The Memory Shop

Chapter 1

The first time I walked into Harper & Sons Memory Shop, I was barely five years old. There are not many things that I remember from that day, but what is clearest in my old brain is the fear and wonderment I felt at the sight of the black storefront.

That day, I remember, I had managed to wander away from my mother and got lost in attempt of finding her again. In my confused haze, I ran through the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, making my way in between the legs of giants, until I finally turned down a small dank alley. The shadows seemed to jump out at me. They tried to claw at my red pea coat and seduce me into the dark corners where some sort of monster would pop out and try to eat me. I called out for my mother, thinking that she could bring some light into the darkness. No one answered. The steam continued to rise from the air vents of the shops, and water continued to drip from the leaking water pipes. That’s when I saw it.

The little shop was in the middle on the alley, camouflaged by the black and grey around it. The large faded white words on the sign were covered with soot and grime from the surrounding stores but there it was. I kept walking, now entranced by the appearance of the small shop. I am quite sure, as I was then, that it had not been there until my fright had begun to turn into panic.

Once I reached the front of the store, it seemed to become more prominent, the details more visible. I could see that the mortar in between the grey bricks of the front step was only a slightly lighter grey than the bricks themselves, and the window was covered with dust so thickly that I could only make out the figure of a doll in the display.

At that moment, I forgot all about my mother and was only able to focus on the image of that porcelain doll. I pushed the dark wood door of the shop open and stepped over the threshold. It was magnificent.

Every corner of the store seemed to be filled with some sort of artifact. There was everything from books to shoes, and from every era, or so it would seem, since the beginning of time. The worn wood floor seemed to creak from the newly added weight of my five-year-old body, and light made my shadow look four times larger than my actual size. Of course, being so young, I did not notice all of these things. I was focused on the doll from the display.

I must tell you, it took me a while to find the display case amidst the clutter of the store, but it was there, covered with the same thick coat of brown dirt as the window. The doll sat in the farther corner, unperturbed by the grime around it. It was the cleanest artifact in the display case, and seemed to have been cleaned more often than anything else in the store. Her soft brown ringlets were still intact and her glassy blue eyes stared out at the opaque window, as if she were trying to see what was going on outside.

I reached for her, grasping my small hands around her plush body. The minute I hugged her to me, everything went black.

*   *   *

I was sitting in a field. The body I was in was taller than my own toddler frame, and I did not seem to have control over what it was doing. It was like being trapped inside a robot. Everything moved mechanically, and all I could do was watch through the eyes.

I sat in the tall grass, brushing the doll’s curly hair with a wooden brush. I tried to get the knots out of her hair, but I had no luck, the knots remained. I dropped the brush and proceeded to try and undo the knots with the slender fingers that were not mine, when I heard a shout from afar.

“Beatrice!” said the voice. It sounded awfully panicked and screechy. “Beatrice! Viens vite, ma chère!” I did not understand what the voice said, but my body got up and started running straight through the tall grass.  The long dry stems of the grass hit my legs, tickling my shins and leaving red trails where sharp edges scratched across my dry skin. I continued running down a hill towards an unfamiliar house, and to an unfamiliar woman. Her eyes, for some odd reason, gave me a warm feeling, despite the obvious anxiousness in them. She pulled me into a tight hug, but then thrust my thin body away from her. “Va se cacher! Vite! Au sous-sol!”

I ran into the wood house and found a hatch and opened it, going down the steps and closing it behind me. I heard a shuffle above me as someone dragged something above the hatch, blocking the streaks of light that were seeping in through its cracks. Then came the sound of thumps on the creaking floorboards. A very heave person seemed to be walking through the old house, their boots bending the floor to its will. A sudden panic began coursing through my veins and I turned back to the hatch, about to go open it again, but something grabbed me from behind. A hand flew into my mouth, blocking an impending scream, and another pulled me backward by my stomach. “Shh!” the person holding me said. I hugged my doll, gripping her to my chest so hard I was sure she would break under my grip.

Loud bangs sounded from above us, the sound ringing in my ears. My eyes nearly burst out of their sockets and I just held my doll harder, thinking that maybe she could take the red splotches away from my eyes, and stop the loud crashes from looping inside my head.

*   *  *

Before could I find out if the woman was truly dead, before I could figure out who had grabbed me from behind, and before the doll had its chance to comfort me, the whole scene started to fade from my eyes. The colors began to fade and the room transformed itself back into the store.

I blinked, slowly and deliberately. I tried to see the basement again, and feel the arm around my waist, but they were nothing more than ghosts of feelings. They were nothing but a memory.

The doll was lying on the floor at my feet, her blue eyes staring up at me without emotion. Any semblance of safety left me as I inched away from the curious doll. I didn’t dare touch it again. I kept backing away, unable to tear my eyes away from the doll, making sure it didn’t move. I didn’t see was the rather tall woman who stood behind me, until I crashed into her legs.

I whipped around to face what I had just hit. She was rather tall, then again, everyone is tall when you’re a five years old, and slim. However, what struck me most were her eyes. They were unnervingly blue. Not glassy, like the dolls, but just blue, with no other colors.

“Did you see?” She asked in a slightly accented voice. I just stared at her, not understanding what she meant. The woman didn’t blink, her eyes were just wide and set on my own.

I let my gaze go to the door, and as soon as I could think a rational thought, I bolted out of the door. I left the woman behind. I kept running until I reached the street where I had been with my mother.

She found me eventually, and I got an earful for disappearing, but I didn’t listen. All I could think about was the black storefront with its grimy display window, and the blue-eyed woman. I would see those eyes in my dreams for many years after that.

My day would have all worked out perfectly, really, if I hadn’t touched that doll. I would have found my mother and gone home. I would have led a normal life, gotten married, maybe even had kids. Or not. Curiosity and fate are two forces that have been intertwined for eras. Fate dictates your curiosity, and in turn curiosity determines your fate.