We Are Zipper Experts

A trip to the zipper store is a routine journey for Rachel. Here is an account of one of those trips.

A soft rain was falling on Sierre when Rachel Beverly arrived. She was a middle aged woman with a crooked nose, knotty brown hair, and three moles on her left cheek. Her teeth were rotting and her smile looked like a scowl. The abominations that inhabited the streets would turn to see where the smell of human was coming from and, once glimpsing her, would turn away quickly. One of them sitting outside a cafe even snickered as she passed, hiding its laughter behind a thick magical tome.

She had no idea what she was doing to herself.

As she made her way across town she carried herself with mock-confidence but her movements were awkward and burdened. Each step she took in her black galoshes was forceful and her brown trench coat, three sizes too big, dragged behind her like the dead weight of her previous lives. Her destination was a thin and tall building squeezed between a neon pink brothel and a deviant supply store. That building was the Zabrian Zipper Company. There was nothing to distinguish this store from any other with the exception of a wooden sign bolted above the door frame that read We Are Zipper Experts!

It was the kind of place that could only be found if one knew where to look, and Rachel Beverly knew exactly where to look. She crossed the door frame with her chin up and a chime rang out to signal her arrival. She took two steps forward into the dimly lit building and peered over the wooden desk which was high enough that even on her tip-toes only her eyes cleared it.

“Excuse me!” she yelled in a gravely tone.

“Take a number,” a disembodied voice replied.

She scrunched her face in annoyance and lowered herself back off her toes. She leaned slightly to the right, grabbed a ticket from the dispenser, and stepped back. She was the sole waiting customer and it still took the monster behind the counter thirty minutes to get to her. While she waited she thought about what kind of life she wanted to live next. Oh, the possibilities...

“Now helping number 1.”

“Yes, that's me.”

“What can the Zabrian Zipper Company do for you?”

“I want a soulectomy and then implantation into a stitched life.”

“You are aware of the high cost of such a procedure, correct?”

“Yes, I'm aware.”

“Alright, then you can go through. Take this piece of paper to the next desk.”

“Mhmm.”

Rachel stood on her tip-toes and strained to grasp the piece of parchment. The monster leaned forward out of his chair and handed it to her with a smirk on his face. A small door directly in front of her popped open. On her hands and knees she crawled underneath the desk, through the legs of the monster, and rose to her feet once clear. She brushed herself off before walking the short distance to the spiral staircase at the back of the shop. Once on the second floor she took three steps forward and stopped at the desk. Straining on her tip-toes again she put the piece of paper down and slid it forward.

“Excuse me!”

“Yes, what?”

“I believe this is for you.”

She felt a hand grasp the paper and pull it away.

“Alright, this won't be a problem. I'll just need some details about the stitched life you'd like so our sewers can craft it. Want anything special or would you prefer a generic set up?”

“Special of course,” she said quickly, snorting in disbelief that anyone would choose generic. “I think this time around I want something simple. A quiet life. How about a farmer's daughter?”

“Farmer's daughter, okay.”

“Yeah! And I want to be a pretty girl but not too pretty. Pretty enough that the boys pay attention to me but don't fawn over me. Then at the point in my life when I feel like I have just had enough of all the nonsense I want to meet the right man and settle down. I want him to be a nice, strong country boy. I want to have beautiful daydreams and great smelling hair and...”

As she spoke the monster scribbled down notes on the paper she had given him. Her eyes were burning with excitement as she envisioned the life she would be living. It was the same kind of excitement she had felt when she was six years old and had been kissed by Bobby for the first time. She had explicitly wished for that in this life and oh yes, she had to pay a pretty penny for it, but it was worth it.

When she was finally done speaking the monster waited a moment, ready to write down anything else she wanted, and when nothing followed he sighed and tallied up the cost.

“Do you mind if I weigh you real quick? With an order this expensive we might be able to do a soul-relative deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we can charge a fraction of your soul based on what you have available instead of charging you a normal rate and then taking that.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

“Wonderful.”

The monster leaned forward in his chair and stretched two long, limber arms out. They were twice the length of any normal human and the skin was a pale, disgusting yellow. His hands had long, nimble fingers which wrapped themselves around her waist and picked her up a few inches off the wooden floor. She began to protest, her hands straining against the wrists, when he set her back down and returned behind the desk. After some quick calculations he spoke:

“Alright, how does 1/3 of your soul sound?”

“Kind of expensive don't you think?”

“You're the one who wanted all the bells and whistles. If I were to charge you according to the actual rate you would be getting into the more than half territory so you're welcome for the discount. Don't say we don't treat our customers well.”

“Fine, whatever. Take the damn thing. I don't need it anyway.”

“Lovely. Please wait while we get everything in order. It'll probably be a few hours.”

“Mhmm.”

She sat down on the floor of the shop, legs folded underneath herself, and waited. And waited. It took them six hours before they got back to her. She kept herself entertained for a bit by all of the books surrounding her that were stacked up to the ceiling. They appeared to be written in a language she had never seen before. So much knowledge that her human brain could never comprehend or fathom the amount. More knowledge than she had ever gathered in her many human lives. It certainly was daunting how much she did not know.

Feeling herself saddened for a moment she pulled herself away from the present reality and retreated into her imagination where movies began to play. They were all of how she envisioned her next life unfolding. Oh the wonderful things that would happen to her...

“They are ready for you upstairs now.”

