked about Diane's husband.

“He is out of town for a few weeks. Tabatha, what is happening to me? Why can’t I stop brushing my hair? It is all falling out.”

Tabatha found the ornate bag on the floor, the tissue was ripped where Diane had pulled it from its nest. There was no address or name of the shop on the bag. She looked at the box Alice had placed the silver box in; it had nothing but decorations on it.

“I will go back to where I bought it and see if I can find out how to make it stop.” In horror and compassion, Tabatha drove to the street where the shop was. It was there, but everything was dark inside. The door was locked. She knocked on the glass and knocked on the door, but there was no movement inside. There was a tinkling sound above her head and she looked up to see an old door pull with a gold tassel hanging. She pulled the tasseled cord. A bell rang far away, as if in another place.

She waited for a moment and pulled again, harder and more urgent, this time there was a rustling and Alice walked toward the door and opened it.

“You have come to find how to reverse the spell of the silver brush.” She turned and walked away.

Tabatha followed close behind her. “What happened? Is she cursed?”

“In a way. The things that became important to her cursed your friendship. One of those things was her beauty which she spent a fortune to enhance and keep. She thought nothing of your situation or what she could do to help those less fortunate than herself. Now she is paying for that.”

“But I caused it.” Tabatha was horrified at what was happening to her best friend. Diane may have needed an attitude adjustment, but she didn't deserved this degree of punishment.

“No, my dear, she could have returned the gift, left it as a thing of beauty to be observed, had it appraised and sold, giving the proceeds to the poor. But her selfishness overcame her."

“What does she have to do to stop all this?”

“Contrition. She must ask forgiveness from you and have a change of heart. She will need to see the error of her ways and want to change. When she does that the brushing will stop.” Alice ran her hand over the back of the cat. It arched into her palm as it moved along the cat's back and over the tail.

“That is all? She just has to ask forgiveness?”

Alice gave a chuckle. “It is harder for her than you think. She must really mean it. The brush will know when that moment comes.”

Tabatha was worried as she left the shop, she started down the street and then turned back to ask Alice a question. The shop was not there. Standing on the sidewalk, it was as if the shops on either side had moved together eliminating Alice’s Curiosity Shoppe. There was no going back; she had to get to Diane.

When she entered Diane’s dressing room she hesitated and wondered what she was going to tell her friend.

“Did you find her?” Diane’s arm was still in movement, brushing the few patches of hair left. The rough bristles had left red marks on her scalp. She was almost bald. “What did she say? I have to get a wig; I cannot be seen like this. It is all your fault, how could you do this?” Diane began to berate Tabatha.

The brushing picked up in intensity, the bristles dug into Diane’s scalp, and bubbles of blood began to appear. Worried, Tabatha sat next to her friend, “Diane, the only way this will stop is for you to say you are sorry for the way you have treated me and others; to be really sorry.”

“What?! Sorry for what? I haven’t done anything wrong. This is your fault. You sent me cursed brush! Ow, ouch, this is hurting me.” She cried and reached her hand to the back of her head. When she brought it down to look at it, her palm was streaked with blood. She began to cry harder.

“Diane, listen to me," Tabatha was frantic, “We have been friends since high school. After you married Phil and he was promoted to CEO, you changed. You began to act differently.”

“What are you talking about?” Diane was sobbing, holding a towel to her bleeding scalp with one hand while the other held the brush that continued to stroke her scalp.

“You became obsessed with your looks, had implants, plastic surgery, hair plugs, skin peals and I don’t know what else. I tried to tell you that all this was not the Diane I knew. We volunteered at the shelter for abused women, but you couldn’t be seen there, you just wrote a check for them. We used to do the Walk for the Cure, but you only went when you wore these cute pink outfits and then when you were left behind because you were out of shape, you quit. Every time I make an appointment to meet you for lunch, all you talk about is your latest improvement or where you have traveled. When the conversation turned to me, you make excuses and leave.” Tears flowed from Tabatha’s eyes as she watched her friend suffering from the brushing.

Diane stared at the mirror for a long time and then at Tabatha who was holding her hand.

“I am a bitch.” Tears filled Diane’s eyes. “I have been totally engrossed with myself.” She dabbed her eyes with the blood speckled towel. “When I married Phil and he was promoted, I felt inadequate; that I wasn’t good enough to associate with the other wives. I had to look as good as or better than they did. They told me all the things their doctors could do to improve me. They even gave me the number of a woman who would show me how to dress appropriately. I felt ugly, unacceptable and I had to do all these things to be included in their group.” The tears were flowing down Diane’s cheeks.

Tabatha noticed that the brushing was slowing. “How do you feel about me?”

There was a long pause. Tabatha could see the war going on in Diane’s mind. There was anger because of the brush and its curse, but there was love pushing strongly to overcome.

“You did buy me this awful brush,” She accused.

“I didn’t know it was cursed. I was in this shop and was compelled to buy it. I think I was under some kind of spell.” Tabatha whispered, “Maybe it was a chance to save you.”

“Save me from what?!” Diane shouted, “I was happy the way I was.” The speed of the brush picked up.

“Are you really? Are you and Phil happy together the way you were when you were first married?” Tabatha’s voice was still low.

“No! I'm not happy, and Phil and I argue all the time.” The words burst out of her like a geyser. “Oh, Tabatha, I am sorry for the way I have treated you.” Diane cried and the brushing slowed again. “I want us to be friends like we were before. To do the things I though were important. I want Phil and I to be happy like we were when we were first married.” The brush lay limp on her lap. "I really am sorry." Diane was sobbing in true contrition.

Tabatha reached out and hugged her friend. The brush fell to the floor unheeded.



A year later, Tabatha and Diane walked down the sidewalk from their lunch. “This is where Alice’s Curiosity Shoppe was.” Tabatha pointed and then stopped. The shop was there. She looked at the shops on either side and they were the same. There was the coat stand and the sign over the door.

“Let’s go in, I would love to see what is in there.” She started to the doorway.

“No, believe me you do not want to go in there.” Tabatha took Diane’s arm and steered her down the street. She caught a whiff of the shop’s scent and began to walk faster until they were far away.