Everything Must Go

 For this awesome book cover! :)

A/N: I was given an assignment to take a classifed ad out of the newspaper and create a short story around it. (I know, I have the most amazing English teacher ever!)  This is my fictional short story from the classified advertisement I found for an antique store closing sale. The letter is fictional as well.

_____________________________________________________

A plain man, in his mid forties, cleared his throat as he walked up to the lecturn.  Nervously, he placed his printed speech on the podium and looked out over the sea of black, adjusting his tie.  He had done this, speaking in front of large crowds, thousands of times throughout his life.  Yet he always felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of this type of speech.  Dismissing his own concerns, he cleared his throat and began.

"Last month I was reading the newspaper as I do every day, wondering where this world was headed.  Headlines streaking across the front page were enough to bring tears to my eyes.  Life just seems to be so tragic nowadays with all of the selfishness and hatred in the world. 

'Where has all the passion gone?' I thought to myself as I turned the page of depressing news to the 'Letters to the Editor' section.  My eyes scanned across the page.    'Hmm… ‘To Those Who Care:’ This should be interesting- probably more ranting and raving from radical peace makers.  Don’t they know that nobody cares anymore?  Oh, well,' I thought, 'I’ve got about thirty minutes until the wife hauls me shopping to some old antique store.  I guess I could read this one last letter.'  And so I did.  I'd like to read it to you all now.

To Those Who Care:

It seems like it was only yesterday as I watched my family cut the red ribbon to our new store.  Daddy wasn’t a fan of this new “idea”, but my Mama was convinced this was her passion in life. You see, she didn’t look at her “idea” as if she were selling old junk- just as Daddy did.   Mama would tell me her inspiration before bed every night.   She’d say, “Emma Louise, I never learnt nothing about it, but I know what history is when I see it.  These antiques are history.  If I don’t pass them on, then how will ‘the future’ ever know the past?” She knew she was passing history into the hands of the future; she was the wrinkle in time.  Daddy sold our farm and moved all five of us to the city because he said “a farm ain’t no place to raise young’uns.” We were tough girls. We could have handled farm life.  Even though he’d never admit it, we secretly knew it was all for Mama.  Daddy was a realist, and Mama was a dreamer.  But that was no matter.  Daddy loved Mama with all his heart.  He would do anything just to see a smile sweep across her striking face.

So, three years after the move and accumulating all kinds of ancient treasures, we opened “The Wrinkle in Time” off of Ella Boulevard.  It was the summer before fourth grade, and my older twin sisters, Ruth and Mary, were entering high school.  I loved our store almost as much as Mama did.  She’d sit me up on one of her pieces of history while she showed “the future” different ancient treasures, hoping the right person would see the true value of them.  I remember racing home, well I say home because we lived above the store, to show Daddy what I learned in ballet class that day.  After locking up for the night, he’d put a one of his favorite records on, either Glenn Miller or Jimmy Durante. He’d call me “His Precious Ballerina”. I’d stand on his shoes, and we would dance back and forth for what felt like hours on end. 

Our store was always there for me.  I grew up in our store.  I became a stronger person in our store.  I learned my place in the world right there in our store.  When my sisters died in a car accident the fall after they graduated from high school, I can remember burying my nose in the old book section.  Mama’s favorite part of the entire store embraced me in my time of sadness.  She always said that books from the past taught her everything she knew.  Charles Dickens came to my rescue as he taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life.  His “A Tale of Two Cities” opened my eyes to the sufferings of others- and that someone, somewhere was hurting more than me. 

Time seemed to stand still when I was in our store.  I had seen nearly half a century of time pass when Daddy’s “Beloved” and my “Mama” went be with the good Lord.  We had considered selling the store.  Daddy couldn’t bear the pain of being inside it, knowing how Mama poured her soul into the store.  But before we could talk to a realtor, Daddy went to be with Mama.  Their love was stronger than anything I had seen before.  He simply couldn’t go on without her.  I am convinced they truly were soul mates. 

But it’s been thirty years since they went Home with the Lord.  I kept the store alive, in memory of my family.  Well, truth be told, the store was the only family I had left.  My mama’s soul, my daddy’s love, and my sisters’ baubles were the only remnants remaining.  Together, the store and I have seen nearly a century of the future become the past. 

The future doesn’t seem to have a desire to treasure the past anymore, so we must part.  “The Wrinkle in Time” will be open for the rest of this month.  These are the final days, and everything must go.  If you’re ever wandering down 3411 Ella Boulevard near West 34th Street, my store and I will be waiting.

Sincerely,

                    Everything Must Go

"I put the letter down, and blotted my eyes to keep the tears from coming.  How could one person go through so much and be so full of life, I thought?  I put my readings out of my mind, but I’ve come to not believe in coincidences.  You’d never guess that the antique shop my wife dragged me to later that evening was actually this fragile woman’s shop.  She was exactly how I had imagined her.  All of the lines traversing along her face told you her life story.  You could see the hardships she had endured, but also the blissful times as well.  We spent hours talking about what I read that morning.  I even saw an antique desk with her typewriter sitting composedly where I imagine she sat plucking away at her letter.

"Her story was one that has touched my heart profoundly. I am telling you all, but you already know this.  As countless community members poured into the funeral home this rainy afternoon, I feel it is only proof of the fact that Emma touched all of our lives.  She may never know it, although I think she must have, her family and their beloved antique store left its impression in the minds of many.  She was an incredible woman, even though I only knew her for the last month of her life.  This community will forever remember her and the memories she and her antiques have made in our lives.  But as Emma came to know, everything must go."