a/n: *Thanks to the Reviewer who corrected my $ calculation error*
aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. I don't own rights to anything from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, though their aptly titled products are the closest I'll get to sensory magic.
~This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.
OCs aplenty. I get nutty with acronyms and punctuation. OLS is optional listening selection.
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*murdered car means blacked out…rims, tires, everything painted black or tinted but the license plate or lights.
*ride station is a park-and-ride for city bus systems.
*shotgun is front passenger beside the driver.
*trap [car, shack, house] is a colloquial insult meaning it looks dingy.
OLS: Enigma 'The Screen Behind the Mirror'; Clannad 'Ri Na Cruinne'.
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Along the bustling city crossroads a grungy metro bus maneuvered the choked avenues as quick as it stopped.
A gust of diesel from the following compact truck slapped Sarah's face. She nearly gagged in coughs, wiping her eyes with the flannel sleeves of her checkered button-down. Her sneakers creaked under her foot arch. Sarah opened eyes to survey the avenue. Now just past shoulder hair sat in a plastic alligator clip, at neck level.
Cut on a whim after all those years. Yes, in college… she still had her central back level sable hair despite upkeep trim. After graduation she cut it shorter. The craziest she went with dye was when she dutifully, 'naturally', treated hair in the last two years of college. The decision finalized after she permanently goofed her hair with continued henna brown tones.
Yup, a trademark city perfume… metal coated urine stench held by the gusts of port winds. She nodded to no one. Her tighter than usual black jeans strained against her hips.
It was no shock her weight gain in the past quarter showed her stress. Combined with a recent job quit… the money fueled post school move-in with her dad, and a friendship falling out, her newfound life became a virtual span.
She gazed behind, around. She knew the city area but only from a vague memory. Walking around the nearest street corner Sarah looked up at the Romanesque and minimalist skyscrapers.
Following a wide eye and jumpier walking pace, she realized this area felt familiar. She referenced the map PDF saved on her smartphone. This had to be near the nastier part of metropolis. Where drug paraphernalia, cat-calls, street waste, and petty car break-ins were commonplace.
Sarah heard a yappy canine a block behind her. Cars swerving, voices, brakes, revving engines. This area crossed paths with a line of international, kitschy, and long-standing shops that in a few blocks eventually fed into the Arts and Theatre strip. But the route to it remained a mystery.
She'd been there with her high school acquaintance years back. After the…incident with Toby. Before she lost contact with her friends Hoggle and the gang.
The pace Sarah kept did not alleviate the feeling that anything could happen—she could very well find herself needing to pee where no public restrooms existed.
\Sarah and Janine tromped the streets with a tiny haul of snacks from an Asian Market. Only to find themselves lost.
Janine endangered them both, when she wandered off talking on her phone, electric purple tipped hair bouncing behind her. Sarah scooted to try and catch up while berating her enigmatic classmate internally. Sarah noticed, slowing, that Janine had run to a group of four older boys in a gaggle near a car at a parallel parking meter. Janine talked with one of them. Sarah did not feel right.
Not just her social shyness. But it was early evening. She was asked to be home around seven, only an hour away, or asap to a ride station where her dad could pick her during his drive back from work. The paper sack wouldn't hold up forever, considering Janine's metric ton of high calorie snacks in the bag.
The bun haired brunette readjusted the crinkling food items and stood waiting for something to happen. Should she make an excuse and bail on Janine? it sounded like a good plan, considering she was foot sore. Sarah cautiously stood with her paper sack in hand a few meters' distance.
Janine nodded as the bulky shotgun teen leaned down to hug her in a stiff way, as teens do. Street noise drowned everything out. They both appeared amicable. All others got into the car. The buzz-cut boy and Janine separated, looked Sarah's direction as Janine waved her over with her clunky cellphone. Sarah's feet led her to meet them. Loud top forty music blasted in the running auto. /
She slowed, and tapped the button and waited for the crosswalk indicator. Heaps of gassy traffic crossed a nose distance from where she remained on the sidewalk divet. After a few moments the light turned and she sped across the avenue avoiding other pedestrians. At the other side she realized she stood in front of the plastic and wood barred remains of a store marked "For Lease". That must have been the former Asian Market.
