The store was on a slope in a narrow street, and scrunched together with other slumping shops. Albert had never been to this part of the city before – in fact, this didn’t look like Chicago at all.

The shops were filled with color and everyone was wearing some sort of long gown – red and purple. They had blue hats that slumped over the opening. Almost like garden gnomes.

“Heh, heh…garden gnomes.” Alfred laughed. “Weird.”

He started to feel intimidated and out of place. Every passer-by eyed him curiously. He wasn’t dressed in these gowns or the hats, just a Bulls Jersey and Khaki pants. Feeling a rush of anxiety, he practically leaped into the nearest shop. A woman sat behind the counter with a red smile. Her hair was orange and her skin, pale.

“Can I elp you sir?”

“Um..” he takes a deep breath, “Where am I?”

“Ye’ve never been to the shops then?”

“No, I havn’t.”

“Well, welcome. Ye’re attire is a little too informal, if ye don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

“No, I was wondering when somebody was going to mention it.” He rubs his head.

“Ye name is Albert then?”

“How do you know?” He starts to feel dizzy, how in the world could she just guess his name?

“It’s on ye nametag, it is.” She points to his shirt.

“Oh, that…” he chuckles relief. He’d been to a seminar downtown and was still wearing the tattered sticker, “I forgot I had that.”

“So what will ye be buyin’ today?”

“Oh,” he looks around the store. There are crystals and old style bottles on the rustic wooden shelves. “I still don’t know where I am. What are all these bottles?”

“You’re in Melas, ladie, land of the witches. Those are poisons and potions for all various needs.”

“Witches…? Melas?” He starts to take a step back, but does not finish it.

“Yes. We’re witches. Melas is Salem, backwards. We don’t much like Salem, So many of us had terrible times there. Anywhoo, is there anythin’ ye’ve been needin’?”

Albert figures he better answer her with something, or she might get angry. “Do you have any back potions?”

“Back potions? Ye mean to go back?”

“What? Sure, I mean to ‘go’ back potions. I’ve been having a lot of trouble lately.”

“So ye want to go back? when?”

“Um, as soon as possible, it’s really killing me.”

“What date, laddie?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t care, as long as it fixes the problem.”

“What problem ye be havin?” She stares with concern.

Albert cocks an eye, “Back problems.” He wanted to say more – tell her what a back was and how it can hurt when you lift boxes for an boss who doesn’t know up from down and tries to find the tiniest excuse not to pay you – but he didn’t want to be rude.

“Well not anymore laddie, ye say ye don’t care what date?”

“Yep.”

“Yep ye care, or yep ye don’t?”

“Yep I don’t!” Although cute, this woman was starting to get on his nerves.

“Temper, temper laddie, ye sure ye don’t want a potion for that?”

“Please, just the back potion,” he said while rolling his eyes and extending his hand.

“Ok, the date is 1805, here ye go.” She dropped the small vile in his sweaty hand.

“Thanks, so I just drink this,” he asks as he uncaps the lid and presses it to his lips.

“Yes.”

He mocks her openly, “Alright, I’m trustin’ ‘ye’ witches know what ‘ye’re’ doing!” He drinks the vile like a shot of liquor.

Suddenly his legs disintegrate into small molecules moving up to his waist.

“What the heck is going on here?!”

“Don’t forget not to mess up the past!” The witch yells as she waves him goodbye and smiles warmly.

“The past? What! I wanted back potion! Not back to the – urgh!” The molecules of his face separate and he vanishes.