Mormon's Witchcraft, and Souvenir Shop | Teen Ink

Mormon's Witchcraft, and Souvenir Shop

May 5, 2019
By Bella_Queen PLATINUM, Brinkhaven, Ohio
Bella_Queen PLATINUM, Brinkhaven, Ohio
24 articles 9 photos 17 comments

Favorite Quote:
Being a hero doesn't mean you're invincible. It just means that you're brave enough to stand up and do what's needed.
-Rick Riordan


I pushed on the door, putting my whole weight against it. But it didn’t budge, not even an inch. I abandoned the door to peek into the window to the left of the door. Maybe I would see someone inside, I squished my face against it trying to see through all the dust covering the window, but I could only see jars with dark objects inside, I also noticed books lining rickety bookshelves, but there seemed to be no one about. I turned from the window sighing, they must be closed, to bad though I wanted to know who had sent me the strange letter.


I turned away from the door preparing to leave, but then I heard the tinkle of a store bell, and a loud Creak! I turned to face the door finding it slightly ajar.

“It wasn’t like that before. Was it?”

I stepped cautiously toward the door. Tentatively opening it the rest of the way. Dust sprang up from the ground were I stepped, making me sneeze loudly. Whoever owned this shop clearly didn’t take care of it.

“Hello?”

I said quietly. The only response was my voice bouncing off the walls, making it sound strangely amplified. I scrunched my face up, trying to stop myself from sneezing. I stepped out of the shop checking the sign again. It read:

Mormons Witchcraft, and souvenir shop.

Yep, this was definitely the right place. I stepped back into the shop, breathing through my mouth so as not to inhale any dust.

“Hey! I….Uh….I got your letter!”

I shout, pulling out a letter with grease smudges on it. I shake my head.

“I might as well be talking to myself.”

I whisper. I shove the letter back into my pocket, and turn to leave. Then I notice all the strange jars full of things that, well jars shouldn’t be full of. I also notice worn books with titles like: Beginners guide to Witchcraft: The Salem Witch Trials: And from Frogskin, to Bird beaks how to become a potions master!


I pick up a book with chains wrapped tightly around it.

“Joke shop of some sort.”

I say to myself, laughing lightly. Then I hear it. A loud whoosh. I turn to see a curtain drawn back slightly, dust floating up, as though someone had just went in.

“Hello?!”

I shout, I open the curtain the rest of the way, more dust making me sneeze. The back room is full of more strange things, there are little sticks that look oddly like wands, pointy hats, and rats in cages, along with frogs in tanks. The frogs, and rats look like they were fed only moments ago.

“Someone has to be here!”

I say loudly. I look around my eyes fall on a Mahogany desk with a grease smudged note on top. I pick it up reading my name on the front, I open it and begin to read:


Dear Jamie Holland,


We regret to inform you that your mothers brother (Henry Claston) has died of heart complications. We apologize that you were not informed when your first letter was given, but the mailman seemed to curious, and we do believe he opened it. Your uncle Henry owned this shop since 1692, when the Salem Witch Trials began. It was created so witches (and wizards, though they were not being killed off like those of the female gender) could meet in secret to practice their skills.


We understand that your mother, bless her, died recently this year, therefore the shop is put into the hands of your uncle’s last living relative, and that Jamie is you. You probably do not understand why your father was not given the shop. This is due to the fact that your father was, in fact of no magical ancestry.


The shop will be handed down to you, and you may do as you please with it, but you must still hold the meetings for those who wish to expand their magical minds. These meetings begin at 10:30 AM and end at 3:00 PM. If these meetings are stopped for any reason whatsoever the store will, and forever, be destroyed.


You have also inherited a large sum of money which should be found within the cash register.


Cordially,

Peter Martins, Protection of Magical shops, and homes Department.


I stare at the letter for a moment rereading it.

“This can’t be right.”
I whisper, I look back at the desk to find an ancient cash register, with the bottom open to reveal another envelope. I pick it up, and quickly open it finding a large sum of money inside. I look at it disbelieving.

“The stuff I could do with this money.”

I quickly shove the envelope in my pocket, staring around at the room. At first I thought the whole thing was a joke, but now…


I hurry out of the back room, finding a brass key on a table, with jars full of cockroaches. I scoop it up, my heart hammering in my chest. I couldn’t believe that I actually thought this whole thing was true, but for some reason I did. I open the door to the shop, the little bell tinkling above me. I smile at the sign, possibilities coursing through my mind. I had all this money that I could use to repair this shop. I could finally own something important. Smiling, I set off for home.



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