Author: Jameson Grey

The Sweet Shoppe by Jameson Grey

IV – Wolfe on the Fold

Centuries? Is that what he said? He can’t have been around for centuries – that’s not possible!

The shopkeeper smiled that rancid, toothless smile of his and began to sniff Pearl, first her face, then down the front of her body. She gagged, writhing in disgust as he pawed at the sides of her breasts and her hips, before pressing his nose against her abdomen.

Pearl was still trying to free her wrists when the shopkeeper stood up, clasping his hands together and smiling. “Oh my, you’re almost a two-for-one deal all by yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know? You’re pregnant.”

“No!”

“Oh, you most definitely are, my dear. I can smell it on you. Or should I say in you?” He breathed in deeply again. “Perhaps only a few weeks – not long enough for one of my Sugary Babies unfortunately, but – ”

“NO!” Pearl screamed. “You’re lying!”

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The Sweet Shoppe by Jameson Grey

III – Behind the Beaded Door

Pearl dragged open her heavy eyes. She was aware her arms were aching, but her brain couldn’t process why. She tried moving them and realized they were above her. She shook her head, hoping to clear the fog, and tried again. She looked up – in slow motion it seemed.

Her hands were bound together, looped over a hook that hung on a chain suspended from the ceiling. “Wh–” Ahead she could see the beaded doorway. She must be in the sweet shop’s back room.

“Oh, you’re back with us. I did worry I’d given you too big a dose of my special tea. It’s a specialty, you know.”

Pearl whipped her head around to her right, where the voice had come from. Bad idea – the sharp movement succeeded only in making her dizzy.

The storekeeper was grinning – once again Pearl could see how rotten his remaining teeth were. He thumbed over his shoulder and stepped aside. Pearl saw what he’d been pointing at. A body was lying on a workbench. There was a bloody mess where its head had been and a hammer next to it. From the clothes, she knew it was John. Pearl screamed.

“If it makes you feel better go ahead, nobody will hear you out here. But I’d much prefer you didn’t; it does give me a headache so.”

“Who the hell are you? What have you done?” Pearl pulled at her wrists – they were tied tight.

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The Sweet Shoppe by Jameson Grey

II – Mr Wolfe’s Sweet Shoppe

“Oh, this is an unexpected treat – customers.”

Pearl and John’s entering the shop had set off a bell and a little man – the storekeeper, presumably – had bustled through a beaded curtain behind the counter. “I was working up a new batch of lollipops in the back. How may I help you this fine summer’s day?”

There was an unmissable hissing sibilance to his voice that immediately put Pearl in mind of Kaa from The Jungle Book. Forcing herself to suppress a giggle, Pearl averted her eyes to the storekeeper’s apron where she noticed a sticky red mess – strawberry juice from the lollipops, she assumed.

“It wasn’t a planned trip I’m afraid,” John said. “We’re rather lost and, as if that’s not enough, we’ve just gotten a flat.”

“Oh dear,” The storekeeper sympathized. “That road can be quite treacherous. I have informed the municipality on many occasions, but I’m told they have other priorities. It can be so easy to take a knock against those walls, can’t it?

“I was distracted by an animal and clattered into the wall trying to brake and not hit it,” Pearl explained.

“Was it a dog, by any chance?” the storekeeper asked.

“Might have been,” John said. “Certainly small and nimble enough. It wasn’t a bear, thankfully!”

“I rather fear that might have been my Peter. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s ran out on the road and given customers of mine a scare.”

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The Sweet Shoppe by Jameson Grey

I – Larches Lane

The sign had seen better days.

It was faded, barely attached to a wooden post, and Pearl was scarcely able to determine the left turn was for ‘Larches Lane’. Beside her, John was staring at a road map that almost matched the signpost for its decrepitude.

“Are you sure this is it? Check your phone.” Pearl was peering through the windshield. Their current road dipped almost invitingly out of sight, possibly even dropping them back into the valley out of which they’d just risen. Larches Lane appeared to take them deeper into the foothills, where a small wood lay before the crest.

John held his phone up – as if the extra few centimeters aloft would make a difference to the number of bars on its display. “No signal.” He returned his attention to the map. “It’s definitely this one, though,” he said. “The road winds up on over the hill and meets up with the highway in a couple of miles. Once we’re on the highway, we’ll be back on track. We’ll just head into the next town and get something to eat there.”

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