Sarah scooted by the brick wall, reevaluated her phone with a pull zoom. She was a winding half mile from the Theatre, where the off Broadway company sold tickets. The revived musical was weeks away and Sarah felt she might be late to get decent tickets. But her last money jab would be the acclaimed show if it killed her. Phone went back in handbag.
Well, here we go feet. The rubber soled shoes creaked in agreement as her pace sped again. She smelled burnt coffee when an ambling elderly man sipped out of an open paper cup, walking in the opposite direction.
\Sarah stood, pinned by her awkward esteem as the bag weighed impossibly heavier on her arm.
She surveyed the car. A fancy murdered car. The boy's frame suggested involvement in high school sports and a general inkling toward trendy clothes, with acne and growth spurt remnants. His large ear studs seemed uncomfortable on his thin lobes.
"Mick, this is Sarah. She does drama…er, the ya know, the pamphlets and things. I'm busy with Rally Club, and French Club," Janine tittered and ogled the boy.
The boy made eye contact with Sarah who nodded. She felt a chill in her knees and looked to Janine in rescue.
"Mick asked if we wanna hitch a ride. His friend Jonah drives, can get us both home in no time! How 'bout that?"
Sarah felt warning bells go off. The car honked twice.
Through a moment of adrenaline Sarah ended the conversation with a rushed 'no thanks' and forced smile. She insisted refusal. In a closed lie she blurted out that her dad wanted her to take the bus that 'he was paranoid and would freak if she was dropped off'. Janine looked baffled, then disappointed. So she shrugged and joined the boys. She waved a spirited goodbye. The car sped off with a loud 808 rhythm.
Sarah scooted around the corner pretending to glance at her clunky phone, walking to the crossroads bus stop.
Notably Janine stopped interacting with Sarah only a few days after that. Sarah suspected it had to do with Janine's need to belong with others. Well, others who were not Sarah. They hadn't spoken since. That was, what, junior year of high school?\
The bustle of the city recalibrated Sarah.
A song reverberated. From a shop in an alley, Wall of Voodoo's "Mexican Radio" played tinny among the city sounds. Sarah couldn't help but smirk at the corny aged song she heard often on the radio with her dad.
The Theatre was close, she figured. She saw the large vintage bulb sign. She trotted a distance until the announcement board was readable above. The title of the play, with an added show. Huh. She felt her purse in anticipation, and joined the small line of people at the box office. She pulled out her reading glasses.
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Walking ahead to the unknown Sarah realized it was nearing noon. Her tummy grumbled. She couldn't spend on city eats at this rate. The tickets led to a great balcony seat but a drain on finances. She didn't regret but knew money came with matters of time. She got here mere hours ago, mid-morning to get out of the house, after her dad still went to work at a godforsaken earlier time due to an ongoing case with clients.
The overcast weather threatened searing heat. Her flannel kept her warm but could become enemy in humidity.
An overhang to her right. A flash of something shiny.
Sarah scooted closer, her hair leaning into her face from its clip. The laminated sign behind the glass had text and a hand pointing finger down. It read in filigree: "Biting Fairy Apothecary—hand crafted quality alchemic creations—open five days a week 10am-6pm & online—Address info, lower staircase suite."
The glint came from a sticker of a holographic fairy and a potion bottle icon which sat under text.
Her legs chilled as she felt a presence behind her, and heard a sudden flock of birds make a mass exodus away. Must have been those darn pigeons. Sarah glanced back quick, only to find a dusting of glitter on the tarnished sidewalk. She inhaled the city air and turned back to read.
Glitter? …oh. Well, it was the Arts district. Alright. Where's that address?
She looked closer behind her reading glasses. Some more fine print she hadn't seen beneath the potion icon.
"HELP WANTED—inquire in store." Her eyes strained and read it in denial. That was not there before.
Okay Sarah, don't freak. You're just low on caffeine and hungry. This sign was possibly months old, outdated.
But it looked legitimate aside from the purposeful tint of the antique-looking paper. Sarah wagered it was in this building. She stepped back to look up at the overcast sky, and Romanesque stonework. Now to find stairs.
