The Whimsical Bookshop

On the corner of the streets, at the edge of the village, there arrived a bookshop. A quaint little thing it was with a small boxed roof and two windows which displayed numerous books of all kinds. The villagers flocked to it once the door swung open and perused the curious little shop. Inside, they did not find a bookseller or anything, only books and books for rows seemingly unending. They took up books in their arms, as much as they could handle, and dragged them out of the bookstore. 

One early dawn, a young maiden of the name Priscilla, took up the book her mother brought her from the curious bookshop and decided to return it and find the other books in the collection. She had not a clue if the shop was open this early in the morning, but she ought to try. Once she rounded the bend, on the edge of the village, she saw the shop, but its door was shut, its windows boarded up. Her shoulders straightened and she swallowed as she approached the small shop. She raised a soft fist and rapped on the cream-colored wooden door twice. There wasn’t a response so Priscilla took a few short steps to the boarded windows, her small heels softly clacking against the cobblestoned walkway. 

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” She called, her voice keeping to a moderate tone. It was still the early morning and she wished not to wake anyone. Her mother told her no one worked in the shop to sell the books, but perhaps her mother and the other villagers were too enthused to notice. 

If indeed there was an owner, she wished not to wake them and would wait until a more appropriate time. She released a sigh and turned around to go back home when she heard the swing of a door and her head spun. She gazed at the open door and hesitated to go to it. She craned her neck to see the inside. There must have been someone who opened the door, she thought, but as far as she could see, there wasn’t a person except for shelves of books.

She walked to the door and stepped inside. It creaked shut behind her. Her heart jumped and she held on a little tighter to the book in her hand. She wondered if it was even worth it to come searching for the other books in the series, but it was too late for second guesses. She perused the shop, searching shelf by shelf to find the other books, but couldn’t. She let out a harsh, irritated breath as she came to realize this shop had no rules to it, the books were placed all over not organized alphabetically, by series collection, or even by date of publication. 

As she put back yet another book she tried to figure out this odd shop’s system, she wondered how these books appeared in this shop, she had never seen them before yet they had a year of publication. She released another groan and kept searching through the shop when she heard a book fall from the shelf across from her. She jumped out of instinct and went across to put it back up. About to slide it into its slot, she spotted round-rimmed glasses and a face on the other side. A shrill shriek escaped her throat and she fell to the ground, scampering back. 

Someone on the other side hit their head and grumbled. A man came from behind the shelf and she threw the book at him. “Wait, wait, ow!” He yelled as she threw the other book in her hand at him, hitting his head, “Please stop hitting me—wait, wait, wait!” He threw his hands up as she scrambled up and picked up another book, a hardcover. “Please don’t throw that at me.” He said, his voice trembling.

“Who are you?” She demanded, her eyes wide and afraid as she looked at him. He was just a little taller than her, but not by much, his round glasses were crooked on the bridge of his sharp nose, and his blonde hair stuck out at odd parts as if he were sleeping.

“I-I’m Fable,” he stuttered, still eyeing the book in her hand.

She squinted her eyes and creased her brows, “That still doesn’t answer who you are, Fable.”

“I’m the owner of t-this shop,” his hand gestured around and her grip on the book lightened just a little.

“Alright, how come I haven’t seen you before? Or any others in this village?” Her eyes wandered over his figure. He was slim and a little lanky, his posture more off to his left side. He wore a blue buttoned-up shirt which was halfway out of his cream pants and creased.

“I…am not a fan of crowds.”

“Why show yourself to me then?” She once again demanded, her suspicion rising once more.

“Y-You seemed to be having trouble finding a book, so I-I decided to find it for you. See?” He motioned to the book on the ground, the first one she threw at him. He bent down and picked it up, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, well, mostly the book in her hand. He took a few steps and reached out his hand showing her the cover.

She glanced at it and then the other book on the floor, the one she came here with, and the covers were similar. On the bottom of the book Fable had in his hand, it had the number two written. She placed the book in her hand back on the shelf and Fable blew out a relieved breath and she took the book in his hand. “Thank you, and I apologize for throwing those books, Mister Fable.” She said.

He straightened his posture, no longer fearing that she would throw another book at him, and smiled. “You’re most welcome, Miss…”

“Priscilla.” She gave.

“Priscilla.” He repeated. “As my apology for scaring you, may I help you search for the other books in the collection?” 

Her wariness of him vanished and she smiled. “That would be nice, Fable.” The two of them went across rows and rows of shelves, collecting more and more books in their hands. Fable had six and gave Priscilla yet another one in hers, making four. “That’s it.”

“Twelve? In the collection? My, that is a lot.” She said as they walked back to the front of the shop and he began packing the books in a bag. 

“Plenty enough to keep you busy, I presume.” He said, packing them in.

She chuckled, “Oh yes, I’m sure my mother won’t be too pleased when I no longer wish to go outside and make friends.”

He smiled, glancing at her as he finished packing in the books. “Oh, but you should still go out. How else would you have found my shop?”

“That too.” She said as he handed her the bag and she held it with both hands. “Thank you, Mister Fable.”

His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink and he looked away from her, “Just Fable is fine.”

“Alright, Just Fable.” She joked and they laughed.

The laughter died down and they were met with silence. His eyes roamed over her face, hair, and figure as though he wished to always remember her. “Will you come back?” He asked, his eyes glancing away.

Priscilla smiled and she released a hand from the bag and rested it on his shoulder, he stiffened then relaxed. His eyes rested on every part of her face, “As long as your shop’s here. I will come back. For now, though, perhaps not for a good few weeks. It seems I have a backlog of books before I come to check out new ones.” She referred to the bag in her hand that weighed heavy.

He chuckled, “I suppose. Although, if you wish for some quiet, there are a few spots here that are great for reading. I could read with you too–if that is not a problem of course, I’m sure you love your home and it’s probably more comfortable to read there, but it was just a proposition—”

“Fable!” She stopped him from rambling, “It’s alright. Tell you what, I’ll go home, have breakfast then in the afternoon I’ll stop by and we can read.” 

His eyes, a pretty shade of gray, lit up like silvery stars as he beamed. “Yes! I mean—yes, that sounds wonderful,” he cleared his throat, his voice deeper. “I’ll prepare the lunches. What do you think of sandwiches, cheese, and some jam?”

“That sounds lovely. I’ll see you this afternoon!” She waved as she walked to the door, it opened for her and she stepped onto the cobblestone. He waved back at her and the door closed once more, the windows still boarded up.

She walked back home with a silly smile on her face and a mind thinking only of that curious bookshop owner. Fable. She mouthed his name.