The old man sneezed as a small cloud of
dust arose froma nook within the shop. In one of the old
man's hands was a perfectly ordinary washcloth. In the other
was a perfectly ordinary featherduster. The old man sneezed
two more times in quick succession.
"Never hurts to keep the place clean," he
mumbled under his breath as he worked at the counter's
surface. "Damn faerie dust always messes up the
spells."
Suddenly, the old man's face darkened in
a strange mix of both anger and concern. He placed the
featherduster and washcloth on the table gently and walked
quickly to the front of the shop. He opened the door gently
and smiled at a young woman who was walking by the
shop.
"Dana?" he said. "Would you mind stepping
into my shop for a moment?"
The girl stopped. She was in her late
teens, and her face was soft and delicately beautiful, pale
skin framed by brown hair. The only thing marring this
vision of loveliness was the fearful look that had taken
permanent residence in her expression.
"How ... how do you," she began, then
trailed off as a flash of fear ran through her eyes. She had
long ago learned not to ask questions.
The old man smiled. "I am a wizard, Dana.
I am on your side. I will not do anything to hurt you in any
way. Please, believe me."
She looked in the old man's eyes, and the
kindly and loving look in them reminded her of her
grandfather, of a loving childhood memory that didn't focus
around ... she willed that thought away, and, after a
moment's hesitation, walked quickly into the shop before she
could change her mind.
Taking care not to touch her, the old man
gestured to a small table with two chairs in the corner of
the shop.
[Dana could not have sworn to its
existence a few minutes earlier.] On the table was a kettle
and a cup of tea with wispy curls of steam rising from its
rim. Dana sat down in the chair and reached for the
cup.
"Don't drink from that cup quite yet, my
dear," said the wizard as he took a seat across from her. He
looked her in the eye with a kindly gaze that somehow she
could stand and not turn away from.
"I felt your trouble as you passed by the
shop," he began. "I know, my dear, that you do not feel
comfortable speaking of ... what you have gone through.
Suffice it to say that the evil which has been done to you
can be stopped."
"I ... " she began to object, but she
could not muster the strength when faced with the piercing,
yet still kindly, gaze of the shopkeeper.
"No, my dear, do not object. Evil of this
residue leaves psychic ... marks," the shopkeeper said,
choosing his words carefully. He carefully watched the
girl's reaction to the word "mark." A quick glance downward
to her arm was enough to confirm what he had read in her
aura.
"Suppose," he said, "that with one sip
from something as simple as ... as that teacup, you could
begin your life anew in a loving home. And I would insure
that what was done to you would never be done again."
The storekeeper watched the girl's
fearful expression carefully. He saw, in the corner of her
eyes, a glimmer of hope begin to form.
"I will be frank, dear. One sip of that
tea will restore you to infancy. And I will insure that you
are adopted by a loving family, and I will see that your
current parents are ... taken care of."
The girl glanced down, and then shut her
eyes. She reached for the teacup, and took a long sip. As
she glanced back up, she invested the storekeeper with the
one thing that was hardest for her to give. In a beautiful
yet softly muted voice, three syllables floated across to
the old man's ears.
"I trust you."
The old man watched as the girl's body
lost its fullness of breast and hip. He watched with
satisfaction as scars and bruises unformed and healed. Her
hair receded into her scalp until her head was only covered
with a soft fine baby hair, as her body shrank into smaller
proportions. Most lovely of all, he watched as the
expression of fear disapppeared to be replaced by the joyful
innocence of childhood.
He picked the child up and chucked it
under the chin. The infant girl gurgled back happily and
grasped onto the old man's finger. He diapered and put a
cute dress on the little child, and magicked her away to
appear on the doorstep of a loving couple who would have a
lot of love to give, yet in the past had failed to conceive
a child.
The old man watched as the new mother and
father found the infant on their doorstep and reacted in joy
and love. A warm glow filled his heart, and he softly
chanted the words that closed the portal through which he
viewed Dana's new life. As the last word passed his lips,
his face darkened.
A father and mother ran into the mall.
They would have passed right on by the small curio shop in
the corner, had they not heard Dana's voice coming from
inside. They both stormed into the shop, banging the glass
door hard against its wall.
"Where is she?" yelled the man.
"Who?" said the old man gently.
"A teenage girl -- Dana! I just heard her
voice!" said the father.
"That girl is in so much trouble," chimed
in the mother.
The man's face darkened. "Yes, I know
*exactly* what kind of trouble you have given her in the
past. Allow me to return the favor."
The man chanted a few more words, then
watched.
"What the hell are you--"
"My God, Frank, you're--I'm--"
Their voices dwindled quickly.
The old man picked up his washcloth and a
can of disinfectant. He thoroughly sprayed the area where
the adults had stood just a moment ago, and then scrubbed
hard with a washcloth.
"Got to get rid of that dust," he said
under his breath, resuming his cleaning with a smile. "Never
know when you might have those pesky dust mites hiding in
it."