Short Stories [CountryHumans]

Insect Emporium (2009)

The window display had been what caught Netherlands' attention—it was absolutely brilliant. The large beetle pincushion, the moth-patterned dinner plates and tea cups, and a large oil on canvas painting of a weevil in a wizard hat. It was just the sort of kitsch-y little shop that would be perfect for finding a gift for Belgium.

It was built in the 1880s, according to the plaque. A shabby three story building, painted black with white accents, and a cheerful, yet peeling, yellow sign was nailed above the door, with the words "Insecten Imperium" written in bright red letters. Given that it was tucked out of the way on a small back street, it was not surprising that they had never seen it before.

Netherlands pushed the door open, a little bell chiming. The inside of the shop smelt of old furniture and earth, with an oddly sweet undertone. Shelves lined the walls, while the floor space was a labyrinth of old chests of drawers, mismatched tables, and tall glass cabinets displaying the insect-based merchandise.

An oversized fabric cocoon hung down from the ceiling, half open, revealing cushions and blankets stuffed inside. Inside a barrel of dirt stood a metal garden ornament in the shape of a lantern-fly holding a solar-powered lamp with its long nose. Spotted tortoise beetle fridge magnets were piled up on a shelf, along with clay scarab beetles poised to hold pens between their feet and horns.

There was a soft buzzing sound that filled the room, and the more Netherlands listened, the more they noticed another sound—a reedy rendition of Vivaldi's Winter, barely audible in the shop. Netherlands looked around, trying to find the origin of the music. And there, atop of a chest of drawers, was a tiny orchestra of grasshoppers. And they were swaying, rubbing their legs, and fluttering their wings in concert, performing the song.

As the last notes of Winter faded, the grasshopper, who was poised as the conductor, turned to them. Netherlands tapped their fingers together in a size-appropriate round of applause, and the tiny conductor bowed.

So. It was that sort of shop.

The grasshoppers started up again, this time with the Flight of the Bumblebee, as Netherlands continued to look around the emporium.

Stick insects piled on top of each other, creating complex structures that swayed rhythmically while woodlice rolled towards them, as if in some sort of bowling match. One collided just right, sending the stick insects tumbling down.

A line of army ants marched past, carrying pieces of baklava that, looking in the direction the ants had come, must have been made by a large number of bees. Ermine Moths sat on little rocking chairs, knitting a lace blouse. Netherlands stopped to admire their work.

"Found anything you like?" A voice from behind them asked. Turning, they see a woman standing behind them. She was tall and pale with glossy black hair that hung down her back. She wore a green dress and jacket with a the long skirt was bustled in the style of the 1880s, and her entire outfit was embroidered with intricate black patterns. A June bug on a fine silver chain hung around her neck.

"Oh, I'm just looking around," Netherlands responded.

"Well, perhaps for such an esteemed visitor as yourself, Netherlands, I could show you the exclusive merchandise." Netherlands was not surprised that she recognised what they were, an owner of a shop like this would have to be able see more than the average human, if they were even human at all.

"Thank you, I'd like that," they felt slightly embarrassed about receiving special treatment, but the shop was so intriguing, Netherlands wasn't going to turn down the offer.

The Proprietor led them to the back of the shop, where there was a wooden spiral staircase. Tiny wasp's nests hung from a thread that rapped around the metal bannister like bunting. Netherlands and the Proprietor head up the stairs, pausing on the landing for a moment as she unlocked a black door.