Jem awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his mind like the memory of an actual event. Somehow this dream wasn’t like other dreams. It was the kind of dream that felt too real and stayed too vividly in his mind. It felt like the type of dream that had to mean something. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes as the early morning light filtered through the dusty curtains. The world outside was still and quiet, as if waiting for something to happen.

  In the dream, he had been standing at the edge of a vast and unknown landscape, the ground beneath his feet was soft and giving, like the earth was alive. The air smelled of salt and something more – something distant… something ancient. And then there was the woman - a figure draped in flowing blue robes, her face obscured by a hood that flickered with glimpses of the stars. The woman stood with Jem at the edge of a precipice – beyond which lay an endless sea of clouds.

  The woman had spoken to him - not in words, but in a voice that resonated deep inside him, as if the sound came from his very bones, or perhaps from within the depths of the earth. The message was simple but powerful:

  You stand on the edge of the world. You have reached the end where there is no end. There is no path left in front of you. If you wish to move forward, you must find a new path. The path you seek is not in what you know, but in those around you. Friends can be found at the beginning and the end of the journey that is to come. Seek out those who can guide you through the dark places to reach what you seek. To begin your journey you must petition the Collector of Tales. You must seek the realm where your adventure begins.

  The dream had felt like a door opening, and though he didn’t understand everything the guide had said, he knew the message was important. Growth. Friendship. Adventure. He had always been someone who lived on the edge of his own world, never quite fitting in. Never belonging anywhere. Not at home, and not at school. It wasn’t as though he was bullied or abused, but still, he just never seemed to feel right in his own skin.

  Jem swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down onto the floor, his feet nimbly avoiding the scattered action figures and plastic army men littered across the room as he made his way to the door. His gaze lingering on a crumpled Spider Man comic near his bed. He hadn’t finished it yet, but that could wait.

  He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal from the cupboard. The house was quiet - his mother had left for work over an hour ago. There was no school today. Normally, he would have spent the morning immersed in video games, but his console was missing. His mother must have hidden it somewhere. That could only mean one thing: she was mad about something, and he’d probably hear all about it when she got home. It didn’t matter much at the moment though. The dream was still running through his mind and he was certain there was something important he needed to do today. He just wasn’t sure what it was. He finished his cereal quickly and headed towards the door.

  He reached for his coat, the old brown one with the frayed cuffs, and patted the pockets absently. His fingers brushed against something crumpled and soft. When he pulled it out, his breath caught.

  A $50 bill.

  Jem stared at it for a long moment, his heart racing as if it were some kind of omen. There was no way he had put it there. He hadn’t owned a $50 bill ever in his life. It was just… there.

  The bill was worn, the edges creased and frayed, as if it had passed through many hands over the years. Jem turned it over, half-expecting some hidden message or symbol to appear. But there was nothing. Just the same plain green paper.

  Still, it felt like another sign.

  Without thinking, Jem stood up and walked to the small mirror on the wall. The face that looked back at him was different somehow - not physically, but in a way his eyes seemed sharper, as if the fog of his old life had lifted, and he could see clearly for the first time.

  For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his reflection. He could feel something stirring within him, a hunger for something more than the life he had been leading.

  His head was spinning with ideas. Maybe it was time to take a step forward, to embrace the growth of which the lady from his dream had spoken.

  And with that thought, the knot in his stomach loosened. He felt lighter, as if the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally been lifted, replaced by the thrill of something new. Something unknown.

  Jem pocketed the $50, feeling its presence like a promise. Then he grabbed his coat, headed out into the world that awaited him.

  The day was still young, but Jem knew that this was the beginning of something. He felt a door close inside of him and at the same time a new door was opening. He didn't know what lay beyond, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.

  ---

  The bell above the door jingles softly as Jem pushes the shop's door open, his sneakers squeaking against the old wooden floor. It must be a busy day, there’s actually another customer in the store. An older woman wearing a hooded sweater had walked in just in front of him and approached the counter where Theo stood.

  Addressing the woman at the counter, Theo offered her a warm smile. “Good afternoon. Welcome to 9th Street Curios and Sundry. How can I help you today?”

  The woman hesitated, her eyes darting between the shelves of antique books and the odd assortment of curios. “Hi. Um, this might be a bit strange, but… do you buy things here?”

  “Occasionally,” Theo replied, stepping out from behind the counter. “We specialize in antiques, heirlooms, items with a bit of history to them. But let’s see what you’ve brought.”

