Mabel’s Worlds Antiquities

Outside, the sky was gray and cloudy, a drizzle pelted his windshield in a chaotic rhythm, and lightning would flash off in the distance every so often. Porter had been sitting in his car for some time, lifelessly staring out across the street at an old shop in an old building on a strip of old and deserted shops & buildings. It was the only one that looked taken care of: The windows were clean, the signs looked recently painted, and faux flowers sat in a vase on the windowsill beside an old wooden two holes for eyes and a straight line opening for the mouth. ‘Mabel’s Worlds Antiquities, ’ it said above the door. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door and step out. It felt like if he did, all the sadness from the outside would mix with sadness within and drown him. 

His attention was finally grabbed by the movement of the curtains within the shop. It had been over a year since anyone had been in the shop. His family visited every now and then to keep the outside in shape, but no one had the heart to step inside, not without Mabel. 

A flash came from behind the curtain. Porter flinched as if lightning had struck right in front of him. His shock shortly turned into anger. Some unfortunate wanderer had chosen the wrong place and time to rest. He popped open his trunk and exited his car to grab a wooden bat. The rain started to pick up and the sky darker, but he was too angry and focused to notice his black suit was soaked, and he could barely open his eyes. 

He jogged across the street, ignoring safety, and frantically tried to unlock the door. Even with the awning shielding, he struggled to grasp the key. Dropping it once before he could finally get it into the lock. If there were any trespassers inside, they were definitely alerted.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Ported said after bursting through the door, the bat resting on his right shoulder, ready to hit a home run with somebodies noggin. “You can either escape out the back or face my bat. You choose,” He cringed a little in shock from the words he had just uttered, but fear and anxiety quickly overtook the feeling.

He heard objects falling, which he attributed to the door’s force hitting the wall, but nothing else. No voices or people scrambling out of the shadows, running for their lives. He scanned the room, but it was too dark to see anything out of the reach of the light flooding in through the doorway behind, which wasn’t much. 

Even in the dim light, he could see the outline of the exotic paintings hanging in the back, the masks from different eras displayed on the left, and the isles of random objects on the right: toys, dolls, artifacts, etc. Randomly organized with no clear organization. It was like a jewelry store went to war with a pawnshop, and they both lost. Only Mabel could make sense of it, but nothing in a place felt out of place.

He flipped the light switch by the door a couple of times, but nothing happened. He wasn’t sure if the power was out or if there was none, to begin with. He opened the curtains to let in the little light the sky allowed to slip past the cloud. The room became somewhat visible.

Cautiously and slowly, Porter started making his way to the back. Sticking to the open area near the masks to keep the view of the entire shop in front of him. The deeper he entered the store, the more eerie the room felt. The hairs on his neck and arms began to rise. It felt like he was being watched. Like he was on stage in a crowded theater wearing nothing but underwear (or Like a zoo animal). Yet, Besides the rain hitting the windows and the occasional roar of thunder, the room was silent, and the air was still. 

He was so focused on his surroundings he didn't watch his steps and tripped over an object on the ground, falling over. He thought he heard a quiet but high-pitched giggle next to him, but there were only masks. When he sat up, he saw that it was an old funky-looking camera he tripped over. One with a large dish and bulb attached to the side for a flash, but the body was strange. 

The storm must have shaken the camera loose out of its place, and when it fell, it let out a flash, he thought. Never mind that the camera was on the wrong side of the room, away from where the other random items were. He didn’t want to ask too many questions, and the thought made him feel at ease, and he wanted to feel silly and go back on his way. 

The excitement started to subside, and Porter remembered how sad of a day it was. He took the camera back over to where he thought it belonged, sitting it next to some books in an unrecognizable language and what he could only assume was a child’s toy. The mystery of the origin of all these things kept him excited to explore as a child. When asked Mabel where she gets them, she would just say, “They all found me!” and that was that. To this day, he never found out their origins.

  As long as Porter had been alive, he had known Mabel to be lively and bright. Everyone loved her, and more than anything, she loved this shop. She spent her final days bedridden in the hospital, and it was as if the heartbreak she felt being away from this place was contagious. Everyone felt it, and Porter the most. Her final request was to spend her last moments in the shop, but she didn’t make the distance. 

Before being hospitalized, Mabel told Porter that if she could not make it back, she wanted him to tell her friends at the shop it was time to go home. Porter thought it was just crazy talk then. Mabel had always worked alone. Now, he still thinks it’s crazy talk, but he understands. Without Mabel, this little world of mystery wasn’t work exploring. It should all just go away.

“It’s time for all of you to go a—“

“Hi, I’m Khaedavira! Will you be my friend?” a child-like voice interrupted, startling Porter. It came from the back of the shop and sounded almost robotic but more like a person trying to sound robotic.

