Mystery Store


Mystery Store


Mystery Store

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I’m standing on the sidewalk in front of a store that doesn’t exist. The place is huge, with an enormous sign that reads: Mystery Store. But I can see it’s empty inside. There are no cars parked out front and there’s nobody around to ask about the place.

“What does this mean?” I say aloud as if anyone might hear me over the waves crashing against the rocks below. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” My voice echoes back at me. I look up at the sky; it’s bright blue—a perfect day for a swim. A single cloud floats above the ocean, but it looks far away. Far off enough that maybe I could jump high enough to reach it.

The beach stretches out before me, undulating like a giant snake. It’s covered with dead seaweed that smells terrible. The sand is soft and cool under my feet, and I kick my way down toward the water. When I get close enough, I plunge into the icy sea, swimming until the cold gives way to the heat of my body.

As the waves lap over my skin, it feels good to sink deeper and deeper, never touching the bottom because I know the only thing beneath me would be more waves. Overhead, clouds drift by in lazy spirals. The sun is warm and shining down on me. And there’s something else, something strange about the air. Something familiar. Smell. Taste. Heat.

A face forms in the water next to mine. She has long wavy hair and pale blue eyes.

“Hello,” she says.

Her voice sounds so sweet, like honey dripping onto my tongue.

“Who are you?” I ask.

She smiles and her teeth are white as pearls. They shine even brighter than the sun.

“I don’t remember your name.” Her smile widens. “But you should call me Kayla. Because I’m going to make everything better for you now.”

And then, just like that, we’re gone. We float through the air, leaving behind the smell of salty sea spray and the feel of sand between my toes. Leaving behind all the things I need to be doing right now.

In the next moment, I’m sitting on a bench in front of a brick building with a large sign that reads: Old Courthouse. We must have landed within sight of the courthouse because when I look up, I see the building looming over us. The courtyard is full of people who gather around benches, talking quietly, waiting for something to happen. I wonder if they know what’s coming, too.

There’s a man lying on his stomach on the ground nearby, covered in blood. He’s wearing a black suit; I recognize him as one of the men from the photo. Only he’s not moving anymore. His dark eyes stare straight ahead, lifeless. A woman sits beside him, crying softly.

The scene plays out again and again, over and over. People die, but I can’t stop looking. In the distance, another group of people is gathered around a different bench. Their faces are blurred, like I’m seeing them through a veil. On the bench is a girl with jet-black hair. She’s dressed in rags. But she’s smiling. She’s beautiful. And I know her.

Something changes. A breeze blows across my face, cooling the sweat that’s collected there. The world falls silent. For a second, I think it’s over, but then I hear faint laughter. It comes from the bench where the girl is sitting. No, not sitting. Lying on top of a man’s chest.

“Kayla!” I shout.

She turns slowly. She’s so pretty, all pale skin and flowing black hair, and as much as I’d love to run over to her, I can’t move. Maybe she won’t notice me. Or maybe she’ll kill me if she sees me. So instead, I stand up and walk away from the bench. I’ve got to find someplace safe to hide. To wait out the madness.

As I pass through the crowds, I hear screams. Men shouting. Women screaming. Screaming, screaming, screaming. More blood. More death. Soon I lose track of how many times I’ve seen the same scenes play out. One after the other, after the other.

It’s only when I turn a corner that I realize I’m lost. I can’t tell which way is north or south. All I know is that I’m tired and hungry and thirsty. And very afraid. I’m also scared because I don’t understand why this is happening to me. Why I’m being forced to watch these horrible events over and over again.

I stop walking when the crowd parts for a moment and I catch a glimpse of someone unusual. Dark-skinned, with curly hair. An old man.

He’s watching me, and I can’t help but stare back at him. When he smiles, I know he sees me—he knows I’m here.

“You’re far from home,” he says.

His voice sounds like the wind blowing over a field of grass.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Because you’re not alone.”

And just like that, the path opens up once again. I start walking down it, toward the old man. But when I reach the end of the path, I pause. There’s nothing there.

The man is gone, replaced by a wooden bench. A small garden lies beyond it. Four rows of vegetables are planted in neat lines. Tiny green sprouts push up through the soil. Roses bloom on the bushes surrounding the garden.

Beside the bench is a small wooden box. In the center of the lid is carved the word ‘Peace.’ I sit on the bench and open the box. Inside, nestled among the flowers, is a book. I run my fingers over the cover. It’s smooth and cool. The words are written in ink that sparkles in the sunlight. I pick it up. The pages are made of paper, but they feel almost like silk.

The book is filled with blank spaces. I flip to a random page and read the following words:

‘My name is Peace. I was born in a small village on the western coast of Ireland. My father was an avid fisherman. During the day, he spent hours on his boat, searching for fish. At night, I would sit with him on the deck and listen to the waves crash against the shore. Sometimes I’d even sleep there when he went inside to rest.

“My mother had no interest in fishing and preferred to spend her days tending the crops. Every morning, she’d wake early and tend to the plants until I woke up. We were happy together, living a simple life.

“One morning, I awoke to see my father standing on the shore. I ran outside to meet him. He was staring out into the ocean, as though he could see something beneath the surface. I asked him what he saw, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked off the boat.

“After that, my parents rarely spoke to each other. They barely ate dinner together. If I tried to talk about my father, my mother would say he wasn’t coming back. That he’d left us. But I knew better. I knew he was still with us. Deep down, hidden from our sight, he was always with us.

