The lost vampire realized with a start that the pleasant aroma of fresh peppermint and crisp dark chocolate was not incense, but a fancy-looking cigar the elderly gentleman had been smoking. Gray smoke blossomed around the man in an ethereal, haunting, almost ghostly way. Had Noël not noticed the steady rise and fall of his chest as he smoked his cigar, he would have figured him to be an automaton of some sort. There was an ‘old-world’ charm to the elderly man, whom he figured of which to be the toy store owner. He seemed to be as gray and washed-out as the mountains of broken toys…almost as if, he weren’t…entirely in the realm of the living……
“Excuse me, sir. Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you Mr. Emerett?” Noël addressed the elderly man as he walked up closer to the register. “I stumbled across your store upon seeking shelter from the rain and would like to ask if I may stay here until the weather subsides? I promise to stay out of your way.”
A flash of recognition sparked through the old man’s eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly.
How odd, Noël admits as he notes the emotion did not appear to be ‘fear’ as he had grown accustomed to, but something more unusual.
It’s almost as if he recognizes me, but…I’m sure I’ve never met this ‘Mr. Emerett’ before.
Perhaps he’s merely surprised someone walked into his store, considering it is in the middle of nowhere? Best not to over think this…not like I’ll stay here long enough to encounter any problems.
“Now, now, sonny, you don’t need to be so formal. Just ‘Emerett’ will do. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old,” the elderly man said. His hair, which at one point must have been a light shade of auburn, had grayed significantly. In contrast to his lightly-colored hair, the man’s attire consisted of a black shirt, black vest, and black pants. Bright, silver cufflinks adorned his sleeves. His hands were intertwined underneath his chin, giving him the appearance of a funeral director and not a toy store owner.
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There was a wispy, somewhat wistful aura to the old man. Of course, Noël was in no place to intrude nor did he care all that much. Everyone had their skeletons, and it would be cruel to dig this old man’s up.
As per usual, Noël would be content to pass through and disappear, as if he never existed.
While not the most ideal life, it was enough for him.
“Apologies, Mr. Emerett, but I cannot do that. My Aunt would have a fit if I acted anything less than polite.”
“Your Aunt, huh? I knew a woman like that a long time ago,” Emerett forlornly sighed as he held the cigar with one hand. “She was always so polite, so formal…actually, you remind me of her.”
“Okay…that’s not weird at all,” Noël deadpanned. Weird thing to tell a stranger, much less a potential customer.
“It was a compliment; just been awhile since I last saw her…well, then you can speak however you want,” the store owner said as he snuffed out the cigar. “You wouldn’t want to make a lady cry, would you?”
“Uh…I don’t think my Aunt would cry over my speech patterns.”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
“No, not really. Enlighten me,” Noël murmured. Agitated, he couldn’t help but miss his coffin. While he couldn’t die, he was now certain boredom could not completely be ruled out.
“Not important,” the man drawled as he slowly got up from his seat at the cash register. “Excuse me, but I have something to take care of. Just ring me up if you have any questions.”
Hesitantly, Noël asked one of the many questions fluttering around in his head. “Actually, I do. Are all of these toys your creations?”
“They sure are; glad you noticed them. Have any of my creations caught your eye?” the store owner proudly boasted. Noël merely looked unimpressed and a minute away from throwing himself out of one of the many stained glass windows residing within the toy store.
“They’re…unlike anything I have seen before,” the vampire admitted. Not quite a lie nor the truth.
“If I may ask, why are they all…incomplete?”
The store owner exhaled sharply. His grip on the register’s table seemed to tighten. Gritting his teeth, Emerett’s gaze briefly flickered towards a moldy, half-sewn doll placidly lying within one of his many wooden shelves before shifting his dark-hued eyes back towards Noël. “Why, that’s very simple. Ever since my muse passed away so many years ago, I have not been able to create anything that replicates even a minute fraction of her beauty.”
“Her soft, chestnut brown hair…porcelain skin, gentle smile…what was there to not love?” The harshness in Emerett’s eyes deteriorates as he recounts the woman who was apparently his muse.
This…is getting creepy, Noël snarks. In disgust, he truly was considering bashing the store owner’s skull with one of his very many bookshelves. What is he; a stalker?
“Is…this woman you’re referring to ‘real’ and not a construct of your own mind?” Noël awkwardly shies away from Emerett as his proclamations of love for this mystery woman became more pronounced.
“Of course she’s real! I understand if you’re in disbelief. Her beauty was otherworldly.”