Grab Bag
Posted: 03 Oct 2015, 05:00
(*OOC: The character of Alexandrea is used here with that that player's permission)
It had been several weeks since Deagan McNamara had set foot in the 8th Dimension Mall, the site of his first encounter with a "focused, non-terminal, repeating phantasm." Ghostbusters has always been one of his favorite films. The irony was not lost on him now. The spook in question had been his wife, dead now just over a year. She had appeared to him that day as real as if she were still alive, perhaps in some ways more real, and had spoken to him in the Folklore aisle of McCallahan's Books and Things, the store in front of which he now stood again.
It was normal business hours, and the doors leading from McCallahan's out into the mall were propped open. Inside the cozy book shop he saw a few customers browsing or sitting at one of the computer terminals. No one that he recognized. Not the young man and woman who had attempted to help him when he looked as if he was going to collapse from the shock of seeing his deceased wife appear right before him. Not the mysterious stranger Ambrose who... well, the less said of him the better. And certainly not Emily, or any semblance of her. She had spoken to him on multiple occasions since the incident, in that eerie voice of hers, the one that somehow sounded close and light years away at the same time, but she had not reappeared in her full glory. Deagan's life had taken a turn for the tragic and bizarre since the day of her murder, but since he had seen her apparition, it had only gotten stranger. Perhaps it was why he was back here in the 8th Dimension Mall today, to go back to start of this weird chain of events and try to make sense of it all.
But all that being said, he couldn't bring himself to walk inside to the comforting glow of McCallahan's Books and Things. There was still too much emotional residue from having seen Emily for the first time in a year, for the first time since the funeral. And then there was the humiliation from the scene which he had caused. He was not sure what he had been hoping for. Somehow all of a sudden he felt utterly defeated. Deagan turned to leave, to walk right out of the mall, when suddenly he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat. Across the mall's atrium, on the other side of the round fountain where shoppers sometimes threw loose change in the superstitious hope that it would give them good luck, stood Emily, looking exactly the same as she had that day in McCallahan's. A slightly younger version from the one Deagan had been married to and living with in Harper Rock, her brown hair cut in the mousy bob she favored as an undergrad at the University of Toronto. Emily was too far away for Deagan to yell out after her, though he was sorely tempted. Instead he began quickly walking toward her, fast enough so that his overcoat fluttered out behind him almost comically. Deagan became slightly frantic as he noted that she was walking in the opposite direction he was, and despite his speed, he was having trouble catching up. It was like some horribly dream. He was about to break into a full run when Emily suddenly took a sharp right, disappeared through the doors of a shop.
The sign above the door said Quartermaine Custom Creations. It appeared to be one of those specialty shops that Deagan normally would never even think to go in. Bookstores were more his speed. Emily used to joke that Deagan wouldn't even go in a grocery store if it didn't have a paperback section. As Deagan crossed inside the threshold and began looking for his wife, he was taken aback at the eclectic nature of the store. It was like a 21st century Olde Curiousity Shoppe. Quartermaine Custom Creations appeared to sell primarily jewelry, as well as magic tricks of some kind. There was an old video game console, some work benches, a fountain, and an aquarium full of fish. The store was mostly empty of customers. Other than Deagan, the only other patron was an attractive young blonde woman, though based on the comfort with which she slipped behind one of the counters to inspect some merchandise, he suspected she was more likely an employee. As Deagan poked around, he did not see the one person he was looking for: Emily. A spiral staircase in the middle of the room appeared to lead to a second level, and he decided to investigate further.
The second floor was primarily an art gallery. Some of the pieces were quite intriguing, and if Deagan had been of a mind to linger, he would have paid more attention to them. Instead he remained intent on finding out where Emily had gone. He was about to pass through an open door into an area that appeared to be a painter's studio, when he suddenly found himself face to face with the blonde woman from downstairs.
"Can I help you find something?"
Though her tone was pleasant, there was something steely about her demeanor that told Deagan he would not be able to blow her off. Deagan honestly did not know what to say in response to her inquiry. Yes, I'm looking for my dead wife. Have you seen her? He was about to make up some feeble excuse about trying to find the restroom, when a ghostly voice spoke in his ear.
Buy me a gift Deagan. A piece jewelry.
Deagan shuddered. He glanced quickly in the direction of the voice, but knew she would not be there. His pessimism was not disappointed. Emily had once again reverted to a spirit of the disembodied kind. The blonde woman continued to watch him expectantly, though now he noticed one eyebrow was decidedly arched. "I, ahh, would like to see some jewelry," Deagan said, and tried to give the woman a smile that he hoped looked natural but which he knew more likely simply looked pained. The woman seemed not to notice (or at least hid it well) and flashed a radiant smile back at him.
"Of course. Right this way."
