• “Oranges and lemons say the Bells of St. Clement's
    You owe me five farthings say the Bells of St. Martin's
    When will you pay me? say the Bells of Old Bailey
    When I grow rich say the Bells of Shoreditch
    When will that be? say the Bells of Stepney
    I do not know say the Great Bells of Bow
    Here comes a Candle to light you to Bed
    Here comes a Chopper to Chop off your Head
    Chip chop chip chop - the Last Man's Dead..”

    The rain poured outside, seeming as if it would never stop, as if the clouds wept for what they saw down below, on the dirty streets, of the dirty city, where many a person died without a sound. A small, eerie shop stood in the dirty streets of the small town, though few, it seemed, ever walked through the doors. The windows were covered in grime, but strange, glowing objects could be seen within. A man walking by stepped forward, to seek shelter under the small shops overhanging roof. He only stopped for a moment, though, shivering, but not from the rain, no, the rain was quite warm, seeing as it was the middle of summer, and even in this dreary town, the warmth was still present. Of course, in this town, the heat was sometimes overbearing. Not today, though, even if it was humid, the rain somewhat helped with the smothering heat. The man, who was maybe forty, balding, and overweight, got a strange feeling from the store, a feeling of being watched, as if his very soul could be taken at any moment. He stared briefly, though, for in the repulsive feeling, there was some desire to walk into the door, as if something was leading him in. a passing carriage ran through a puddle, splashing the man with muddy water. That was what broke he trance, as he turned to throw some rather rude remarks to the driver. The man collected himself, and threw a glance back to the shop window. The feeling was gone, but he could have sworn, just as he turned to leave, that he heard a sad sigh coming from the building itself. As he walked away from the mysterious building, he would forever be grateful for the carriage that caused him to leave.

    Later that night, after the rain, a cloaked figure stepped up to the shop. The rain had let up, and though the night was quickly falling, the heat was still stifling. The figure checked the road, both ways, and seemed to sigh in relief. They took a step, and looked over their shoulder, jumping at the sound of the wind rustling trash across the ground. The figure laughed nervously, tensely wringing its hands together. Finally, slowly, the figure opened the door to the small shop, and stepped in.

    Immediately, it felt like a different world. It was cold in the shop, which would have been a welcome relief from the weather outside, if the coldness didn’t come with the stale scent that one often finds in graveyards. The figure brought its hands up, and pulled the hood back, revealing an old, ugly woman with deep pock-marked scars, and withered skin. She had a frantic look on her face, as she glanced around the room, “You! You trickster!” She yelled at the empty room, wild eyed, as she pulled at her hair, taking some of it out as she dropped her hands to her side.

    A light, tired sigh came from somewhere in the back of the dimly lit room. A squeaking sound could be heard, coming closer to the distraught old woman. A disfigured shadow stepped out from the corner of the shop, though as it approached the woman, the figure was revealed. A young, doll-like girl sat in a wheel-chair, that was being pushed by a tall man, with dark red hair. The young girl, who looked to be no older than sixteen, leaned forward from her wheelchair, in front of the woman, and took the woman’s chin into her small, china white hands. The old woman looked up at the girl, into cat-like startling green eyes. Light brown, slightly curly hair tumbled over the girl’s shoulders, and seemed to give off its own, eerie light. She wore a simple black dress, that seemed to have a bit of lace, and a strange top hat, that had strange stitching in it, as if it were smiling. She shivered at the touch. The girl’s hands were cold.

    “Oh me, oh my, Jack, It seems Miss Reinhold didn’t listen to my warning, did she?” she said, turning to the towering figure that stood behind her. She gave a soft sigh, and let go of the woman, continuing in her child-like voice, “That just will NOT do!” The girl shook her head, looking up to the ceiling. “If only she’d listened, she wouldn’t have turned out this way…”

    “Of course, Miss Mana,” The man, Jack, said, his voice strangely hollow sounding, “They always should listen to you, but rarely do,” the man gave a strange, echoing sigh, and shook his head, fixing the poor woman with his dark red, similar to his hair, eyes. He paused, and the added thoughtfully, “Of course, if they ALL did, we’d have no customers."

    The girl slapped her forehead, and then giggled, as if she was being silly, “Oh yes, of course, it IS sad but…” she trailed off, giving off a little frown. She seemed to have a thought and then grinned, revealing teeth that looked like they’d been sharpened down with something, into nice, fine points. “Well, I suppose we could forgive the lady…” she murmured, which caused the slump of a woman to perk up slightly, hope shining in her eyes. “But then again….” The hope disappeared quickly. Mana giggled childishly again, and then stood from the wheelchair. It wasn’t needed, but Mana liked to ride around in it, if only to spook the customer out once she stood from it.

    Mana kneeled by the woman, green eyes flashing, “You gained wealth and power, my Lady, and did you not think there was to be a price?” Mana said, in a teasing voice, “You ever hear of making a deal with the devil? Well, it’s something like that. Except, you don’t give up your soul…usually,” she added, tilting her head to the side slightly. “Oh, poor, beautiful Miss Reinhold. You once were a true beauty, but now, only a week after gaining all that glitter and gold…you no longer have any beauty left! I told you…that there would be a price.” The young girl’s cat like eyes hardened slightly as the woman trembled and sobbed before her.

    The woman started to plead with the girl, and Mana turned to Jack, “Well, Jack, what do you think? Should we?”

    Jack shrugged, “Whatever you wish, Miss Mana.”

    “Oh, yes, of course,” Mana seemed to purr, stroking her chin. She grinned again, and then, suddenly, grabbed the woman’s face with her hand. The woman uttered one scream, and then the shop fell silent. Mana wearily got up, fixing the top hat on her head. “Oh, don’t fall Clemence,” she muttered playfully, as she turned from the woman’s crumpled, twitching form. She snapped her fingers, and then demanded, “Come jack, Miss Reinhold can find her own way back. I grow weary,” he child-like voice seemed to sound a bit older as she disappeared from the room. Jack glanced at the woman, and then turned to follow, leaving the wheelchair to watch over the woman, who seemed to be sobbing still.

    Moments later, a figure stepped outside the small shop, which seemed to almost be sagging in on itself. A stunning woman walked out from the door, her face marked only by a trail of tears she hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Not even bothering to check the streets, the beautiful woman ran into the night, away from the shop that dealt with many things, never again to be tempted by thoughts of riches, or power. She would not be the last to walk through the doors of the little shop, though anyone who did, found and lost something different than the previous customer.