People are entering the streets as I unlock the front door to the shop. A jogger passes by and Rose, sitting by me feet, sniffs in his direction. I step into the shop, followed by Rose, who lightly pats her way around the shelves until she reaches her corner. She sits on her cushion and watches me as I move about the shop checking the shelves, and turning the sign on the door to ‘Open.’ I pour out a dish of water for Rose; she sniffs at it tentatively before lapping quietly. The morning passes slowly, Sally is out of town for the week, and so I’m on my own. The clock ticks over to 11:03 and Greg walks in the door. Rose lifts her head in recognition as he passes. Greg’s a regular patron and visits the shop about once a week during his lunch-break. He walks to the counter “Hi Ophelia, how are we today?” he asks casually, I reply “Slow, but it’s to be expected. Are you looking for a book?” he laughs softly and nods, “I am actually, for my son. He still doesn’t want to read much, that book on cars didn’t keep his interest long.” I nod to him I’m familiar with the story. Stepping from behind the counter, I lead Greg through the shop; I say, “For a boy to not enjoy cars and bikes, he must be special”. Standing in the fiction section of the shop, I scan the titles. “He’ll probably be interested in something very different to other boys his age, so let’s try something new.” Selecting a medium sized novel, I hand it to Greg. “It’s a fantasy/mystery; it might be more appealing to him than motors.” I watch as Greg slowly reads the blurb on the back. “Weren’t you going to bring in some of your own stories to try on him?” He smiles and I consider letting him, “Not just yet”, I respond”, Try him on this first, and we’ll see how we go.” I smile politely and walk back to the counter. Greg stays a moment before following. He pays for the book, and declining a bag, he walks out the door. I’m not sure Greg, or his son is ready for my style of writing, which is why I don’t let either of them read it. I’ll let them when they’re ready. Until then I bide my time.
The remainder of the day passes uneventfully, the clock on the wall reaches eight minutes to five; I begin to shut things down. Rose sits up and arches her back yawning, “Alright for some of us” I say to her, she sits and looks back at me, licks her nose and pads her way to sit by my satchel. I walk around the shelves one final time, tidying the shelves. Then I hear the front door open, I walk to the end of the shelves, and say, “Can I help you with anything?” A young girl greets me, she appears to be about my age, possibly younger, her hair is long, and her clothes are all black. Despite her clothes, she doesn’t appear to be gothic but there is something different about this girl, she smiles and me, and quietly she asks, “Umm, is it all right for me to have a quick look around?” I glance up at the clock, five to five, “Sure,” I reply, “Are you looking for anything in particular?” the young girl shakes her head, I nod and smile, and walk back to the counter. I watch her move to the non-fiction side of the shop and peruse the titles. She reaches out to pick one up, but stops mid flight. A young man enters the store, and nodding to me, walks over to her. The girl has let her hand drop, and she turns to face this lad. I recognize him as a local waiter; He speaks softly to the girl, she nods her head, and the young lad walks out the door.
Then it hits me, it’s her eyes that are different, dark brown in color, her eyelashes are thick, and her brows are perfectly shaped. None of this is particularly unusual, but it’s the deep, dark sadness lurking in those deep brown eyes that strikes you. Even as she smiles, the sadness doesn’t disappear. The young girl walks to the counter, and I ask softly, “Can I help you?” The girl looks down at her hands and says, “Umm, yes, that was Darien, and he want to know; Are you Ophelia?” I nod silently, wondering why he wants to know such a thing. The girl looks up at me and says, “Ok, and umm, he asked if you would let him read some of your stories sometime?” A little surprised, I respond, “I don’t know if he’s ready for my stories yet, but how does he know I write?” The young girl appears uncomfortable with the question, and I wonder if she will answer it. Finally, she breathes in and says, “I don’t know how he knows, but I know that he wants to ask you for help eventually. I’m not sure what he wants you to do, but it’s for the Prince of the Night, my grandfather. Apparently your parents were involved with the vampires and the crows, and Darien wants your help to find Lexus.” The girl meets my eyes, and I can barely utter a word, “Who? How? What?” I say as I meet her sad eyes with my confused thoughts, “I don’t know what you’re on about, vampires, princes, it means nothing to me.” The young girl sighs and looks at her hands again. Placing them folded on the counter, she mutters something under her breath, slowly she opens her hands and where they had laid, a beautiful blossom now rested. I’m glad for the seat under me; I can barely believe the feat I had just witnessed. Quietly the girl utters something else, and the blossom begins to grow, slowly at first, its blood red petals rising through the air, below it extends a luminous green stem. Leaves begin to sprout and the whole flower floats before my eyes. Gently, the young girl’s hands clasp the flower stem, and her head lifts. Her eyes meet mine, and she lays the flower down on the counter. In a voice soft, yet clear she says, “You’re the Daughter of the Night, you may not realize it, but after a few days, you shall. Tonight take the flower home, by tomorrow morning you shall understand better.” After saying these enigmatic words, the young girl walked out of the shop and onto the street. I watch her walk down the street, and I suddenly have the urge to follow her. I run out the door, but I can see no sign of the girl or Darien. Sighing heavily, I return inside, pick up my satchel, turn out the lights and slowly walk out the door.