  She set the box on the counter, carefully opening it to reveal a well-loved handheld gaming console, its buttons slightly worn and its casing scuffed. “It’s not exactly an antique,” she admitted with a small, sheepish laugh. “It belonged to my son. He’s older now, and it’s just been sitting in a drawer. I thought maybe someone else might appreciate it.”

  Theo regarded the console thoughtfully for a long while, his long fingers lifting it from the box. “A first-generation model,” he said, his tone light but appreciative. “It’s got a certain charm. I can see it’s been well-used - probably saw a lot of adventures.”

  The woman chuckled softly. “Oh, plenty. It was practically glued to his hands for years.” Her expression softened, “He’s moved on now, making his way in the world. Doesn’t even look at things like this anymore.”

  Theo turned the console over in his hands, inspecting it with just a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “We don’t typically deal in electronics,” he said, placing it on the counter, “but this does have a bit of soul to it. The wear tells a story.”

  He traced a faint scuff along the edge with his thumb, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “See this here? That’s not the kind of wear you get from neglect, this is from use - a lot of use. It’s the kind of wear that says someone played this for years, maybe beating their first boss or replaying their favorite game. But this wasn't just a toy for your son. It was clearly a tool that he used to achieve great things. In a game, perhaps - but great things nonetheless.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Theo tilted the console slightly, catching the light. “Look at the buttons, they’re not sticking or overly worn. Whoever owned this took care of it, even as they loved it to death. It’s been well-used but not abused, like an old book full of favorite stories.”

  He set it down gently, almost reverently. “It’s funny how objects like this pick up pieces of the people who own them. You can tell this wasn’t just a gadget to someone - it was a pivotal part of their world.”

  He opened a drawer beneath the counter, pulling out a small pouch of coins. “Antique or not, I think I can make an exception for this. After all, treasures come in many forms.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you sure? I mean, I wasn’t expecting much. I just thought…”

  Theo held up a hand, smiling. “I’ll ensure it finds a home where someone appreciates it.” He counted out coins in a currency Jem had never seen before and slid the pouch across the counter. “A piece like this, filled with memories, deserves better than to sit forgotten in a drawer.”

  The woman accepted the coins, her smile touched with gratitude. “Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would want it.”

  “Sometimes, it’s not just the object,” Theo replied, placing the console next to an intricately carved wooden box. “It’s the story it carries with it. Even the simplest items can spark a little magic in the right hands.”

  She adjusted her bag and nodded. “Thank you and I wish you a good day.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said warmly. “And if you ever find yourself with more treasures - or stories - you know where to find me.”

  She smiled once more before leaving, the bell jingling softly in her wake.

  Theo watched her go, then glanced at the console. He let out a faint chuckle and placed it on a nearby shelf.

  “Good Morning, Jem,” Theo says, turning to the boy who was still standing at the counter watching attentively - and not where he would usually be in the back of the shop where the sword collection was kept. “What brings you in today? You seem like you have something you’d like to ask.”

  Jem grins, his wild hair just barely held back by a messy bandana. He hops up onto one of the stools by the counter, crossing his arms. “Just wanted to see if you’ve gotten anything new in. You know, something... for an adventure.”

  You want to know if I've acquired any new swords, don’t you?

  Theo raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “What do you mean by - adventure?”

  Jem shrugs with a knowing smirk. “I dunno. Just something cool. I know you’ve got all kinds of stuff hiding back there.” Indicating the back room where only Theo was allowed.

  Theo chuckles, shaking his head. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to charge you double. The items in storage are for sale - but they aren't available for window shopping and you’re not exactly a paying customer, are you?”

  Not that I mind, but you’re in here all the time and you’ve never actually bought anything!

  Jem leans in closer, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe I’ll start. You never know. People change.” He pauses, and his tone drops slightly. “Besides, you never know when I might find something really special.”

  Theo narrows his eyes, suddenly intrigued. He’s seen Jem before, of course, he comes into the shop from time to time – mainly to look at the swords. He’s always a little too clever and a little too enthusiastic for his own good. He’s never actually purchased anything, but Theo’s always been fond of him. The kid’s a bit of a scamp - but this time, there’s something a little different about him. He’s got an edge today, his usual playfulness masked by a quiet seriousness.

  "I can tell something's different today, Jem. So tell me, what are you really after?"

  There's adventure in every story and every item here has a story, a purpose for someone. What story is calling to you?

  Jem glances around the shop, his gaze wandering through the open door to the back room - lingering on an old wooden box on the shelf near the back, a curious object that hasn’t caught anyone’s eye in years. His fingers tap the counter in a rhythmic, almost distracted way.

