The Haunts

Levy turned the corner and walked down to one of the oldest districts to memory. The buses in the area barely ever passed by, so getting there, one had to either resort to driving, or they had to walk the distance from the bustling downtown core area to a seedier region. It was a part of the city that was near the industrial area but, in its younger days, had been a commercial hub. Now, it was a place where old businesses slipped into obscurity and then into obsolescence. As he passed old bookstores and novelty joke shops, he noticed the filthy old diners and recognized retail stores on the verge of insolvency. He hurried past the dust clogged windows plastered with signs of expired sales; where dwindling occupants waited for some respectable customer to enter and offer some relief to their vague, almost monotonous existence.

“Why is it that wherever I stand, the world around me continues to change into something unrecognizable?” he felt a little sad as he stopped before a deep crack in the sidewalk which had led to the birth of a perfect dandelion. No matter what humanity schemed or constructed, nature would take it all back as if it all didn’t matter. He sighed as he squatted down in front of the flower and tilted his head. He then noted the side of the brickwork and then his eyes followed up to the old painted trim on the windowpanes that looked bleached and were peeling in the sunlight. As he stood up, Levy read the creaky old sign on the store he happened by and smirked. So funny how life just seemed to push you in the direction you need to be.

Above him, a rustic old sign swayed in the breeze announcing that he had reached “the Apothecaries Arcadian.”

The shop appeared to be half the size of the neighbouring businesses on both sides when viewed from the outside. Over the years, the surrounding buildings gradually encroached upon it, threatening its existence. Levy often struggled to push open the old arched metal door, having to exert his weight to make it budge. He cast a quick glance at the worn linoleum flooring, which bulged in places because of years of water damage. He suspected that this unfortunate condition had deterred many patrons from entering. But this wouldn’t deter Levy. He exerted force until he fit his slender body through the narrow opening. After entering the dimly lit store, he glanced around and wrinkled his nose in confusion. The air felt cool, with a slight hint of humidity, and carried the unpleasant scents of sweat, dust, and various uninviting herbal aromas. Undeterred by the unpleasant odour, Levy proceeded to the rear of the store. As he walked down each aisle, the inventory reminded him of a traditional Chinese medicinal shop from the past. They filled the room with many old wooden shelves neatly arranged in rows. Each counter displayed a variety of handmade trinkets hanging delicately. Glass and wooden containers adorned the shelves, marked with handwritten labels and peculiar symbols etched onto their surfaces. He noticed that the smaller bottles and jars were all sealed with wax. As Levy walked further down, he observed that the products on the shelves became increasingly out of place. Suddenly, the shop owner seemed to have transformed into a taxidermist. The shop now displayed peculiar curiosities such as jars filled with formaldehyde, housing unusual organic deformities. Among these curiosities were containers containing dried insect or animal parts. On a dusty shelf, rows of string-bound pouches sat, each containing a variety of pungent powdered substances. A collection of semi-polished jewels and beautifully packed sweet grass were also on exhibit. A section intended for wiccans and Pagans. Levy lingered in front of the counter at the back of the store. A stuffed crow sitting on a wooden perch that protruded from a large, old-fashioned bookshelf made of glass and wood cause his eye. The bookshelf was just behind the shop owner, who was rather overweight. The leather-bound books kept behind the counter, out of reach of patrons. In order to find a book that could assist him in his quest for answers, he would need to approach the individual stationed at the desk.

The retailer behind the counter was a frumpy, heavyset man of intimidating height that looked more interested in his newspaper than to greet anyone. The glasses he wore had the lens so thick his eyes seemed as small as a baby bug. Not only could the man’s burly bushman’s beard possibly harbour small creatures in it, but like the grey patch of hair atop the shopkeeper’s head, it could use a good comb through and a trimming.

“You sure have one whacked place here,” Levy continued to linger around at the counter, unsure of what other oddities he had missed. “I was wondering if—”

Without a word, the owner looked up from his reading glasses and, after a few uncomfortable seconds, went back to his paper. “Only paying customers can use the loo.”

