Books, Furniture, and a Demon - One of These Antiques is Not Like the Others

[hauntingboston]

A week after Ruby visited the wealthy part of town with a paint brush in hand, Amelia Steigler -- young socialite, intended target of demonic mischief -- remained curiously void of any negative symptoms. Perhaps it was her strong religious faith that protected her, along with a plethora of catholic artifacts in her bedroom. Maybe it was the ivory statuette in the grand foyer of the family's home, a keepsake from a vacation on another continent. It could have been that demons don't always follow simple directions, preferring the element of chaos.

Whatever the reason, Ruby's invited guest had turned its attention elsewhere.

It landed on a brick building a few meters southwest of the Steigler property, which housed an independent bookstore and an antique parlor. The owners of both shops often worked in tandem, offering sales and open houses to attract customers.

So on Saturday, the sign out front read, 'SALE! 25% OF ENTIRE STOCK! SALE!' A wonderful aroma of coffee and cinnamon buns called to passersby, who had no idea what dark things might transpire if they entered...

[Thread: Open to Anyone]

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[serpent1ne]

Ruby stood in a darkened corner of the book shop perusing a collection of antique books regarding spirituality. One in particular caught her eye. Titled 'The Changed Cross', it was a collection of religious poems published by the Henry Altemus Company in Philadelphia at the turn of the previous century. She ran her fingers over its cover, which had been embellished with drawings of tall daffodils. On the first page, a penciled note read, 'presented to Master John Griffith by the Moxhane Sunday School, 1907'.

She flipped through its contents, thinking that most of the poems read like hymnal verses rather than literary yearnings.

"Hard pass." She tossed the book on a stack, picked up her coffee, and kept browsing.

[spectral_fm]

"Holy fucking shitballs..."

Probably not the kind of language that same voice was allowed to use on air, but Beth Watkins had no intereest in holding back now. Not after spying the volume she was now reaching for. An delightfully illustrated collection of various tales of supernatural encounters, which looked like it had been published in the seventies or eighties and brought a definite nostalgic grin to its new would-be owner's face. Something which only increased as she flipped through the pages; each one firing a memory.

"Uh, sorry, it's just... I haven't seen this since I was a kid. Been out of print for years!"

[serpent1ne]

"Wait, wait. Don't tell me."

From nearby, Ruby pursed her lips behind the plastic lid of her coffee cup and narrowed one eye, a comical representation of a person hard at thought. "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Alvin Schwartz," she said, calling upon a children's book. Her eyes twinkled with humor that could be good- or sour-natured, depending upon the mood of the day.

"My personal favorite is the story about the White Satin Evening Gown... Because the only thing scarier than wearing a dead girl's funeral dress is going to prom." She sipped her drink and returned attention to the selection, fingers flipping open a blue hardback.

[spectral_fm]

"Ah-hah-hah... No, but I remember that one, too. Someone's making a film out of it, last I heard. No, this is... This is work-related. It's a bitch trying to remember some of older stuff. This is gonna' save a headache or three."

If Ruby glanced her way, the cover would be flashed up. Beth folded it against herself like a newborn puppy, buoyed by the positive vibe which came with the territory of finding a long-lost favourite. maybe this was a good omen or, considering the subject matter, well...

Which was why something caught her attention, maybe. Just a slight whisp of... Shadow? Beth looking up, frowning. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Did you..?. Eh, never mind," she continued, raising an eyebrow at a nearby misplaced cover flap. "God, Stephen King's looking more like the Grinch, every year..."

[serpent1ne]

Ruby gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I'd hit it. I bet he's a freak." She clicked her tongue and tried to sneak a peak at the brunette's book, which she cradled with all the enthusiasm of a sixth grade girl holding a doodled notebook between classes. "What kind of work requires a... detailed knowledge of the occult?"

The shadow, which Beth had noticed, went by quickly in the periphery, like a bird's wings temporarily blocking the sun. Ruby carried on smiling, her eye contact direct.

Often such dark smudges, which really might resemble wings, could be observed in Ruby's presence. If anything was out of order with this particular event, the girl did not appear to notice it. Otherworldly chatter had become the ambient noise of Ruby DuFour's life, whether she called upon it or not.

[spectral_fm]

Uh-huh... Busted. Kinda'. That was the thing about Beth's line of work; you tended to escape recognition and could do as you pleased, providing you didn't need to give out your full name - and even then, it depended on whether the other person happened to be a listener.

"Oh, uh... Radio," came the begrudging reply. Not that the elder brunette was cringing, it was just that most people assumed you were a trendy DJ type when it was mentioned. "It's a talk show. I hit this up all the time. Had a caller who thought he was the reincarnation of He-Man, last night... That was weird."