"Hello Kate," Lyra called to her as she walked into the old thrift shop nestled between two beauty parlors. Kate found herself visiting it constantly. She loved the feeling of used clothes the resale shops you could find them in. She liked that each object had a soul, and story to tell. You couldn't find that in normal shops. Kate also loved the surprise you could get from these shops, the unlikeliness of finding the same object twice. The feeling awakens creativity in her soul. It made her hands itch for a paintbrush, and to wreak havoc onto a canvas to display what she felt. This particular shop is close to her apartment and on campus. Kate could come whenever she wished.
Kate smiled at the woman behind the counter, Lyra. "Hardly" she chirped back "it's raining cats and dogs out there. Good morning my ass," Lyra let out a breathy laugh and moved from behind the counter. "What can you possibly be looking for today?" Her knowing eyes set on Kate with the same intense curiosity that always seemed to follow the woman wherever she went. The same question she always asked, and it had become a usual routine in every one of Kate's visits. "Who said I’m looking for a specific item? Perhaps I’m just browsing," Kate responded as she set off towards the racks.
Kate walked through a sea of colors bright and joyous. She let her finger trail over the fabric to her right. She hadn't been honest when she said she wasn't looking for anything. She was looking for an object, but she didn't know what. There was calling in her blood, or a pull towards the shop. It also made her keep her coming back to the little shop. She knew when the initial dazzlement at the clothing wore off that it wasn't an object she could wear. The pull felt deeper as she moved toward the back of the shop. Lyra had told her more than once she was always looking for something, “whether she knew it or not."
Kate moved into the back of the shop where appliances and doodads that were not clothing were kept. There were mannequins, bowls, TVs, fake flowers, and any kind of mug you needed. She had found most of her furniture back here, but nothing felt quite like what she was looking for. However, she noticed today that there was a drawing table. Kate was drawn towards it instantly. She did need a new drawing table. She checked all around the table, but she couldn't find a price tag on it. "Lyra," She called out, "Lyra?” She left the table and around to the front of the shop. Lyra wasn't sitting behind the counter reading like she often did. Maybe she was sorting clothes somewhere else in the shop and didn't hear Kate calling her.
Kate searched through each rack of clothing and almost every aisle of shelves in the back. She was going down another aisle when she noticed an open door. Maybe it was a storage area and Lyra was back there. Though she would never admit it, and it was probably silly she was starting to worry about her. She walked through the open door, and into the room beyond.
There weren't spare clothes as Kate had originally thought, but glass display cases containing armor. They each case was lit and each set of armor unique in its own way. She approached a particular case. The armor had to be made by an amazing craftsman. The helmet was white with gold border and swirling gold pattern over the front. On the sides, two wings came up along the sides and swept back over the head. Each metal feather was white and accented with gold. The chest plate was pure gold, but Kate suspected it was much stronger. The chest plate was carved at the top and bottom to resemble feathers. The shoulder plates were layered white and gold, and the gloves were golden claws.
As Kate walked through the room she was awed more and more with each item she saw. As she looked up from one set she noticed an altar at the back of the room. There were lights upon the altar and steps leading up to it. Kate walked toward the back of the room, although she was tempted to stop and look at the rest of the displays. That feeling of search in her gut intensified and she was drawn to the altar like a moth to a flame. She walked up the steps, they were cut from marble and she felt as if she was walking toward a great treasure.
Kate reached the top and stood before the altar. Upon it rested a case as black as night and accented in gold flames that danced across the top and decorated a silver latch. Kate stroked her fingers down the case before undoing the latch and opening it. Inside there rested a sword, it had a long blade that was polished well enough she could see her reflection. Inscribed on the blade down the center were symbols Kate didn't recognize. In the center of the hilt was an opal that reflected every color. The rest of the gold hilt was carved to accent that one gem. The guard was curved toward the sword, and the grip dark black. The pommel was carved to look like rising wings.
All the awe Kate had felt earlier was gone; it took her moments to realize she was crying. She knew she would never be able to paint a picture as magnificent of beautiful. She took a moment to look at herself in the blade. She saw her wavy platinum blonde hair that fell across large dark gray eyes. For an instant, the reflection flickered and it wasn't herself she saw, but a man with the same wavy platinum blonde hair. It was so brief, Kate wondered if it even happened. It was most likely her overactive artist imagination acting up again.
The pull Kate had felt was dancing inside of her. The sword felt right, it seemed to call to her to pick it up and wield it. Before she knew what she was doing she grabbed the hilt and picked it up. The leather was cool to the touch and melded to her fingertips. A molten rush of emotion flowed into her through her arm. She could swear the sword was singing rejoicing to have her hold it. All at once she was no longer in the room, no longer holding a sword. She was in the clouds, the wind pushed at her face. Her wings were powerful and strong. Kate knew that she would not fall, that her wings would not fail her. The image shifted and all she could see was a large, carved golden box. There was a presence to it like it had a spirit. Not the box, but what was inside it.
Kate was yanked away. She was lying on the ground in someone’s arms. Lyra was saying her name. She was no longer in the room, and no longer holding the sword. "What happened?" she asked. Lyra was breathless as she replied, "you collapsed. You haven't stirred for 5 minutes." It must have been a hallucination that caused her to see those images. For an unidentifiable reason, Kate was relieved. "I have to get back to campus," she muttered and stood up. "I could walk you home," Lyra offered. "Thanks, but I'm good" Kate didn't need anyone to walk her home. She had always been light headed as a child. She didn't need anyone to take care of her.
Kate noticed it had stopped raining when she went outside, but evidence of the earlier storm lingered. The sidewalk was stained a dark brown, and water dripped off the canvas covers over shop doors. The whole city smelled fresh and it seemed like it was holding its breath. She remembered when she was younger and her mom alive it used to smell like worms after it rained. It didn't smell like worms here in the town, though. Kate didn't let herself think about either her mother or her childhood. The pain was just too sharp. But here in the city, miles away from the old apartment they called home she felt distanced. The pain didn't strike her like it often did but settled more like an ache in her bones.
Kate reached her apartment building and unlocked the door and went through the lobby. She took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the hall. She stopped in front of her door and unlocked it. Inside there was a small living room with no matching furniture. She had no classes tomorrow, so she crashed on her sofa and fell asleep.
