Riddle For The Ages

20251111

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

“The Thin Veneer” was a strange name for a pub. Madeline had a game going, where anyone who guessed why she’d chosen it got free drinks for life. The most common guess was the building used to be some manner of criminal front, or possibly a decoration store. The most fun guess, by an excited small child, was the pub being an illusion over a portal to another dimension. That earned him a free scoop of (thankfully tangible) ice cream.
Another common guess, particularly by more cynical customers, was the name being chosen to appeal to the esoteric crowd, what with the pub being well placed between the theatre district and the common where fairs etc set up. Madeline always grinned at that one - but she firmly held that nobody had won the game yet.
Deliberate or not, the pub was now - despite being entirely ordinary in appearance and decoration - frequented only by those who claimed familiarity with “The Veil”. Plus a few locals who felt convenience was worth rubbing elbows with “them oddballs”.
Chrissy, whose family owned the flower shop next door, had grown up popping in and out of The Thin Veneer multiple times a day, buying coffee and sometimes lunch to go - and occasionally cake, either as a treat from her parents or out of her own pocket money.
As such she didn’t grasp that the people who frequented the place were considered unusual elsewhere. It was perfectly normal, from her perspective, for someone to be wearing a fully enshrouding cloak covered with embossed charms which tinkled whenever they moved, or to suddenly freeze and start speaking in a completely different voice, or offer to read her fortune.
By the age of eight she knew dozens of ways to make a coin disappear and reappear, was fluent in tarot, and had a smattering of several ancient languages. And was regularly baffled that the other kids at school didn’t.
Today she was sitting at the bar, her little legs idly swinging high above the oak floorboards, while Mr Ogrin helped with her maths homework. He always claimed that, as a numerologist, he’d forgotten more about numbers and their relations than most people ever bothered to know! And he was good at explaining, though he did tend to get sidetracked whenever the result turned out to be a Significant Number.
(There’d been one instance where he’d sent Chrissy in with a stern letter to her teacher about the questions of that week’s worksheet creating a “dangerous sequence” and imploring her to be more careful about her young charges’ souls. No matter how Chrissy tried to explain Ms Brown had been sceptical. But thankfully nobody seemed to have gotten possessed yet.)
“Well done!” Mr Ogrin cheered as Chrissy finished the worksheet. “We’ll make a numerologist of you yet.”
Chrissy grinned at the praise, but with blithe honesty said “I’d rather inherit the shop.”
“Ah, well, herbalism is a fine tradition also.”
Madeline leant on the counter, her eyes twinkling. “In and out of here every day and yet no magick’s ever caught your fancy?”
“No?” Chrissy said blankly.
Not sure why being in here every day would matter. She saw posties and bus drivers every day too, and she’d never wanted to do that rather than run the shop.
Her parents had always made a point of telling her she didn’t have to inherit. That she could do whatever she wanted with her life. But Chrissy couldn’t imagine anything else she’d rather do. Well, she sometimes daydreamed about being a farm princess or a movie star, but… even at her tender and optimistic age she was aware those were dreams rather than goals.
“Hm. I suppose this is all boring to you, isn’t it?” Madeline marvelled.
“It’s not boring!” Chrissy assured them both. “It’s fun! I like meeting people and learning magic and stuff. All kinds. I just…”
She flapped her hands, unable to articulate her life’s comfy state and the heady, mature excitement of her plans for how the shop would work when she grew up.
It was going to be more of a garden shop, she’d told her parents, who’d agreed to trial stocking more live plants and such so she could get a feel for the market. She had a notebook tracking sales and everything.
While magic was fun, it could never compare to the challenge and subsequent victory of successfully balancing stock.
“Aw, bless!” Madeline said, in a distinctly grown-up manner which grated on eight-year-old ears. “We’ve made it all too normal for you, haven’t we?”
Chrissy gave an uncertain mumble. Not sure what that meant, but unwilling to admit this in the face of adult superiority.
“Hm. Come to think of it…” Madeline tapped her chin. “I don’t think you’ve ever played the guessing game. Have you never wondered why this place is called The Thin Veneer?”
“Mm?” Chrissy slowly shook her head.
Why would she? She didn’t wonder why the street she lived on was called Glover, or the town was called Wakesfield. Names just were.
“Well, if you can guess it, you get free drinks for life.”
Ooh, as much lemonade as she wanted? For life? Alright, that was a good game.
Chrissy chewed on her pencil (which was topped with a rubber ring for this precise purpose, her parents having given up on her outgrowing this bad habit) and thought.
“How many guesses do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t set a limit. Though I do block folks who make a pain of themselves.”
“Ok. Ummm…”
Chrissy thought of the shop’s name, Blooming Lovely. Because they sold flowers, which were lovely, and the name made people smile. That was how you named businesses.
Thin Veneer… Thin Veneer…
Mr Ogrin told her “Someone’s already guessed it was for the sake of having a game.”
“Hmm… did you just like how it sounds?”
That was Uncle Mark’s approach.
“Good guess! Have a flapjack. But no.”
Oh well. Partial victory. And a game to ponder.

Prompt was “The Thin Veneer”.