The Rejected Manuscript Book Shop The hinges shrieked when Violet slammed the door.  She heard Andrew curse from the bedroom and smiled. Her suitcase careened behind her as she raced toward the idling Uber. “Where to lady?” The driver scanned her disheveled appearance and frowned. “Far from here.” She said, fumbling in her purse, retrieving a crumpled tissue. As he pulled from the curb, she glanced out the rear window, and tears filled her eyes. Andrew stood in his underwear, shaking his fist and yelling. “Miss, I need a destination.” The driver stated in a kinder tone. Violet twisted forward and blurted, “Pine and Main,” then burst into loud sobs, the messy, slobbery kind. The driver stared straight ahead, stealing side-eyed glances in the mirror. When the cab stopped, Violet handed the driver a few soggy bills and climbed out. She lugged her suitcase alongside a grubby wooden structure beside a modern Starbucks Coffee shop. She sat on her suitcase and prayed for inspiration. She’d live on the streets before she’d return to her cheating husband. The bookstore stretched, shuddered, and sighed. It yawned, working out the kinks. A strange, melodious song rumbled through the foundation. The shades on the windows snapped open, and the dust motes danced in the light like tiny fireflies. The shop felt the slight weight of the girl resting against its wall. He studied her—a pretty young woman with curly auburn hair that fell in curls down her slim back. He chuckled as she stared into his newly opened windows. He fluttered his lace curtains playfully as if to invite her inside. He turned to the fireplace and whispered. “I think she’s arrived.” “What,” rasped the fireplace, who was extremely hard of hearing. “Her, the one.” The shop repeated in an exasperated tone. “Ha,” replied the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney like 4th of July fireworks. This scared a nesting robin skyward, who protested angrily. “What’s happening,” came chatter from the bookshelves.” Tiny heads of fairies poked out behind books, followed by unicorns, goblins, dragons, witches, and wizards, all talking simultaneously. “Be quiet,” hissed the shop. “Don’t frighten her.” Sensing the building stirring, Violet backed away. Dumfounded, she ran her hand across the wall. A tidy red brick building had appeared, replacing the rickety wooden structure. Staring upward, she saw a wooden sign, Ye Olde Book Shoppe. The sign rocked gently like a hand beckoning. Violet cautiously reached for the blue door knob. As if by magic, it opened. Sparkling light radiated from a fireplace that glowed in the corner. The odor of cinnamon, cloves, and chocolate engulfed her. “Hello,” she said, looking around for a clerk. Seeing no one, she walked deeper into the shop. In front of the fireplace were plush green velvet chairs. On the table was a tray with hot cocoa and cookies, displaying a small placard saying, “Take one.” Violet sank into the nearest chair, extending her hands towards the flames. Glancing around, she poured a cup of cocoa into the delicate China cup, reddening when her stomach loudly grumbled. Again, she glanced around the shop, seeing no one reached for a cookie. Mesmerized by the fire, her eyes grew heavy. She slowly closed them, sinking deeper into the chair. The shop released a happy sigh. A bell jingled, and she awoke with a start. Sitting in the adjacent chair was a short, rotund man wearing a bright green jacket and a pointed striped cap. He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. She cast a timid smile his way. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep. She started to stand, embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t snore.” His dimples deepened, and he shook his head. “You were as quiet as a church mouse. The cocoa and the fire make one drowsy.” She checked her watch. “Oh my, It's almost five o'clock. You probably want to close and go home.” The little man laughed. “I live here. I’m the shop sprite.” He hurled himself into the air, somersaulted, backflipped, and landed in front of her, executing an elaborate bow. I’m Sam. We’ve been expecting you.” “How did you know I was coming? I didn’t know myself.” The little man clapped his hands. “The windchimes told me. They love to gossip.” Violet fought the urge to jump up and run for the door. However, the little man seemed harmless, possibly crazy, and she had nowhere to go. “Why did you expect me,” she asked, puzzled. “You’re the one.” “I don’t know what that means, the one what?” “The one who will save the shop.” Violet licked her lips, trying to make sense of the conversation. “I know nothing about bookshops, and this one is odd. None of the books have covers; they are just stacks of paper stapled or rubber-banded together.” A loud buzzing filled the shop. Violet whirled right and left as magical creatures emerged from behind the stacks. Some waved shyly. Others leaped on the table, tipping over the cookies. They shouted, buzzed, and roared in unison. “We need your help.” Violet rubbed her eyes and peeked through her fingers. I must be having a nervous breakdown, or I’ve fallen through a black hole. Sam snapped his fingers, and the magical creatures fell silent. “I’m sure you’re confused, so let me explain. This is a bookshop of rejected manuscripts.” He ignored her blank look and continued. “All around the world authors write fantasy stories and send them to the Bureau of Stories. Ninety percent of those tales are stamped rejected in blood-red ink. Did you ever wonder what happens to the characters in those stories?” He fixed Violet with a hard stare. “They wither and die.” Two giant tears rolled down his cheeks. “What can I do?” Asked Violet. “I’m not magical.” “But you are my dear. Nonmagical folk can’t see the shop. They think it’s a shed waiting to be leveled, and before that thought goes any further, they forget it altogether. Violet's lip trembled as she stared into the sad eyes of the magical creatures. “Okay, I’ll help.” Wizards blasted rainbow sparkles around the room as the magical creatures clapped and cheered. Finally, Sam snapped his fingers to quiet them. His smile widened until his eyes disappeared into slanted brown slits. “I’ll teach you everything. You’ll be the head of the magical encouragement department. When a story is rejected, you’ll bolster the author, and no matter how many dreaded red stamps they receive, they will soldier on until the story is published.” Sam reached out, squeezing Violet's hands. “Let’s have another cup of cocoa and go to work.” Author Notes This is a story honoring all the characters from our rejected stories.

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