A quiet town of no significance to anyone who doesn't live there, "Nowhere" is a place that has come to appreciate the lack of excitement in these trying times.
In fact, some have taken advantage of the opportunity to move in seemingly to escape the madness and chaos of modern living. It's almost like a vision of "the way things used to be"; clean streets, the locals are respectful but not unfriendly, the kids play outside and the teens draw the line at benign vandalism around Halloween, most of the time.
And yet...
There is a place like this in every town such as this one- A place that some just instinctively dislike; a specific location that some people just can't help but avoid, surrounded by rumors because nobody seems to know the history of it/just where it came from.
Intriguingly's is one such place.
By all appearances, it's just an antique shop. Nobody knows where the goods come from- they never see trucks or other deliveries, even the mail service doesn't seem to go there!
The owner/operator doesn't ease any confusion or tension; "Lewis Orpheus-Kornelius Imp"; "Mr. Imp", as he introduces himself. pale as the grave, eyes yellow and bloodshot, long bony fingers, hooked nose, slightly frizzy short blonde hair and an ever present toothy grin. He always wears the same attire; a well worn top hat, and a positively 19th century suit, complete with an overcoat that was more stitches than actual cloth at this point. He would have blended right in with a traveling side-show. Nobody really knows who he is, where he came from, or even where he lives. In fact, nobody has even seen him outside of his shop!
Local teens often browse the shop, in the same spirit of games like "Who will step closest to the haunted house"; there's a rumor that people who stay in the shop too long just... "Disappear".
And yet, people do sincerely patronize the establishment; not often enough that Intriguingly's has lost it's mystery, but most don't talk about the place.
One day, Nowhere was going about it's day like any other, including a few browsers of the antique shop, and some truant youths pretending to browse, and Mr. Imp pointing to a sign on the wall, reciting his rules for them as if it were the first time, in his creepy, breathy voice that somehow projects to the entire front of the store, "-And remember, young ones, these simple rules to abide: Hoods down, Sunglasses off. No open Backpacks, You break it, you buy it, Indoor voices, Walking Feet, and-" He pointed a gnarly digit to a large, framed red sign on a wall- "Do Not Open The Back-Room Door..." His gesture shifted to a short hall, where there was a heavy door just passed the restroom. No locks, or bolts, not even a sign, and even the arrangement of shelves and merchandise seems as if even the antiques give the door a healthy amount of space.
And it was the only time Mr. Imp stopped smiling. It snapped back, of course, as he finished, taking off his hat and giving a bow, "Follow the rules, and we can all be friends. Welcome to Intriguingly's, and have a nice day!"
Member
Deadline,
Emma,
N3v3rM0r3,
Stryder BC,
Mustang1907,
Quartz,
vue2026,
Floofenstein,
Marlowe,
ShankySpice
