Fantasy Shopkeeper Novels & Stories

he said, shaking his head. I ate. I just did not always have my apartment stocked. If I needed to get something, it was just as simple as opening a portal. My portals were glamoured, so they could not be seen by non-supernaturals. You just had to be careful to avoid humans seeing you magically appearing somewhere that you were not. I pulled my wallet out of my jeans, holding up my card. “I haven’t really been here, Lu. Do you want to go grab some groceries if I give you some money?”

“There will be hundreds of elves assigned to your shop, Ms. Fizzlestitch. You’ll be in charge of supervising each of them so every doll is crafted just as you would have designed it yourself, but you won’t be left to labor so intensively all alone. Surely you can see the value in that? With our system, you’ll be able to make thousands and thousands of dolls each year.” Serendipity was not listening. In fact, she had tuned him out from the moment he had begun to speak. She would let nothing this strangely dressed man claiming to be from the North Pole said persuade her from changing the course she had embarked on so many years ago. Pozzletot squirmed, as if to say she should consider the offe

He took slow steps towards the counter standing behind her. "And what do you suggest, Mr. Sanders? Are you a fan of fantasy?" Amara's voice carried a hint of curiosity, her eyes sparkling with interest. A nostalgic smile crept on the man’s face, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, indeed, my dear. Fantasy has been my constant companion throughout my years spent amidst these shelves of knowledge. There's simply nothing quite like the allure of a well-crafted tale, the intoxicating scent of old parchment, and the boundless worlds they conjure within our imaginations."

According to people's information, there was a complete place to buy step goods because the owner of the shop bought his goods on the black market. The sound of the entrance bell rang, inside it seemed deserted. No one was shopping because the shop was a bit far from the market and the center of the capital and sold strange things so only people who needed something would go in there. There was a full suit of armor, glass bottles filled with water and preserved animals, fighting gear, deer antlers, a magic orb that even Altair himself doubted whether it still worked or not. "Welcome to my shop," said the shop owner. "Is there something I can help you with," he said again, who was cleaning th

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

"Vicky, long time no see!" Jenny was a short brunette woman, around 50, who had a divine love for birds and a lack of patience for children. In her hand, she held a box. As soon as I saw her face, I caught a glimpse of her at 3 years old, sitting on the very countertop she was now approaching. The interior of this store was completely different from the exterior. To humans, it was a small store selling antique items; however, to supernatural beings with an extension of the Sight, it was a store filled to the brim with potions, magical weapons and gear, and healing herbs.

She almost drop the book she's holding. "You killed the crap outta me! I asked if there was anyone here but no one answered so I stepped in. I'm sorry," Chassy apologized. The guy laughed. It made Chassy looked at him and thought the guy was crazy. "This shop isn't mine but I love the old books here. The name's Jaxzim, call me Jax for short," Jax said and took a book from the shelf. "What's your name?" "My name's Chassy. I thought you owned the place. So uh... who owns this place?" Chassy asked.

Whatever it was, I took a deep breath and stepped inside. The inside of the shop was dimly lit, with shelves full of books, crystals, and potions. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and soft music was playing in the background. It was both eerie and fascinating at the same time. As I looked around, I noticed that there was no one in the shop. That was until a small bell above the door jingled, and a woman appeared from the back room. She was older, with long grey hair that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and she wore a long purple skirt and a flowing white blouse. She smiled warmly at me and greeted me with a soft, "Hello, dear. How can I help you today?"

Yet, sometimes, the demons within were far more dangerous than those without. When she finished browsing the candle shop, she browsed a soap and bath salt store, then a tea shop, and finally entered a small store front of a business called The Murky Cauldron. She knew it was one of those New Age, magical shops that catered to those who believed themselves to be witches or searched for the faerie world, but she felt intrigued enough to open the door and venture inside. She laughed to herself. She always believed it to be a store serving the nutjobs who simply could not handle the reality around them. She never put much stock in any of it being real. Of course, that was before Vargas and the w

This time around, he double-checks the dressing rooms and has to be accompanied by one of the shop's female staff members. I couldn't even think to warrant help from the staff for an escape since they appeared on very friendly rather than formal terms with the demon. It's only later after we exit the shop, I discover it all belongs to the demon. I had forgotten that he's an owner of many corporations. "Don't you like any of the things we've bought today?" He questions with smug expectancy as we exit the tenth shop with bags full of merchandise. "How can you not be happy?" I can only offer him a cold shoulder as I glumly enter the jeep. He expects me to be satisfied with this materialistic he