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There had not been an antique store on this street yesterday. Yesterday, this had been a defunct McDonald’s storefront (the examples of the franchise in Amity Park hadn’t survived the ascendancy of the Nasty Burger), left vacant because no one wanted to buy a building with a giant ‘M’ built into it. Now, it showed no sign of having ever been anything but a dusty, but dignified, antique shop.
Typical for Amity Park, really. Sometimes ghosts did this when they moved in, making little haunts inside Danny’s. Usually, though, they were courteous enough to ask him first. Or at least tell him their intentions.
Standing in front of the store, Danny didn’t get any impression of hostility, but he knew people often hid their intentions. Danny wanted to make sure the ghosts here weren’t going to be selling people anything cursed or dangerous, and that they knew the rules.
Sam and Tucker were sitting at a table across the street, in front of a frozen yogurt place. If he took too long, they’d come in after him.
The bell on the front door rang as he pushed through. It was clean inside, but somehow even the light looked antique. Sound was soft and muted, muffled by layers of carpet on the floor, the tightly-spaced shelves, and the overstuffed furniture packed into every corner. But there was sound.
Music, actually. Light and tinkling.
Danny followed it, hoping it would lead him to a check out desk and, perhaps, a proprietor. No such luck. The music box sat on a small side table, half hidden by an overhanging shelf full of blankets.
He probably should go and keep looking for the shopkeeper… but something about the music piqued his curiosity. He knelt down to take a better look.
It wasn’t a very large music box. If he was holding it, it would have fit quite nicely in the palm of his hand. The bottom was square and made mostly of colored glass. Danny could see the gears inside turning. On the inside of the box, three pairs of miniature waltzers moved in time to the music. There was a mirror set in the open lid behind them, reflecting their movement.
They moved fluidly. Their joints were articulated, and the clothing they wore was real, if tiny. It must have taken a great deal of skill to sew the colorful dresses and suits, to apply the masks to the delicately sculpted faces. The false ballroom floor was also impressive. Danny couldn’t even see the seams and lines he knew must be there for the clockwork below to move the dancers.
It would be alright for him to wait until the music box wound down. They never lasted for more than a few minutes, and it had been playing since he entered the store.
At this point, the basic tune was becoming familiar to Danny, so he started to hum along. As pretty as it was on the music box, he couldn’t help but imagine it played with actual instruments, like it would be at a real ball. It was easy, the music blooming in his mental ears, and his eyelids drooped slightly, although he didn’t look away from the dancers and their reflections.
Their reflections…
There was something off about the mirror. He reached out to touch it. The music box snapped closed.
"Sorry about that. This shouldn't have been out, but these things sometimes have a mind of their own. You know, antiques."
Danny staggered up, his feet half asleep. The ghost was very human looking, but Danny's icy breath indicated otherwise.
"Did I almost get eaten by a cursed music box?" asked Danny.
"Not eaten," protested the shopkeeper, tucking the offending object into the crook of his arm. "I don't have anything truly dangerous here. Distracting at best. Really. They're curios. Nothing of power. Oh, dear, you're angry, aren’t you? They said this would be fine, but then I couldn't contact you, and I got a bit carried away with the store…"
"It's… fine," said Danny, taken aback. "But we do need to lay some ground rules. Especially about anything distracting."