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 |  Collection of 31 short-short stories and some micro fiction. Easy to review. |
Continuation of "The Cup, The Saucer, and the Son"  Ballard fretted, hoping Adeline would return with the cup and saucer. His white Persian cat lay along one counter in his store, bathing in the sunlight. As was his habit, Ballard spoke out loud to himself and pretended Paws listened. "Did she see my expression when I looked at the bottom of the saucer?" Ballard clasped his hands together and paced the creaky floor. The few customers who dropped by got precious little attention. For Ballard, the shoppers distracted him from brooding. At noon, he hustled a dawdling woman out the door. "Thank you, Miss Dee, for honoring me with your presence," Ballard said as he escorted the woman to the door with a gentle hand on her back. "My pleasure, Ballard, but I wanted to spend more time poking around." "I appreciate that, but today I'm taking an inventory." Ballard circled his finger to indicate the vastness of the items. "Can you imagine trying to take stock of this place?" "No, I—" "Have a nice day, Miss Dee." The second she cleared the threshold, Ballard closed and locked the door. For good measure, he flipped the sign to 'closed'. Books, behind the curtain closing off the back of the shop, leaned in precarious piles. Ballard ran his fingers up and down the various stacks, on the hunt for the one book that would confirm his suspicions. All the books stuck out in odd positions, but, halfway through the last column, one called to him. Forty-five minutes later, Ballard extracted the tome. He blew a layer of dust off the leather cover. The ancient pages threatened to disintegrate at his touch, which slowed his process. "Patience, old man, patience." With only a few pages left to study, Ballard's mood plummeted. "How could I have been wrong?" He turned the remaining pages over. At the last one, he gasped at the drawing. A knock on the door interrupted his moment of revelation. He ignored it, but the customer persisted, practically pounding on the door. A chill of premonition ran through him. "What if it's her?" Ballard's cane rapped on the floor as he made his slow process from the depths of the shop to the door. He peeked through the window and grinned. "Come in, Adeline," he said, trying not to ogle her body, while looking for a package containing the object of his desire. "How can I help you?" "I know you're hoping to see the cup and saucer again, but I wanted to do a little background check in regards to the inscription. Do you have the book"—Adeline shuffled through her purse and pulled out a slip of pink paper.—"Here it is. The book's title is Revealing the Mysteries of Lost Objects. Volume 2. The hope in her eyes and smile almost changed his mind. Almost. "No, I'm sorry. I've never heard of a book by that title." His arm spasmed. "Do you know when it was published? Or the publishing house?" Adeline pulled a few loose threads from her red coat. "I didn't find much information while researching the internet." She frowned and flipped over the paper. "Um, the book was printed in 1875." She bit her lip. "I thought for sure you'd have the book. Did you look through the stacks?" "Stacks?" How does she know about my purloined stash? Ballard's arm twitched, which happened when he knew he was wronging someone. My books, practically stolen when he down-played the value to a seller. Others, surreptitiously hidden beneath loose garments, acquired from his friends. "You're wondering how I know what's behind that curtain?" Throat dry, Ballard said, "Yes. I am curious." "I've shopped here for years. Not on purpose, but by chance, I've seen you push aside that tattered green curtain." She gestured to the back of the store. "I'm a tactile person. Is it made of silk or velvet?" Adeline edged past Ballard. "If I could touch it"— "No," Ballard shouted and then tempered his voice. "I mean to say no one is allowed back there." He moved so his cane was blocking Adeline's progress. The intent in his eyes clear, Adeline headed back towards the shop's door. "No worries, Ballard. I found Volume 1 among my aunt's books. I wanted to see if the china appeared in the second addition." Brows furrowed, Ballard tried to recall if he'd seen Volume 2 on the tome, or not, but failed. Could she be lying? Paws chose that moment to leap from his perch and meander around. Ballard hobbled over to the cat, scolding it, although it had never broken anything. "Oh, no. I've given Adeline a clear path to the back. You little vixen, Paws. Did you conspire with her?" He thumped back to where he left Adeline. His knees weakened with relief. She stared up at him, innocent and calm. "Paws break anything?" she asked. "You should now better than to go chasing after that cat, Ballard. You're an old geezer, now. You might have stumbled." Adrenaline flooded his blood. "What made you say that? You're hoping I topple over so you can inherit the store?" Ballard, don't be ridiculous. I'm not in a rush to own your shop." "My mind must be going," he apologized. Adeline smirked and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You best watch your step, old geezer, now that you've read the inscription on the saucer." His mouth fell open to object. "I . . . "—His arm twitched. "Don't lie," Adeline cautioned. "It will only make things worse for you." She sauntered back out, leaving Ballard pumped with fearful questions. "Wait!" he called out. But Adeline was already in her car, driving away. Ballard shuffled across the shop and disappeared behind the drape. The book still lay where he left it. After adjusting his reading glasses, he held his place in the tome with one finger and peered at the title. Though the light was feeble in the private room, he could make out the fading lettering along the spine. No indication which volume he possessed. Adeline's such a sweet woman. What would drive her to lying? He brushed aside all unrelated thoughts and scrutinized the picture. The words accompanying the picture were ineligible. But someone had scrawled a translation. Ballard's heart thumped as he read. "The one true possessor must be of a woman of Weatherspoon lineage." He sucked in his breath, ignoring the spasm in his chest. "Beware false owners." Ballard gripped the back of his chair and dragged it over to the counter where the book lay. He plopped down in the seat and wiped his brow. "What is Adeline's last name?" He pondered for a few moments, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the page. Try as he might, he couldn't remember the woman's last name. He shrugged it off. "It's probably not the same china set as in the book, anyway." He looked at the last line of the text. A wizard of vast powers cursed the cup and saucer. Vigilance to any who handle this artifact with avarice or greed. Should it be damaged in any way, the curse is released. Ballard sat back in his chair and laughed. "A wizard, by God." He guffawed, unconsciously bringing his hand to his chest. "Someone had a sense of humor. Who would believe this obviously inaccurate translation?" A sound of crashing alarmed him. "Paws, if you broke one thing"—Ballard wobbled back to the shop but stopped near his desk. "No, no, no." Objects seemed to be flying off the counters. And not randomly. Objects were drawn to other objects, each collision rendering both objects unrecognizable. A jade ashtray flew his way, and before he had time to duck, the ashtray opened a gash on his head. Ballard gasped. "I never liked that artifact." Statue-still, he watched the destruction. A leaded paperweight hammered him in the back and fell on the floor. Disbelief turned to horror. "Another artifact I never liked." Glass chandeliers plunged one by one in a deafening crescendo. Ballard faltered and stumbled, seeking safety behind his curtain. "Surely my beloved books will shelter me from this catastrophe." He encountered a whirlwind of tomes. The old geezer fell to the floor and covered his head. "No more," he cried. "I believe in wizards and apologize for coveting the saucer." Books slammed on top of him, their weight crushing his bones, until he drew his last breath. |
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