More Than A Mask

Chapter Five: Call Me Evil

Chapter Five

Amanda's POV

Yes, call me evil.  I just stole thirty dollars from my seven year old brother.  I took it from his piggy bank, his cute, cute piggy bank.  Just spit it out already and call me evil.  Or sinister.  Or devious.  Or -laugh- Monica.  But don't worry, I'll pay him back.

I really need the money to buy my mask and decorate it.  And if that means stealing from Aaron, well, then so be it.  

I drove all over town searching for a mask of some sort.  Wal-mart, Shopko, Target, you name it I was there.  Most of the places didn't have anything.  A few had some early Halloween masks, not really the look I'm going for but still fun to try on.  The other customers probably thought I was some creepy slasher person trying on all of the scary masks.  But hey, after a long unsuccessful day of shopping, who can blame me for having a little fun.  I almost bought one that looked like a zombie but then decided that it would scare my little brother to death.  Not to mention my mom.

Now I'm on my last legs and headed to the only other place that I can think of that would carry masks.  It's a tiny thrift shop on the edge of town and looks like the building itself could be sold there.  

The old sign creaked as I slammed my car door.  In faded red letters it read:  Odds and Ends Minus The Ends.  I took it to mean that the supply of odd things was endless.  

The heavy wooden door groaned on its hinges as I pushed it open.  Inside, the room glowed with the light of several gas lamps.  Their flames flickered and waved to me, the only greeting I received.

I walk quietly through the aisles, marveling at the antique toys and odd items.  At the end of the shelf there was a tiny gong hanging from a hook.  A small mallet sat on the shelf next to it.  I picked it up and brought my arm back to hit it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I screamed and whipped around, dropping the mallet in the process.  The small man before me reminded me of one of the Halloween masks I tried on.  His longish gray hair is tousled and greasy, but his light blue eyes are calm and collected.  Behind his thick glasses, they look like twin pools of knowledge.

"What do you think you're doing?" He repeats.  His voice is like sandpaper.  Rough but, ultimately, it smooths out all of the blemishes.

"U-um I w- I was just--."

"Just going to ring that gong."

I nodded, still at loss for words.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," He says, but then he whispers, "It calls the fairies."

I stared at him with big eyes.  I couldn't decide if he was crazy or if he was lying.

"The f-fairies?" I stammer.

"Ay, the fairies."

I keep staring.  This old man was starting to creep me out.  I inched my shoe along the floor.  His sharp eyes instantly caught the small movement and a smile spread across his face.  I was ready to bolt.

"I'm just joshing you!" 

I jump at his sudden outburst, barely containing a shriek, and smile uneasily back at him.  

"I'm just joshing you." He repeats, patting me on the shoulder.  I flinch under his hand.

"So... can I help you find anything?" He sounded genuinely curious.  I continued staring.  Waling away, he kept talking, "We have knickknacks, thingamajiggers, and whatchamacallits.  Or are you looking for something specific?"  He turned around and looked at me expectantly.  When I failed to answer, he waved me on.  I did an odd walk/run to catch up as he started walking again.

He gave me a quick tour around the store, pointing out his favorite things.  As I toured with him, my original fear abated and was replaced by a feeling of safety.  I hadn't realized that this little store, in its own old fashion way, felt like a whole other world.  A spot that even time could not change.