Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Antiquing
Oct. 9th, 2017 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Rusty bicycle frames, mouldering settees and old-fashioned iron-banded packing cases lined the sidewalk outside of Noel’s Knick-Knack Bric-a-Brac Emporium. Floor to ceiling window displays bristled with china figurines and table lamps in a hundred different shades of “outdated”, and the gold lettering above the store front was cracked and peeling.
Mary C. Carter stood at the pedestrian crossing on the far side of the street, her gaze moving over the assorted dusty piles with practised ease. Even at this distance, the spectral glow of over a dozen haunted artefacts shone green and greasy beneath the cold November sun. She rummaged in her neat black handbag, removing a tatty wallet stuffed with crumpled bills, and flicked through her available funds. Not enough, she thought. Not enough to redeem every spirit in the place, even if she’d had space for them in the huge, musty house that had once belonged to her aunt.
Behind the glossy sheen of the window, in the dark and shadowed recesses amongst the towering walls of junk, something moved. Cobalt blue, it flashed for a moment in the watery daylight that trickled in through the cluttered window, a single living fish moving amongst the shoals of the dead. A second later, a second spark of colour, orange-gold this time, followed by tinsel grey.
Marisea groaned and hit the “walk” button, stepping out into the road without bothering to wait for the flashing green pedestrian. She moved quickly, patent-leather Mary Janes clicking loudly on the asphalt, her long dark hair flicking out behind her.
The door was old, warped wood, and a shop bell tinkled somewhere in the gloom above her head as she shoved it open. The shop smelled of dust and things left for long periods in cold rooms and her entrance stirred up gusts of stale air, snatches of conversation drifting towards her as she stepped over the threshold.
“...three leprechauns in a long coat...”
“...ghost ship in a bottle...”
“...road-spectres...”
“Marshall,” she said, stepping up behind the little trio. “Max,” she added, making Simon flush and squirm. “Other one,” she finished.
Dash scowled. She ignored him.
“Marisea!” said Marshall brightly, and she remembered why she liked him, despite his dubious taste in friends and apparently pathological allergy to other people’s doors.
“You’re just in time,” Marshall continued. “We’re checking this place for spooks – how many of those travelling trunks have a ghost trapped inside them? Can you tell?”
“All of them,” said Marisea. “Are you looking for an amiable, if undead, sidekick, a thrilling adventure just the right size for you and your pre-teen pal, or a gruesome and horrible death? Because I’d avoid that yellowy one with the Bermuda Triangle stamps if I were you.”
Marshall went very pale. Marisea patted him on the shoulder.
“You want the ceramic lamp shaped like a cross-eyed sheep,” she said. “It’s your standard lost soul looking for some closure.” She pointed, and watched their faces fall as they surveyed the ugly thing. Marshall spotted the price tag and his face fell further.
“Aww,” he said. “Can’t you take that? We’ll do the packing cases, even the death-curse one.”
Marisea shook her head.
“Sorry, boys,” she said. “Those are professional-level haunted objects, way outside your bailiwick. Besides, I have winter bedding in need of storage and no space for a pottery lamb, while you have all that lovely attic real estate and plenty of uncluttered end-tables in need of a kitsch ornament or two.”
“I’m starting to think you weren’t serious about helping us learn the ropes of ghost-hunting,” said Marshall. “Every time I run into you, I end up either running errands or carrying hideous junk back to the Secret Spot.”
Marisea gave him a look.
“Do you know I now have a spare bedroom that is constantly full of ghost-snow because you set Tripp McConnell free and my aunt broke up with him?” she said. “You’re ready for the jobs I say you’re ready for, or I leave you to it and you end up in your parents’ basement while your sister writes articles about how great her new incorporeal house guest is.”
“One time,” said Marshall. “That was one time. And it was an accident.”
“I believe you,” said Marisea. “But that’s why you’re on ghost-probation from now on.”
She spotted the store owner, an oddly bulgy man with a shock of snow-white hair who wore a bulky tan raincoat in all weathers, and raised a hand to attract his attention.
“Anyway,” she said. “I need to get on. See you kids around.” She bent and whispered in Dash’s ear as she squeezed past. “By the way,” she murmured. “It’s not three leprechauns in a long coat. It’s four.”
As she counted out the crumpled dollar bills onto the stained and sticky counter, she could hear the argument breaking out behind her above the old-fashioned rattle and ring of the huge antique cash register.
The Andrea/Marisea Series
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Funko POP!Dash getting hit by a glitterbomb
Chocolate Jackalopes by LindyPopChocs
Consequences, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room: in which there's a hole in the fabric of the universe in their kitchen, and they don't talk about it.
Basic Household Maintenance, in which there may be a haunted carport, and Dash doesn't care
Turnip, in which Marshall dispensing some interesting facts
Plausible, in which there is damage to Marshall's car
Parking, in which Marshall struggles to parallel park and Dash is less than helpful
Arboretum, in which Simon keeps the home fires burning
Antiquing, in which Marshall offers a helping hand to Mary C. Carter, and she's not that into it
Incendiary, in which Marshall gets the wrong end of the shillelagh
Belfast Disco, in which it is St. Patrick's Day in Eerie
Bulk Buy, in which Dash's rivalry with the leprechauns quite literally spills over to a shared office space
Bright Lights, in which Marshall fears a repeat of the events above
no subject
Date: 2017-10-09 03:50 pm (UTC)And this bit especially:
“Marshall,” she said, stepping up behind the little trio. “Max,” she added, making Simon flush and squirm. “Other one,” she finished.
Dash scowled. She ignored him.
Ah, Max!
no subject
Date: 2017-10-09 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-10 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-10 07:01 am (UTC)