The Old Antiques Store

I looked up and down the street once again, trying to pick up somewhere you recognise. Across the street, soon to be shadowed by a new high rise, was a small antique store I vaguely remembered my grandma telling me about when I was a young boy.

?Little boys and girls, captivated by their own curiosity, would go inside the old antique store and when they came out again, would be drained of all happiness!? she used to joke. ?Beware of the crippled lady with beady eyes and a pointed nose! She?ll lure you inside and steal your soul away forever!?

My grandma would always talk about this little store just off the high street, but I never really knew where it was until now. It looked like a very old shop from the outside. It almost felt like it would fall apart at any moment; a timeworn ?Antiques? sign clinging to the ancient, timber shop-front for dear life.

With a strange, unexplainable curiosity, I slowly wondered across the darkening, empty street towards the little shop, enchanted with an odd motivation to find out what was really inside. What was it about this little shop that made everything feel so dark all of a sudden? Was there really an old crippled lady with beady eyes and a pointed nose?

As I got closer, I could see the black paint on the wood was old and flaky. I hesitantly attempted to peer through the murky shop window, unsure of what I would find, but all I could see was darkness. It seemed the only way to satisfy my undying curiosity was to go inside.

It was interesting to think my grandma, though she had passed away a few years ago, still had me chilled to the bone thinking about her creepy stories!