by S. Y. Lee
Leo let her lead him, careful not to bump into the wooden statue by the entrance. It depicted an old man with a bushy beard that went down to his abdomen, and he held a lightning bolt in his right hand. Zeus, Leo presumed, though he had never seen a depiction such as this. It looked like a totem pole.
The store seemed larger once they were inside, almost overflowing with replicas of statues, chairs, shields, and other Greek-influenced artifacts. On a stand under a spotlight, hung a suit of armor that glistened in the light. All sorts of weapons were mounted on the walls, from beautifully-crafted spears to swords and crossbows. In one section of the shop, shelves were filled with painted potteries that depicted stories of Greek mythology and legend.
Leo chuckled quietly to himself as he browsed through the wares, finding personal amusement in how some of the items looked like the ones he had just seen a week ago at the museum.
There was a middle-aged woman behind the counter, which had glass displays filled with trinkets such as bracelets and rings. Her skin was darkly tanned, like she had stood out in the sun for too long and forgot to apply sunscreen. She wore a plain, beige dress that showed off her sun-kissed shoulders, and her thick red hair formed around her head like a lion’s mane. She could probably use some conditioner.
She didn’t say a word, leaning forward on the glass counter as she observed the two young patrons, tapping her pink fingernails slowly on the glass. When Leo’s gaze met her green eyes, she smiled mysteriously, yet eerily at the same time. The hairs on his back stood as he felt a chill travel down his spine. He couldn’t describe why, but he wanted to dart out of the shop right then. He didn’t, as Eva tugged on his hand and kept leading him forward and through the store.
They approached the long counter, where Eva fixated on an intricately crafted cube under the glass cover. The drawings on the surfaces appeared to tell a story. Leo took little notice at first, as he warily watched the shopkeeper walk slowly over to them.
Eva smiled at her, and pointed at the cube with her free hand. “Hi! Could you show me that, please? Is it a container?”
The red-headed woman reached under the counter and picked up the cube with both hands, her eyes never leaving Eva. It was almost as big as a watermelon, and Eva let go of Leo’s hand, taking over the item carefully. It was heavier than it looked, and was made from very old wood. The carvings were still very distinct, as though they were freshly etched.
Cupping the cube in one hand, Eva knocked on it with her knuckles. The sound it produced indicated that the cube was hollow.
The woman still hadn’t said a word.
“How do you open this?” Eva asked.
The woman shifted her gaze to Leo for a few seconds, then back to Eva. Then, in an unlikely cheerful and sweet voice, said, “My dear, that is an ancient puzzle box you’re holding. Real thing! You could hide a message on a parchment or a precious stone in there. Of course, anybody can open it, but it’s not easy. I, myself, have not been able to figure out how to do it. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Eva rotated the cube in her hands, looking for a hinge or opening, finding none. She held it close to her ear and shook it gently. Nothing.
“I like this, Leo. I can get my mother a ring and put it in here. She likes puzzles and it would be great to have a reward for her when she cracks it. What do you think?”
“It looks cool, but if the storeowner can’t open it, how do you expect to put a ring inside?”
“Surely the two of us can figure it out by Friday. If not, I can just give my mother the ring,” Eva said. “Ma’am, we’ll take this. How much?”
“Take it! The store is going out of business and I have to get rid of everything anyway.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. At least let me give you some money for it,” Eva protested.
“No, please dear. I’m sure you two can open it. It’ll make a wonderful present! Take it! I wish you two well,” the woman insisted while looking at Leo.
She reached out with her right hand, touching his left cheek with affection. “I hope you will open it.”
Then just as suddenly, she turned, picked up a book, and went through a door behind the counter, presumably into a backroom. Leo stood there, unable to comprehend the woman’s weird behavior. He looked at Eva for some guidance and she shrugged. He could tell that she was still torn about accepting the box for no cost.
He pulled out a twenty dollar note from his pocket and left it on the counter. “There. She doesn’t seem to care about money, but we can say we paid for it.”
Satisfied with the gesture, Eva let Leo carry the cube and they headed for the exit. He looked over his shoulder as they passed the Zeus statue. The storekeeper hadn’t reappeared.
“You know, this is like one of those stories where a magical shop disappears the next day when you come back to return a cursed object, and nobody except you remembers it even being here.”
“Ha!” Eva laughed, but her attention had already been turned to seeking out a jewelry shop to purchase a ring for her mother.
Chapter 9
London
Sarah turned the key and entered the apartment. It was clean and tidy, not a stray sock on the floor or a dirty dish in the sink. It was her brother’s usual way of apologizing and making nice with her.
For the past week, the twins had been fighting about him quitting his job. David’s plan to hold off on telling her until he found another job fell apart when she had stopped by the restaurant, and was informed by the manager that he no longer worked there. That, of course, led to a long lecture from Sarah about responsibility and maturity.
The quarrel ended out of the blue yesterday, when their parents came by their apartment unannounced late in the evening. Neither sibling had spoken to their parents since Christmas and they were surprised to see them.
