Farthing Mews

I was riding the shuttle bus through downtown, staring blankly at the faceless crowds bustling along the sidewalks when a single pedestrian strolling with a black umbrella hooked over his arm caught my attention. He was a short, elderly man with a Van Dyke beard, wearing a gray homburg. Instead of a tie, he sported a red cravat, but it was the monocle in his right eye that really piqued my curiosity. I watched as he disappeared down an alleyway I’d never noticed before.

On a whim, I exited the bus and dashed across the street in front of oncoming traffic to follow him.

The alleyway turned out to be a cobblestone lane marked at its entrance by a faded street sign that read, ‘‘Farthing Mews’.

I’d lived in the city my entire life and couldn’t recall hearing of it before. Its existence perhaps overlooked due to the towering brick buildings on either side of the narrow entrance. At the far end stood a single shop with a peaked roof, and mullioned windows that flanked a shiny red door. A small OPEN sign was dangling from the brass door knocker.

I walked in and found the man sitting in an overstuffed chair by a small woodstove reading. He looked up. "May I help you?”

My eyes glanced around the room taking in the shelves filled with worn leather tomes and scores of sepia-toned photographs set in beautiful antique frames.

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

I wandered over to a nearby shelf and inspected a photo with two sober looking children holding hands and dressed in Victorian garb.


I turned and held up the picture. “Do you happen to know who they are?”

He closed his book and gave me a curious look. “Long deceased relatives,” he said. “Of course, my regular customers would be more interested in what is behind the photo.”

I flipped the frame over and discovered a skeleton key affixed to the back. When I looked up, he was standing next to me.


“The door's in the back of the shop," he whispered. "Unlock it and step through."

His monocled eye seemed to hypnotize me and I nodded.

"You only have an hour," he said. "After that, you won't be able to return." He reclaimed his chair then picked up the book he had been reading and added "Of course, that's assuming you'll want to return."

I didn't need to be prompted again. I pulled the key from the frame and hurried to the rear of the shop. Near one corner, almost out of sight I found a small, roughly hewn wooden door with rounded corners reminiscent of something from a fairy tale. I slipped the key into the lock, turned the knob until I heard a click then let the door swing open. I hesitated because I couldn't see anything beyond, but I heard the odd gentleman's voice as if he stood right next to me. "Step through, my dear. There's nothing to fear."

The height of the door was four feet at most and so in order to cross the threshold I bent over and walked forward. When I stood straight again, I found myself surrounded by a grove of trees or to be precise tree trunks because I couldn't see branches or leaves since the trees soar so high in the air I felt like a gnat that soared so high that I only had the sense of their having leaves and branches because they were too high in the air. I looked back at the door and discovered that th.