I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading — treading — till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through —

And when they all were seated,      

A Service, like a Drum — 

Kept beating — beating — till I thought      

My mind was going numb —

And then I heard them lift a Box     

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,     

Then Space — began to tol...

This little store of mine as always been my dream, I am just 2 days from opening the doors for the first time. It is located in a very small town of West Virginia, my grandparents lived here and I always loved visiting them so I made it my permanent home when I inherited their house. My shop is a good sized space,the walls are painted with a beautiful violet color, evoking a seance of wonder. The ...

Rows and rows of old items,

Some that look nice and other that don’t,

Each item has its own story,

You can tell a lot just by looking,

There’s an air of dust and relics,

It almost like my grandparents house,

Each piece has some unique characteristics,

If you search deep enough you might find something that piques your interest....

Why is it that grandmas always find the ugliest clothes to wear?

On our date I wore a cheesy sweatshirt filled with floral embroidered graphics and kind words like “sweet” and “precious”.

My tank top had gotten soaked after an incident involving the unfortunate timing of my grandma’s backyard sprinkler.

“You know you never actually told me where we’re going.” I told her in the passenger seat ...

The shop is small, hunched in an alley. You would miss it if you didn't know it was there, or if it didn't happen to catch your eye as you bustled past the alley on the way to somewhere else. A small sign creaks above the door, barely holding on to the metal post it is secured to, and the name of the shop. It's faded letters proclaim it "Night Traders". And, as the name implies, they are only ope...

The bell jingles like a pixie up to no good, but the door whines louder - rudely loud for such a quiet place like this.

I close the door carefully, clicking it into frame as if the walls around it would crumble otherwise.

I stomp my boots against the welcome mat, slush melting around the cursive lettering. I look up at the room no bigger than most basements.

Even without all these knick-knacks...

Stale air sits heavy in the evening.

The pale lit sun

Only brightens each dust particle,

Wandering aimlessly through the shop.

Some sit comfortably in fragile china,

While others lie on the heads of old dolls.

Dolls with their painted faces

Made to love a child through the ages.

Chimes hang on the door

Ringing,

Singing,

Forever more.

Matted carpet under feet

Whites and pinks,

Creams and browns

...

Thirsty for a dusting this parched store located in the farthest corner of the shoreline where no one has visited in well over a decade, two old ladies sit upon rocking chairs watching the sea calmly sway back and forth from its porch. A trio of cats dancing around their feet as they watch eagerly for their next treasure to wash up.

A small oxidised pendant hides itself within the soft snowy sand...

It was a darker shade of a gorgeous day: slightly windy, the sun hidden behind silver cloud fragments. There was a small little town called Shepherds Peak in central Indiana, and in the centre of Shepherds Peak there was an antique shop.

It was very old and rustic, the aesthetic being a million shades of brown. The dusty shelves were filled with old china dolls with glass eyes that stared straigh...

Antique City is probably my most favourite place in the world! It’s a small shop hidden between two big buildings on an already unknown street. It sticks out with its brown and peeling green exterior next to the eggshell buildings, yet people walk right past it without giving it a glance. I’ve never seen more than one or two people in there at a time.

When people walk in, they are always hit with ...