A breeze flowed through the shop, and he sensed that the atmosphere in the shop had changed.

Porter rushed to the back. It was almost too dark to see anything but enough light to navigate. A red dot glowed across the room. He could make out the outline of a small figure sitting on a platform behind the counter in the corner.

“Will you be my friend?” It said again as lightning bolts flashed from behind, momentarily revealing the figure.

It was a doll encased in a glass box. One he has never seen before. Oddly designed for what was seemingly a child toy asking to be friends. Its long blond hair flowed down to cover the bed of the platform. The right eye was big and blue with long blond eyelashes, and the left had a red eye patch embroidered with a bird too small to recognize. It wore a black and red lace nightgown with a small sword resting across its lap with one hand on the hilt. The way the flashes reflected off the sword indicated that it wasn’t just a plastic prop but more of an actual dagger.

Intrigued, Porter moved closer to the doll, and it became clearer and more visible. 

“Hug me! Be my friend,” it said, drawing Porter closer. The doll didn’t move its mouth or bat an eye as it repeated itself, “Hug me! Be my friend,” increasing in frequency until Porter stood before it. 

He put his hands on both sides of the glass box, preparing to lift.

“Release M——“

“No!” a crowded outcry burst from behind, prompting Porter to turn around. Simultaneously, a loud scream came from the doll, no longer the robotic child-like voice from before but the voice of an angry adult woman, loud enough for him to cover his ears. And, lighting once again striking, the burst revealing a crowded room of shadowy figures standing before him. Present in the flashes and gone in the dark.

In an instant, it all stopped. The lights in the room turned on, and Porter released his ears to silence. He scanned the room and turned around to look at the doll sitting peacefully in his case. It was almost like he had entered another world and was now back in the familiar shop where he had spent so much of his childhood, but the chills remained.

“You must not release her!” a quiet female voice came from one of the paintings around the doll.

“She must not be released!” a stern elderly male voice came from the wall of masks.

“Evil” came from the front door.

“Stop” from the aisles of random objects.

Then it was as if the room itself became animated. The faces of the masks were moving as they spoke and made conversation, the people in the paintings and pictures were doing various things, the jewelry was shaking, and the items on the shelves were hopping about. 

Porter stumbled and fell back. His eyes and neck couldn’t keep up with his splitting attention and confusion. 

Finally, a brown-skinned baby doll turned the corner of the counter and stopped at Porter’s feet. It wore a cloak with the hood down. The baby raised its hand from under the cloak throwing it over its shoulder, revealing the standard naked doll’s body, wearing only a diaper. The voices in the room started to quiet, but some could be heard near the front of the store. 

“Silence!” The doll yelled out, quieting the remaining voices.

“You don’t control me, old man,” The woman doll, Khaedavira, said from above. Her speech was stern and authoritative.

“Sorry, m’lady, do you have something to say? We will wait,” the baby responded.

“You will be the first I behead when I—“

“Young man, where is Madam Mabel? She has been gone for far too long, and this place can not operate itself. I am very disappointed in her gross negligence.” Whispers filled the room. The baby raised his hand again and silenced them.

Porter opened his mouth, but no words came out. His head cycled the room and saw that all ‘eyes’ were on him for an answer.

“Boy!”, The baby shouted, catching his attention. “Where is Madam Mabel?!”

“Maybe the hag finally kicked the bucket.” Said Khaedavira.

“Shut up!” Porter shout back

“Oh,” Khaedavira said. Then she laughed, and whispers could be heard under her, but they might as well have been silent under her prominent volume. “Well, answer the question.”

“Boy,” the baby said again in a much calmer tone, “Where is Madam Mabel?”

Porter said nothing, only turning his head down and away. Gasps could be heard from around the room. Followed by crying and people voicing their shock.

The baby didn’t silence the voices this time, only sighed. “How did she pass?” he said more somberly.

“Cancer,” Porter muttered

“What is this cancer?”

Porter looked up in confusion. “What is cancer?”

“Humor me”

“It’s a sickness,”

“Sickness?” Khaedavira said with a chuckle. “I hope she suffered.”

“The fuck did you say?” Porter rose to his feet. His 6-foot athletic frame dwarfed the woman doll.

She lifted the dagger over her shoulder. “Are you hurt? Do you want to duel, little man? I have slain dragon eggs more worthy of my blade than insects like you. Release me and try your best.”

Porter pulled a hammer from a drawer under the counter and lifted it prepared to break the glass.

“Do not let her provoke you!” The baby yelled, halting Porter. “That doll alone is not enough to imprison such evil. The glass must be kept intact!”

“Mind yourself, Gadir!” Khaedavira shouted.

“I no longer serve you, tyrant!”

“Who and what the hell are you? What the hell is this?!!” Porter silenced the room.