The Aetherborne Bookstore
Synopsis
In the heart of the charming town of Bakewell, an antique bookstore named ‘Aetherborne’ becomes the unexpected gateway to a clandestine collection of secret love letters written from another time. As two complete strangers, Alice and Edward, independently discover this hidden library, they find themselves drawn in by the poignant narratives within. Watch as the intimate tales weaved into the yellowing letters become eerily similar to the young couple’s encounters outside the bookstore. Together, they navigate the delicate dance of unraveling both the mysteries of the past confined within those letters and the thrill of a blossoming romance.
Contents
Chapter 1 - Black heels and Converse
Chapter 2 - Pink Lemonade Shortcake
Chapter 3 - Brains for Business
Chapter 4 to be released soon!
Last edited by Jam Chong on 1 Dec 2023, 04:36, edited 3 times in total.
Chasing dreams (and deadlines)
The Aetherborne Bookstore
Chapter 1
Black heels and Converse
Alice was shrouded from head to toe in black. She wore a black headband that almost succeeded in containing her thick brown hair, a black dress that she claimed was suitable for a funeral, and a black pair of converse that she wore everyday.
The house phone rang loudly as Alice hopped around on one foot, trying to slip her other into the converse. “Agh!” Alice yelled in annoyance as she hopped towards the phone. She picked it up and held it against her ear, “Hello! This is! Alice! Anderson! Speaking!”
The seventeen year-old girl stopped hopping and her heart dropped into her stomach when she heard her mother’s voice at the other end of the phone. “Alice! Why in the world are you speaking like that? You’re lucky it was me who called and not someone important!”
“Oh! Um… Hey mom,” Alice said, mentally scolding herself for answering the phone, “why’d you call?” Alice could hear her mother sigh loudly through the phone. God I can practically feel the air through the phone, Alice thought to herself as she let out a sigh of her own. One that was much softer than Mrs Anderson’s. “I called to tell you not to wear those sneakers of yours, the conburns, is it?”
Alice looked down at her feet with a guilty expression, “Mom, it’s converse, and I need to wear it - I don’t really have anything else black except for my bunny slippers upstairs.” Alice could practically hear her mother rub her temple as she said this.
“What about the black heels I got you?”
“Black heels? When?”
“For your birthday 2 months ago! Don’t tell me you’ve already worn them out?”
The truth is, Alice sold the shoes, but in her defence she didn’t think it was of any importance. Lucky for her, her mother had just given her the perfect excuse. She put on her saddest voice and said, “Oh mother, you’re right! I had to throw them out as I wore it practically every single day! I just loved those shoes…”
“You sold the shoes, didn’t you?” Alice winced. “Yeah… Sorry mom.” Her mother sighed once more. Alice figured she could probably get at least three more out of her if they continued talking. “Fine. I’ll see you in an hour.” Alice was slightly taken aback by how her mother didn’t turn the phone call into a thirty minute lecture.
“I’ll see y- Oh.” Alice was cut off by a tone from the phone, indicating that her mother had hung up on her. The girl shrugged her shoulders and continued hopping around, putting in utmost effort into slipping the shoe onto her foot - Because God forbid that she undid the shoelaces and put the shoe on normally.
With one extra-hard tug, the shoe finally wrapped Alice’s foot from toe to heel. “What else am I missing…” The girl thought out loud. “Oh! Bag!” Alice ran upstairs to her room and in one swift move, she pulled the dark red handbag out of the closet.
The dark-haired girl’s gaze shifted up to the pink-rimmed clock on the wall opposite of her closet. The time was 14:48. This meant Alice only had 45 minutes to get all the way to Matlock by car. This didn’t include the time she had to spend calling an Uber and getting coffee. Okay, maybe forgo the coffee, Alice thought. She still had to call an Uber, so she pulled out her phone and tried booking one. To her delight, a car was available just a block away. Alice quickly darted out of her apartment and waited outside for the Uber to come pick her up.
