Zubera Delvaux
She was used to the clamor and activity of large cities, and Willowdale seemed indolent and slow-paced in the blazing sun. She found it to be too still and silent. Since she left the town with her mother in 1970, it seemed as though little had altered. Driving around the town, she looked for the Mystic Emporium. She could not recall ever visiting the store as a kid.
She parked her car near the entrance to a narrow alley and walked through it, looking for the store. As she strolled through an alley, she heard kerfuffle from behind two giant trash cans. She stopped, tilted her head, and lowered her sunglasses to look closely at what was happening.
A bunch of schoolgirls were locked in a conflict, and one of them was crouched near the dirty wall, attempting to protect herself from rubbish hurled at her. It wasn't Zubera's issue, and she already had a lot on her to-do list, so she shrugged and headed away, pointing her nose up in the air.
The girls were too caught up bullying their thin and frail peer to take notice of Zubera's brief appearance. They threw litter at her and laughed as she screamed like a toddler to stop them. They wouldn't listen to her and found themselves entertained by her responses. One of the abusers, the tall one, stretched her arms and asked the thin girl for the lunch money she thought she had concealed in her inside pocket.
'Come on, give it over to us,' The tall girl flicked her fingers and roared before gloatingly grinning at her friends, demonstrating her supremacy over the girl.
'I don't have it. I'll pay you double tomorrow; let me go,' she said, shrinking further into the dirt in terror.
The tall girl dragged her away from the wall by her collar, and three girls encircled her like vultures over a body and kicked her by her feet. 'Yesterday, you said today, and today you say tomorrow; you are a liar and a cheater like your mother, who fled with her husband's best friend. You have no shame in lying.'
Zubera had long passed the alley, but her thoughts remained on that frail girl. She was least interested in mingling with the town dwellers in any capacity. She exhaled and returned to the passageway. The rhythm of her high heels reverberated through the walls. Girls paused and looked for the cause of the noise.
Zubera emerged gracefully and approached the girls, the silhouette of her black dress swaying in the breeze, and her dark hair fluttered. Her red lips pursed in a pout, her gaze fixed on the attackers. She was no heroine who came to rescue the damsel in distress. She approached the girls, who were in awe of this incredible creation that they had never seen before in town. Where did she come from? She did not say anything to the girls; instead, she turned to the thin girl still on the ground, putting one knee in front of the other, leaning, folding her spine at a perfect 90-degree angle, and roared at her, 'Are you going to remain there and cry, or are you going to get up and fight these bitches? You do not need physical strength. All you need to courage.'
Zubera glared at her, crossed her arms, and dropped her shades, waiting to see what the frail girl would do next. The girl rose to her feet and pushed the tall girl; the tall girl tried to retaliate, but her companions stopped her, detecting trouble. The girls said nothing and stepped away from the situation, glaring at the thin girl.
The thin girl spread her hands for a salutation, but Zubera glanced down at her filthy hands and refused. The girl immediately cleaned her hands and attempted to shake hands again; Zubera shook it, holding only the tips of her fingers.
Zubera's stunning appearance and audacity mesmerized the girl, who limped and followed her out of the passageway. Without turning around, Zubera inquired what her name was, to which the girl politely responded, 'Ebba Everly.'
'How frequently do you get knocked up like this?' Zubera inquired sarcastically.
'A couple of times a week, sometimes more, based on their mood,' Ebba responded.
'Why don't you tell this to your parents?'
'They aren't around, my mother eloped, and my father is a truck driver, so I only see him every few weeks.' Ebba said it casually, as if she had accepted it and was no longer influenced emotionally by it.
'Hmm, all right,' Zubera said flatly. 'Do you want lunch?' she asked Ebba.
'Yes, thank you; you are very kind,' Ebba said with a twinkle in her eyes.
They sat across from each other at the local eatery, and Ebba appreciated Zubera's features. Ebba was smitten; she had never met anyone like her before. She was her inspiration. She was curious about Zubera but was reluctant to pose any questions. As they ate their meal, Zubera avoided making eye contact with her. Zubera settled the bill and stormed out of the diner as soon as they finished. 'I'll pay you back shortly, Miss,' Ebba said as she followed her.
Zubera gestured with her palms that it was unnecessary. 'You can assist me in exchange,' she said to Ebba. 'Yes, Miss' Ebba smiled.
'Can you tell me where I might find a shop called Mystic Emporium?'
'Yes, it's on the old church road, but it's been closed for years, long before I was born,' she says.
'Get in the car and take me there.' Zubera demanded. Ebba rushed and sat in the passenger seat, and they drove away.
They stopped in front of an old dusty store, where the paint on the wooden doors was peeling, and the window glass was splintered. The shop's name, Mystic Emporium, had faded away behind years of dirt and grime. Zubera dug through her purse for the key sent with the letter. She tested one, then another, and the door finally opened after a brief struggle. Spider webs clung to old herb stalks hanging from the ceiling, and dust had accumulated on jars. She entered, holding a handkerchief covering her nose. Ebba trailed her, observing and touching everything in sight.
'What sort of store is this?' Ebba inquired, intrigued. Zubera disregarded her query and went through the drawers, opening them one by one. They had been there only a short time when they noticed a small crowd outside the store. Zubera and Ebba stepped outside to investigate.
'Can you tell me who you are?' An elderly lady inquired. 'Who are you, and why do you ask?' Zubera countered.
Someone yelled that this store had been closed for years, and they don't want any problems.
'Young woman, what is your purpose here?' inquired a guy dressed as a clergyman. 'Why did you open it?'
'My name is Zubera Delvaux, and I own this establishment,' she replied.
Everyone exhaled in disbelief and murmured amongst themselves. Zubera overheard folks discussing what the evil witch was doing in town. 'Go back where you came from; you don't belong here,' said a middle-aged guy as he walked out of the throng. Their slanderous remarks surprised Zubera.
Things quickly heated, and people started yelling at her, which overwhelmed Zubera; she was not prepared for this. What happened in the past came back to her as a painful flashback; she recalled how the town's inhabitants had driven them away years before, how her mother battled to feed her, and how no one would give them food. She knew that regardless of how much they prayed, the people of Willowdale were cruel and soulless.
She dashed back to her vehicle and closed the door, putting her hands over her ears to block out the snide remarks. She takes deep breaths in an attempt to settle herself. People surrounded her vehicle and yelled at her to drive away. The pain of the past resurfaced. She wished to leave and never return.