Levy bent forwards, “to use the what now?”

“What?” The owner looked up from his paper, agitated.

“You said—the loo?”

“That’s right, the loo.”

“What the fuck is a loo?”

“Ever been to England?”

“No.”

“Watch any British programs?”

Levy shrugged with indifference, “I’ve listened to my share of a few British bands and a few of their videos, but I still don’t know what a loo is.”

“Well, it’s a British term for the lavatory.”

“What’s a lavatory?”

The shopkeeper let the newspaper in his hand droop forwards, “you’re kidding me, right?”

“Yeah…” Levy snorted, “How else can I keep you from brushing me off?”

“You’re one snarky little bugger, I’ll give you that much.”

“My grandmother informed me about this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so—”

“Bigger on the inside?” The owner winked and then sighed, realizing that the teenager didn’t get his reference to a specific British sci-fi program.

“Filthy actually,” Levy dragged his finger across the stained wood countertop. “I mean, how much would it pain you to hire a cleaner once in a while?”

“Oh, my Gosh!” The owner stood back, feigning shock.

Levy looked around, expecting to see something amiss. “What is it? Is my hair out of place?”

“I never thought it was possible, but I guess that it’s true.” He pushed off his chair and came around to face Levy. All the while, he was adjusting his glasses to see the kid better.

“What!” Levy squinted up at the towering man.

“That my beloved Mother returned to me as a teenage boy to come back to torment me about life choices.”

Before the lad could retort, he felt himself spun around by the owner and escorted towards the exit. He strained against the man’s grip and attempted to slow himself down with the uneven tiles. “Wait! I came here for a reason!” he insisted.

“Now you say hello to whomever that sent you to me and that next time they need something, tell them to come down and get it themselves. I have no patience for a looky-loo.”

The door was just a few feet from Levy as he kicked out and pushed against the door frame.

“I would if my grandmamma wasn’t dead,” he blurted out; letting the last word sink into the big brute’s swelled head.

“Oh,” the owner said after pausing. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll bet she was a good person. And I can say with confidence that I’ll miss her patronage. So—” With full intent to shove the skinny teenager back onto the street, the store owner seized the door handle and yanked it open with every intention of locking the door and switching the open sign to closed. Afterwards, he intended to head back to his newspaper and read in solitude.

As the door opened, Levy baulked at an approaching storm in the distance. Then, he recognized the all too familiar sound of a reclaimed shopping cart as it rattled and a signature squeaky loose front wheel snapped and slapped across the broken concrete sidewalk. Levy exchanged a look of fear with the shop owner.

“Wait a sec,” the shop owner hesitated. “That sound! Oh, please, noble spirits, tell me that’s not her! Anything but her!”

Levy struggled to be free of the owner’s grip and then kicked out with his feet to close the shop door.

“You can’t make me leave here while that horrible hag is out there! She’s the very reason I came here!”

The owner cringed and then stammered out, “perchance, what’s your grandma’s name?” He perked an eyebrow and scowled down at the pesky lad.

“She went by as Mrs. Laire Lana McKinney!”

“I knew a Laire many years ago, but that wasn’t her last name.” He again attempted to push Levy out despite the boy’s apparent distress.

In desperation, Levy grabbed for the door frame. “Hankinson! She was first married to a man that was enlisted in the goddamn Vietnam War!” He felt the shop owner pulling him back in.

“Alright, son, you can quit your fretting. You can stay in here for a bit if you promise to behave.” Pushing the lad aside, the owner quickly went to close the door to the store, locked and bolted it shut with a thick steel bar covered in illegible scribble and indescribable glyphs. He then stood back, looking at the door, wondering if it would be enough to keep her out. “We protected this place from many forces, but I can’t say for how long.” His face shadowed as he withdrew a cloth and removed his glasses to wipe the greasy smears off the lens. “Ordinarily, I can mask it from detection, but it’s been a long while since I had to cast such a protection spell. I don’t know if I even have all the ingredients to do so again.”

“So, you know her?” Levy stood up and brushed himself off. “You’ve met my grandmamma?”

