THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP

Claudia Figueyra

In the middle of London, that was the year of 199..., Mrs. Wilson was surprised to see right in front of her, at the same corner she stood, the “Old Curiosity Shop”, the famous place she was so avidly looking for during her last two trips to town. She never managed to find it although she had always followed strictly the signs of the map. But there, at that precise moment she found the shop it seemed that some sort of clouds had been vanished of her eyes - or would that be a kind of mirage? The ‘Old Curiosity Shop’, there it was. Would she find the adventures, the mysteries of London she dreamed of there?

It seemed so insignificant compared to the other houses of the quarter. But, “oh”, she said to herself, “there are for sure more things between appearence and the deep inside than is it dreamed out in our philosophy”. And Mrs. Wilson stepped in the shop, opening with ceremony a creaking door.
Strange as it could be, nothing there was a real antique or would arise anybody’s curiosity. Mrs. wilson was very disappointed and was about to leave the place when a man came in her direction.

“Am I disturbing, madam?”, said the man.

“No, not at all.”

“Let me introduce myself, John Merlin.”

“Sarah Wilson. Do you work here?”

“No, well, actually I own this place.”

“I see.”

“Did you find anything that interested you?”

“No, not really, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was going to find here some splendid different little things, but I’ve got to say, Sir, as you asked, that nothing here is curious indeed.”

As he heard those words, Mr. Merlin dazed and stopped with the cigarette lighter in his right hand and a cigarette in the mouth.

“I apologize if I seemed much too rude”, said Mrs. Wilson. “I’ve got to confess, said the man, I was astonished with your sincerity. In fact I never thought I’d find someone who’d dare telling me the truth about this place. All that’s shown here is perfect rubish, you’re right. But if you would come with me, Mrs. ...”

“Wilson, Sarah Wilson.”

“Ah, yes,Mrs. Wilson. If you come with me to the back room, I’m sure this ‘old shop’ won’t disappoint you.”

They entered a strange room full of candles. A dark brown cupboard was it’s only piece of furniture. Mr. Merlin got, from the coat pocket, a gold key in which was written the number 666. Mrs. Wilson thrilled when she realized that that was what everybody knew as beeing the number of the devil.

“In this cupboard, Mrs. Wilson, are the most precious and fine bottles that man in his long life was capable to create. Inside them there are rare liquors that may bring out secret desires, phantasies, anxieties or fears that exist within the soul of the one who drink them.”

He opened the cupboard and a bright light dazzed Mrs. Wilson for a second or two. When her eyes were good again, she looked at the bottles and smiled broadly. She could never imagine existed in the whole world such magnificent collection of bottles. Mr. Merlin picked up the black one which was made of pure onyx with gold.. engravings.

“Now, Mrs. Wilson, you are a brave woman. But are you brave enough to taste one of these?

“No”, she would have said, but then was too late.

“Yes”, she answered abruptly.

Slowly Mr. Merlin poured the liquid in a little transparent wineglass. It looked more like curdled blood than liquor. He gave it to Mrs. Wilson who, shivering, closed her eyes and drank. When she opened them, everything was exactly the way it was. Mr. Merlin closed the cupboard, they said good-bye to each other and she went out. The weather outside had changed. Dark clouds, fog and wind were all over. So Mrs. Wilson went down the road taking her umbrella out of her bag.

Fifteen minutes had passed and she still didn’t reach the bus stop that seemed so near. She looked here and there but no one else was on the street. She went on walking. Soon she heard steps behind her and, worried, turned back. Mrs. Wilson couldn’t see anyone. As she began walking again, again she heard the steps. Frightened, she started running in that endless road and the steps ran behind her. She remembered the stories about Jack, the ripper, and, desperate, she turned right but, uluckly, that was a cul-de-sac. She ran until the end of it, turned back and waited. Soon the shadow of a man in a dark coat crossed the lamplight and came towards her. From the deepst inside grew stronger and stronger a shout and she uttered loudly.

“Mrs. Wilson! Mrs. Wilson!” Hold her Mr. Merlin.

“Oh!” She exclaimed with terror awayking.

“It’s ok, don’t worry!”

“Where am I?”

“In the ‘Old Curiosity Shop’, remember?”

“Ah, yes...”

“Maybe the alcohol was too strong, you fainted and I sat you down in this chair.”

“Oh”, she said standing up, rather confused, “thank you very much, Mr. Merlin, but I’ve got to go. It is too late and I’ve got to go. Good-bye, Mr. Merlin.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Wilson, nice to meet you!” Said Merlin, while she walked quickly down the road...