Original prompt here

Jason didn’t know how he’d missed the shop on his walk home all these years. The windows were filled with things, strange, enthralling and bizarre, and every one unique. The moment he’d seen the door, he knew he had to go in. It was 2pm, so he assumed that it was open, but the signs did not exactly make that clear. In the grimy, cobwebbed window, the hours were listed as:

Mon-Fri: If necessary Sat-Sun: As needed

The door was made of aged, gnarled wood, with a window in the middle that had clearly been added later. Through the thin layer of dust, Jason could just make out a sign which unhelpfully said neither “open” nor “closed,” but rather “CAVEAT EMPTOR”. He considered the words for a moment, then shrugged and tried pushing the door.

To Jason’s mild surprise, it opened, and did so without the slightest noise. The door’s movement stirred up swirls of faint dust across the shaded interior of the store. Clocks, weapons, coins, masks, clothing, statues and more lined the walls, surrounding the furniture and bookshelves that filled the floor of the showroom’s cramped interior. The smell of polish nearly masked the odors of leather, metal and old pages. As Jason stepped inside, the door slammed shut with more force than he’d expected from its weight. He glanced back reflexively at the noise, and saw the opposite side of the sign read “HOMO FUGE”, rather than “closed.”

“A customer? One moment.” The man’s voice rose from behind a curtain in the back of the store, and was followed by scraping and the occasional clatter. When it became clear that the owner would take a while to disentangle himself, Jason drifted over to look at the store’s selection. A Roman-style sword drew his attention, in such good condition that he knew it had to be a reproduction. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stared at it, but the leather-wrapped hilt seemed to beg him to touch it. Just a little. A single finger on the pommel. His hand was half raised when the owner finally reached the store’s main room.

“Ah, I see you found Arthur’s sword.” His voice shook Jason awake, and he pulled his hand back, slowly testing fingers that felt… unfamiliar. “Still in fine condition after all this time. Are you interested in buying?”

“Um, no, I mean, I just saw this shop on the way home from work, and I thought I’d check it out. You’re really hard to spot. How long has your store been in this location?” He finally turned to look at the man. He was short, wearing a pinstripe suit that had been the height of fashion in some bygone decade. A neatly trimmed, stark white beard framed his bespectacled face, and his cane made no noise when it should have tapped upon the floor.

The owner stretched out a wrinkled hand, and Jason took it. “I’m Mister Les, the owner of this antique shop. As for how long, well, I can’t rightly remember. Quite a while.”

Jason pulled himself away from the swords and began perusing one of the bookshelves. “Does your shop have any specialties, Les?” The books were universally old, massive leather-bound tomes whose weight bowed the shelves they rested upon.

“No, more a little bit of everything. But the customers tend to find what they need. And what is it that you’re looking for, Jason?”

“Nothing in particular,” he said, “I was simply curious.”

Les chuckled, “Curiosity is rarely simple. Nor is it exclusive from more specific desires. Come now, the shop is packed with items! You’ll be searching for days without some goal in mind.”

“That’s fine. Please, don’t feel you have to wait on me. I might be a while.” When it became clear none of the books were in English, and few even in the Latin alphabet, Jason moved on. A stand of jewelry drew his attention. It was all so gaudy he immediately knew it had to be fake. There was no way there was that much real gold openly on display. Still, they were high quality reproductions.

Les drifted behind the counter, never taking his eyes off of Jason as he moved around the store. A figurine section attracted him in and kept him enthralled by the intricate details for hours. Mice with each individual hair carved out of the stone. A resting, curled up fox, carved so well with the grain of a knot of wood that it seemed to move in the corner of his eye. A marble bust of some unknown Roman, features drawn with a sadness that shook Jason to the core. At last, Les coughed meaningfully. “Ahem. It’s late. Have you found what you were looking for?”

“Ah, apologies,” Jason said, “I didn’t realize the time. No, it does feel a bit rude after looking about for hours, but I haven’t seen anything I’d like to buy. Sorry to keep you open so late.”

“No, it’s fine, take as long as you-”

Jason knew a polite lie when he heard one. “I’ll be back tomorrow though!” He called over his shoulder..

