Watson’s General Store

“Oh, Ricky, I don’t know how you found this place, but it’s perfect. This is going to be the best vacation ever!”

“It looks like one of those places you see on a postcard or TV travel ad. I only found out about it while sorting through my grandparents’ attic. They kept so much old junk; I’m surprised the ceiling didn’t cave in from the weight. Promise me we’ll never become hoarders like they were, Deb.”

“Not to worry, love, you know how I hate clutter. But by sifting through all that junk, you found this quaint little Maine village for us to spend the week. Seriously, Ricky, look around us. There is a beautiful lake to swim in, hiking trails, and a general store. I don’t know of any place that still has one of those. We need to check it out.”

“That’s odd. The postcard I found had a picture of this store, and, it had a date, 6/21/1898, written on it. This building looks too new to be that old.”

“So, maybe the owners renovated it. Don’t go all conspiracy theories on me, Ricky. Come on, I want to see what’s sold in a general store?”

The couple strolled up from the lake to a traditional-looking, well-kept building with a sign that read WATSON’S GENERAL STORE. Ricky’s attention went immediately to the model sailing schooner on display in the window while Deb admired the shrubs and flower box by the door. Everything about the store said welcome. They smiled at each other and walked in, hoping to find a souvenir or two. An elderly gentleman with a graying beard, dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and jeans, complete with suspenders, bid them welcome. The couple smiled, said hello, and set off to explore.

From the outside, the shop looked to be the size of a large house, but once inside, the aisles appeared to stretch on indefinitely. At first, they wandered together until Deb spotted some shiny trinkets in a different aisle. They separated, with plans to meet at the front of the store in half an hour. Ricky didn’t mind because he had spotted some fishing gear against the far wall. Time had no limitations for the couple as they wandered deeper and deeper into the seemingly endless chasm of attention-grabbing objects.

It wasn’t until a grumbling stomach and a dry throat finally brought Ricky back into the here and now. He had no idea where he was, or how to get to the front of the store. More importantly, he had lost Deb. Ricky pulled out his cell phone to call her, but there was no service.

Cases of jewelry along with endless racks of designer clothes bedazzled Deb. She wandered gleefully from aisle to aisle inspecting her favorite designer apparel. She spent at least an hour just trying on shoes. As involved as she was with her shopping experience, a question kept gnawing away at the back of her mind. Where is Ricky? Why hasn’t he come looking for me? She pulled out her phone, but there were no bars. Her memory flashed back to when she was five and became separated from her parents in a shopping mall. That feeling of terror came back in a flash. She started running.

Ricky ran at full speed as he tried retracing his steps, all the while calling out for Deb. Movement on his left, nothing more than a shadow in the distance, caught his attention. Could it be Deb? He turned and ran towards it in an all-out dash. Each time he got close, the shadow changed direction.

Desperation was now controlling Deb’s every thought. She was chasing a shadow but Deb didn’t know where to or who was creating it. With every breath, she called out for Ricky but received no reply.

Echoing sounds of shoes on concrete, along with desperate calls, drove Ricky and Deb to run with adrenalin-infused speed toward each other. They came from intersecting aisles and collided, falling into each other’s arms with relief.

“I thought I’d lost you forever, Deb.”

“Oh, Ricky, I was terrified. We need to get out of here now!”

“That’s only happened once in the 135 years we’ve been celebrating the summer solstice. Your leaving would ruin the celebration.”

Deb and Ricky turned to see the bearded old man standing behind them, smiling. They had no idea how he got there or what he was talking about.

Angered by being forced to go through this ordeal, Ricky stepped forward to confront the man.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re here on vacation. Find someone else to celebrate with because Deb and I are leaving.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Watson’s store won’t allow that to happen unless you have a pass and no one has one of those.”

Ricky reached into his pants pocket and produced the postcard with the faded writing.

“Is this what you’re talking about?”

Stunned, the old man stared in disbelief.

“Where did you get that?”

“It belonged to my grandparents. I guess they were the ones who escaped this trap. Now it’s our turn. Let us out, now!”

The old man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. The maze of aisles surrounding them dissolved, revealing the store they had originally entered. Ricky and Deb raced through the exit and into the cool Maine air. Later that evening, the couple sat at a restaurant table staring at the card. They had decided that maybe being a hoarder wasn’t such a bad thing after all.