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SRU: Spring Cleaning
by Aslan
Contact Aslan at aslan@phuze.com
Other Stories by Aslan
The old man sneezed as a small cloud of dust arose froma nook within the shop. In one of the old man's hands was a perfectly ordinary washcloth. In the other was a perfectly ordinary featherduster. The old man sneezed two more times in quick succession.
"Never hurts to keep the place clean," he mumbled under his breath as he worked at the counter's surface. "Damn faerie dust always messes up the spells."
Suddenly, the old man's face darkened in a strange mix of both anger and concern. He placed the featherduster and washcloth on the table gently and walked quickly to the front of the shop. He opened the door gently and smiled at a young woman who was walking by the shop.
"Dana?" he said. "Would you mind stepping into my shop for a moment?"
The girl stopped. She was in her late teens, and her face was soft and delicately beautiful, pale skin framed by brown hair. The only thing marring this vision of loveliness was the fearful look that had taken permanent residence in her expression.
"How ... how do you," she began, then trailed off as a flash of fear ran through her eyes. She had long ago learned not to ask questions.
The old man smiled. "I am a wizard, Dana. I am on your side. I will not do anything to hurt you in any way. Please, believe me."
She looked in the old man's eyes, and the kindly and loving look in them reminded her of her grandfather, of a loving childhood memory that didn't focus around ... she willed that thought away, and, after a moment's hesitation, walked quickly into the shop before she could change her mind.
Taking care not to touch her, the old man gestured to a small table with two chairs in the corner of the shop.
[Dana could not have sworn to its existence a few minutes earlier.] On the table was a kettle and a cup of tea with wispy curls of steam rising from its rim. Dana sat down in the chair and reached for the cup.
"Don't drink from that cup quite yet, my dear," said the wizard as he took a seat across from her. He looked her in the eye with a kindly gaze that somehow she could stand and not turn away from.
"I felt your trouble as you passed by the shop," he began. "I know, my dear, that you do not feel comfortable speaking of ... what you have gone through. Suffice it to say that the evil which has been done to you can be stopped."
"I ... " she began to object, but she could not muster the strength when faced with the piercing, yet still kindly, gaze of the shopkeeper.
"No, my dear, do not object. Evil of this residue leaves psychic ... marks," the shopkeeper said, choosing his words carefully. He carefully watched the girl's reaction to the word "mark." A quick glance downward to her arm was enough to confirm what he had read in her aura.
"Suppose," he said, "that with one sip from something as simple as ... as that teacup, you could begin your life anew in a loving home. And I would insure that what was done to you would never be done again." The storekeeper watched the girl's fearful expression carefully. He saw, in the corner of her eyes, a glimmer of hope begin to form.
"I will be frank, dear. One sip of that tea will restore you to infancy. And I will insure that you are adopted by a loving family, and I will see that your current parents are ... taken care of."
The girl glanced down, and then shut her eyes. She reached for the teacup, and took a long sip. As she glanced back up, she invested the storekeeper with the one thing that was hardest for her to give. In a beautiful yet softly muted voice, three syllables floated across to the old man's ears.
"I trust you."
The old man watched as the girl's body lost its fullness of breast and hip. He watched with satisfaction as scars and bruises unformed and healed. Her hair receded into her scalp until her head was only covered with a soft fine baby hair, as her body shrank into smaller proportions. Most lovely of all, he watched as the expression of fear disapppeared to be replaced by the joyful innocence of childhood.
He picked the child up and chucked it under the chin. The infant girl gurgled back happily and grasped onto the old man's finger. He diapered and put a cute dress on the little child, and magicked her away to appear on the doorstep of a loving couple who would have a lot of love to give, yet in the past had failed to conceive a child.
The old man watched as the new mother and father found the infant on their doorstep and reacted in joy and love. A warm glow filled his heart, and he softly chanted the words that closed the portal through which he viewed Dana's new life. As the last word passed his lips, his face darkened.
A father and mother ran into the mall. They would have passed right on by the small curio shop in the corner, had they not heard Dana's voice coming from inside. They both stormed into the shop, banging the glass door hard against its wall.
"Where is she?" yelled the man.
"Who?" said the old man gently.
"A teenage girl -- Dana! I just heard her voice!" said the father.
"That girl is in so much trouble," chimed in the mother.
The man's face darkened. "Yes, I know *exactly* what kind of trouble you have given her in the past. Allow me to return the favor."
The man chanted a few more words, then watched.
"What the hell are you--"
"My God, Frank, you're--I'm--"
Their voices dwindled quickly.
The old man picked up his washcloth and a can of disinfectant. He thoroughly sprayed the area where the adults had stood just a moment ago, and then scrubbed hard with a washcloth.
"Got to get rid of that dust," he said under his breath, resuming his cleaning with a smile. "Never know when you might have those pesky dust mites hiding in it."
Contact Aslan at aslan@phuze.com
Other Stories by Aslan
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