Mr MacArthur's Shop

A short story about healing and discovering magic again.

Mr MacArthur’s Shop

 

Lily did not believe in magic; not one bit.

She passed her days in the most ordinary of ways and she closed her eyes to any kind sparkle at all. To Lily, stars were particles of dust, dreams were only for the lucky and an attic was simply a place for old things to live out their days.

She never listened to the whispers in her soul.

Then one day, Lily found herself outside a shop. It was tucked away down a small side street next to a baker’s, and whilst she had walked down this street many times before, she had never noticed this little shop. The windows were dusty and red paint peeled away from the frames. A small sign hung in the glass of the door, swinging slightly in an unseen breeze. Lily peered closer to make sense of the faded lettering.

“Mr McArthur: Keeper of Time,” she read. “What’s a Keeper of Time, I wonder?”

Suddenly overcome with curiosity, she pushed on the door. As it opened, a bell rang somewhere far away and warm air stroked her face. Lily looked around her; each wall was filled with clocks of all shapes and sizes. Some were old, some were new; some ticked along keeping their own time and some simply hung there, as if waiting. As Lily scanned the room, she noticed an old man sat at a work bench watching her patiently. His eyes sparkled as he observed her over the top of his spectacles and a gentle smile sat on his face.

“Well,” he said. “I have been waiting a while for you.”

“What do you mean?” Lily replied, “Am I supposed to know you?”

The old man smiled at her.

“I’m Mr MacArthur,” he answered. “And no; right now, you don’t know me. But I know who you are. I have been looking forward to meeting you for the longest time.  The thing is, my child, you have been so far away.”

And with that, Mr MacArthur stood up, wiped his hands on a cloth sitting on the work bench and walked over to Lily. He grasped hold of one of her hands in both of his and held it warmly. Lily stared at him, not quite certain what to say.

“Oh, child,” he whispered. “You have nothing to fear; all is well, all is well.”

Taking Lily by the hand, he led her to the workbench. He sat her on a stool and sat down beside her.

“Come; sit with me. I have been given so much to show you.” he said and he began to sort through the things on his workbench.

“Where to start?” he muttered to himself.

Lily looked at the things lying on the bench. There were pots holding nails and tiny brass screws no bigger than the head of a pin scattered across the wood. To one side sat an old watch with its hands missing whilst a tatty tin box held a selection of screwdrivers and tools in all shapes and sizes. Suddenly, Lily’s eyes fell on what looked like a clockwork butterfly with brass wings. Gently, she picked it up and held it up to her eyes.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” she cried.

“Ah, yes;” Mr McArthur answered. “The butterfly that cannot fly.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lily asked, studying the wings held together by an intricate pattern of cogs and wheels.

“Well, this is what we need to find out,” replied Mr McArthur. “Did something happen to break it? Or has time worn away the edges of its workings so they cannot turn anymore? We need to turn back time, my child; and see what happened. Then we’ll know how to mend it. It’s all a matter of time.”

Searching amongst the tools in the tatty tin, Mr MacArthur pulled out a particular screwdriver and handed it to Lily.

“Come on;” he said “Let’s search back through those years, one by one.”

Together they worked through each tiny cog and wheel in those delicate wings until they found one, tucked away in one small corner, with a missing pin. With the greatest of care and patience, they mended the butterfly.

“Magic!” Lily breathed as she watched it fly around the top of the bench.

“Now I thought that was something you didn’t believe in.” smiled Mr MacArthur. Taking Lily’s hands into his once again, he looked deep into her eyes.

“Where do I need to turn back time for you?” he wondered. “You see, child, you have the most beautiful wings but you don’t know how to use them. They are stuck, unable to take you anywhere. But what you need to understand is this: into your wings is sewn so much magic and love. Into your wings is sewn all the dreams everyone has ever had for you and all those hopes meant just for you. Into your wings is sewn the secrets of all you are to be.”

Mr MacArthur took the still fluttering butterfly and placed it into Lily’s hands.

“Turn back your time, Lily.” He said. “Find where you are broken and understand it. Then, child, you will find your wings and become all that is promised for you.”

Lily took the butterfly home with her and for a long while, it sat on her window sill. Sometimes she played with it, other times it was still. Always, Lily thought carefully about the words Mr MacArthur had spoken to her and wondered at them.

Then early one morning, she was woken by a gentle music coming from outside. Dashing into her garden, she was mesmerised by the sight of thousands of butterflies flying around. Weaving in and out of each other, they filled the sky with a blur of colour and soft sound and Lily was amazed. For the longest time, they danced and as she watched, Lily felt her own wings begin to unfurl until they spread around her like a shimmering cloak.

Her feet slowly left the ground.

From that day on, Lily always understood that attics held possibilities and that dreams bring something special to everyone. She always listened to the whispers of her soul and as for thinking stars were just particles of dust …

She knew how to dance with them.