Magic Shoppe - The Music Box

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“Welcome to the Magic Shoppe,” the tall, thin man behind the counter announced. “What can I do for you today?”

The man entered and placed a small jewelry box on the counter. He opened the lid and soft music played. It was a music box with a tiny ballerina on a spring inside. The figure stood en pointe, wearing a pink, halter top bodysuit and matching tutu. White stockings seemed painted to its legs, which ended in pink ballet slippers. Its hair was in a bun at the top of its head. A smile broke out across its face as it noticed where it was.

“I haven’t seen that in years, Edward,” the proprietor of the shop said. He leaned forward and looked closely at the figurine turning clockwise in front of the open lid.

“Mary bought it from you over seven years ago,” the man said.

The dancer had an amazing range of motion for a four inch tall, plastic figurine. Only its right leg was fixed in place: straight up and down, ending in the pointed foot of a ballerina. There was no fixed pattern to the motion of its arms, spine, or the left leg. She could dance however she desired. She waved at the proprietor as she turned toward him.

They watched the ballerina slow to a stop as the music ground to a halt.

“Oh, dear,” the wizard said, genuinely surprised to see the figurine was still in the box. “How long has she been resisting the restoration spell?”

“A few years now. The spell, as you told her, is supposed to end when the spring in the music box fully unwinds, as it is now. She has unwound fully countless times the past few years without becoming human again.”

“When I told her it wasn’t permanent she seemed disappointed at the time.” He picked up the box and gave the key on the bottom a quarter turn. The dancer danced for a moment before slowing to stop. The dancer faced the wizard, a broad smile on its face. “The spell was cast. She’s learned to resist the magic that’s supposed to restore her when the music stops.”

“It wasn’t always this way. There were many times in our marriage when I would hear the music playing. When it slowed, I would go to our bedroom and watch as she sprung to life as it ended.

“A few years ago, she asked me to bring her to work so she could dance for me all day. She said I could just close the lid if I needed to talk with someone. One day I forgot to wind the key sufficiently. The music stopped and she remained as she is now. She stayed that way until I wound the key. She would only come to life when we were at home.

“She told me she didn’t want me to bring her home any more. She just wanted to dance on my desk forever. When I said no, she was sullen. Sullen turned into despondency and depression I would guess. She wasn’t eating. She’d insist on sleeping in the box, preferably with the lid closed. I had to bring her to work to placate her.”

“Are you saying she’d been the ballerina continuously for years?”

“At least three years,” he said. “I was debating coming here for a while to see if you could do anything.”

“I could. But, I don’t think that would make her happy. Does she know about…?”

“Oh, I’m positive she does. She’s indicated approval,” Edward said.

“She did?”

Edward explained...

* * *

It was a typical day at work. Edward hung his jacket on the hook behind the door to his office. As he stepped around his desk, he picked up the music box and gave it a few turns before putting it down and lifting the lid. The soft plinking of metal tines plucked out a soothing melody as the tiny figure inside turned on its toe.

The figure seemed to watch itself turning as it rotated past the mirror inside the lid of the box. As the figure turned the other half of the circle, it seemed to look directly at Edward. He sat down and switched on his computer.

“Good morning, Mary,” he said.

The figure nodded twice as it danced. The nods didn’t fit the music so he knew they were in response to his greeting.

Edward went about his work, rarely looking at the adoring figure. When the music would slow down, he would pick up the box without looking at it until it was upside down in front of him. After giving the key a few turns, he’d set the box down and let it play on.

One day, Rachel entered just as he’d finished giving the key several full revolutions. He set the box down in its normal spot on the corner of the desk with the lid down. “I love hearing the box play,” she said.

“I’ve suspected for a while now that you only come in here to listen to the music box.”

“Sometimes,” she laughed.

The conversation turned into a business one. When they were done, she reached over and opened the music box. “See you later, Miss.”

Edward wasn’t sure but he thought the ballerina had waved at Rachel.

Rachel’s visits became more frequent and more casual. They might talk for twenty or thirty minutes about inconsequential things as the music box played. The figurine was always smiling as it rotated past Rachel.

“I don’t believe you,” she said when he told her the origin of the music box ten months later. It was after their sixth outside of the office date. “That really is a wedding ring?”

“It is. Watch.” He held his hand up where the ballerina could see it. He removed the ring and the ballerina frowned. He put it back on and then pointed at Rachel. The ballerina looked conflicted.

“I always thought the figurine could understand us. What’s that look on Mary’s face?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think Mary knows either.”