Black heels and Converse
Alice was shrouded from head to toe in black. She wore a black headband that almost succeeded in containing her thick brown hair, a black dress that she claimed was suitable for a funeral, and a black pair of converse that she wore everyday.
The house phone rang loudly as Alice hopped around on one foot, trying to slip her other into the converse. “Agh!” Alice yelled in annoyance as she hopped towards the phone. She picked it up and held it against her ear, “Hello! This is! Alice! Anderson! Speaking!”
The seventeen year-old girl stopped hopping and her heart dropped into her stomach when she heard her mother’s voice at the other end of the phone. “Alice! Why in the world are you speaking like that? You’re lucky it was me who called and not someone important!”
“Oh! Um… Hey mom,” Alice said, mentally scolding herself for answering the phone, “why’d you call?” Alice could hear her mother sigh loudly through the phone. God I can practically feel the air through the phone, Alice thought to herself as she let out a sigh of her own. One that was much softer than Mrs Anderson’s. “I called to tell you not to wear those sneakers of yours, the conburns, is it?”
Alice looked down at her feet with a guilty expression, “Mom, it’s converse, and I need to wear it - I don’t really have anything else black except for my bunny slippers upstairs.” Alice could practically hear her mother rub her temple as she said this.
“What about the black heels I got you?”
“Black heels? When?”
“For your birthday 2 months ago! Don’t tell me you’ve already worn them out?”
The truth is, Alice sold the shoes, but in her defence she didn’t think it was of any importance. Lucky for her, her mother had just given her the perfect excuse. She put on her saddest voice and said, “Oh mother, you’re right! I had to throw them out as I wore it practically every single day! I just loved those shoes…”
“You sold the shoes, didn’t you?” Alice winced. “Yeah… Sorry mom.” Her mother sighed once more. Alice figured she could probably get at least three more out of her if they continued talking. “Fine. I’ll see you in an hour.” Alice was slightly taken aback by how her mother didn’t turn the phone call into a thirty minute lecture.
“I’ll see y- Oh.” Alice was cut off by a tone from the phone, indicating that her mother had hung up on her. The girl shrugged her shoulders and continued hopping around, putting in utmost effort into slipping the shoe onto her foot - Because God forbid that she undid the shoelaces and put the shoe on normally.
With one extra-hard tug, the shoe finally wrapped Alice’s foot from toe to heel. “What else am I missing…” The girl thought out loud. “Oh! Bag!” Alice ran upstairs to her room and in one swift move, she pulled the dark red handbag out of the closet.
The dark-haired girl’s gaze shifted up to the pink-rimmed clock on the wall opposite of her closet. The time was 14:48. This meant Alice only had 45 minutes to get all the way to Matlock by car. This didn’t include the time she had to spend calling an Uber and getting coffee. Okay, maybe forgo the coffee, Alice thought. She still had to call an Uber, so she pulled out her phone and tried booking one. To her delight, a car was available just a block away. Alice quickly darted out of her apartment and waited outside for the Uber to come pick her up.
Reducio
Hi!!! This is the first chapter of The Aetherborne Bookstore! I hope yall like it 
Chasing dreams (and deadlines)
The Aetherborne Bookstore
Chapter 2
Pink Lemonade Shortcake
No, no, no, no, no! Edward Mitchell frantically typed on the keyboard of the open laptop in front of him. The boy had only been seventeen for 4 days, but he was already feeling adulthood consume him - well, kind of.
Edward was all cozied up in a hidden corner of the Bluebell Café, right next to a large window. The interior of the café was painted a dainty cornflower blue, with delicate bluebells painted on the walls. Yellow lights dangled over each table, setting a wonderful mood for brainstorming.
For the young boy, however, the café was becoming slightly sickening to him. It wasn’t surprising, since everything is sickening when the item you’ve been saving up for months gets sold off to someone else.