As if they had sensed their children were in a time of need, their parents brought good news. Their father, using his influence, had arranged for David to undergo a trial at a soccer club in the second division. It was an offer David appreciated, no matter how stubborn he was. Soccer was his life and he was grateful for his father’s support, despite the elder McCallister’s vocal reservations throughout the years.
For Sarah, their parents had bestowed her a large sum of money, partially to help her pay for professional singing lessons. The rest of the money, was intended for the twins to take a vacation by themselves, which came as an even bigger surprise.
The siblings felt that something was awry from the way their parents were behaving. Instead of their usual stern and condescending selves, they seemed almost apologetic to their progeny and even asked if they would like to return home. There was no harsh talking to, only words of comfort that the younger McCallisters weren’t accustomed to hearing.
Still, the siblings turned down the offer to go home, but agreed to visit for dinner when they got back from the vacation. It was a short visit, but at the end of it, after the older McCallisters had left, both siblings were feeling much better. Their recent setbacks were beginning to disappear in the rear-view mirror.
Hearing the front door open, David came out of his bedroom. He was uncertain at first, because Sarah had left early for work this morning without waking him, but when he saw her waving travel brochures at him and grinning ear to ear, he smiled.
She sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. She laid out the brochures across the old coffee table that they had gotten at a flea market and grabbed her brother’s arm, teeming with excitement.
“How about Italy? I would love to see Rome! And the food! Authentic Italian food! Or Prague? I’ve heard there’s a great nightlife there.”
David was happy to let his sister ramble on about the various destinations she wanted to visit. He eyed the brochures on the table, trying to decide himself. Germany? No, they had been there before on a family holiday a few years ago. The Netherlands? When he thought of the Netherlands, the only thing he could picture were windmills. He knew that there was much mo
re to the country than windmills, but he just couldn’t disassociate the two, and somehow it seemed unappealing to him.
His sights finally landed on one pamphlet, and he reached for it as Sarah was in the middle of describing the sights she wanted to see in Romania. She stopped mid-sentence, intrigued by what had peaked David’s attention.
“Greece! A place of history and art, of magnificent sculptures and sights! The home of democracy!”
“Yeah, how about it? Shall we?” David asked.
Sarah nodded excitedly. Greece wasn’t her first choice, but she just wanted to get away on a trip with her brother. Anywhere would do.
“It’s decided then, Greece it is!” Sarah announced as she shuffled the brochures together and chucked them on top a pile of letters on the table. “I’ll book the tickets right now!”
It was a much-needed vacation for the twins and David found himself getting psyched about the prospect. He relished the opportunity to spend some quality time with his sister away from home, and when they returned, he would have a shot at a soccer career again. Things were starting to look up.
Chapter 10
Sydney
The rain was pouring down heavily and Caitlin tried to walk as briskly as possible, careful not to slip. The soles on her sneakers were worn and had little traction against the wet concrete pavement. Just moments earlier, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, so Caitlin had decided to walk to work instead of taking the bus. It was still early and her shift at the club wasn’t scheduled to begin for a couple of hours. Now the sky was overcast, and the sun was barely visible, an orange blur on the grey canvas.
Fortunately, the yellow backpack slung over her right shoulder was waterproof, though even the rain couldn’t wash away the thick layer of dirt and mud on it. It had seen its fair share of the outdoors on Caitlin’s travels, and she seldom went anywhere without it. She cursed as she kept walking, wishing she hadn’t taken the poncho out to wash a few days ago. It was still hanging out to dry in her backyard, although it was probably wet again now. Otherwise, the backpack was constantly stocked with supplies that might come in handy, such as a small hunting knife, flint, and jerky.
Turning a corner, Caitlin came across an outdoor marketplace. Most of the storekeepers were busy trying to secure their wares from the rain in their tents. A few patrons, who had apparently read the forecast, strolled around leisurely under the shelter of their umbrellas. Caitlin looked around to see if anyone was selling umbrellas as she waded through the middle of the tents.
Three tents down, she found one that was being tended to by a stout, elderly man that had an umbrella for sale. The store was basically a yard sale, and everything was available for five dollars, according to a handwritten sign. There were chairs and tables, kitchenware, a chess set, and even a small television. The label for the tent just read, “Michael Papadopoulos.”
There was nobody else in the tent apart from the old man, presumably Michael Papadopoulos. Caitlin ducked in, relieved to be out of the rain.
“Hello! Everything for five dollars!” the man greeted her cheerfully.
“I’ll take the umbrella.”
“Yours! Five dollars! Anything else? Good bargains!” he said.
“I’m good, just the umbrella,” Caitlin replied, digging through her pockets for cash.
“Come on! It’s raining! Stay a while and have a look!” he insisted.
“Uh… Okay. I’ll take a look,” she said, handing the man a ten-dollar note.
He snatched it from her, shoved it into the shirt pocket on his left breast, and laughed. “You’re the first customer today! No change! Take one more item, any item!”