Jason was more careful entering this time. Again, the door opened easily, but as soon as he was fully inside, it slammed shut with far more force than he’d put into opening it.

“A customer? One moment.” Les called from the back. Again, a cacophony rose as the owner extricated himself. Jason moved past the front of the shop to the more dimly lit sections and shook his head at what the gloom hid. Old coins, gold and silver and copper, lay on top of tables in heaps, completely unsorted. A few had rolled off onto the floor, half buried under drifts of dust..

“Ah, I see you found the treasure- Jason?” Les gasped. “You- how- But you were here yesterday!”

“And I told you I would come back. I can’t believe you just leave all of this lying here. How could anyone buy any of this without knowing the price?”

Les’ mouth opened and closed a few times before he found the breath to respond, “Um, right. Well, we negotiate rates individually for each piece. Did you not notice that nothing in the store has a tag?”

“I suppose that makes sense, although I’d love more details about many of these coins. I don’t even know what civilization minted them.”

Les blinked a few times. “Well… Sure, where to start?”

Jason picked up what he thought was one of the oldest coins, a silver hexagon with a square hole in the centre, with a few characters in an unknown script roughly stamped into the sides. Les identified immediately by sight. “Old Chinese, though you won’t find those letters in many other places! Not that the coins are all that rare, but that particular minor kingdom didn’t save their idiosyncratic alphabet anywhere else. From what we can tell, this was one of the last coins minted before the kingdom fell.”

“Fascinating,” Jason peered through the center. “How much is something like this worth?”

“Are you interested in buying?” Some stray reflection off the coin caused the owner’s eyes to glint red in the dark. “The price… varies from customer to customer. What do you have to offer?”

“No, no, I was just curious.” He moved onto another coin, a very misshapen circle of greenish rust. “What about this one?”

Les shook himself, “Ah, what? Yes, that’s Germanic. Tribe unknown, but estimated to be from around 200 AD. Recently found in a burial mound near present-day Bremen. From the other artifacts, it seems the grave’s occupant was killed by the Romans.”

“And this one?”

The hours flew by, but this time Jason kept an eye on the windows, and when it became fully dark, said, “See? It’s a start.”

“Hmm, what?”

Jason gestured to the table. It was far from perfect, but a third of the coins were roughly sorted by region, as best as Jason could manage from Les’ impromptu history lessons. “Hopefully this makes it a bit easier for the next customer. And thanks for the information, it was absolutely enthralling.” He left with a smile on his face, ignoring what he assumed was the owner’s thanks.

Jason was wise to the door’s tricks this time. He kept a firm grip on the inside knob, and though it tried to slam shut, he eased it gently to the frame. Nonetheless, Les somehow heard him.

“A customer? One moment.”

“It’s just me again,” Jason said before the clattering could begin. “Just looking, like usual.”

This time he went for the paintings, stacked one in front of the other so that he had to flip through them like CDs. There were a few landscapes, and a couple studies of fruit, but the overwhelming majority of the art was portraits. Strange, uncomfortable portraits, with very few smiles, and disconcerting eyes.

Before Les made it out of the back, Jason moved on with a shiver. He’d always like a touch of horror, but something about that made him want to flee. Then it came to him.

When Les found him looking at the clock section, Jason asked, “The sign on the door, ‘Homo Fuge,’ is that from Dr. Faust?”

“Yes, it is. ‘Man, flee,” in Latin. Faust’s own blood warning him away from his deal with the devil.”

“Excellent reference.” Jason nodded in approval. “Has far more character than the usual ‘closed’ and ‘open’. And it certainly tells latecomers what you think of them, though I doubt your typical rude last-minute shopper will notice.”

Les shook his head. “You’re certainly… unique.”

“Oh, I apologize, I just thought- well, not to be rude, but you aren’t that busy, and I didn’t think browsing would be a problem.”

“No, no, come as often as you like, just let me know when you finally find something you need.” He paused. “And I’d recommend not touching the clocks.”

Jason nodded, “No problem, wouldn’t want to damage the polish.”

“...Yes, the polish, of course.”

Picking one more or less at random, Jason asked, “Where is this one from?”

On the fourth day, the door caught Jason off guard. He’d almost let it close gently, when in the last inch the force greatly increased, pulling the knob out of his hand. The store reverberated with a thump.