Edward looked to be quite a typical guy, with dirty blonde hair and fashion sense that was decent enough to attract. However, his interests and hobbies consisted of only one thing - antique collecting. The boy’s house was filled with shelf after shelf of antiques, ranging from spoons to old photographs. His parents were never particularly fond of this hobby of his, due to the fact that they expected Edward to have more normal interests.
The seventeen year-old had always felt a connection to objects from other eras. He never understood why, but he often found himself drawn to things of the past rather than the advancements of the future. Edward never admitted this to people from school, however, as he knew it was unusual. This led to his closet having mounts of old clothes, yet he never reaches for them. Instead, he pulls clothes from the newest, trending brands off the hangers.
The music he listened to was no exception either. In public, the only music he would play were songs by The Weeknd, Taylor Swift, and whatever the top artists of the century are. He usually spent hours at home familiarising himself with what’s trending - Edward felt that he needed to conceal his true interests at all costs. What he really prefers to listen to, however, are songs by Carpenters, David Bowie, and Air Supply.
Edward had multiple tabs open on his browser, which at first glance seemed to be around twenty of them. The boy was searching for auctions in Bakewell, but he seemed to be quite unfortunate. The boy slowly lost faith, but with one final effort, he clicked on one last article.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Edward couldn’t help but mentally celebrate. He found an auction just off east of his town, and it seemed quite legitimate. Edward marked the date on his e-calendar, clicked off the website, and shut his laptop down. He stretched his arms out forward, interlocking his fingers such that it cracked.
Edward thought this called for a treat, so he got up from his seat to order his favourite cake - pink lemonade shortcake. It was the perfect flavour for spring, with a tang of sourness but just enough sweetness to balance it out. Edward was about to collect his order when the doors to the café swung open, triggering the soft ringing of bells above it.
The boy turned his head curiously, he didn’t think there would be anyone else visiting the café at this hour; most people only visited in the morning for coffee or the evening for dessert. Edward’s eyes landed on a panting girl who looked his age. She was dressed from head to toe in black, except for the bag she carried which was a deep shade of crimson.
The girl didn’t seem to see him as she stumbled to the counter. “One large caramel frappuccino to go please! And please make it quick!” The girl was in a frenzy, and Edward couldn’t help but smirk to himself.
The brunette’s order was ready in a short moment. Once she collected it she hurried out of the café and got into an Uber. It was truly amazing how she had made such a huge presence of herself in a short moment.
“Calling once again - A pink lemonade shortcake for Edward?”
The boy heard his order and joyfully claimed his food. His focus shifted quickly from the girl to his cake and the reason he ordered it in the first place.
Edward stabbed the narrow tip of the cake, scooped up a large chunk, and shoved it into his mouth. The young man hummed in satisfaction, mumbling softly to himself, “This is it, this is what Heaven tastes like.”
Pink Lemonade Shortcake
No, no, no, no, no! Edward Mitchell frantically typed on the keyboard of the open laptop in front of him. The boy had only been seventeen for 4 days, but he was already feeling adulthood consume him - well, kind of.
Edward was all cozied up in a hidden corner of the Bluebell Café, right next to a large window. The interior of the café was painted a dainty cornflower blue, with delicate bluebells painted on the walls. Yellow lights dangled over each table, setting a wonderful mood for brainstorming.
For the young boy, however, the café was becoming slightly sickening to him. It wasn’t surprising, since everything is sickening when the item you’ve been saving up for months gets sold off to someone else.
Edward looked to be quite a typical guy, with dirty blonde hair and fashion sense that was decent enough to attract. However, his interests and hobbies consisted of only one thing - antique collecting. The boy’s house was filled with shelf after shelf of antiques, ranging from spoons to old photographs. His parents were never particularly fond of this hobby of his, due to the fact that they expected Edward to have more normal interests.