The figurine wasn’t really dancing so much as it was thinking. After a couple turns, she pointed at his hand. He pointed at the ring and she nodded. He removed the ring and she made a faint smile. When he pointed at Rachel, the smile broadened.

* * *

Ultimately, Edward and the wizard decided to let Mary be the music box dancer she had always wanted to be. Years later, the man stood at the threshold to a bedroom. Soft music, plucked from metal tines, drifted to his ears. Gray hairs licked at his temples. An arm pressed against his back. Its slender hand reached up under his right arm and rested on his shoulder.

He looked to his left into the loving eyes of his second wife. He gave Rachel a soft lingering kiss.

“She really loves the music box,” Rachel said.

She was referring to their five year old daughter wearing a ballerina outfit dancing along with the figurine in the music box. She loved to dance with the music box figure, even forgetting to wind her sometimes, continuing her dance while the figuring watched her motionlessly.

“Do you know why?”

“Why what?”

“Why she resists being restored by the box?”

“Not really. I only have a theory,” he said. He told Rachel a story...

* * *

“Welcome to the Magic Shoppe,” the tall, thin man behind the counter announced. “What can I do for you today?”

The young woman approached the proprietor of the shoppe anxiously. “I’m not sure why I’m here. I’m hoping you can fulfill both my nostalgia and an idea that’s haunted me all my life.”

“I hope I’m up to such a task,” he said with a grin.

“When I was young, my grandmother came to visit for my birthday. I was so happy to see her. She lived far away. I suspect it was because my mother wanted to get away from her. I had no idea why at the time. But, that’s not important. Grandma Mary gave me a wrapped gift the night before I turned five. When I opened it, I was introduced to the world of music boxes. This was a small, unpainted wooden jewelry box, which, when you opened the lid, a tiny ballerina spun around on her toes to music. It was an antique style music box, the kind with the little metal tines that plink out the melody.

“The five years old version of me fell instantly in love. I demanded my own tutu and eventually ballet lessons. The box was constantly playing the only tune it knew and I would watch the little, entirely immobile dancer ‘dance’ for hours.

“My mother loathed that music box. Not because it played the same fifty seconds of melody over and over again. Not because I was obsessed with it. No, my mother was mad at her mother, Grandma Mary, for captivating me with a toy not given to me by my mother.

“Grandma died when I was sixteen. Even at that age, I would wind the music box up every day for a little while. I was less mesmerized by the poorly painted ballerina inside. But, I still adored that music box. When we got home from the funeral, the box was missing. I turned my room upside down several times searching. It was two weeks later when she admitted she’d thrown out ‘that old thing.’ I have not spoken to my mother since that day. I haven’t seen her since I moved out at midnight on my eighteenth birthday.”

“That’s awful. I feel so bad for you, though, you seem to have thrived since. What can I do for you?”

“I would like a magic music box.”

“Magic how?”

“Well, when I would watch the little figurine spin, I’d imagine it was me dancing my heart out for hours at a time. I want some kind of magic music box that when I open it, I become the dancer. And while I would also just spin in place, I could move the rest of my body and truly dance to the music. Oh, and the music would be far more varied.”

“Like real music?”

“No, it should still be the little metal tines making plinking noises. But, just lots and lots of different melodies.”

“When do you stop being a ballerina?”

“I really wouldn’t want it to stop. But, I suppose I would turn back into my normal self when the windup part fully unwound.”

“What about when the box is closed?”

“Oh, that’s very important. I want to be shut inside like my old ballerina was. The unwinding would be paused until the lid opened again.”

“You could get trapped inside.”

“Yes, I could.”

“I see.” He walked out into the shoppe and found a small wooden box. He showed it to her. “How does this look?”

“Perfect.” She opened it but it was empty inside, no ballerina. A divided velvet tray where jewelry could be stored sat at the bottom of the box. She looked at him, disappointed.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll have your music box ready for you. I don’t have what you want already made.”

Her face lit up with happiness. “Oh, okay. At twelve?”

“After four o’clock.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t you want to know what it will cost?”

“Unless it costs as much as a car, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

* * *

“Her mother threw out a gift from her daughter’s grandmother on the day she died.”

“Yes, Mary believed she waited until her death so Mary wouldn’t have anyone to complain to about it.”

“That’s more than jealousy.”

“Probably.”

Rachel had a mischievous look. “I seem to recall asking you this before and you didn’t think it was your story to tell. After I pestered you for a week, you said that someday you would tell the story if we became serious enough. And that when you did tell the story, you would also tell a bonus story. I’m collecting my bonus story.”

“You remember that? I did promise, didn’t I? Okay. Mary and I had been married for a couple year when this happened. She didn’t tell me she had commissioned a magic music box.”

