Ezrah's Invitation (8)

A Chapter by Znikbew

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I blink. Once, twice, my brain stalling like a slowly buffering computer. Was this all just a joke to her? Was that just that common? Finally, I clap my hands loudly in front of me, snapping out of my daze. “No, nope. I’m done. I’m officially done with whatever…” I motion around me to the whole store. “...THIS is. So good luck with that!”

I spin on my heel and make my way towards the exit, with Rue floating behind me. Almost as soon as I open the door, I bump face first into a lanky, unnervingly thin man, almost losing my grip on Rue. I swiftly adjusted my grip on her hand again before finally looking at the man I collided with.

The first impression I have is cheese. This man definitely has cheese written all over him. He smelled like cheese. His skin looked like cheese with the dark patches covering it. And I’d bet money that he weirdly tasted of cheese as well. He grins at us with a crooked, obviously stained set of teeth, his angular jaw shaping differently to fit his smile. His wild strawberry curls were pulled up on the top of his head, strawlike strands sticking out at each end. His eyes were slightly off, one brown eye was lighter than the other. They both stay glued on Rue at the moment, his grin growing even goofier.

“A little girl in Wonderland? Isn’t that rare! Well, aren’t you a tiny little miracle?” He lets out a heartfelt laugh, his voice a bit nasally but words were well pronounced. He digs into his oversized, badly stitched coat pocket and pulls out a small block of cheese. “Would you like one? Don’t mind the teeth marks.” My eyebrows furrow. Did he just…

Rue’s eyes drop to the cheese and immediately looks three seconds from crying. The man pulls the cheese away, confusion flooding his face. I quickly speak up. “She’s had enough food for the day,” I state, still weirded out that he keeps a block of cheese in his pockets.

The man’s warm smile returns and he clicks his tongue. “Ah, I understand,” he coos, returning the cheese back to his coat. “Eating food in Wonderland is a fifty-fifty chance. You have to be careful when offered free food.”

“Why?” I ask, glancing back to Rue. Her feet are still hovering inches from the ground, ready to blow away at any moment. “Do they all do this?”
“Our food has different personalities,” the man explains, eyes glowing at the topic. “Every food you eat here is unpredictable. Sometimes you get something like the ability to talk to animals, while others don’t go quite as well. Like I said, it’s a fifty-fifty chance.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, looking over my shoulder at Rue. “And fortunately for you two, I happen to sell potions that can set you back to normal… For a small fee, of course.” Rue and I exchange looks and he lets out a sincere laugh.

With a terrible British accent, he declares with his whole chest, “Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself!” He bends dramatically at the waste, making Rue laugh when he pretends to tilt an invisible hat. “The name’s Ezrah Hatter. I run the hat and leather shop next door if you ladies are interested?”

I hesitate, looking back at the store we just left. “It wouldn’t be anything like this one, would it?” I ask cautiously and Ezrah’s grin turns goofy again. “Nothing like this one,” he assures me as he finally straightens again. “My walls bend, my shelves move, and sometimes my leather will even giggle and wave hello.” He throws Rue a wink before promising, “You will never find a shop like mine.”

“Shelves that move?” I ask skeptically, trying to imagine it. Sounds incredible, like a haunted library that turns into a maze at night. I guess that it would depend on if the walls were trying to be difficult or not. If the walls can bend and the shelves move, does that mean the store was alive? I can see it now, a story about a shop that tests peoples’ worthiness. Walls that can bend to trap thieves, shelves that shift to block out the liars. If you enter it, it’s because the shop decided you were worthy enough to enter.

Ezrah nods toward the store next to us, the structure leaning over slightly to the left, ready to blow over at any moment. The bricks in the walls are weirdly stitched together with long, wide, black seams. The windows are foggered up, preventing anyone from looking in. The sign on te door reads “Ezrah’s Exceptional Leathers”.

“We might have to pass,” I comment warily, my stomach turning at the idea of walking into that death trap. Ezrah chuckles under his breath.

“Everything in Wonderland shifts depending on where you stand,” he explains. “My shop is no exception. The outside looks uncharming, yes, but its perfect for keeping away unwanted visitors.”

I perk up immediately. “Like the shop’s way of trying to keep out anyone that’s unworthy?” I ask, thinking back to my story idea. Ezrah gives me an unsure smile, not understanding a thing I was talking about. I shrink back a little, embarrassed. I get that patronizing look a lot. Not a lot of people can keep up with how my brain works. “What kind of stuff do you sell?” I ask instead, trying to change the topic.

“The usual leathers,” Ezrah counts off his list from memory. “From shoes, to belts, to wallets, you name it. If it can be made from leather, I have it.” His expression changes, sounding proud of his work. “I have the finest leather in Wonderland.” When I still can’t make up my mind, he guarantees softly, “I promise that it looks completely different on the outside.”

A strong breeze pushes past us as I finally agree and we both follow him to the front door. The moment it creaks open, I’m speechless when I find that it’s much larger than I had imagined. The room stretches on, the walls stitched together with thinner seam lines that run from corner to corner. On those walls were lined up with all sorts of shelves, which seemed to rise and fall slightly like they were breathing. The floor boards are coerced in soft, leather mats, and the atmosphere almost seemed… homely, despite the strong scent of cheese in the air.

“It’s warm,” I mutter, running my fingers across the seams and Ezrah laughs under his breath. “That’s the spirit! Welcome in.” There really is something familiar about this place, but I can’t put my finger on it. With a hesitant step, I follow Rue inside, letting the door swing close behind me.

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