She cautiously, in purposeful steps, moved ahead avoiding the pedestrians. Focused on windows, doors, anything entrance related. An antique shop sat to the left in a storefront with an arrow near the bottom of the glass pointing right.
To the right, old re-painted double doors with latch handles and newer bolt locks, and an ancient looking cement incline reaching the raised door. Long vertical windows with whiteout curtains. One window read the suite names and addresses. Sarah tentatively clicked latch down and pulled, the door heavily gave way.
It clunked closed behind her. To the right the antique shop. In front was another door with address plaques and a glass peek frame. She pushed down handle and continued. It was drafty and significantly dimmer as she gazed down the steep stairs. Death stairs, that lead to a dim light floor.
Sarah put away her reading glassed. She grabbed her over shoulder bag and latched fingers to the wood railing.
Sarah felt herself become anxious. It smelled old, wooden, and metal as an aged place would. But it was not welcoming. Clunk-clunk-thump as she rapidly descended. Her shoes clipped the creaky stairs. It was the only sound she heard until she landed on the wood floor under the dim lighting. A foyer.
Two storefronts next to each other, then a hallway down somewhere else. The first store, with papers, binding and books, appeared to be closed. Edison bulbs over the second storefront archway. She took out phone, silenced it in case of shopping.
Sarah approached the lit up store. A fold over sign. "Biting Fairy Apothecary". What looked like garden décor lining the entrance.
This is it.
A chill. The air conditioning, or lack of, resonated. She walked to the doorway. Lace adorned the windows and obscured the goods. The door was ajar.
She cleared her throat. A waft of scents hit her nose. Wax, greenery, perfumes, metal, other scents. A distant orchestral song played.
"Hello," she tried. Sarah felt like a film character nearing a plot scare. If someone jumps at her, she'll pee herself…
"Hello, dear. Come right in."
Sarah looked ahead in mild surprise. A middle aged woman with a partial buzz cut and what looked like eighteenth century peasant revival clothes moved from behind the desk to maneuver to the unnerved brunette. She seemed personable at least to Sarah.
"Now what're you looking for today? I've got a half off deal on teas, twenty percent off seasonal scent roller perfumes. Just this week so you're in luck."
Sarah looked into her glinting crow's feet framed amber eyes. Freckles, a permanent bronze from millennia in the sun or artificial tans.
Green eyes forced a smirk, chin up. "I saw the 'Help Wanted' label, I was wondering if that was still here." The awkward verbal delivery set her mind into churning.
The woman squinted in thought, nodded. "Well, yes it is. I haven't…really considered hiring more people until recently. You know micro-business and all that. But yes, I need a helper since I am busier in the past month…thanks to the online interest, and buyers."
"I'm sorry I hadn't brought a resume…" Sarah began. The lady brightened and shook head.
"Oh no, don't worry." The lady seemed to jolt to a stop, look over Sarah, and then return with tentative eyes. "Oh. My name is Sera Merlin, owner founder."
Sarah nearly paled. "My name is Sarah, Williams…wow," she couldn't help a smile and reached her hand in shake.
Sera seemed off out but warmed to a shake. "Well its short for Seraphim, though Sera feels easier. Like the song 'que sera-sera'".
The sable haired woman nodded. "Glad to meet you, and see the shop."
"T—there's no customers as of yet since you're my only visitor today. Want to come in the back for an interview?"
Sarah stood stunned for a flash. Then smiled, "Yes, thanks," she followed through a black gauzy curtain, door on right, one on left, one center. One presumably a bathroom, one Sera opened lead to a large storage area, then a door to an office.
Boy, this place gave her the heebies…why was it with adjacent doors? Why was she thinking about this?
Sera sat at a small creaky rolling chair and gestured to a fold out chair. Sarah sat.
"Do you have other work experiences?"
Sarah nodded, looked aside to remember. "Yes, since I was eighteen I worked part time in early childhood daycare during summers. When I was twenty I worked in retail. Clothes associate and housewares. On and off until I worked at a home wares store. Went back to school, graduated Bachelor's, and worked a bit in more retail."
Sera seemed unimpressed. "Are you going back to school?"
"No, I thought of it but money and resources got in the way."
Sera nodded. "Are you thinking full time, part, flexible?"
Sarah sat and thought. "Well, anything I can get."
