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Form

Michael stepped into the dark void hidden by the oak door, his hand reaching into the darkness to feel his way about. The slip of paper had given him directions to this shop, yet on the outside it was an abandoned apartment complex.
What do you expect, though? You can't buy magic in the streets anymore.
The fluorescents chimed on with a dull hum, and the cold atmosphere chilled his bone. His hair stood on end and goosebumps crawled down his skin.
A clerk, ancient but beaming welcomed him in.
"Ah, my boy, you've come." He croaked, "I was beginning to wonder."
"I-...," Michael stammered, " what exactly do you sell?" He asked softy, the old mans gaze fixed on him intently.
"What do I sell...?" He drawled, his hands brushing the display cases as he walked past, "I sell many things. I sell glorious pandemonium, Bravery, Adventure, " he winked, pulling a drawer, containing throwing knives and ancient battle axes, shining with enchantments. "... I sell death..." And his hand waved to a gallery of potions and spell books, "... And I sell life. The real question is," he twirled a throwing knife between creaking fingers, "what are you looking for, my boy?"
Michael smirked. "I think you have exactly what I need. You see..."