Introduction
I suppose I’d better start by explaining how it all began, but first I need to tell you why.
Why the whole adventure came to be, why it is important and why you will need to believe in things that really are unbelievable to make the whole book work.
The year when it all began is of no importance, it could be any time, as time is just an unimportant concept that often gets more in the way, than it does to aid this story. Just remember that everything on these pages exists without the concept of time as mere mortals understand it.
It all began when the proprietor, one Professor Edward Urvaine Thrumpus came across the idea in a dream, or rather it came across him. He was, and always had been prone to flights of fancy when asleep and often remembered nothing when he awoke, but these contents it seemed had failed to remain within the night-time clutches of the Sandman. Instead they had hooked onto the tail end of the nocturnal vision and plonked themselves in real-time all around him. Rather than awakening in the safety of his meagre room within the run-down boarding house, he found himself slumped at the ornate wooden writing desk that had been so vivid in his slumbers.
The desk was in a shop. Not an ordinary retail establishment as you might expect, but one that was electrified with bored magic energy. Outside the front was unmistakably of the Victorian era, with two bow-panelled glass frontages displaying a variety of confectionary and trinkets. Above the door, was scripted in real gold lettering … The Emporium.
Thrumps, as he was known to the few people that he deigned to call friends quickly locked the door and turned the sign to Closed.
It was not a very big shop, just a small entrance area with floor to ceiling cabinets on either side crammed with things in keeping with the era. All are positioned to reflect gender. The cases for girls are pretty pinks and white, lacy and refined with things like skipping ropes, dolls houses with teapots, teddies, and bats and balls of all colours and sizes. Dolls are presented in boxes, cushioned on tissue paper with wax faces and flaxen hair, all with sparkling blue glass eyes. They range from babies to brides, each available with a range of interchangeable hand sewn clothing. The shelves for boys held wooden forts, toy soldiers, guns, footballs and bows complete with a quiver of lethal arrows. Standing centre stage before the counter was a huge rocking horse, hand-crafted from hardwood and skilfully painted for authenticity. The tack was of the finest leather with the mane made from real horsehair. There was no way of telling its age, but it had obviously been well used and well loved for many a year.
Thrumps couldn’t resist. Climbing easily up onto the safety stand he cautiously eased his leg over the saddle and smiled as long forgotten memories swirled to the front of his memory. As he rocked, the shop faded and he was instantly transported back to the nursery of his youth, to the comfort of the roaring fire, the clicking of knitting needles and the soft tuneless humming of his nanny. He could have been no more than seven years old, and back then the whole world was before him. A time when he couldn’t wait to grow into the adventures that awaited. As the momentum slowed his vision cleared and he laughed aloud at the sight he must have looked, a grown man astride a rocking horse shouting Tally-Ho.
There was a loud rap on the door. An old lady, finely dressed sporting a feathered hat and a parasol stared in. Thrumps wondered how long she had been there and if she’d been watching him make such a fool of himself. She smiled and mouthed Please let me in. He opened the door.
She looked around in awe as Thrumps locked the door behind her.
“It’s like walking back into my childhood.” She whispered running her gloved finger lovingly down the horse’s nose.
“May I?” She asked but before he could answer she climbed on with more grace than he would have thought possible given her age. Closing her eyes as she help the reigns the whole thing disappeared only to reappear just a few minutes later. The lady seemed no worse for the experience but stayed motionless, reliving whatever it was she had just encountered. With a deep sigh she slid down and grasping both Thrumps hands, she thanked him warmly and bid him open the door so she could leave.
To say word spread is an understatement. It was not long before it seemed like the clientele of every retirement home from far and wide wished to visit. There was no problem in accommodating everyone as the experience took no more than a blink of an eye. Each leaving with a little bit of the magic back in their lives. Day and night they came, until there was no one of that ilk left to visit.
Thrumps closed the door for the very last time and wonder what was to become of him and his shop. Suddenly he was very tired. Behind the velvet curtain was a small private cosy room. Taking off his slippers he eased himself down onto the feather mattress of the iron bed and before he knew it was sound asleep, dreaming of the next endeavour that The Emporium demanded he attend to.
And so it all began …
Thrumps knew that people need things to believe in, but more importantly they needed to remember how to put their trust in their own imagination.