The Clockwork Cafe

Be warned, child--once initiated into the world of magic, there is no turning back. One may leave the Clockwork Cafe, but one will always end up back in the building eventually, and no matter where one turns, it will linger in the peripherie, mocking, beckoning, luring with the scent of fresh-baked cookies one day and haunting with threatening whispers the next. Many have tried fleeing, but none have succeeded. Those foolish humans who think they can harness the infinite wild magic of the fae to do their bidding, who think they can tame and control it like it is but an unruly dog--those such humans never last more than a week. They come face-to-face with true power and the lucky ones keel over on the spot, hearts and minds giving way to the strain and their bodies withering into dust as the Cafe puts their vitality to better use. The unlucky ones survive. They survive but their minds crack, sometimes even shatter, and they try and flee to no avail--no matter where they go, the Cafe follows, haunting them and driving them ever-so-carefully into paranoid madness, until the mere sight of a clock is enough to send them careening into a fit of terror. The Cafe's facade encroaches further and further into their field of view, until every building they see is the Clockwork Cafe, every tree is a looming elm, every person they pass is a fae initiate on the hunt. One way or another, they all end up back in the warmth of the Cafe eventually. Oh, but recall: this fate is for the greedy and proud alone, those who wish to control the magic. There is no danger so long as one follows the rules. Do not lie in the presence of the Cafe: this is the fundamental law of the land. The Cafe is everywhere: this is a fundamental truth. Beyond these, all one must keep in mind is etiquette and respect. Is this not a worthy price to pay for initiation into the land of the fae? The Clockwork Cafe will be one's home when one has none, the Cafe will provide all the food and drink one needs… one shall want for nothing, in the care of the faeries. In the Clockwork Cafe, none die unless killed--no disease may sour one's flesh; none age within these walls. Does this not sound like paradise? Does this not seem to be a place one could be happy in, for eternity? Is it not a welcome break, from all the mundane miseries of human life…? Yes, good, good, all you need to do now is shake my hand… And one more thing, child… May I have your name?

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Niki

Writer and Playwright

London, United Kingdom