Call it what you will, the dollar shop, the thing store, they are inevitably tied to poky little book stores designed by Escher in that they contain far more than they should, and often never store the same thing twice. They are inevitably attractive to maker types as they have things you cannot find elsewhere, or ever again. They also have the phenomenon of wandering in "for a quick look-around," and emerging days later with a full shopping bag, an empty wallet, and the illusion that you were only in there for five minutes. It has been postulated that such emporiums are fae realms in the modern era.
But what if they were...
(from https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-02690-g133-labor-of-love) and an ode to my Bits Shop which I'm pretty sure is a pocket dimension.) -- Anon Guest
[AN: By me. It has been postulated by me.
And I might be correct.]
There are places in reality that grow thin. The rubber sheet of space-time is bent, this is true. It is also warped, spindled, and mutilated. In these weak spots, beings from other realms come through. Some visit, some stay, some... fall.
Science periodically comes along to at least patch a hole or two, but for the most part, there are still places where the walls between worlds grow thin. They come, and they learn, and they apply protective camouflage. Forget My mother said I never should... just be very, very careful about where you wander.
You will find them, if you know how to look, in those strange little shops with poky entrances and moebius pathways between the shelves stacked high with the oddest assortment of bits and bobs. Look for the shopkeepers with the slightly bladed smiles, or the eyes that are just a little wrong. Look for the bodily proportions that edge into the wrong side of the Uncanny Valley. The hair that's too neat. The skin that's too perfect. The unsettling almost grasp of common phrases and idioms.
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