Dralon and The Adventure in the Contrary World (English version)

The Welcoming Shoes

"What if the strange events in London are tied to our pendulum clock?" Eleanor wondered, still anguished, as she surveyed the household goods section of Starling from behind the dividing curtain. She had been hiding in the department store's stocking room for about two hours.

Until then, the narrow and bare storage room, with cobalt blue carpet now speckled with leftovers of her chewed up nails, had been an ideal refuge against the furious attacks of the crazed clientele. It was not a comfortable or welcoming place to spend time, that's for sure. She had to share the scant space with piles of empty boxes, dusty shelves and a crooked stool. Yet, she felt fortunate for having escaped that herd of incensed people, avoiding, without even a scratch, the unexpected danger. Many of her colleagues, less clever and fast than she was, had ended up in a much worse state.

A swarm of shouting and threatening customers had in fact surrounded the ill-equipped general manager and his unfortunate cashiers immediately after the announcement of the downtown incidents, demanding to have further information and refusing to leave the store without due reassurance. Eleanor didn't understand why, but she had a terrible premonition that the wretched pendulum clock that had mysteriously reappeared in their house the previous evening had something to do with this incredible story.

"How absurd!" she said, forcing herself to smile. The stress was causing her to lose her mind. Her family – and much less an old clock - had nothing to do with that crazy event. How could it be otherwise?

She chased that crazy thought from her mind and turned toward the long mirror which was hanging in the cabin. She just wanted to check her appearance, but she immediately regretted that rash decision.

"My heavens!" she said, startled. "I look like a tractor, an airplane and a couple of busses have just run over me."

Admittedly, if she had met the same person she had just seen in the mirror, she would have coldly moved aside, thinking it was a poor homeless woman trying to collect money for a hot meal.

She realized it was time to regain some of her dignity. She pulled up her hair, twisting it in her usual bun, smoothed her thick eyebrows with a little spit, pushed back the bags under her eyes and slapped her cheeks lightly to accentuate her rosy color. The results were disappointing. Her new look seemed glued to her body and amplified by the ghostly light of the neon lamps – the look of a person on the verge of a bout of hysteria.

She kept pulling vigorously at the wrinkles under her eyes. As she daydreamed about the treatments she could receive in one of the most renowned and expensive beauty centers in Hollywood, she realized the loud and hostile voices of the customers had gradually died down, turning into a soft background murmur.

Was the emergency over? The possibility deserved a careful inspection.

She moved the curtain just a few inches to peek on the other side. The bickering crowd had definitely dispersed and the floor was now quiet, while the employees – the only ones left – returned to their work. She breathed a sigh of relief and closed the curtain with one energetic movement, happy to be out of that restricting cage.

"Mrs. Moffet!" the manager's inflamed voice pierced her ears, causing her to literally jump up in fright. "Can you explain to me what you were doing back there?" He stood right in front of her. From the elevation of his five feet in height, he stared at her sternly, waiting for a response.

"G-Good afternoon, Mr. Peabody! I'm glad to see you're well and in a good mood today!" Eleanor replied, unprepared. "You must be wondering what I was doing in that small room, right?"