The remainder of the day passes uneventfully, the clock on the wall reaches eight minutes to five; I begin to shut things down. Rose sits up and arches her back yawning, “Alright for some of us” I say to her, she sits and looks back at me, licks her nose and pads her way to sit by my satchel. I walk around the shelves one final time, tidying the shelves. Then I hear the front door open, I walk to the end of the shelves, and say, “Can I help you with anything?” A young girl greets me, she appears to be about my age, possibly younger, her hair is long, and her clothes are all black. Despite her clothes, she doesn’t appear to be gothic but there is something different about this girl, she smiles and me, and quietly she asks, “Umm, is it all right for me to have a quick look around?” I glance up at the clock, five to five, “Sure,” I reply, “Are you looking for anything in particular?” the young girl shakes her head, I nod and smile, and walk back to the counter. I watch her move to the non-fiction side of the shop and peruse the titles. She reaches out to pick one up, but stops mid flight. A young man enters the store, and nodding to me, walks over to her. The girl has let her hand drop, and she turns to face this lad. I recognize him as a local waiter; He speaks softly to the girl, she nods her head, and the young lad walks out the door.
Then it hits me, it’s her eyes that are different, dark brown in color, her eyelashes are thick, and her brows are perfectly shaped. None of this is particularly unusual, but it’s the deep, dark sadness lurking in those deep brown eyes that strikes you. Even as she smiles, the sadness doesn’t disappear. The young girl walks to the counter, and I ask softly, “Can I help you?” The girl looks down at her hands and says, “Umm, yes, that was Darien, and he want to know; Are you Ophelia?” I nod silently, wondering why he wants to know such a thing. The girl looks up at me and says, “Ok, and umm, he asked if you would let him read some of your stories sometime?” A little surprised, I respond, “I don’t know if he’s ready for my stories yet, but how does he know I write?” The young girl appears uncomfortable with the question, and I wonder if she will answer it. Finally, she breathes in and says, “I don’t know how he knows, but I know that he wants to ask you for help eventually. I’m not sure what he wants you to do, but it’s for the Prince of the Night, my grandfather. Apparently your parents were involved with the vampires and the crows, and Darien wants your help to find Lexus.” The girl meets my eyes, and I can barely utter a word, “Who? How? What?” I say as I meet her sad eyes with my confused thoughts, “I don’t know what you’re on about, vampires, princes, it means nothing to me.” The young girl sighs and looks at her hands again. Placing them folded on the counter, she mutters something under her breath, slowly she opens her hands and where they had laid, a beautiful blossom now rested. I’m glad for the seat under me; I can barely believe the feat I had just witnessed. Quietly the girl utters something else, and the blossom begins to grow, slowly at first, its blood red petals rising through the air, below it extends a luminous green stem. Leaves begin to sprout and the whole flower floats before my eyes. Gently, the young girl’s hands clasp the flower stem, and her head lifts. Her eyes meet mine, and she lays the flower down on the counter. In a voice soft, yet clear she says, “You’re the Daughter of the Night, you may not realize it, but after a few days, you shall. Tonight take the flower home, by tomorrow morning you shall understand better.” After saying these enigmatic words, the young girl walked out of the shop and onto the street. I watch her walk down the street, and I suddenly have the urge to follow her. I run out the door, but I can see no sign of the girl or Darien. Sighing heavily, I return inside, pick up my satchel, turn out the lights and slowly walk out the door.
