SRU Spare Key
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Watsit Tuya's SRU: The Lazarus Key free porn video
Spells R Us and it's proprietor, the Wizard, are the creation of Bill
Hart. Excepting the customer, all persons, firms, devices, and events
named and/or described herein are products of the author's imagination and
never actually existed or transpired.
________________________________________________________________________
Watsit Tuya's SRU: The Lazarus Key
(Prequel to 'SRU: Thankyouverymuch')
________________________________________________________________________
Memphis Tennessee, 12:03 am, August 16 1977:
The midnight blue Continental slid to the curb just off Beale Street.
Though it was past midnight the outside temperature was still near eighty,
so the city's most famous resident waited a moment in the car's air
conditioned shelter before he got out and walked to the storied avenue. At
the far end of the block was a night club doing brisk business, and he
smiled at recalling standing on the sidewalk outside, listening to the
sounds that would later help catapult him to Everest-like heights of fame.
Turning his gaze across the street, he saw the 'Going Out of Business'
sign in the display window of Spellman's Pawn and Jewelry, which evoked a
different memory. Before the fame and wealth, his parents had done
business with Spellman when there was too much month left at the end of
their money. The few dollars they received for a watch or old radio helped
put food on the table more than once.
Taking a last look around, he was turning back to his vehicle when he
caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. To his amazement, the front
of the store had turned into a stone wall with an arched door in the
center. The portal had a wrought iron grate at eye level, sconces holding
torches flanking it, and a bracket above with a sign he couldn't quite
make out. His every instinct told him it was imprudent, but he crossed the
road to examine it more closely.
The lettering was ornate, and appeared to be gold.
"Spells R Us?"
His curiousity aroused, he stepped inside.
The interior was not as gloomy as he had anticipated, though he could not
discern exactly how it was lit. Looking around, he saw no rhyme or reason
to the displays. Wandering the maze of shelves and display cases, he was
fascinated by the wild miscellany, stopping occasionally to more closely
examine an item. After a few moments, he turned a corner and spied a man
garbed like the wizard in the 'Sorcerer's Apprentice' segment of
'Fantasia'.
He was about six feet tall, with white hair reaching just past his
shoulders and a straight beard that ended at mid-chest. His most striking
feature was his eyes. Their gaze was direct, but not intimidating, and
there was a decided twinkle as he regarded his visitor.
"I was beginning to think I had come here for naught. Welcome, good sir."
The last part was accompanied with a slight bow. "How may I be of
service?"
The reply came with no hesitation.
"Do you have a spell that can take me back to 1954?"
The proprietor's eyes softened a bit as he contemplated the query.
"Several, as a matter of fact, but I cannot allow you to use any of them."
"I'll pay ..."
Sadly, the robed man shook his head.
"Cost is not the issue. You have played a part in shaping the culture, so
you have also helped influence subsequent events. If you returned to the
past, any change you make would have ... consequences."
"That's crazy! I'm just an entertainer, not a president or ..."
He broke off as the Wizard beckoned him to the back of the shop.
"You can't start over, but you can start again."
A small bronze skeleton key lay on the counter. The visitor hefted it in
his palm.
"What is it?"
The elderly man made a small shrug.
"No one really knows. My colleagues and I refer to it as the Lazarus Key,
even though it predates that event by several centuries."
"So, it'll bring me back to life after I ... ?"
The Wizard shook his head.
"Not this life." He retrieved the Key. "When you die, you will awaken as
... someone else. That person will be very recently deceased and much,
possibly considerably, younger. You will have their memories while also
recalling your present life. That should fade with time, but the gifts
with which you are endowed will remain, though they may find other avenues
of expression."
Stepping away from the counter, the man some called The King pondered the
offer. Deep down, he felt his time was close and, like anyone, wished to
delay the inevitable. Turning to the Wizard, he nodded.
"How does it work?"
"Just keep it next to your skin."
Taking the amulet, the customer threaded it onto a silver chain and tucked
it in his shirt.
"How much?"
The Wizard waved off the inquiry.
"Nothing, for I can only sell what I own." Coming from behind the counter,
he gestured toward the door. "Now I bid you good evening, and offer my
sincerest wishes for happiness in your next life."
Back on the street, the man looked around and was unsurprised to see that
Spellman's had returned to normal. Reaching his car, he fished out the key
to assure himself he hadn't imagined what had just occurred. Satisfied the
experience was genuine, he returned to his estate on the outskirts of the
city.
*****
Mid-morning, August 16, 1977:
Elise Preston was celebrating her fifth birthday in the park near her Aunt
Janet's home. She and her parents, George and Viola, had recently moved to
Nashville and were staying temporarily with Janet and her husband. The
family party was planned for after the elder Prestons got home so, to keep
her niece occupied, Janet took her to the park.