* * *

Edward got home from work at the usual time. Mary was making dinner. He kissed her and asked, “Isn’t it early for dinner?”

“I have a surprise and I can’t wait to show it to you.”

“Okay. Do I have time to shower?”

She looked at the clock. “Yes. Just don’t dawdle.”

He went to the bedroom and showered in the adjoining bath. As he was toweling off in the bedroom he noticed a wooden box sitting on her vanity. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to the vanity as it was always covered with makeup, jewelry, and other beauty aids and accessories. This small wooden box was new.

He lifted the lid. He was flying through the air as the world expanded all around him. He was standing on one foot. Something was holding his leg and he couldn’t bend it. He was turning slowly around on that leg. His arms and legs were held aloft in an odd position.

He could see he was still in the bedroom. But it looked immense. As he was turning toward the wall, the open lid of the box came into view. There was a mirror inside. He saw a woman in a pink ballet leotard and matching crinoline lined skirt turning in the opposite direction not far from him.

After a few seconds, he realized he was the woman in the mirror standing on her tiptoes. Her other leg was stretched out behind her gracefully. She was leaning forward, her arms raised out to the side to form a semi-circle. Her face looked a lot like the face of his sister Darla.

Music played. The tinny, plucky music heard in old time music boxes. Why did Mary have this trapped box?

A few moments later, he heard laughter behind him. “Aw, you ruined the surprise,” she said, her voice booming. “I thought it would take me a while to get you to try this.”

He turned a bit and was facing her direction. He tried to speak but his mouth wouldn’t move.

“Try dancing. You should be able to move except for the leg holding you up. Then when you come around again, give me a wave.”

He did as asked and she gave him a round of excited T-Rex applause.

“Did you do any additional winding of the music player? I turned it two full turns. You’ve been there for only a few minutes. I’m curious how long a full turn of the key lasts.”

It was about an hour for each turn of the key. When he finally was released from the music box, he quickly checked his chest and crotch to make sure he wasn’t still in a woman’s body.

“Is that what you want to happen to you?”

“Let’s go eat dinner. Though I’ll have to warm it up.”

During dinner, she showed him a video of him as the ballerina she had filmed while waiting for the coil in the box to fully unwind.

After dinner, she dragged him to the bedroom. At first, there was dragging. When he realized she wanted sex, he was far more willing to get there.

Afterward, she said, “To answer your question about the music box, all day, all night, all year. Being named after Grandma Mary, we had an extra special connection. When I was twelve, we were talking and she saw the music box sitting on my bedside table. She asked if I ever imagined I was the ballerina and I couldn’t hold back my excitement. Any of my friends I had mentioned that thought to had laughed at me. She understood. She said she used to do that when was my age at the time.”

“And now you can be the ballerina.”

“No,” she said, picking up the box. She wound the key nearly a dozen rotations. “I will be the ballerina, now.” She put the box down and flipped open the lid.

* * *

“She replaced her childhood toy with herself,” Rachel surmised.

“She did. I don’t know if I’m right or how she thought this would work. But, I think she commissioned the magic item for this.”

“You think she knew you would give her to your daughter?”

“Maybe not at first. But, once she realized you and I were dating, she didn’t get mad. She could have put a stop to it. Do you remember how happy she was when you told her you were pregnant with a girl?”

“I really believed she would spring to life just to give me a hug.”

“I don’t know if she can any more. I’ve visited the Magic Shoppe a few times since she stopped being restored. The man who runs the shop said even he didn’t know if she could given how long she’s resisted the reversal spell.”

The sound of a winding key distracted them. Their daughter put the music box down. The music resumed playing at the proper speed. The dancer danced. Their daughter rushed over to them. “I didn’t see you there until I heard smooching,” she said.

“We were just watching you dance.”

“And Mary. You were watching her, too. Weren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“She’s so pretty I want to grow up to be a dancer just like she is.”

“Just like?”

“Well. I don’t think I want to be closed in a box as much as she is.”

“That’s sensible.”

“I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“Is she alive?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’ve never seen any toy that can move in so many ways. And she seems to like it when I talk to her. Sometimes she waves at me. She works it into her dance… um… sneaky like. But, I notice her moving her hand differently than I’ve seen her move before.”

“Do you think she’s alive?”

“I think you aren’t telling me everything you know.”

Edward shrugged.

“You will eventually?”

“Eventually.”

“When you gave me the box, you told me the ballerina’s name was Mary. I have one more question. Am I named after the ballerina?”

“Yes. You are, Mary.”