She turned to go back down the stairs, and Deagan followed obediently. She walked behind a counter that held primarily different types of what appeared to be custom earrings, rings, and pendants, as well as some other accessories.
"Is this a gift for someone?" she asked. "Yes," Deagan said, then, without hesitating, "For my wife." He looked over the case, feeling very lost. He was never terribly good at buying Emily presents when she had been alive. There had been one Christmas where she had finally put her foot down, and told him he was never allowed to get her another book as a gift for the rest of her life. As he remembered her choice of phrasing, a wave of sadness washed over him again. He was about to tell the young woman he had made a mistake, when -
The bird.
This time Deagan managed to quite casually brush off the fact that a spirit was whispering in his ear, and peered closer into the case.
"See anything you like?" asked the blonde woman.
He wasn't sure, and then- yes, there it was! The pendant was in the shape of a hummingbird, beautifully beaded with tiny stones, green and blue for the wings, red for the throat. He hoped what he was looking at wasn't emeralds and rubies. His budget was tight these days, and he wasn't sure he would be able to afford something that extravagant, no matter what messages he was getting from beyond the grave. "The, uh, the hummingbird," he told the young woman. "An excellent choice!" She smiled at Deagan approvingly as she carefully removed the pendant from the glass case. It hung on a delicate silver chain. Before he could ask about the price, she had laid it in a padded gift box, and with deft fingers tied the whole thing shut with a purple bow. She pulled out a white and gold name card.
"Who shall I make this out to?"
"Emily," he responded. He was buying a gift for his dead wife. The whole situation had taken a turn for the surreal. The woman wrote Emily's name in an elegant script, and slipped the card between the ribbon and the gift box. Seeming satisfied with her work, she looked up to Deagan and politely informed him of the price. Deagan was astounded at how low the number was which she quoted to him. He wanted to ask if she had perhaps made a mistake, but instead decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and pulled out cash from his billfold equal to the price she had named. She accepted the money, and completed the transaction by placing the gift in a bag with the name of the shop printed on the side. Deagan was just about to turn and go, when the woman spoke again.
"Oh sir, wait. I almost forgot. We are having a grab bag special today. One per customer. Complimentary if you buy a gift for someone else." The woman took a package out from behind the counter. It was a small and rather plain, almost old-looking, sack made of burlap, and tied together at the top with some rough yarn. She plopped it into the shopping back with the pendant, and handed his purchase to him with a knowing smile. In fact, Deagan could have almost sworn the woman winked at him, but he decided it must have been a trick of the light. Thanking her for her help, he hurried out of the strange shop and headed to the parking lot and his waiting car.
He did not dive into the contents of the bag until he was safely at home. Sitting at his kitchen table, he first removed the gift he had purchased. Emily had not spoken to him again since he had left Quartermaines, not on the ride home, not here in what used to be her favorite room in the house. She had loved to cook, and had designed most of the features of their kitchen herself. Deagan turned to gift over in his hand, and decided not to untie the bow and take out the hummingbird. He felt looking at it a second time would do no more for his understanding of what had occurred today in the gift shop, and it somehow did not feel appropriate. The pendant was, after all, for Emily. He would leave it as is, at least until Emily decided to provide an explanation.
Next he took out the strange little sack. He pulled on the rough cord and the bag fell open easily. Inside were two objects, both inexplicable to Deagan. The first appeared to be some sort of fetish, a small humanoid figure, possibly carved out of soapstone. It's arms and legs were spread apart, the pose reminding Deagan of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man drawing. Around the torso of the figure was a thin strip of leather cord, which bound it together with two other objects, some type of dried plant, and a fang of indeterminate origin, possibly a dog or large cat. The whole bizarre arrangement was itself hung from another strip of leather that served as a necklace.
The second object was a ring, molded from some base metal. It appeared to be an insignia ring, of the kind that long ago was used to impress wax seals. In this case, the symbol on the ring was a simple two-pronged fork. It looked vaguely familiar to Deagan, and he decided he would research it at more length later. He picked up the store bag to throw it in the trash can, and heard something else rattling inside it. Reaching inside, he pulled out a lilac colored business card. On it was printed the address and phone number of the store along with the following:
Quartermaine Custom Creations
Alexandrea Quartermaine, Owner/Artist
Not only was the card lilac-colored, it carried the faint scent of lilacs as well. Flipping it over, he saw written in same elegant script as Emily's name: Pleasure doing business with you!
When did she have time to write that? he wondered. The whole day was one more mystery wrapped in an enigma. He slipped the business card and the gift back into the store bag, and rose to go to bed. Looking at the table, he realized he had forgotten about the "grab bag." The scrap of burlap lay open and empty on the kitchen table. Where...? he thought for a split-second, and then he looked down. At some point he had slipped the insignia ring onto his right hand. The fetish now dangled from his neck...