"You're already hired. I was secretly hoping you weren't some girl who'd never worked a day in her life."
Sarah felt shortly offended. Where did that come from? "Wh…why's that?"
"I had three other candidates for work in the last week. One seemed decent enough as part time. But seems..uh…enthusiastic to work here as of late. One was a college sorority girl, I hated the way she carried herself."
Sarah sat and fiddled with her peeling nail polish, and listened to the rather sudden rant. Is Sera feeling alright? Maybe city stress or low sales was a real issue.
Sera took in deliberate breaths. "Then I got a young girl. Seemed like she was in high school. Might've lied about her age for work. I cheated though."
"Huh?" Sarah cocked her head up again.
"I asked her if she had any experience with alchemy before. She said, get this: 'Yes my father is a mortician. For the Royal Court'. I just sat there and heard her. I had no idea whether to laugh or up and leave work for the day."
Sarah made an incredulous face. Sera sensed it and made a lip scrunch in agreement.
"Then I told her and the college girl I'd get back to them in a week with an answer. Frankly I'm afraid to call the young girl 'cause she might be Wednesday Addams. Now the guy Nate might be your coworker. Just don't get him started on his, uh, D and D."
Sarah smiled. She attempted and failed D & D campaigns during college dorm life, it wasn't for her—though the players were the motivating part of it. Not really the game.
Until that time her dorm member referenced a 'Goblin Army'. Sarah remembered her near traumatic state of tuning it out dutifully any time he talked or took actions. She never played after that night. What was she? Was she victimized by a memory of peril during her Run? PTSD is not a funny acronym, nor is it just a reaction to something.
Sarah realized she gaped into the plastered walls.
Sera made an effort to look into Sarah's face. "Are you okay? Did I offend you?"
"Oh, I, uh no. I just…dated a D & D addict. Don't feel bad for me," she lied in a rapid chuckle. "I just remembered how I broke it off in college. I won't be discussing D & D, ya know."
Sera relaxed a bit and nodded. Took pen and pad and wrote something, tore it and gave it to the sable haired woman. "Here, my email. Take this home and when you can, just write the hours you're available. Including all off days and vay-cay plans. There's the work phone. And, my personal cell. Ask me if you have any questions."
Sarah took it and folded it into a safe place of the bag. Then wrote her info. "Uh, do you need my phone and email?"
The older woman reacted with a frantic nod and took it, "yes thanks for that, Sarah."
Sarah felt her stomach strain. Either hunger or a feeling of uncertainty. "Thank you so much for this. Really,"
Sera rolled her eyes in light humor. "Make me proud as a Biting Fairy Associate."
"I will," Sarah smirked, her feet were nearly numb.
Sera looked with inquiry at Sarah's fidgeting. "Oh I'm keeping you here, you need to be somewhere?"
Sarah looked at the chair then up. "I need to be back soon to make lunch, yeah,"
The woman adjusted her billowy sleeves. Her old style sparrow clavicle tattoo on her bust peeked over the bust-vest. "I get it. Could you start Friday, maybe?"
It was Tuesday. Sarah had no plans except looking for jobs at her stressed slug pace. "Yes, when?"
"Be here at nine am this Friday, I'll help you train and get your paycheck info in order. It might be a few hours into noon or later, just as a starter."
Sarah was numbed by relief. "Yes, I will. Thanks Sera, I'll see you Friday." She rose and readjusted.
As she also stood Sera pulled a rare toothy smile. "Absolutely, bye and keep that contact info safe. Send me a practice email to make sure I got'cha info right."
"I will, I will," Sarah chirped as she exited slowly, and nearly out the shop. She heard rustling behind.
The wooden floor creaked. "Sarah. Uh, do you want a sampler of perfume, or tea, to go?"
The green eyed woman turned to face Sera with a creak. The Edison bulbs flickered. A stone gargoyle ogled her atop an ancient desk with arms under chin.
"Oh that's great, thank you."
Sera lightened and moved to grab a small paper emblem stamped gift bag from behind the desk. She walked and handed it to Sarah. "Now have a great day. Bye bye, precious." Wink.
