Unexpected Arrival

Prompt 082: Basement

Detrás del tiempo me instale, ya ves ni me quejo no me quejare… (I hid behind time, you see, I don't complain nor will I complain…)

Cuidate, La oreja de Van Gohg

His depression had been dragging on for ten years now.

He'd arrived to America among those who claimed it was the land of dreams, gold, and opportunity. Among the crew and passengers of the old ship, he'd heard stories of people searching for better jobs, better lands, even a whole new start. But Balthazar had come to the new continent in search of a child… the most important child in the world.

At least, for him. Balthazar found misery, poverty and even as he crossed the continent from tip to tip he found no Prime Merlinian. So he returned to the port that had first received him, now a much newer technological thing, and as he looked out to the sea he wondered, "What now, Balthazar?"

The old world offered no answers; he'd been there for longer than this new wonder, and the cities were quickly growing. His sense of duty and honor told him to stay in this continent; there would be more children to test, more wonders to find. And he would stay, only because he was too tired to continue. Balthazar Blake needed to rest for a moment, so he took the time to try and find out the definition of the world moment for a near immortal sorcerer.

Legend said that Balthazar Blake would never waiver from his quest of finding the Prime Merlinian – it said so in the Encantus (he blew a blueberry in the general direction of the gigantic volume). The history of magic was recorded within its pages, yet the last time something had been written on it's pages had been decades ago, what meant the Encantus had also gone silent. Balthazar drank the last of the wine in his goblet and dropped the thing to the floor, climbing on his knees to the bed and burying his head in the pillows. He must look ridiculous with his bum raised high and his head buried in the pillows, much like an ostrich. But that's ridiculous… ostrich's did not bury their heads in the sand… did they?

"This ostrich does!" He screamed into the pillow, to no one in particular. He needed to go out more. "Out where?" He asked in a groan, again, to no one. Finally he got his head up, angled so his body would not fall off the bed as he slept, and dropped on the pillows again, turning his head to his right. He'd bought the building out of sheer stupidity. He'd called the Stockholm clan, had them arrange the acquisition and then he found himself buying some pieces of furniture and this particular bed. Downstairs, his store was closed, probably the items within gathering dust, and although he had some rich pompous customer drop by to appraise several antiquities – which he sometimes offered to buy – it would remain closed for the next couple of weeks. After all, he had posted the 'Closed for Vacations' poster and refused to take it down until he would feel better. That would take either a couple of weeks or up to ten years.

He wasn't wavering from his quest; he was taking a moment to rest and mope about. Oh, he'd gone out searching, when he heard of some child that was special enough. But lately, all children thought was about staying home, keeping their eyes glued to the TV, their hands holding the remote or a controller for those electronic games. So, not many news of special children reached Balthazar.

The Encantus and the World had gone quiet; what now, Balthazar?

Dropped on the bed, Balthazar had to think about nice things, beautiful things; he remembered the way the wind felt against his face while sitting on the ledge of Merlin's Keep, how warm Veronica's hand in his had been, how beautiful she was. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts; his mind provided, sending him to a trip down memory lane. Soon enough, he was falling asleep, with the soothing touch of Veronica's hand on his hair.

He woke up the next day, still miserable and tired, but to a lesser degree. He got up from bed, and decided to get down to work. Maybe destroying some of those cursed items in the basement would cheer him up. So, Balthazar stood from bed, hurried to clean up, and walked downstairs. Indeed, the store had gathered enough dust to make the Sahara desert envious, but Balthazar just went to the door, ripped the little poster from the window and, hesitating for a second, reached to open the store for business.

Not that anyone would come in, anyway.

Making his way down to the basement, he took a moment to check on the items hidden under the stairs, to caress the necklace and remember the things that never were but hopefully will be. Someday. How he hoped he had at least a chance to give this to his beloved. He wrapped the jewels with the red silk, quickly put the items in place and closed the brick wall. He needed to get to work. Looking around the crammed space, he pulled a large box out, opening to see what it contained; there were the bazooka from WWII, several chains and a cursed doll that, no matter what, kept moving on its own. Maybe he would start there.

Most of the morning went in that manner: pulling out several boxes, finding things he had forgotten he'd bought and destroying whatever couldn't be kept still. So far, it had been a boring day. For some reason, he saw himself dropping to bed, very much like yesterday, longing for a way out of his life.

That was, of course, until the front door of his shop opened. Balthazar looked up, listening to the little hesitant steps. Without making any noise, Balthazar walked up the stairs and saw a young boy with a big red backpack with the name DAVE written under the plastic of the upper pocket. Walking around the store, he seemed amazed by the items, especially by the lamp sitting over the gold plate brought from Alexandria. He moved to pick it up, making several things crash to the ground, and then gave several yelps as he kept pushing back and throwing vases and items to the ground… Until the boy pushed the urn Balthazar had been so adamant no one touched.

That was his cue to come in.

"The second emperor of the Han dynasty locked his least favorite wife in this urn for ten years, to the day. They say you open it up, and the same thing will happen to you," Balthazar stated, eyes boring deep into the boy's. He then moved the urn away, as the boy babbled about a note. "A note?" He asked, turning his back to the boy.

"It blew into your store, it was just…" The boy was very nervous. After all, Balthazar was a stranger, and a very scary one at that.

"A coincidence." Faith was making its call and Balthazar turned to take a good look at the boy, and then walked forward, the boy agreeing about the whole coincidence thing. "There's something I would like to show you Dave." He said, the thought forming in his head automatically as it had for a thousand years. Why not? His mind asked. What could happen besides several broken vases and the boy growing scared to death?

"Come over here," he said to the boy, after a lame joke of being able to read minds, and opened the small box holding the Dragon. "This is very special, and if it likes you, you can keep it," he said, showing Dave the small statue. The boy attempted to lie, what Balthazar smiled upon, and turned to try and leave. Balthazar closed the doors and locked them tight. The boy returned, picked the small dragon figurine up and placed it over his palm. For a second nothing, and Balthazar was about to pick the jewel –

The dragon shook, making the boy gasp and Balthazar turn up to look at the boy. He seemed scared, but as the dragon slid around his palm and then nestled around his finger, Dave seemed to have discovered the secrets of the universe. He was a child after all, and dragons were nothing but fairy tales, yet here one was, wrapping around his finger comfortably. Balthazar took a deep breath, the boy exclaiming his surprise, and looked at the ring.

Depression lifted, and possibilities for everything were open.

"I've been searching a very long time. And magically, here you are…"