Caitlin grimaced. She was being hustled, but she really needed the umbrella. Not wanting to engage with the older gentleman any further, Caitlin rummaged around the junk for something else she could take. She might as well get something out of that extra five dollars. She found a jar of old coins, covered in so much grime that she couldn’t make out what currency they were in. She shook the jar.
“Five dollars!”
Putting it down, she continued searching. The next item that peaked her interest was a mandolin. She picked it up, blew away the dust and plucked one of the strings. It broke instantly and she quickly set it back down, hoping the man hadn’t seen it. “Five dollars!” he said again, not caring about the broken string. At least he knew he was selling junk.
She looked through a box of old magazines and books. She found the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, an old bible, last month’s Reader’s Digest, and a Playboy from ten years ago. Caitlin winced at the sight of the last magazine, trying not to picture the old man perusing it.
Moving on, she came upon a wooden block or cube of some sort sitting on a bar stool. The carvings on its surface looked interesting. It looked in good condition upon inspection. “What’s this?” Caitlin asked, holding it up.
“Box. My grandfather’s! Five dollars!”
She tried to do the math in her head. His grandfather? That meant the box was pretty old, but it would make a good decorative piece for her room.
“How do I open it? Is there anything inside?”
“Don’t know!”
Caitlin gave one last sweeping look around the tent, and determined that she couldn’t do any better. “Fine. I’ll take it,” she said in resignation, tucking it under her arm and grabbing the umbrella. The man gave her a thumbs up, delighted to have sold two items.
As she turned to step out of the tent, Caitlin realized she couldn’t hear the pitter patter of raindrops on the roof of the tent anymore. It had stopped raining, just as suddenly as it had begun. She turned to glare at the shopkeeper. He just smiled back.
Chapter 11
Johannesburg
The library was quiet. Not the kind of quiet of people reading silently and speaking in hushed voices. No, the library had closed three hours ago and everyone had left for the day. Everyone except Themba.
Earlier in the day, about fifteen minutes to closing, some kids who had been playing hide and seek in the reference section on the third floor somehow managed to topple a shelf, resulting in a domino effect. Themba was the first and only librarian on scene, since his colleagues had already left when he volunteered to close up, and the children ran past him and down the stairs before he could stop them.
Nearly twenty shelves lay staggered on the ground, and books had fallen everywhere in an uncoordinated mess. It was like they were trying to escape the prison of their shelves, flapping away desperately by their book covers, only to find out that they were incapable of flight. Themba had planned to stay late to read and use the library computers to do some research, but those hopes were dashed.
Currently, the skinny young man was sitting in the middle of a pile of books, straining his eyes to read the tiny Dewey Decimal numbers on the book spines under the dim lighting. He wasn’t a very strong person, and without any help, it had taken him almost an hour just to prop all the shelves upright.
He considered giving up for the night, but he had to take his sister to school in the morning, and wouldn’t be able to get in before the library opened its doors to the public. Another hour soon lapsed and the piles of books around Themba had grown in both numbers and height. The ceiling light directly above him had started to flicker, and he looked up, praying that his luck wouldn’t get any worse. Initially, he thought he was just getting tired and his eyelids were playing a trick on him. But when the light didn’t come back on after a while, he knew the bulb had reached the end of its life.
Groaning in exasperation, Themba got up, careful not to knock over the books around him. He headed to the storage closet located at the far end of the level. One of the other librarians had told him once that they kept various supplies there, although he harbored little hope that there would be an appropriate replacement for the ceiling light. Standing before the locked door, he fumbled with his ring of library keys, and after trying four of them, he managed to find the correct one on his
fifth attempt.
He struggled with the lock initially. The lock and the key were old, and the key almost felt like it might break if he tried to twist it too hard. Finally, the lock obliged and the door nearly hit Themba in the face when he swung it open. He was instantly greeted by a dank, musky odor. It smelled like something had died in there. Perhaps a rat, Themba thought, as he flicked the switch on the side of the door, illuminating the storage room. Room was a generous description. It was basically a big hole in the wall with three shelves lined with various objects, including a toolbox, a bucket, and ironically, some old books.
Themba sighed when he didn’t see any light bulbs. His streak of bad luck continued. That’s it, he decided. He was going home. There was no way he could finish sorting the books tonight. He flicked the light switch off, but just as he was about the shut the door, he thought he had seen a faint red glow coming from the bottom shelf. He paused, holding the door ajar, and stared into the dark closet. His eyes must be playing tricks on him.
He went to close the door once more, and again, he thought he had seen a red glow. Turning the light on, he crouched down to take a closer look at the contents of the bottom most shelf. There were only two items. Tucked in the far-left corner was an empty mason jar. Next to it, sat a perfectly-shaped wooden cube. There was a sticky note on it that plainly stated: “Box doesn’t open.”
Intrigued, Themba slid the box outward, surprised at how heavy it was. Studying the beautiful carvings found on every side, he could tell that they looked Greek in origin. He recognized one of the depictions, that of a woman with snakes in place of her hair. Medusa.