The seventeen year-old had always felt a connection to objects from other eras. He never understood why, but he often found himself drawn to things of the past rather than the advancements of the future. Edward never admitted this to people from school, however, as he knew it was unusual. This led to his closet having mounts of old clothes, yet he never reaches for them. Instead, he pulls clothes from the newest, trending brands off the hangers.
The music he listened to was no exception either. In public, the only music he would play were songs by The Weeknd, Taylor Swift, and whatever the top artists of the century are. He usually spent hours at home familiarising himself with what’s trending - Edward felt that he needed to conceal his true interests at all costs. What he really prefers to listen to, however, are songs by Carpenters, David Bowie, and Air Supply.
Edward had multiple tabs open on his browser, which at first glance seemed to be around twenty of them. The boy was searching for auctions in Bakewell, but he seemed to be quite unfortunate. The boy slowly lost faith, but with one final effort, he clicked on one last article.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Edward couldn’t help but mentally celebrate. He found an auction just off east of his town, and it seemed quite legitimate. Edward marked the date on his e-calendar, clicked off the website, and shut his laptop down. He stretched his arms out forward, interlocking his fingers such that it cracked.
Edward thought this called for a treat, so he got up from his seat to order his favourite cake - pink lemonade shortcake. It was the perfect flavour for spring, with a tang of sourness but just enough sweetness to balance it out. Edward was about to collect his order when the doors to the café swung open, triggering the soft ringing of bells above it.
The boy turned his head curiously, he didn’t think there would be anyone else visiting the café at this hour; most people only visited in the morning for coffee or the evening for dessert. Edward’s eyes landed on a panting girl who looked his age. She was dressed from head to toe in black, except for the bag she carried which was a deep shade of crimson.
The girl didn’t seem to see him as she stumbled to the counter. “One large caramel frappuccino to go please! And please make it quick!” The girl was in a frenzy, and Edward couldn’t help but smirk to himself.
The brunette’s order was ready in a short moment. Once she collected it she hurried out of the café and got into an Uber. It was truly amazing how she had made such a huge presence of herself in a short moment.
“Calling once again - A pink lemonade shortcake for Edward?”
The boy heard his order and joyfully claimed his food. His focus shifted quickly from the girl to his cake and the reason he ordered it in the first place.
Edward stabbed the narrow tip of the cake, scooped up a large chunk, and shoved it into his mouth. The young man hummed in satisfaction, mumbling softly to himself, “This is it, this is what Heaven tastes like.”
Chasing dreams (and deadlines)
The Aetherborne Bookstore
Chapter 3
Brains for Business
Alice sipped on her coffee as beads of sweat tickled her forehead. She knew she was going to be late, and figured she’d rather be late and active than late and dozing off. The Uber passed by a large, white sign that read “Matlock”, giving the brunette a wave of relief.
The car was closing in on her destination. The funeral parlour was only 5 minutes away now. The girl straightened her headband and smoothed down her dress, then reached for her bag and placing it on her lap before digging in it for her wallet.
The car finally slowed and came to a halt right in front of the stony, grey entrance of the funeral parlour. There was a pointy black gate separating Alice from the inside of the parlour, and the girl stood before it, taking in the eeriness before pushing it gently. Alice stepped inside where she found her mother speaking to a couple of relatives.
Alice let out a shaky breath, gingerly walking towards her mother. She heard her mother’s loud voice even though she was at a distance that would normally be out of earshot, but with Mrs Anderson’s voice, practically everyone in the venue could hear her.
“My daughter? I have no idea! That’s the problem with teenagers, they always think they know what’s best for them!”
When Alice deduced that her mother was talking about her, she jogged to where the older woman was standing and awkwardly cut in, “I’m here, mom! And that’s right, haha, I always think I know what’s best for me.” She said the last part with a hint of snappiness, shooting an annoyed look at her mother.
Mrs Anderson ignored her daughter’s look, and instead, she looked Alice up and down. “What are you wearing?” She asked with her brows furrowed in a way that told Alice she was judging her. “I’m wearing a dress. Surely you’ve seen one of these?” Alice replied sarcastically.
