Not Alone
Author's note: I've been watching and reading too many horror stories lately. We'll see how it goes. I don't own any characters. Enjoy!
/
Bulma Briefs had always felt that while being wealthy had its perks, it could also lead to intense boredom and mediocrity if not kept in check. Sure, she could buy what ever she wanted, when she wanted, but there in lay the problem. A person didn't have to think too hard about gifts. Christmas? Send an expensive bottle of wine. Anniversary? Buy a trip to an all inclusive resort on a far away island. Hell, why not just buy the island?! She could afford anything, but just anything wouldn't do, and that was the reason she found herself in a small shop on the outskirts of town. She had to find something perfect and unique for her daughter's twelfth birthday.
The Black Orchid was as old as anyone could remember. It carried antique perfume bottles, jewelery boxes, broaches and old art work. Bulma's hand glided over silver bobbles and small trinkets until she came upon a glass case. She saw a delicate bracelet with pearls and crystals on a thin chain.
"Oh, Bra would love this," she thought. She didn't see the old shop keeper standing behind her.
"See something you like, ma'am?"
"Gaaaa!" Bulma whipped her head around to find an old woman setting down several sets of embroidered handkerchiefs and gloves. "I'm sorry! You startled me. I didn't hear you there." Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the case once again. "I am trying to find a gift for my daughter. She turns twelve in a few days. I thought that this bracelet would be something she would like."
"Yes, you can't find that kind of quality or craftsmanship nowadays," the old woman chuckled as she made her way over. Hunching down she pulled out a dark wood box from under a cupboard. "Twelve is special age for a girl," she muttered. "It's the cusp of being a small child and a young woman. It's a special time. A powerful time. Why not take a look at these?" With that she lifted the lid.
Bulma's eyes lit excitedly when she saw a hand carved hair comb."How perfect! No one sells anything like this anymore, so I know it will be one of a kind. Oh, I'm so good! Score one for Bulma! She will love it and it will go with the dress she's wearing for the party," Bulma added as she inspected the intricate carvings. It had to be at least a hundred years old, but it felt remarkably strong.
"You have a good eye. Shall I wrap that for you?" the shop keeper asked as the comb was placed into her hand.
"Yes, please." Deciding she could look for a little something for herself while her gift was being wrapped, Bulma poked over more counters and tables.
As she bent over a mirror to apply a layer of lipstick she heard a clunk, and turned to see that a lacquered box, decorated with tiny blue flowers, had fallen on the ground. She held up the box, examining the fine paint before peering inside. Laying on blue satin was a little girl figurine. Bulma's mouth made a small 'o' as she admired the small porcelain statue. What struck her the most were the eyes. They were so dark and expressive, and such a contrast to the innocent face that they belonged to. They looked as though they had witnessed a thousand gruesome fates and yet remained untouched and unaffected. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Bulma felt herself draw to the girl figure.
"I think that I am going to purchase this as well," she called as she held up the box to show the old woman. "It's like you said earlier about my daughter being between stages. A beautiful hair comb for a young lady and a pretty doll for the little girl. What do you think? I'm covering all the bases," Bulma giggled. She couldn't have been more pleased with her decision to turn around when she had passed the store on her way to a business meeting. Her gifts were just right and Bulma loved being right.
The shop keeper handed over the bag with the wrapped presents while Bulma checked her smart phone. Seventeen texts messages and twenty-three missed calls from her assistants wondering where she was and why she wasn't there at Capsule Corp. HQ for her meeting. Bulma sighed to herself. It was going to be a long day and she would have to reschedule her meeting, but at least one thing had gone right. "Thank you," she mumbled, still focused on her phone as she headed out the door.
She did not take two steps before a hand reached out and grabbed her left wrist. Bulma pulled her arm from the woman's grasp, startled by her serious demeanor. "Now you must listen to me," the woman started, nodding at the bag. "The objects I sell have history to them. They have been around longer than you and me, and so they've seen things, experienced things. And sometimes they pick up energy along the way. That energy attaches itself and follows the object around. Most of the time it isn't anything too terrible, but I always make sure I include a bundle of white sage with every purchase. It's important that you burn the sage around the gifts either before you give them to you daughter or right after. It will clear the energy if there is something negative attached to it, and it will protect your home. Make sure you-"
Bulma did not even look up from her phone as she cut the shop keeper off mid sentence."Yeah, thanks! Got to go! I'll plant the oregano," she waved her hand in the air, "and all that energy stuff. Bye!" Within seconds the loud whirl of the hover jets engine could be heard outside and the shop keeper lowered her head. She had a feeling that it would not be the last time she would see Bulma Briefs.