The antique store

“Oh, that's something new! I've never seen it before." Mia had been wandering around Cracow’s city center every day for a few years. She thought nothing could surprise her anymore, but there it was. The gallery behind the small, obscure window looked as if it were frozen in time. Like those small watch repair shops where no one seems to enter, it was filled to the brim with old watches, accessories, and useless things.

Whenever a place like this appeared, she just had to enter and look through the items. Each of them had their history, revealing different secrets. Storekeepers in such stores were clever and had a lot of knowledge. She loved to speak with them and exchange stories.

Sometimes, she bought something. After knowing the thing's history, she had to possess it. Over the years she gathered a big collection of peculiar things.

The wooden door could have been an antique itself. The surface was heavily worn, and Mia wondered how it hadn't broken apart when she pushed it. The bell, alerting about a customer, rang loudly when she crossed the threshold.

“Hello?” Mia asked hesitantly. A cloud of dust rose from the floor as if no one had been there for a long time. How could that be possible? She was sure this shop hadn't existed before.

The echo didn't return to her. There was so much dust that the voice couldn't bounce properly. No one appeared, so she took her time looking around.

On the counter, dusty like every surface in the shop, stood a beautiful, three-colored radio. Mia admired it and its stunning colors: red speakers, yellow buttons, and green casing.

A quiet, muffled voice came from the speakers.

“…welcome…store… nice day…”

It repeated this over and over again, the tone shifting each time. Mia had a feeling that it was a real man speaking.

Next to the radio, a magnificent fountain pen stood in the holder. She looked at the delicate, light wood with amazement. Her writing style was terrible, but she couldn't help herself from taking the pen and trying it out. Unlike her normal writing, that one was great. As if it wasn't her hand writing the words.

She looked at the text. It said: ‘Have a nice day. Good morning in the store. Welcome.’ She couldn't remember writing any of these words, but the coincidence with what the radio had spoken was remarkable.

Grunts and groans as if someone lifted a heavy package, came from the back.

“Hello? Is anyone there?" Mia asked again.

She heard a loud thump.

“Ooh. A client?”

A kindly looking old, wrinkled man peeked from the back of the store. He smiled. The man had Asian features, which were even more emphasized by a kimono he wore.

“Yes, I think I'm interested,” Mia put her hand on the radio, “with this.”

That suggestion startled the man.

“This? The radio?" He asked reluctantly.

“Yes.”

“It's not for sale, young lady. It's just a decoration.”

"Oh no, I really like it. But I have a question about it.” Mia got closer to the radio, leaned forward, and almost touched it with her ear. "I can't see a tape anywhere, or even a place where you could put one. How it keeps repeating the same phrase on and on?”

“If I tell you it's magic, would you believe me?”

“Noo, magic doesn't exist. Everyone knows that!”

“You're partially right. Let me tell you a story.” He sat on the chair as old as the rest of the antiques in the store and began his tale.

“There used to be a famous opera singer when I was young. His voice could enchant anyone. Whenever he sang, people held their breath and didn't let it out until the performance ended.”

“You mean Pavarotti?”

“Pavarotti is good, but no. The one I'm talking about was much, much better.”

“Better? I'm not an opera fan, but I’d surely know if there had been someone better.”

“Oh, you wouldn't, young lady, you wouldn't.”

He took the radio on his lap. “Back to the story. Everything will be clear in a moment. This… artist had problems with his voice. You see, his vibrato was remarkable. That was the reason why people came from all over the world to see him. But one day, it was gone. He lost it and didn't even know how.”

The man was turning the knob on the radio. It was creaking grimly. Finally, he found what he wanted. A beautiful, high voice came from the radio. Mia didn't know the language, but from the accent she deduced it was Italian. The vibrato was overwhelming, and she felt a sudden surge of melancholy.

"He looked for help in many places, and eventually, he came to me.”

Mia couldn't hide her surprise. "To you? Why?”

"You see,” he looked deep into Mia's eyes, "I can fix broken things.”

“It’s not weird, with a store like that.”

“I can fix things in a bit different way than just using a screwdriver.”

Without a pause, he continued. “We had spoken for a long time, so he was fully aware of how I could help him. You see, I only help if someone's talent is worth it.”

“I still struggle to grasp how you—”

The man raised his hand in silence. “Don't interrupt me, please.”

“Alright, alright.”

“He knew that the fix was irreversible, and he wouldn't be able to sing for the audience anymore. Additionally, according to our agreement, he gave himself to me entirely.”

“That sounds ridiculous. Why would anyone agree to such terms?”

“He agreed because he preferred that over a life without the vibrato.”

He gently caressed the radio as if it was a relative dear to him.

“Now, whenever he wants to sing, he sings for me.”

“So, where is he then?”

“I'm holding him right now.”

“The radio? I thought he was a human.”

“That's right. My magic works only if someone agrees to it completely. And he did. And now he is this radio.”

Mia couldn't utter a word. She knew that magic didn't exist, but part of her believed the old man.

“But how—that can be possible.”

“When I was barely an adult, I met a woman. She was probably as old and wrinkled as me or even more. I didn't know it at that time, but she had been a powerful witch. Her powers were destroying her, so she looked for someone to inherit them.”

The vibrato came again from the radio, and Mia shuddered. The high note was shaking violently. At the same time, she could heard joy and happiness coming from this voice. How could anything push someone to fully commit to that old, wrinkled stranger.

“You're thinking right,” said the storekeeper, and guessed incorrectly, “I didn't have a lot to say. She granted me the powers and disappeared, leaving me without a knowledge how to use the new abilities.”

Mia was surprised how calmly she trusted everything he had said. Maybe it was because she was so shocked, or maybe because she wanted to believe in it. The idea of a store full of human abilities was mesmerizing. She could have owned such a store. That would be interesting.

“I'm confused, why are you telling me all this?"

"I want you to be prepared.”

“Prepared? For what?”

“You'll see… young lady. I've chosen you. You… remind me of myself from before the store.”

Mia didn't like the way the old, wrinkled man said that. She had an irresistible urge to leave and never be back. Her instinct screamed to run away.

“I need to go. It was nice to meet you, and the stories were interesting." she said, stepping back to the front door.

“No… stay… please, sit.”

Next to her, a comfy chair appeared in the corner. She screamed and pulled the handle. Nothing happened. The door didn't move even an inch. Her hand slipped and she stumbled back onto the chair. Everything faded and she could only hear the old man talking.

“Now, that you listen… I changed the singer into the thing that'll allow him to retain his abilities forever. The radio. I just dream about somebody being something and that's it.”

She wanted to scream, but the chair… was so comfortable. The voice stuck in her throat. She understood him less with every second passed.

“I can see that you want these things I own. You deny it, but can't hide it from me.”

He sat in the very similar chair and leaned back. The wrinkles on his face relaxed. He was playing with the fountain pen, continuing his monologue.

“You see, I'm tired. I want to give away this store… my legacy… I've chosen you.”

The chair… so comfortable… Before Mia slowly faded into sleep, she could hear the last words the man said.

“I have a dream now. All my power, the store, and you, taking my place…”

Mia woke up with a scream. She was still sitting in the comfortable chair, alone. The man disappeared, leaving the store unattended.

She finally could leave that cursed place, but when she wanted to go outside, an invisible wall stopped her. Nothing could break it.

On the table, written with the fountain pen, a note said ‘Your turn.’