It had been several weeks since Deagan McNamara had set foot in the 8th Dimension Mall, the site of his first encounter with a "focused, non-terminal, repeating phantasm." Ghostbusters has always been one of his favorite films. The irony was not lost on him now. The spook in question had been his wife, dead now just over a year. She had appeared to him that day as real as if she were still alive, perhaps in some ways more real, and had spoken to him in the Folklore aisle of McCallahan's Books and Things, the store in front of which he now stood again.
It was normal business hours, and the doors leading from McCallahan's out into the mall were propped open. Inside the cozy book shop he saw a few customers browsing or sitting at one of the computer terminals. No one that he recognized. Not the young man and woman who had attempted to help him when he looked as if he was going to collapse from the shock of seeing his deceased wife appear right before him. Not the mysterious stranger Ambrose who... well, the less said of him the better. And certainly not Emily, or any semblance of her. She had spoken to him on multiple occasions since the incident, in that eerie voice of hers, the one that somehow sounded close and light years away at the same time, but she had not reappeared in her full glory. Deagan's life had taken a turn for the tragic and bizarre since the day of her murder, but since he had seen her apparition, it had only gotten stranger. Perhaps it was why he was back here in the 8th Dimension Mall today, to go back to start of this weird chain of events and try to make sense of it all.
But all that being said, he couldn't bring himself to walk inside to the comforting glow of McCallahan's Books and Things. There was still too much emotional residue from having seen Emily for the first time in a year, for the first time since the funeral. And then there was the humiliation from the scene which he had caused. He was not sure what he had been hoping for. Somehow all of a sudden he felt utterly defeated. Deagan turned to leave, to walk right out of the mall, when suddenly he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat. Across the mall's atrium, on the other side of the round fountain where shoppers sometimes threw loose change in the superstitious hope that it would give them good luck, stood Emily, looking exactly the same as she had that day in McCallahan's. A slightly younger version from the one Deagan had been married to and living with in Harper Rock, her brown hair cut in the mousy bob she favored as an undergrad at the University of Toronto. Emily was too far away for Deagan to yell out after her, though he was sorely tempted. Instead he began quickly walking toward her, fast enough so that his overcoat fluttered out behind him almost comically. Deagan became slightly frantic as he noted that she was walking in the opposite direction he was, and despite his speed, he was having trouble catching up. It was like some horribly dream. He was about to break into a full run when Emily suddenly took a sharp right, disappeared through the doors of a shop.
The sign above the door said Quartermaine Custom Creations. It appeared to be one of those specialty shops that Deagan normally would never even think to go in. Bookstores were more his speed. Emily used to joke that Deagan wouldn't even go in a grocery store if it didn't have a paperback section. As Deagan crossed inside the threshold and began looking for his wife, he was taken aback at the eclectic nature of the store. It was like a 21st century Olde Curiousity Shoppe. Quartermaine Custom Creations appeared to sell primarily jewelry, as well as magic tricks of some kind. There was an old video game console, some work benches, a fountain, and an aquarium full of fish. The store was mostly empty of customers. Other than Deagan, the only other patron was an attractive young blonde woman, though based on the comfort with which she slipped behind one of the counters to inspect some merchandise, he suspected she was more likely an employee. As Deagan poked around, he did not see the one person he was looking for: Emily. A spiral staircase in the middle of the room appeared to lead to a second level, and he decided to investigate further.
The second floor was primarily an art gallery. Some of the pieces were quite intriguing, and if Deagan had been of a mind to linger, he would have paid more attention to them. Instead he remained intent on finding out where Emily had gone. He was about to pass through an open door into an area that appeared to be a painter's studio, when he suddenly found himself face to face with the blonde woman from downstairs.
"Can I help you find something?"
Though her tone was pleasant, there was something steely about her demeanor that told Deagan he would not be able to blow her off. Deagan honestly did not know what to say in response to her inquiry. Yes, I'm looking for my dead wife. Have you seen her? He was about to make up some feeble excuse about trying to find the restroom, when a ghostly voice spoke in his ear.
Buy me a gift Deagan. A piece jewelry.
Deagan shuddered. He glanced quickly in the direction of the voice, but knew she would not be there. His pessimism was not disappointed. Emily had once again reverted to a spirit of the disembodied kind. The blonde woman continued to watch him expectantly, though now he noticed one eyebrow was decidedly arched. "I, ahh, would like to see some jewelry," Deagan said, and tried to give the woman a smile that he hoped looked natural but which he knew more likely simply looked pained. The woman seemed not to notice (or at least hid it well) and flashed a radiant smile back at him.
"Of course. Right this way."