  “Just… I dunno... looking for something unique, I guess. Something with history. Something that tells a story - an old story.”

  This isn’t helping.

  Theo watches him closely. “Aren’t you a bit young to be so interested in old stories?”

  “Not really,” Jem replies, leaning back on the stool. “I’ve got my reasons. You know… life doesn’t always make sense unless you look at it from someone else's view.” His voice grows quieter, almost like he’s musing to himself.

  Theo considers him for a moment, his gaze softening. Despite the boy’s apparent youth and mischief, there’s a spark of something deeper in his eyes - something Theo can’t quite place.

  That's it! I know just the thing!

  “Alright then, I like a good story, myself; and I might have a few things back there I could show you,” Theo says, breaking the silence. He stands and heads toward the back of the shop, leaving Jem to tap his fingers on the counter, the sound of the old clock ticking in the background.

  Jem views his reflection in an old, chipped mirror behind the counter. Once again, his reflection seems different today - less like himself, and more... like himself. What’s that even mean? Whatever, forget it.

  Theo returns with a small wooden box - the same box he had noticed earlier. He opens the box and pulls from it an old brass compass, its surface scratched and worn from years of use, its needle forever pointing north. He sets it on the counter in front of Jem.

  “This one’s definitely got a story. It’s been through more than one pair of hands in its time. But it’s still ticking... or still pointing anyway.”

  Jem eyes the compass for a long moment, his fingers brushing over its surface. He looks up at Theo with a more serious expression than usual.

  “This compass”, Theo explains, his voice taking on a deep, theatrical tone, “once belonged to a sailor named Ewan Calder, a navigator on a 19th-century merchant vessel. Ewan’s ship, The Marigold, was a storied vessel that had braved storms, pirate ships, and uncharted waters in its time. The compass had been a gift from his father, who told him it would always guide him home no matter where he was in the world.”

  “One fateful voyage, The Marigold found itself caught in an unprecedented tempest. The ship was battered, tossed like a toy in the waves, and it seemed certain to meet a watery grave. While the crew was trapped below deck, awaiting their fate, it was Ewan who stood strong at the helm with this very compass in hand, following its unwavering needle despite his fear, and together, they held course. When dawn finally broke, the storm had passed and the ship had miraculously persevered. The crew emerged from below deck and they found themselves not only alive but in sight of land - an island uncharted by any map.”

  “The crew discovered treasures on the island: rare spices, pearls, and strange plants that would save lives in the years to come. Some swore the compass had led them there deliberately, offering a chance not only for survival but for prosperity. Others believed it was merely Ewan’s faith and skill that saved them. But regardless, the wealth and reputation of Ewan Calder was secure.”

  “After Ewan retired, the compass changed hands several times. It passed to explorers, treasure hunters, and adventurers, many claiming it led them to their destiny and many more claiming that it led them to their fortune. But the blessing of the compass was also a curse for, just as often, those who didn’t respect it - those who saw it only as a bauble - met with misfortune.”

  Theo leaned forward, his voice quiet, as though sharing a most intimate secret. “This compass doesn’t just point north, Jem. It’s a reminder. You can lose your way, face storms you think will sink you, but there’s always a path. It’ll lead you somewhere, if you trust it - and trust yourself.”

  Jem turned the compass over in his hands, his young mind churning with possibilities. For the first time Theo could remember, the boy didn’t crack a joke or flash a mischievous grin. He simply nodded; his eyes alight with a new kind of curiosity.

  “I’ll take it,” he says finally, his voice steady. “It’s just the companion I’ve been looking for.”

  Theo hesitates for a moment; he wasn’t expecting Jem to actually buy it and he’s not entirely sure what to make of Jem’s sudden change in demeanor. But he’s seen enough over the years to know that people carry weight of change in their own ways.

  “Alright. But the compass costs twenty-five dollars,” Theo says, tapping the counter lightly. “Do you have that much?”

  Jem reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a crumpled $50 bill, but instead of handing it directly to Theo, he slides it across the counter with an almost ceremonious gesture. Even at his age, Jem realizes an item like this is worth way more than the asking price. Theo must be trying to help him out.

  “Keep the change,” he says, standing up and pushing the compass into his pocket.

  Theo smiles warmly as he rings up the transaction and presses the change insistently into Jem’s hand.

  Theo watches him walk out, the bell chiming softly as the door swings closed. He’s left with the feeling that the boy has just crossed some invisible threshold - whether it’s into something new, or just deeper into whatever life has in store for him, Theo can’t be sure. But there’s something different about him, and it lingers in the air long after he left the store.