“Cheeky door,” he muttered.

“Welcome back, Jason.” Les was waiting in the showroom for the first time, inspecting three boxes lined up on the counter.

Jason smiled sheepishly. “What can I say, It’s a nice store. Maybe I’ll get something today.”

“You don’t seem to understand! People don’t come in here to, to browse. Customers are drawn here by need, pressing need, or they wouldn’t have found the shop.” Jason was pretty sure that wasn’t how shopping, property or finding buildings worked, but he let Les carry on without interruption. “You shouldn’t be here unless you want something. So come here and look at these.”

Jason moved over to examine the boxes on the counter. They were identical, small cardboard cardboard cubes that would fit in the palm of his hand. “What am I looking for?” He asked in bemusement.

“Choose one, and I promise to make you a very special offer on the contents.” Something about Les sounded off, like his voice was echoing from the bottom of a deep well. Like a cold breeze running down the back of one’s neck in the depths of winter. Like an unknown noise at the height of the witching hour.

Jason frowned, “Hey, man, are you okay? Got a cold or something?”

“I’m fine. Now choose. I guarantee that you very badly want what is inside any of them. I know this, for I am ancient-”

“Say no more.” Jason knew his powers of observation weren’t the very best, but he could take a hint. “Can’t leave the store, I get it. Don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly. And next time, just ask me, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Wait, no-”

Jason didn’t let him protest, the ‘ancient’ had really been a dead giveaway. He wasn’t sure what the boxes had been for, but he got Les’ main hint. Poor old guy, too polite to request that the younger man make the walk to the pharmacy for some cough drops.

It was a good day for browsing, though Les was quieter than usual. Colds would do that, Jason thought.

Les let the door go as he walked into the store. It slammed shut with gleeful force. But there was no noise.

“Heh,” Jason patted the door. “You didn’t see me put the felt pads on the doorframe, did you? You’re never making a racket again.”

Today, he went back to the swords. He’d been distracted by “Arthur’s” the first time, and he wanted to make a more complete sweep. Each sword was a masterpiece. Pity none seemed to be originals, but it was one of the few sections in the shop that had only new-looking items.

When the owner didn’t come out, Jason called, “Hey, Les, mind telling me about this sabre?”

The usual clatter arose from the back. More slowly than usual, Les joined him. “Jason. I can tell that you aren’t interested in buying anything I have to sell. So why are you always returning?”

Jason sighed and rubbed the back of his head in mild embarrassment. “Well, um… your stories are interesting.”

Les raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“It’s true! You have such fascinating tales of every item in here. And, well, you seem… kind of lonely.”

“...Lonely?”

“Yes. There are no other customers, and that you haven’t cleaned the place in ages and don’t bother with price tags, suggests you don’t really want them. And you push sales hard, but without ever talking about cost. I get it, you’re just looking for someone to talk to.”

Jason ignored Les’ stunned expression. “And I want to hear more. But maybe not about your antiques. What do you say you close up early and we drop by a coffee shop?”

Les stared at him blankly for a moment, then started laughing. A cackling, wheezing laugh that bubbled up from his stomach and rattled forth uncontrollably. The convulsions bent him double over his cane and he had to grab a bookshelf for balance. “You- Me- Lonely? That- That’s why you keep coming back?”

“Yes.”

“One moment, I can’t, can’t breathe.” Almost a minute later, Les managed to force himself back upright. “Goodness, that is a first in my many, many years in the business.”

“So… Is that a yes?”

“No, of course not,” Les began, then stopped himself. He peered at the hand that had been on the bookshelf, the dust that clung to his palm. “Actually, you know what. I think I would like that.”

“Great!” Jason held the sad, defeated door open for him. Les squinted at the sunlight as if he hadn’t left the shop in years, but took a hesitant step outside. “There’s a nice mom-and-pop place just down the road. My treat, Les, for all the stories.”

“Call me Mephistopheles.”

"Ah, now I get it!" Jason exclaimed. "That's why you put the quote on the sign. You were named after Faust's demon."

Les looked at him for a moment, then crooked a small, genuine smile. "Something like that."

More stories at r/NobodysGaggle