The Lies He Told | PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER ROMANCE |

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On my inaugural day as a volunteer worker, I arrived at The Mystic Willow, "the village's one and only metaphysical supply shop", tardy but present, and was met by the enigmatic Sabina Ross.

With measured and purposeful strides, she guided me through the labyrinthine confines of all that is enigmatic and mystical.

Floorboards creaked beneath our feet like an ominous tune of subtle percussion, as though the very structure of the building was infused with the echoes of past visitors.

The air was thick with the intoxicating aromas of incense and myrrh, the walls adorned with a myriad of arcane and esoteric objects: crystal orbs, tarot decks, woven dreamcatchers and ancient tomes.

"I should have instructed you to cast your fishing lure," the temperamental woman said in a concise and authoritative tone. "Jack asked you to be here nice and early to assist with the delivery. He had to lift all those boxes by himself—a task that required considerable strength and two-person assembly—because the hired help turned out to be capricious, unreliable and unpunctual. I hope you are satisfied with your actions, or lack thereof, Mrs Lewis. My poor Jack. He had to spend the entire morning in bed, recovering from all the heavy lifting."

Yes, I am unfashionably late. I had promised to be punctual, even ahead of schedule, per Mr Ross' request. But, as I have yet to inform Daniel of the volunteering position, I had to wait until he left the cliff house before I could run around like a headless chicken to get here. On foot, as I still have a phobia of driving. A foot with a potentially broken toe.

"And before I get a shit ton of excuses about why you didn't show up, I don't want to hear it," she said, her stance in the doorway strong and unmovable. "This is where the goods are kept. Your job is simple: restock the shelves, organise the inventory, and help customers find what they're looking for, preferably with a smile on your face." She handed me a pen and a clipboard. "Here is a cornucopia of treasures to be replenished. Get started."

Clicking the top of the pen, I took the clipboard and surveyed the cluttered room.

My senses were immediately enthused by a profusion of suggestive scents: the sweet, earthy fragrance of botanical sticks, the musty tang of dust and the faint metallic hint of old coins and ancient jewellery.

Taking in the eclectic array of items on display, I gazed up at the dusty chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its crystals casting prisms of light on the walls and creating a beautiful kaleidoscope of shimmering colours.

Shelves sagged under the uncompromising weight of crystal orbs that gleamed like arcane eyes in the dim light.

Tarot decks, with cryptic symbols and arcane imagery, lay on the floor like forgotten treasures.

Artistically woven dreamcatchers, suspended from the ceiling like the slender threads of ethereal spiderwebs, twirled and swayed in the gentle breeze, and cobwebs draped like ghostly veils from the old, wooden furniture.

Despite the disarray, I could sense the potential of this space.

With a bit of tidying and organisation, it could be turned into a sanctuary for wisdom seekers, where people could find guidance and inspiration, explore the hidden realms of the subconscious, and connect with the more profound mysteries of the universe.

In the powderous peripheries of the storage room, I diligently restocked the shelves, arranging donated garments and footwear with meticulous precision.

I discarded the antiquated elixirs and herbal remedies and, with reverential care, unpacked the chests of crystalline wonders.

Carefully unwrapping a delicate garment from its ancient wrapping, I brushed my fingers over the soft fabric, marvelling at its delicate craftsmanship. It was a gown fashioned from silk and lace, with a flowing skirt and intricate embroidery.