She thanked the monster and rushed awkwardly in her galoshes up the spiraling staircase to the third floor. This one had a high ceiling and, unlike the other two floors, wasn't cluttered with the exception of a few short stacks of books. It was a wide open space with a wooden table in the middle, a stitched pile of flesh adjacent to it, two buckets hanging overhead, and two monsters leaning against the walls. They were tall with freakishly long limbs and pasty yellow skin. Suddenly she remembered their name - veedocks. She had seen these creatures many times before but with each new life she lived she willingly forgot. They were creepy enough they always found their way into her nightmares, which confused and haunted her human self.

“If you will lie down we can begin the procedure.”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. The anticipation she felt was practically tangible. She removed all of her articles of clothing, discarding them as if they were old worries, and took her place on her stomach on the tabletop. It creaked once her weight was added.

The veedocks began their work eagerly. This was their pride and joy. It was the only reason they existed. Four hands came out and began to massage and knead the flesh. She let out a contented sigh, her eyes closing tight as she already felt her internal self uncoiling from the shell she had inhabited for the last seventy-two years. They worked their way up and down her spine, working out the kinks, soothing her soul into a state of inhibition. Their goal was to ease the soul into willing itself out. If they were too aggressive the soul might become scared or skittish. It might escape the body prematurely and move on to another realm of existence along with their payment. If they were too gentle it would never leave the body it knows as its rightful place.

A zipper began to arise at the top of her spine. This was what they had been working for. One hand grasped it and began to ease it down, down until it reached just above her rear. Her skin peeled open with ease. Repeat customers were the easiest; once the eternal skin was tarnished it never returns to its original tightness. Delicately, carefully one veedock held open the two open sides of the zipper while the other reached inside of her and pulled her soul out. It was a spherical orb that was glowing dimly from its core. The healthier souls contain vibrant colors, sometimes millions reflecting at once. Hers was a solemn gray.

The uninhabited eternal body of Rachel Beverly, the body she would return to upon death, was discarded with no grace. It was pushed off the table and crumbled lifelessly on the floor. Before bringing the new body up for transplant the veedock holding the soul lifted it up and placed it in one of the two hanging buckets effortlessly. There was no struggle on her part; her soul was complacent.

The other veedock weighed out the opposite bucket using books until he calculated her soul's weight. It was a very rough estimate; it wasn't like she would ever know the difference. The soul was brought down and held against the surface of the table while it was sliced with a scalpel. They repeated this three times to ensure they took the correct amount. Or at least around the correct amount, always in their favor. The soul they would keep for profit was placed inside one of the buckets and sealed with a lid over the top, to lie in wait until they were ready to process it.

With a slight struggle the new body she would be living in was hauled onto the tabletop. It was placed face down and was already unzipped in the back. The veedock holding the soul lowered it and placed it inside carefully. With healthier souls this was a very tricky procedure but with Rachel Beverly's it was almost mundane. For a brief moment a dim light appeared but it vanished as quickly as it had arisen. There was no fight left in her.

Once the soul was placed inside they zipped her up and sent her off. She was a bit disoriented - they always are - but she looked beautiful. That's because this did not represent her true self. The body she had been zipped into was just a body, a husk, a mode of transportation into the dimension that she had grown up in many times previous. The same one she had been living in for centuries now. Each time she sold a piece of her soul to go back she made her true self, Rachel Beverly, uglier and uglier.

That's why most customers at the Zabrian Zipper Company were repeats. The wise souls moved on to another dimension; the weak ones looked back to what they once had. They struggled against their nomadic nature to cling to the past even though they can never recapture the majesty of the first life lived. Oh, how they will try...

The two veedocks who had worked on her shared a laugh after she had left. There wasn't much left of that woman; pretty soon she would sell everything she had and then she would end up a permanent resident of Sierre. She would become an abomination. There was even a chance she'd end up a veedock, an ironic twist of fate for a corrupted woman who craved zippered life. A hollow life.

Rachel Beverly walked out feeling confident. She looked good. She could go to the cafe or read a book or even take in a freak-show at one of the many dens of ill repute. In a few hours she would fall asleep and fade away from the reality of Sierre. She would wake up as a baby and begin her life anew. In another lifetime she would arrive once again. She could walk through and find any number of other realities where she could commit herself. She could wait and fall asleep and wake up in a random reality, far stranger and far more real than anything she had ever known before.

Instead she would return to the Zabrian Zipper Company. She would continue to sell pieces of her soul until there was nothing left. Rachel Beverly was once beautiful. What was sad was that she didn't even know what she had done to herself.

Author's Note

Looking for all around feedback. Consistency, plot, dialogue, etc. Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

That was quite enjoyable. The name of the company, the monsters, the long, annoying waits, all were fresh and new to me. Everybody's heard selling of the soul tales, but this is a unique one.

Only one thing hung up my pleasure in the story... the last sentence seems a bit too pat.

I know you wrote this a year ago, but I still wanted to comment, let you know how much I enjoyed it.

[Adam Crate]

Thank you very much for reading.

I honestly forgot that I had this story up here. It's interesting to look back because this was written over a year ago; by the time it was posted on the Writer's Cafe, it was an old favorite of mine. After glancing back through it, the writing leaves a lot to be desired. I actually cringed a little when I read the last sentence.

Regardless, I'm really glad you enjoyed it. ^^

[Kaya]

I really enjoyed this. I think there were a few point where i wished you would show me what was happening, rather than just telling me, but the story was really interesting and engaging so i didn't really mind. I love how clear the link back to reality from a fiction this story was, and the metaphor that's been woven into it is great. :)

[Sarah G.]

This is good writing. :)
The flow was only interrupted a few times and the dialogues were natural. :)

[Adam Crate]

Thank you very much for reading and reviewing! And I'd love to return the favor.