The Inconvenience Store
Written for Four Weeks of Strange, hosted by Luna Asli Kolcu. Come through the door.
Prompt used: The Inconvenience Store
A shop that sells magical solutions to mundane problems—but the magic always comes with unexpected side effects.
Prompt Twist: The setting changes genre every few paragraphs.
Mara never noticed the shop before the rain. It leaned against a row of chain stores, crooked and stubborn, its neon sputtering: The Inconvenience Store – Solutions Inside.
The first thing you notice is the smell. Not incense, not dust, not even old wood—something stranger, like wet pages and burnt sugar. The second thing you notice is that the door didn’t squeak when you pushed it open, but instead it trailed off like a laugh that never quite finished. Behind the counter stood a man who looked perfectly ordinary except for his eyebrows, they arched so sharply they seemed to question your existence.
Welcome,” he said. “You’ve got a problem, don’t you?”
You blink. “Several.”
“Good. We only sell problems in reverse.” He gestured to the shelves. They were crammed with oddities: a wicker basket that wept quietly, a row of jars labeled Rain, Lightly Used, and a velvet pouch stitched with the words Patience, Pre-Cheated.
Your eyes caught on a small vile. Time, To-Go.
“How does that work?” you asked.
“Drink it,” the shopkeeper said, “and you’ll always arrive when you mean to. Never early, never late. The world will wait for you.”
He plucked a vial from the shelf. The liquid shimmered like champagne and sunrise. “Punctuality, Distilled. One sip, and you’ll never be late again. Just mind the side effect.”
You didn’t ask. You swallowed.
[Noir Detective]
The rain outside had thickened into black ink. Neon signs buzzed, but all of them blinked 8:00 sharp. Every clock in the city struck in time with her heartbeat.
Mara ducked into a dive bar. The bartender, a man with a scar like a comma on his cheek, didn’t ask her order. He just polished a glass and said, “You’re right on time, sweetheart. Been expecting you.”
She frowned. “For what?”
The door slammed. A man in a trench coat entered, tossed a folder onto her table. Inside: photos of her apartment, her office, her mother’s house. All stamped 8:00.
“You show up at the scene of every crime,” he growled. “You’re either guilty or cursed.”
[Gothic Horror]
The bar flickered. The walls stretched into stone. Candelabras dripped wax like blood. The trench coat became a cloak, the detective a pale count with teeth too sharp.
“You arrive precisely when the castle demands its guest,” he hissed. “Midnight feasts, midnight debts.”
Mara backed toward the door, but the hallways elongated endlessly. Every clock she passed struck midnight, even though it should have been morning.
Whispers followed her: Right on time. Right on time.
[High Fantasy]
A blast of trumpets. The stone castle shimmered into a marble hall. Nobles in jeweled cloaks raised goblets.
“Lady Punctual!” they cried. “The prophecy has arrived exactly when foretold!”
A dwarf placed a crown on her head. “At the Feast of Alignment, the Chosen must not falter. The kingdom has waited centuries for your punctual arrival.”
Mara’s knees wobbled. “I—I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”
But the hall roared with applause, and her chair at the banquet table pulled itself out, waiting.
[Sci-Fi Thriller]
The hall flickered, torches becoming sterile LED strips. The nobles reshaped into technicians in gray uniforms, clapping in precise rhythm.
“Subject 47 has synchronized perfectly with ChronoNet,” one announced. “She appears wherever scheduled. Randomness: eliminated.”
Mara’s crown turned into a headset, wires burrowing against her scalp. A holographic grid unfolded across the room, and on it, her figure repeated infinitely—Mara arriving again and again at exactly the appointed moment.
She tried to step sideways, but the system dragged her forward, slotting her into the next timestamp.
[Whimsical Fairy Tale]
She landed in a meadow of daisies that giggled when the wind blew.
“You’re just in time for the story!” they chimed in unison.
A fox in a waistcoat bounded up, carrying a golden pocket watch. “Every tale needs a heroine, and yours is never late. Right on cue, dear Mara!”
He looped her arm through his and tugged her down a path that twisted like a question mark. “Careful, though. If you ever arrive early, the wolves get confused and eat the author instead.”
Mara yanked free, but the daisies whispered: Stories unravel when she doesn’t show up.
[Surreal Absurdism]
The path collapsed beneath her feet, dropping her into a subway station where trains wore party hats and announced destinations like: Regret, Third Track and Unfinished Conversations, Express Service.
An entire train of passengers clapped as she stepped aboard. “You’re on time!” they shouted, as though she’d saved their lives.
The train jolted forward. Mara realized her hands were clocks now, ticking loudly. Her mouth spoke in chimes instead of words.
She tried to scream, but the train conductor—who was also a walrus—simply nodded. “Yes. Right on schedule.”
[Return to Magical Realism]
The subway screeched to a halt. A bell jingled. Mara stumbled back into the Inconvenience Store, the vial empty in her hand.
The clerk hadn’t moved. Still sorting coins by sigh.
“How was it?” he asked, not looking up.
Her voice shook. “It kept changing. Noir, castles, spaceships, fairy tales. I wasn’t late anymore, but I wasn’t anywhere I chose to be.”
He nodded. “That’s the thing about convenience. It tends to write your story for you.”
Mara glanced at the shelves. Another bottle gleamed. Its label read: Freedom From Stories. May Cause Irrelevance.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure whether to be late or not.
Stay Weird. Love You. Mean It.
Wow, well done with that madness. I love the whimsical fairy tale section the best!
This was so much fun, but also unsettling at the same time. Respect for taking on that crazy prompt and producing a great story!