She turned to go back down the stairs, and Deagan followed obediently. She walked behind a counter that held primarily different types of what appeared to be custom earrings, rings, and pendants, as well as some other accessories.
"Is this a gift for someone?" she asked. "Yes," Deagan said, then, without hesitating, "For my wife." He looked over the case, feeling very lost. He was never terribly good at buying Emily presents when she had been alive. There had been one Christmas where she had finally put her foot down, and told him he was never allowed to get her another book as a gift for the rest of her life. As he remembered her choice of phrasing, a wave of sadness washed over him again. He was about to tell the young woman he had made a mistake, when -
The bird.
This time Deagan managed to quite casually brush off the fact that a spirit was whispering in his ear, and peered closer into the case.
"See anything you like?" asked the blonde woman.
He wasn't sure, and then- yes, there it was! The pendant was in the shape of a hummingbird, beautifully beaded with tiny stones, green and blue for the wings, red for the throat. He hoped what he was looking at wasn't emeralds and rubies. His budget was tight these days, and he wasn't sure he would be able to afford something that extravagant, no matter what messages he was getting from beyond the grave. "The, uh, the hummingbird," he told the young woman. "An excellent choice!" She smiled at Deagan approvingly as she carefully removed the pendant from the glass case. It hung on a delicate silver chain. Before he could ask about the price, she had laid it in a padded gift box, and with deft fingers tied the whole thing shut with a purple bow. She pulled out a white and gold name card.
"Who shall I make this out to?"
"Emily," he responded. He was buying a gift for his dead wife. The whole situation had taken a turn for the surreal. The woman wrote Emily's name in an elegant script, and slipped the card between the ribbon and the gift box. Seeming satisfied with her work, she looked up to Deagan and politely informed him of the price. Deagan was astounded at how low the number was which she quoted to him. He wanted to ask if she had perhaps made a mistake, but instead decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and pulled out cash from his billfold equal to the price she had named. She accepted the money, and completed the transaction by placing the gift in a bag with the name of the shop printed on the side. Deagan was just about to turn and go, when the woman spoke again.
"Oh sir, wait. I almost forgot. We are having a grab bag special today. One per customer. Complimentary if you buy a gift for someone else." The woman took a package out from behind the counter. It was a small and rather plain, almost old-looking, sack made of burlap, and tied together at the top with some rough yarn. She plopped it into the shopping back with the pendant, and handed his purchase to him with a knowing smile. In fact, Deagan could have almost sworn the woman winked at him, but he decided it must have been a trick of the light. Thanking her for her help, he hurried out of the strange shop and headed to the parking lot and his waiting car.
He did not dive into the contents of the bag until he was safely at home. Sitting at his kitchen table, he first removed the gift he had purchased. Emily had not spoken to him again since he had left Quartermaines, not on the ride home, not here in what used to be her favorite room in the house. She had loved to cook, and had designed most of the features of their kitchen herself. Deagan turned to gift over in his hand, and decided not to untie the bow and take out the hummingbird. He felt looking at it a second time would do no more for his understanding of what had occurred today in the gift shop, and it somehow did not feel appropriate. The pendant was, after all, for Emily. He would leave it as is, at least until Emily decided to provide an explanation.
Next he took out the strange little sack. He pulled on the rough cord and the bag fell open easily. Inside were two objects, both inexplicable to Deagan. The first appeared to be some sort of fetish, a small humanoid figure, possibly carved out of soapstone. It's arms and legs were spread apart, the pose reminding Deagan of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man drawing. Around the torso of the figure was a thin strip of leather cord, which bound it together with two other objects, some type of dried plant, and a fang of indeterminate origin, possibly a dog or large cat. The whole bizarre arrangement was itself hung from another strip of leather that served as a necklace.
The second object was a ring, molded from some base metal. It appeared to be an insignia ring, of the kind that long ago was used to impress wax seals. In this case, the symbol on the ring was a simple two-pronged fork. It looked vaguely familiar to Deagan, and he decided he would research it at more length later. He picked up the store bag to throw it in the trash can, and heard something else rattling inside it. Reaching inside, he pulled out a lilac colored business card. On it was printed the address and phone number of the store along with the following:
Quartermaine Custom Creations
Alexandrea Quartermaine, Owner/Artist
Not only was the card lilac-colored, it carried the faint scent of lilacs as well. Flipping it over, he saw written in same elegant script as Emily's name: Pleasure doing business with you!
When did she have time to write that? he wondered. The whole day was one more mystery wrapped in an enigma. He slipped the business card and the gift back into the store bag, and rose to go to bed. Looking at the table, he realized he had forgotten about the "grab bag." The scrap of burlap lay open and empty on the kitchen table. Where...? he thought for a split-second, and then he looked down. At some point he had slipped the insignia ring onto his right hand. The fetish now dangled from his neck...