“When I was eleven years old, my grandfather died. My grandmother fell ill soon after. I couldn’t bear to be around them any longer. I left the house, promising to come back one day. I traveled across Europe, looking for answers. For peace. After a while, I found myself in Rome, and there I met a man who told me about you.

“‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We can make things right. You need only give yourself to me.'”

I close the book and put it down next to me. This time, when I look for the old man, he isn’t there. The path ends in a clearing, and in its center stands a stone archway. On the other side is a city in ruins. Buildings stand abandoned. Rubble litter the ground.

Pieces of wood, glass, metal, and plastic, all have been fused together into a single mass. Their sharp edges cut through the skin of my hands.

Walking along the remains of the road, I hear people talking. Men and women, young and old. All of them speaking at once. Shouting. Screaming. Some are crying. Others are laughing hysterically. I try to ignore them, but their voices are like knives scraping against my ears.

A woman walks toward me. She’s covered with dirt, and her clothes are torn. I want to brush away the grime, wipe away the tears. But she won’t let me. She reaches out and touches my face. Her hand feels cold but familiar. I pull away, wanting to get away from her touch. But she follows me until we reach the edge of a building.

She stops, looks up at the sky, and smiles.

“What does she see?” I whisper to myself.

Above us, hanging in the clouds is a blue moon. Its crescent shape cuts a perfect slice through the darkness. And shining brightly in the middle of it is a star.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “Does this mean anything?”

But the woman doesn’t answer.

Instead, she moves forward to sit on the ledge of the building. With one hand, she clutches the crumbling wall. With the other, she points to the sky. I follow her gaze and see more stars appear. One by one, they fill the air. Bright dots of light dance across the heavens.

I look back at the woman. She’s watching them with a smile on her face. Then, without warning, she turns to me. There’s anger in her eyes, and pain on her lips.

“Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you tell me about the others? About the ones who came before me. Did you think it would be easier if I didn’t know? Is that why you never wrote me any letters, or sent me any gifts? Was that so I wouldn’t become too attached? So I would forget you?

“You’ve always protected me. Kept me safe from harm. But this time, I’ll protect myself. We both will. No matter where I go, I’m going to find you. Because even if I have to wander the Earth alone, I am still looking for peace. I’m still searching for the end of suffering.”

The woman opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can utter a word, the sky explodes. Stars rain down upon us—a thousand bright points of light. So many that they blot out the sun and everything else around them. The wind whips through the trees, shaking branches, knocking over stones, and tossing aside leaves.

In seconds, the clearing has transformed into a storm. Thunder roars, lightning flashes, and rain pour down. It fills the air, soaking my hair, and plastering my body to the ground. When I open my eyes, water is pouring onto the world.

Overhead, the clouds are stained with a deep red hue. They’re darkening quickly, losing their color, becoming the same as the sea. A wave of despair crashes over me.

I gasp for breath, trying to stay afloat in the flood of memories. Of feelings. Of emotions.

They begin to recede slowly, and I take a step forward. Another. And another. I walk among the dead, the dying, and the lost souls. Through the woods, along the shore, through the ruins of civilization. I search. Searching for something. Anything. But I can’t find it. I don’t know what I’m looking for anymore.

For several minutes, I continue to walk. Then, suddenly, a voice calls out to me from somewhere nearby.

“There you are.”

I stop walking. My mind searches for the source of the voice, but I can’t seem to find it.

“Who is that?” I whisper.

“Just come here, child,” the voice says. “Come closer. Closer. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

My heart races, and fear rises within me. I stumble backward, tripping over a root.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, the voice hits me.

“It’s me!”

I turn and see him.

He stands beside an ancient oak tree, staring at me. He has a gun pointed at my head, and his eyes are filled with rage. His face is covered in blood. Blood runs down his chin, dripping onto the earth.

“Where were you hiding?” he shouts. “I was looking everywhere! Where could you be? Why couldn’t I find you? I kept searching. Looking for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. I went to every place I thought you might be. All I wanted was to talk to you. To tell you I love you. But instead, all I found was death and destruction.”

His words remind me of the last time we spoke. Back in New York, when the police had shot him. When his body lay lifeless on the ground. But now, somehow, miraculously, he’s alive again. Or maybe I should say, reborn.

With a cry, I rush toward him, throwing myself into his arms. He grabs me tightly, squeezing me against his chest.

“Did you really think I’d forgotten about you? That I’d abandoned you? How could I ever do that to someone who means so much to me? You’re the only thing I’ve ever loved, and nothing will ever change that. Not even death.”

We stand there together, hugging each other tightly. Holding on to one another as though our lives depend upon it. Because I know that, if we let go, if we part from the other, we’ll surely die. Death is waiting for us just beyond the edge of the clearing. We can hear its footsteps, pounding closer and closer. It’s almost here.

The woman from the clearing steps forward. She touches my arm gently, and I feel her hand trembling, but the fire doesn’t touch her. Her eyes are filled with tears, but not from the heat. From happiness.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she whispers.

I nod my head.

She smiles, then turns away from me and walks back into the forest.

“Don’t worry about her,” the man tells me. “She’s gone. Not anymore. I’ll take care of you. I promise. I won’t leave your side until we get wherever it is we need to go.”

He gives me a gentle smile, and the darkness dissipates. The wind dies down, and the waves subside. Within moments, everything returns to normal. Life goes on.

“Let’s keep moving, shall we?” he asks.

So we do.

The End

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