Sunrise Treasures - Tourist Shop in LA area [https://phoenix.servata.com/servata_phoenix_blog01_part001_sunrise_treasures_store.jpeg]

The sun was setting in the haze of Los Angeles in fall, casting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and violet. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean, salty and cool, as it drifted down a quiet street near Newport Beach. The small, touristy shop sat tucked between a surfboard rental and a vegan café, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. 

It had no obvious name, just a fading wooden sign overhead with the words “Sunset Treasures” barely visible beneath a layer of salt-crusted grime, the kind of place that sold overpriced seashells, tacky T-shirts, and gaudy postcards of beach scenes. The golden glow of the setting sun, unseen but unmistakably present, illuminated the entire sky in a swirl of pink and orange, casting long shadows across the nondescript street.

Inside, the shop was dimly lit by vintage lamps, their amber light reflecting off rows of glass display cases. Shelves were crowded with trinkets: polished stones, tiny snow globes, and racks of postcards depicting the California coast at different times of day. Alongside them, souvenir coffee mugs, each adorned with palm trees and golden sands, sat neatly arranged. There was something oddly timeless about the place, as if it hadn’t changed in decades.

Four couples happened into the store at almost the same time, none of them paying attention to the others. Each couple browsed alone, glancing at the display racks filled with keychains, mugs, and magnets.

Near the entrance, an older couple in their sixties, hands intertwined, browsed through a rack of postcards. They spoke softly in Spanish, their voices warm and melodic as they reminisced about their first visit to Newport Beach many years ago. 

On the other side of the shop, a young couple, no older than their mid-twenties, sifted through a basket of shells. The woman laughed, holding up a particularly gaudy seashell necklace, and teased her boyfriend about how he’d look wearing it.

At the back of the store, a middle-aged man, tall and broad-shouldered, picked up a ceramic mug and handed it to the woman beside him - his wife, presumably. She took it absentmindedly, her gaze drifting toward the sunset-lit window. They were quiet, perhaps tired after a long day of sightseeing. A fourth couple, casually dressed in shorts and flip-flops, wandered from shelf to shelf, chatting loudly about their vacation plans.

The store felt oddly cramped, despite its open floor plan. Shelves were packed with knick-knacks, beach-themed decor, and souvenirs that had seen too many summers. A low hum of an ancient air conditioning unit rattled in the background, barely keeping the coastal humidity at bay. The room was dim, lit by weak bulbs that buzzed faintly. But no one seemed to mind—they were here for postcards, coffee cups, maybe a little memento to take home.

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As they moved from shelf to shelf, an older man emerged from a doorway at the back of the shop. He was small and wiry, with sun-weathered skin and hair the color of silver, tied back into a loose ponytail. 

His clothes were out of place—a bright Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals, as though he had stepped out of an old postcard himself. His eyes twinkled with a sharp, almost mischievous glint. He looked like he belonged behind the counter of a surf shack, not here, in the dim recesses of a tourist shop.

“Ah! Good timing, all of you!” he exclaimed, waving his arms dramatically. His voice was enthusiastic, too loud for the small space, like he’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on, come on—follow me! You’re just in time.”

The couples exchanged confused glances, but curiosity got the better of them. One by one, they followed him through the narrow door at the back of the store, past a dusty beaded curtain that clinked as it brushed their shoulders.

The back room was small, with low ceilings and walls covered in faded maps and strange artifacts—some nautical, others ancient-looking, all unlabelled and almost familiar. A single bulb flickered overhead, casting erratic shadows. The owner turned to face them, his grin wide and expectant, his eyes gleaming.

He scanned the group for a moment, then his smile grew even wider.

“You all look great in your new suits,” he said, his voice low but pleased.

There was a pause. The couples glanced at one another, bewildered. New suits? They hadn’t changed a thing since they entered the store.

“What do you mean, new suits?” one of the men asked, frowning.

The owner chuckled, shaking his head as though they had just told him the punchline of a joke.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see soon enough,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Now listen up—try not to get yourselves killed, okay? And come back next week. Same time.” He winked. “Oh, and try to have fun!”

Without warning, his body flickered like static on an old TV screen. The couples blinked, and before they could react, the man’s form shimmered, then disappeared altogether, fading out of existence as though he had never been there.

Silence filled the small room.

The group stood frozen in place, their minds racing to comprehend what had just happened. The woman with the postcard in hand dropped it, her mouth hanging open. “Did anyone else just see—?”

“Yes,” the older man interrupted, his voice tense. “He… disappeared.”

Without a word, the group rushed outside, hearts pounding. The sky outside was still glowing with the remnants of sunset, but something had changed. They were no longer just tourists on a leisurely evening walk.

Then, out of nowhere, they all heard it: a calm, soothing voice inside their heads. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable. “Whoa, slow down, relax, and I’ll fill you in.”

The voice was strangely reassuring, but it didn’t erase the dread that had settled in their stomachs. They looked at each other, their eyes wide with disbelief, knowing now that something beyond their understanding was happening. But as the voice lingered in their minds, they all shared the same unnerving thought:

What the hell had just happened?