Before her mother could reply, one of Alice’s relatives chipped in. The relative was a woman who was in her forties, with slightly chubby arms and a round face. She was wearing a black dress littered with flowers and leggings that had stretch marks on them. “Dear, you shouldn’t be so rude to your mother! That woman went through Hell for you!” The chubby woman scolded, waving her arm around to make a point.
Alice’s mother smiled graciously at the woman. “Thank you Lola,” she said patting the woman’s arm, then glared at Alice, “And you haven’t even greeted your Aunt Lola yet! And Uncle Rio, and Uncle Robert. Where are your manners? I didn’t raise you to be like this!”
The seventeen year-old rolled her eyes, but she didn’t get to speak because her uncle opened his mouth. He had yellowing teeth and brown hair that was already greying from the roots. Every time he spoke, saliva splattered out in tiny droplets, but nobody seemed to be bothered by it - except Alice of course. “Say, how d’ya expect ‘tis girl to manage that bookstore, huh? She ain’t even look like she got any brains for business!”
This caught Alice off guard. She turned her head to her mother so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “What bookstore?”
Mrs Anderson looked at the relatives gathered with her, silently begging them to explain to her daughter. Alice was growing impatient and repeated herself, this time with more steel in her voice. “Mom, what bookstore?”
Her mother sighed and gave in. “Your grandmother’s little antique bookstore. She left it in her will that you will inherit and manage it after she passed away. And now she has, so I suppose you’re going to have to fulfil her wish.”
The girl didn’t know how to feel about this. She remembered visiting the bookstore many times when she was younger. There were beautiful brown brick walls with ivy and flowers draped over them. The inside was filled with bookshelves, all of different heights, and filled with books of all kinds. Alice used to spend her evenings reading as her grandmother served customers. The chairs were comfy and soft, just perfect for any book lover to wind down and relax with a novel in hand.
However enchanting the bookstore sounded though, Alice had plans. Plans to travel the world, plans to study abroad, and plans to do more. Working in an antique bookstore seemed more like a binder holding her back from what she could achieve in the future.
It wasn’t as if she was really close to her late grandmother. She didn’t understand why, out of all her cousins and siblings, her grandmother would choose her to manage the store. After all, she was considered the failure child of the family. The child that was too sarcastic for her own good. The child that her family pointed their nose up and away from when she tried to win their favour.
Alice’s mother gave her daughter instructions on what had to be done at the bookstore and gave her the key. “You have to open everyday at 8 in the morning. Close up by 10 and take the key home with you.” The woman directed. Alice nodded and pressed her lips into a straight line. She planned to do this for a few weeks and pass the responsibility on to one of her cousins; she didn’t have a choice but to adhere to her late grandmother’s wish.
The rest of the afternoon was quite mundane, even for a funeral. There were many relatives that Alice had never seen before, all dressed in black and holding handkerchieves to their eyes.
By 7p.m., the service had ended and the attendees dispersed after shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. Alice decided this time she would take the bus home, giving herself more time to think. Her life had just been spun around, but what she didn’t know was that what awaited her for the next couple of weeks would be the very opposite of boring.
Brains for Business
Alice sipped on her coffee as beads of sweat tickled her forehead. She knew she was going to be late, and figured she’d rather be late and active than late and dozing off. The Uber passed by a large, white sign that read “Matlock”, giving the brunette a wave of relief.
The car was closing in on her destination. The funeral parlour was only 5 minutes away now. The girl straightened her headband and smoothed down her dress, then reached for her bag and placing it on her lap before digging in it for her wallet.
The car finally slowed and came to a halt right in front of the stony, grey entrance of the funeral parlour. There was a pointy black gate separating Alice from the inside of the parlour, and the girl stood before it, taking in the eeriness before pushing it gently. Alice stepped inside where she found her mother speaking to a couple of relatives.
