roseembolism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roseembolism) wrote2018-10-24 10:31 pm
roseembolism) wrote2018-10-24 10:31 pm
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(Repost) Fifth Minor Spirit of October: The Memory of a Shop
Reposted from...elsewhere
Fifth Minor Spirit of October
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
The Memory of a Shop
See this building? It's nothing special. But on this spot, in a building a hundred years old, there used to be the best toy store in the world. It was filled with glass cases that held imported die cast metal toys. Marvelous toys, with working parts. You can't get them any more. Every time I visited my great aunt as a child, I would get to buy one: Thunderbird 2, James Bond's Austin Martin, the Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle. It was the best part of my childhood.
Of course the earthquake came, and destroyed the store: glass cases and toys and cash register and the clerks all squashed flat and buried under rubble. And eventually I lost the toys as well - left behind in moves and at birthday parties, thrown out by exes. All gone.
But NOTHING is gone forever. A place that special lives on, even after the city carts away all the rubble,, buries the bodies, and builds a new mall on top of everything. The memory of buildings linger like those of people.
I know how to get to it. I know the right things to say and do so when the moon rises tonight, I can step through the door of a the ghost of a toy store, and buy my old toys back.
There'll be a price, of course. Even bargaining with my great-aunt's skull, I may leave things behind. And the replacement toys I return with will only be visible to me, alone at night, in the moonlight. For others, there will be an empty display case.
But it will be worth the blood and memories. Did you know the rocket for the UFO Interceptor actually launches?
Totally worth it.
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
The Memory of a Shop
See this building? It's nothing special. But on this spot, in a building a hundred years old, there used to be the best toy store in the world. It was filled with glass cases that held imported die cast metal toys. Marvelous toys, with working parts. You can't get them any more. Every time I visited my great aunt as a child, I would get to buy one: Thunderbird 2, James Bond's Austin Martin, the Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle. It was the best part of my childhood.
Of course the earthquake came, and destroyed the store: glass cases and toys and cash register and the clerks all squashed flat and buried under rubble. And eventually I lost the toys as well - left behind in moves and at birthday parties, thrown out by exes. All gone.
But NOTHING is gone forever. A place that special lives on, even after the city carts away all the rubble,, buries the bodies, and builds a new mall on top of everything. The memory of buildings linger like those of people.
I know how to get to it. I know the right things to say and do so when the moon rises tonight, I can step through the door of a the ghost of a toy store, and buy my old toys back.
There'll be a price, of course. Even bargaining with my great-aunt's skull, I may leave things behind. And the replacement toys I return with will only be visible to me, alone at night, in the moonlight. For others, there will be an empty display case.
But it will be worth the blood and memories. Did you know the rocket for the UFO Interceptor actually launches?
Totally worth it.