The shop owner mumbled, “I knew her once, but not very well, I’m afraid. It’s been so long since I first met her, as brief as that encounter was. She came to me for supplies and some advice. But that was when she was a young woman.”

“Well, I’m her only grandson, and I come to you in search of answers.”

“And all this time I thought you were here just for a bag of dried bat hearts,” the shopkeeper mused.

Levy slipped to the floor and pressed his back on one shelf. “So… what’s all this stuff here for?”

“This is an apothecary.”

“Meaning what?”

“Don’t start that again, okay?” The shop owner crossed his beefy arms.

“No, I took this to be some weird new age herbal store for people concerned with their gluten intake.”

“Well, it’s a kind of metaphysical pharmacy for those having to cope within the supernatural world around us. Some people come here to for a spiritual cure, to be purified, or even cleansed; while others come here to extend their lives when cursed or possessed…”

“But does any of it work?”

“Sure kid, why not? I guess it depends on what you’re trying to get rid of or to cure yourself. If you’re looking for the cure for cancer here, this ain’t the place for it. That’s a different bag altogether. What I’m dealing with must be supernatural. Like a curse or by the actions of dark magic like voodoo, or even hoodoo.”

“Magic, huh?” Levy smirked. “After all the shit I’ve been going through, and you spout nonsense about magic curses. How can I take any of this seriously? I mean, I don’t even believe in a God, let alone in the Devil. But after what I’ve seen and experienced, I still can’t logically find an answer to what has been happening, unless maybe someone placed LSD in my glass of water, or I’ve smoked dope or even inhaled an undetectable gas leak. How can I honestly believe in the supernatural when science always tries to explain things, even if it’s a working hypothesis proposed for further research?”

The shop owner gestured to the door. “I’m afraid you’re getting left behind, my boy. Scientists have found new truths about the soul. You haven’t been updating your scientific knowledge, I can see. Leading scientists say that consciousness cannot die. It goes back to the universe after the physical body dies. Look, I almost sent you home, but you’re shit scared of who is out there trying to break because I am terrified of what she might do if she gets through that magically sealed door. Therefore, it doesn’t matter right now what you believe, because if she gets in here, all the logic and reasoning in the world cannot save you from her wrath.”

“So you know who’s pounding at your door?” Levy pointed.

“I might,” the man sniffed. “What name does she go by now?”

“Her name is…” Levy looked scared and heart set on getting to the shop that he had forgotten her name. “I-I think… she can make storms and scare people.”

The shop owner squinted at him. “You’re not talking about Cailleach Bhéarach, are you? Because if that is correct, she’s—the God of all storms.”

“Yup, that sounds right,” Levy quipped as he heard the front door of the store being struck, as all the shop windows trembled, threatening to explode.

Both the shop owner and Levy turned their head towards the shop entrance and hoped the protection spell would hold. The owner mumbled in prayer, while Levy just stood wide-eyed and uncertain of what was going on.

How can this be? Levy was beside himself. Was that old hag following me and, if so, to what purpose? Why me? His eyes fell on his hand where the strange tattoo of his grandmamma somehow transferred to his hand. A deep bluish-purple glowed from its edges. He looked at the shop owner, but the man was facing the front of the store, trying his best not to freak out.

The shop owner extended his hand for Levy to take and introduced himself. All the while, his eyes never left the door to the shop as it rattled and banged. “I’m Gilbert Gundegisil the third.”

Levy reciprocated by reaching out with his right hand to take the owner’s hand in his, “You can call me Levy, Levy Madison O’Rourke.”

“Nice to meetcha, their Levy,” Gilbert nodded.

“Yeah, same here,” Levy nodded back, “are you sure that door will keep her out?”

Gilbert stammered something unintelligible as he removed his glasses to clean them, and then dabbed at his sweaty brow with the same cloth.

“Right,” Levy nodded as he stared in terror at the door as the thumping grew in volume. His knees threatened to buckle, and he wanted nothing better than to find a good hiding spot in case the door should blow open.