Alice let out a shaky breath, gingerly walking towards her mother. She heard her mother’s loud voice even though she was at a distance that would normally be out of earshot, but with Mrs Anderson’s voice, practically everyone in the venue could hear her.
“My daughter? I have no idea! That’s the problem with teenagers, they always think they know what’s best for them!”
When Alice deduced that her mother was talking about her, she jogged to where the older woman was standing and awkwardly cut in, “I’m here, mom! And that’s right, haha, I always think I know what’s best for me.” She said the last part with a hint of snappiness, shooting an annoyed look at her mother.
Mrs Anderson ignored her daughter’s look, and instead, she looked Alice up and down. “What are you wearing?” She asked with her brows furrowed in a way that told Alice she was judging her. “I’m wearing a dress. Surely you’ve seen one of these?” Alice replied sarcastically.
Before her mother could reply, one of Alice’s relatives chipped in. The relative was a woman who was in her forties, with slightly chubby arms and a round face. She was wearing a black dress littered with flowers and leggings that had stretch marks on them. “Dear, you shouldn’t be so rude to your mother! That woman went through Hell for you!” The chubby woman scolded, waving her arm around to make a point.
Alice’s mother smiled graciously at the woman. “Thank you Lola,” she said patting the woman’s arm, then glared at Alice, “And you haven’t even greeted your Aunt Lola yet! And Uncle Rio, and Uncle Robert. Where are your manners? I didn’t raise you to be like this!”
The seventeen year-old rolled her eyes, but she didn’t get to speak because her uncle opened his mouth. He had yellowing teeth and brown hair that was already greying from the roots. Every time he spoke, saliva splattered out in tiny droplets, but nobody seemed to be bothered by it - except Alice of course. “Say, how d’ya expect ‘tis girl to manage that bookstore, huh? She ain’t even look like she got any brains for business!”
This caught Alice off guard. She turned her head to her mother so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “What bookstore?”
Mrs Anderson looked at the relatives gathered with her, silently begging them to explain to her daughter. Alice was growing impatient and repeated herself, this time with more steel in her voice. “Mom, what bookstore?”
Her mother sighed and gave in. “Your grandmother’s little antique bookstore. She left it in her will that you will inherit and manage it after she passed away. And now she has, so I suppose you’re going to have to fulfil her wish.”
The girl didn’t know how to feel about this. She remembered visiting the bookstore many times when she was younger. There were beautiful brown brick walls with ivy and flowers draped over them. The inside was filled with bookshelves, all of different heights, and filled with books of all kinds. Alice used to spend her evenings reading as her grandmother served customers. The chairs were comfy and soft, just perfect for any book lover to wind down and relax with a novel in hand.
However enchanting the bookstore sounded though, Alice had plans. Plans to travel the world, plans to study abroad, and plans to do more. Working in an antique bookstore seemed more like a binder holding her back from what she could achieve in the future.
It wasn’t as if she was really close to her late grandmother. She didn’t understand why, out of all her cousins and siblings, her grandmother would choose her to manage the store. After all, she was considered the failure child of the family. The child that was too sarcastic for her own good. The child that her family pointed their nose up and away from when she tried to win their favour.
Alice’s mother gave her daughter instructions on what had to be done at the bookstore and gave her the key. “You have to open everyday at 8 in the morning. Close up by 10 and take the key home with you.” The woman directed. Alice nodded and pressed her lips into a straight line. She planned to do this for a few weeks and pass the responsibility on to one of her cousins; she didn’t have a choice but to adhere to her late grandmother’s wish.
The rest of the afternoon was quite mundane, even for a funeral. There were many relatives that Alice had never seen before, all dressed in black and holding handkerchieves to their eyes.
By 7p.m., the service had ended and the attendees dispersed after shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. Alice decided this time she would take the bus home, giving herself more time to think. Her life had just been spun around, but what she didn’t know was that what awaited her for the next couple of weeks would be the very opposite of boring.
Chasing dreams (and deadlines)