It was the old radio in the window that drew me into the second hand store. The ancient machine stood proudly amidst lifeless dolls and wilted stick-horses.

I pushed the door open to jingling bells that echoed a tittering chorus of fairies. Hesitantly, I stepped past the old sign that read Memories – and More and called out, “Hello?”

Walls of stacked books filled the empty spaces between overstuffed shelves, creating a shifting maze whose that alternated between childhood junk and literature.

When I finally made it to the counter I was disappointed to see that it wasn’t manned at all. Worse, some kind of desiccated mummy doll leaned against the far wall. The thing gave me the creeps.

“Hello?” I called again.

The mummy opened its eyes causing me to yelp in terror.

“What do you want?” It rasped. “I was sleeping.”

“How much is the radio, the one in the window?”

“Ten dollars, no refunds.”

I slapped a ten on the counter without hesitating, unaware that the radio would cost me far more than money.