A Rare And Unusual Place (Part One)

Some books contain much more than words.

The shop was in a posh part of downtown, an area frequented by people who would never wear white in winter or drive a car made in Detroit,  the sort of high-toned nonpareils who hire minions to pay their bills and impress their peers by going to the ballet and pretending to like it. The shop was nestled among antique stores, organic restaurants, designer boutiques, and stolid law offices that specialized in upper crust estate planning.  On the shop window, in large, elegant, gold-leaf  letters was written:  The Uncommon Word. Below that was added:  Rare & Unusual Books for Rare & Unusual People. One day another sign appeared in the window. It was hand-lettered and read:  Help Wanted, Apply Within.

John Blunt - young, liberally educated and newly unemployed - was hopelessly lost when he noticed the sign.  A cab driver had let him out on Edgemont instead of Beaumont and John had spent an hour walking hopelessly in ever-widening circles trying to find the right address.  He glanced at his watch. He was already forty-minutes late for a job interview. He sighed and studied the sign. John was tired, frustrated and increasingly sure he never really wanted to be assistant editor of a weekly shopper anyway.  He straightened his tie, brushed back the stray hairs that had fallen across his forehead, and stepped into The Uncommon Word.

A bell above the door tinkled gaily.  “Good afternoon. Looking for anything in particular or just browsing?” The voice was male and had a deep, soothing timbre, but John looked all around the book store and could not find the face that went with the voice. 

“I’m here about the job,” John called and suddenly a white-haired head appeared from behind a bookcase labeled “Biographies”.

“Ah,” said the man as he pushed wire-rimmed glasses up higher on his nose with his index finger.  He was a friendly looking man, quite old but spritely with skin that glowed a bright pink.  His brown tweed jacket was several sizes too large and had patches on the elbows and a pipe sticking out of the breast pocket. He walked up to John, squinted, and scanned his face intently like he was trying to read a book with print that was too small for his ancient eyes.  “Do you read?” he asked.

“Of course I read. I have a degree in literature.”

“Indeed?”  The man nodded, removed his glasses, slipped them into his jacket pocket next to the pipe and said  “I suppose you’re probably over-qualified for the position, but there are two things about the job that you should know before we proceed. First, the pay is adequate, but not extravagant.”

John nodded. “I’m in no position to be making salary demands. I just need a job. What’s the second thing?”

“You would have to live here in the shop.” 

“Oh?” John was about to be evicted from his apartment so this last part was very good news indeed.

The man pointed to a metal spiral staircase.  “There’s a small furnished room upstairs. Would you like to see it before we proceed?”

John nodded and the little man led him to the staircase. “You may call me Mr. Christmas,” he said over his shoulder.  “An odd name, I know. But one cannot choose one’s father.” When they reached the second floor Christmas walked to the back of the shop where a battered blue metal door stood, surrounded on all sides by built-in shelves. Books were jammed into every vacant space.  Christmas reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “And do you have a name?”

“John Blunt.”

“And are you?” asked Christmas as he inserted the key into the lock.

“Am I what?”

Christmas opened the door, stepped back and gestured for John to enter. “Are you blunt? Are you forthright and to the point?”

“Sometimes. Maybe. I never really thought much about it.” He entered the room. It was about the half the size of the efficiency apartment he was being kicked out of. There was no window, but it was nicely, if economically, furnished. There was even a microwave sitting on top of a mini-refrigerator. The word that came to John’s mind was cozy. “Will I have to pay rent for the room?”

“Not at all.”

John smiled, but with a wary voice asked, “But why is it that you want someone living in the shop?”

“Well,” said Christmas, “to me these books aren’t just merchandise. They’re not shoe laces or light bulbs, socks or can openers. They represent the great work of very fine minds. They are the heart and soul of humanity. They are filled with the joy and pain, the dreams and courage, the folly and the foolishness of all mankind. I live in the basement, so I am never far away, but I am sometimes…” He paused searching for the right word. “…unavailable. And I can’t leave them alone in the dark. It just wouldn’t be right.” His eyes growing soft, Christmas reached up, put his hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “Would it?”

“It sounds like you’re looking for a baby sitter, not a sales clerk,” said John.

“I suppose they do feel like my children in a way. When I sell one I’ve had for a very long time I must confess that I mourn in a way. But I get over it.” Mr. Christmas was still in the doorway. He turned back toward the thousands of books that lay out there in the shop, waiting. In a whisper, he added, “Usually.”

This, John thought, is a very strange man. Part of him wanted to go back out on the street to continue his search for the offices of the weekly shopper. But he needed a job and, more importantly, he needed a place to live. “Is there anything you want to know about me?” he asked.

“No,” said Mr. Christmas. “You were drawn to our little place for a reason. If you weren’t the right person for the job you wouldn’t be here. When can you start?”

 The following Monday morning a cab, carrying John and a trunk full of boxes and crates, pulled up in front of  The Uncommon Word. The cab driver helped John unload everything and stack it on the sidewalk. John paid his fare, plus a one dollar tip. The cab driver sneered, got back in, and drove away, his tires squealing a curse.

 

                                       TO BE CONTINUED…..

 

                                    © 2016 Stanley R. Teater

                                          All rights reserved

Reviews

[Splatman73]

Well it's nice to have the context after reading part 2 first. Still can't wait for the next part. I like how you tell your story in little bites.

[Anthony Wayne]

I love this story, it's very mysterious with enough being told about each character without giving too much away. I want to know more about Mr. Christmas, especially. I look forward to reading the next part.

[Dr. Ryan Nolte]

Fantastic start. The characters are well defined and mysterious all at once. I can hardly wait to see what unfolds...

[Stanley R. Teater]

Part two has now been posted. The conclusion is coming in a few days.

[alanwgraham]

I like this enigmatic and mysterious little tale. Your description is very well done and I enjoyed your subtle humour. I'm glad (not always the case!) that it is to be continued - your little teasers like 'I am unavailable' make me say that i will be available for part 2.
Well done,
Alan

[Jonathan P]

I feel like you could take this in so many different directions from here. I don't know if this is going to be a horror story, a character study, a sci-fi/fantasy or any combination of the above. I'm very curious to see where you're going with it. Nice work!

[costa siwale]

yes, am waiting for the continuation, very intriguing this piece

[Jenny Leigh]

Very nice. Love the name of the store and how the sign read for unusual people. Sounds like a store I would visit to find something for myself.

[Jacob Clifford]

I'm very interested to see where this story will go. It is well-written thus far, and it has an air of mystery to it.

[wordman]

great story,i enjoyed it,and it was interesting