Thrumps wasn’t too sure why this was written in the Book of Un-reality but there it was as clear as day, scrawled in his handwriting, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember ever having written it.
Tracing a finger over the ornate calligraphy smudged the words but as quickly as they had blurred together, they sorted themselves out again. He wiped his finger down his trouser but the ink wouldn’t budge and when he inadvertently touched it to the paper new words began to form.
But beware … it began. Thrumps jolted his finger away, the words stopped. Cautiously he put it back again … changes in the future also change the now.
When he took his finger off and looked at it, the smudge had gone.
He leaned back in his chair and idly fingered the mug coaster, instantly a cup of steaming coffee appeared, absentmindedly he sipped at it.
The interior of the shop was still in darkness and the front shutters were down so he had no idea where The Emporium was or what kind of establishment it had decided to become, which to be honest was nothing new, but something didn’t feel right, and although it didn’t feel wrong either, things seemed odd.
A newspaper struck the front door mat through a letterbox Thrumps knew wasn’t really there. Holding his hand out it fluttered to him like some kind of origarmi bird. It was the date that first struck home. He never really had any concept of time within The Emporium, he just flitted from one destination to another without ever thinking about it, but he always knew where and when he was when he landed, well sort of. Today however, according to the printed date he was very much in a future he had no concept of.
Magic, Mayhem and Disaster the headlines shouted. Thrumps read on.
The Enchantment District of SM39 has been pray to the devastation of Storm K. The vengeance of the all-powerful wizard known simply as The Key has finally taken revenge for the humiliation inflicted by The Council.
As interesting as this was Thrumps was not aware that it could have anything to do with him, after-all he was no magician, he had never met the ones that govern all enchantment and he couldn’t string a spell together with any conviction even if his life depended on it. The magic held within the walls of The Emporium was pure, nothing evil had ever come from any of the trips thus far, and there had now been quite a few.
As he looked up three figures materialised by the fireplace. Thrumps dropped his coffee, the mug instantly smashing before it and the mess that had been caused vanished.
“Greetings.” The first council member pointed to the table. “Let us sit and discuss this rather tiresome problem.”
Thrumps knew he had no choice.
It turned out that The Key had visions somewhere in the future of taking over The Emporium but that The Council had quite rightly decided that was a very bad idea. The Magician only wanted it for what he could get out of it, to use the power but not in a good way. The trio explained that years ago they had cast what they considered a very good spell, one that protected The Emporium, however The Key had been far more devious than they had given him credit for. He had fathomed that by designing a link to the now, the protection spell would have no power in the future. That was the crux of the problem, so all the council had to do was to make sure nothing already written of the past, what was Thrumps now, was inadvertently altered.
The council spokesman clapped his hands and the shop was awash with light, shelf upon shelf held potions with row after row of all the paraphernalia any enchanter would love to get their hands on. Many of the drawers rattled with things that were doing their best to escape and locked within a glass fronted cabinet animated pixies and goblins were arguing the different merits of using magic for wholesome enchantment or mischief.
“Always keep that locked,” the three said in unison. The goblins blew raspberries and disappeared.
“Where did they go?” Thrumps asked, obviously worried.
“Have no fear, they have just made themselves invisible to trick you. Once you turn the key to go in search, they escape.” As he peered closely, he could just make out the faint shimmer of where each of the goblins were. The fairies were obviously incensed by the misuse of the power and sprinkled dust over then making them sneeze, and as we all know no one, not even magical creatures can hold a spell and sneeze at the same time. One of the council members gently slid the key out of the lock and dropped it in his pocket for safe keeping and as the grandfather clock struck midnight, the front door automatically unlatched itself. For the first time since embarking on these adventures, Thrumps found he was not looking forward to the next few hours.
Most visitors were would-be magicians, kids and adults that had convinced themselves that they had a talent for witchcraft as a result of encounters with the likes of one Mr Harry potter in either book or movie form. Many came in some sort of costume and more came with no clue as to what they wanted or what to do with the stuff they walked out with. Luckily, nothing had any value at all in the real world, but they were too engrossed in the whole scenario to worry about that. They simply paid their money and departed back to wherever it was they hailed from to practice from a vast array of so-called infallible devises, which would naturally be of no use what-so-ever. They would eventually either resign themselves to the fact that they were not gifted, or more likely consider the stuff defective.
There was however one young lady that stood out. She breezed into the shop and everything tainted with real magic instantly went into hiding. Looking around she smiled at Thrumps.
“Greetings.” She said sweetly. Her smile instantly brightening the room as if bathed in summertime.
She could have been no more than ten with curly blond hair so fair that she looked as it she had been hand-crafted from sunlight itself.
Thrumps nodded. She took her time studying every nook and cranny of the shop before spotting the locked cabinet.
“Goblins and fairies,” she said excitedly. “How many do you have?”
It was a loaded question, Thrumps knew it and so did the three gentlemen sat at the desk casually reading. Do not answer flitted urgently into his mind and so Thrumps made what he hoped was a throw-away comment about never being able to count them on account of the fact that they kept disappearing whenever he tried. The stare she gave went straight through him. It was as if she was inside his head and sifting through his thoughts.
“How much are they?” She drawled, feigning only a passing interest.
“My dear young lady,” Thrumps began. “No price is high enough for the likes of them.”
She stared at them, trying to evaluate the lame response.
“I want the key.” It was obvious that she was far too used to getting her own way. Thrumps shook his head.
“I don’t have it.” He said truthfully.
She fixed her eyes on the oldest of the three at the table.
Just then the door opened with such a rush of air that anything not secure was blustered about. The Book of Un-Reality slammed itself shut and hid in the draw, closing it firmly.
“Come child?” The old women gently slid her arms around little fairy.
“Now is not the time.” And with that they were gone.
Thrumps slumped down into his leather desk chair in total confusion but before he could ask any questions the main doors flung themselves together locking out everyone waiting patiently in the queue outside. As the would-be customers gradually drifted away, not really knowing why they had been there in the first place the shop was plunged into darkness.
When he finally persuaded the lamp to ignite, the Book of Un-Reality lay open in front of him.
There scrawled across the previous message in dripping ink the colour of blood was the final part of the message.
The time is now upon us all …