As she readjusted grip her heart strained in her flannel. She hid an internal wince at the name. Sarah saw another glint in the corner of her eye. More glitter on the floor. She smelled a strange perfume of candlewax, some spice, and woods. The music tinkled from behind the desk.
She swerved a turn and waved goodbye with a forced smile and scooted out into the foyer. Her heart thumped. It seemed shadowed more so than before…with a breeze.
A floorboard creaked down the other hall. She was getting anxious. Her rubber soles croaked as she hastily shuffled down the hall to find a bathroom. Thank god, it was propped open despite the code pinpad.
Sarah's pants felt tight again. Hopefully Sera wouldn't freak if she found Sarah in the private bathroom. Sarah rushed to hang the bag and her purse, click the light on, and shut the door as quietly as possible with a lock.
Once she peed she washed her hands with vigor. Her palms felt sweaty despite the wash. Looked in the mirror to find her dark circles under eyes stand out. She knew she had under eye discoloration as a normal state, but the fluorescent light accentuated it. Her mouth was cottony.
She gathered her things without using the blow hand dryer. She turned light off, cautiously peeked, coast was clear. Propped door open again. She shuffled back into the foyer, gazed at the shop to make sure no one was there. Just light music. She ran up the stairs to the doors, rushed through them.
Winded Sarah rushed out and down the ramp. Out on the street the light of the city blinded her. Sun returned and was warmer. Her flannel strained along with her jeans. She returned under the window awning in shade.
She looked to her phone, two missed calls. One mystery number that she swiped away. One from her dad's phone. Thirty minutes ago. What'd he want? She couldn't figure why he'd call midday. She texted him, then looked at the PDF to find the nearest bus stop.
Once there, the bus came only a minute after she got in the bus line crowd on the busy intersection.
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Sera scrunched eyebrow at the lanky bespectacled man. How rude to her. Asking for the ingredients, quizzing her to likely give over the formula, for her perfume?
His deep brown eyes glinted. "I take it that it's a trade secret. I apologize," he moved to grab at a glass bottle of Biting Fairy's most pricey cologne. "In that case I'll take one of these, a tin of your Seeker tea, and your bird on a stone here." He placed the clunky wooden table statue onto the counter with the bottle.
Sera's interest piqued just as her annoyance. She reached to grab and fill a tin of the robust black tea leaves blend. Sealed it. Placed on counter.
This man, with the slimy attitude and the slicked back dark hair. He was like a classical movie villain. But it was a sale, and a damn good one. She clicked the register.
"That'll be…one hundred ninety-seven dollars and twenty three cents. Cash, or card?"
"Cash, here." He handed her two hundred bills. Crisp. She almost grumbled. Change back onto the receipt tray. He pocketed it and his receipt.
She made busy with two bags. "Would you like gift wrapping?"
"Ah, yes, for the raven." She wrapped it and sealed with bubble wrap and placed it into a box, into a bag with silver gift paper. She didn't miss his analytical survey of her store. Snob.
The cologne and tea went into another paper stamped bag. "Thank you very much, have a wonderful day." She beamed the best toothy smile she could.
He took both. Nodded with a smirk. Turned to walk out. "Oh, and…send a hello to a Miss Williams for me. I heard she works here. My colleague might stop by and meet you both, he's heard good things about Biting Fairy and its kitschy things."
Sera almost stopped breathing. "I…uh, yes I will, and thank you! Bye." He was gone and scooting up the stairs in wooden sole clacks.
That rude son of a gun. How did he know Sarah was hired? And who was the colleague? Another rich ego-thief, or a sleazy goods middleman?
Sera needed caffeine. Time to bother the metal electric kettle, and use her supply of personal spiced orange black tea. With a metric ton of sugar.
Wherever that floor glitter came from she needed to sweep it up before she slipped and died in this damn musty basement.
While she left for the back a scuttling creature cackled as it leapt onto a creaky painted goods table and knocked down the lace doily. It reached into its rags, and placed a pristine velvet scarf atop a bowl of heart shaped rocks for sale.
"Champy work here now. Champy better behave!" it tittered, and clattered in a big leap onto the ground. It disappeared under a shelf. A trail of glitter on the floor glistened, then disappeared.
A glass orb refracted light atop its velvet scarf in the bowl.