The place was abuzz with children and, in very little time, Elise had made
friends. Janet had sandwiches, chips, a jug of iced tea, and a carton of
paper cups, so they gathered around a picnic table. Informed it was
Elise's birthday the kids broke into a spirited, and ever so slightly off-
key, rendition of 'Happy Birthday', and Elise giggled so much her deeply
dark brown face took on a reddish tinge.
At that moment, she screamed and began to have difficulty breathing. Janet
immediately scooped her up and ran toward home, and her car, praying she
could get the child to the emergency room in time. She was halfway there
when a policeman spotted her and brought his cruiser about, put her and
Elise in the car, and tore off for the hospital, which was just over two
miles away.
Before they reached the hospital, the Wizard's visitor suffered a massive
heart attack. As he hit the floor, he felt himself being pulled toward a
sphere of golden light. Passing through, he brushed against a small
presence headed where he would have been if not for his midnight
excursion.
He came to with a woman hovering over him, and a gentle hand enfolding
his. Calling on the memories of the former occupant of his body, he
recognized her as Viola Preston and knew she was the mother of one child;
a daughter named Elise. He marveled that the knowledge did not trigger an
hysterical outburst, and wondered if that was part of the magic.
Viola beamed at her daughter.
"Hey, sweetie, you feel okay?"
The response was a silent nod.
"That's good."
He wasn't entirely sure it was, but it certainly beat the alternative.
Though he knew quite well they were in a hospital, he also knew a small
child would be confused so ...
"Where are we, Mama?"
"Well, you got hurt and Aunt Janet brought you to the hospital, so you're
all better now. Don't you remember?"
The last 'Elise' memory he had was a small group of four and five year
olds singing 'Happy Birthday'. Further conversation was interrupted by the
arrival of George Preston.
"How is she?"
Moving out of earshot, Viola told him what the doctor had said.
"She got stung, a-and it made her throat close up. They said she wasn't
breathing, and her heart had stopped, by the time Janet got her here."
Seeing his anguish, she threw her arms around her husband. "She was only
like that for a little while, so there shouldn't be any permanent
effects." She gave him a reassuring peck. "Now smile, and be thankful
she's still with us."
Though the man in Elise's body couldn't hear the conversation, he read the
expressions of his new parents. Seeing the love they had for their
daughter, he made a vow.
"I'm going to be the best daughter ever."
Having composed himself, George picked up Elise and gave her a hug and
kiss.
"Happy birthday, baby girl. Ready for your party?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I love you, Daddy." Turning, she beamed at Viola. "I love you just as
much, Mama."
Laughing, Viola added her hug to the birthday girl's collection, then the
trio headed home.
*****
As she crawled into bed, clutching the ballerina doll she had received as
a present, Elise was joined by her mother.
"Say your prayers?"
Proudly, the child answered. "Yes Ma'am. I said 'Thank You' for keeping me
safe, and I asked Him to bless you and Daddy, Aunt Janet and Uncle Levi,
the policeman and the doctors ... I don't know their names, but He'll
know ... and all my Grammas and Grampas."
Visibly impressed, Viola pulled the covers up to her daughter's chest.
"Well, you seem to have covered all the bases." She pointed to the doll.
"Your Daddy's right; She does look a little like you. Have you come up
with a name for her?"
Holding the figurine up, Elise put on her most thoughtful expression.
"I think I'll call her ... Marie."
George joined them.
"Who you callin' Marie?"
Elise sat up and extended her arms. Her father accepted the invitation,
and leaned down to get, and give, a hug and a kiss. She then settled back
and stood her doll on the mattress.
"This is Marie."
Taking his wife's hand, George pulled her to her feet.
"Nice to meet you, Marie, but it's time for us all to hit the hay."
The little girl listened until she was sure they had gone to sleep, then
slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the dresser, where a small lamp was lit.
Through all the drama at the hospital, and the celebration of her
birthday, there had been no opportunity to really see her new face.
Getting up on the chair, she studied her visage.
Her face was heart shaped, with wide-set, not-quite-black eyes that tilted
up a bit at the corners. The nose was short and broad, and her lips
slightly plump. She tried a smile, and 'he' decided she was quite pretty.
Realizing she was looking at herself from a male perspective shook her. In
the few hours since waking up as a girl, she had striven to think of
herself as such and had been, mostly, successful. She knew, though, that
really carrying off any role required total commitment.
Returning to bed, Elise looked up.
"Please help me never to let on what happened. Mama and Daddy are good
people, and I've got to be Elise now." She started to roll onto her side,
then thought of something else. "Oh, and I'd appreciate it if You'd lead
me to that old man someday, 'cause I wanta thank him, too."
Just beyond the back fence, a group of neighbors was listening to radio
accounts of the death of Elise's previous identity. As she drifted off,
the barely audible strains of 'Can't Help Falling in Love' served as her
lullaby. When the song reached its climax, she imagined applause washing
over her and, as sleep claimed her, whispered "Thank you very much."
Hortense
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