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Ayo gazed at the small relic structure that had outlived the road it stood on in the old town of Origa. Like time itself, the wooden store had seen many civilizations, yet it stood not so gracious but untouched. Between tall glass buildings, steel, and light, the store had become like an enigma. A clear contrast enough to spark up conversations but no one really cared. Some people didn't know why they walked in. They just found themselves leaving their deepest wishes in a note on the counter.
The town was bustling with the New Year celebration but not Ayo. He sighed as he twisted the key in the lock three times just like his father always did before he let himself in. The bell above the door jingled announcing his arrival.
Ayo shut the door behind him to resume his usual day almost like a devotion. He inhaled the musky old smell as he glanced around dark corners that seemed to loom like shadows. Sometimes, Ayo thought he'd heard whispers.
Ayo had quickly learned some unsaid rules about the store from his father. He looked at the old shelves that had bowed from the weight of holding things people couldn't name. He knew not to touch or move anything. They had a way of rearranging on their own. Sometimes he'd find new items on the shelves and other times, they would disappear. Still, he asked no questions.
Ayo rose to the counter and retrieved a box from beneath it. As usual, it was always empty by morning. That morning, he pondered for a moment. He had heeded his father's instructions for ten years without question or reason, and for the first time, Ayo felt a bit of anguish and resentment toward his father.
He asked himself why he was keeping alive an extinct store he really knew nothing about, other than a tradition most people now only indulge in for fun during the festivities. Perhaps deep down, he imagined his father would one day walk through that door again. So keeping the shop alive meant keeping hope alive. “Ayo! Take care of the store.” Those were his father's last words before he disappeared ten years ago.
His father used to tell him tales about the Okumaku when he was only a child. “Ayo! We are Origas, the soul people. Long ago when tradition mattered, the Okumaku were spirit kinds that were there to grant wishes of children of the land during the New Year festival. All you have to do is truly believe it in your heart. Like magic, it works. You should try it sometime Ayo!” Ayo shook his father's voice from his head as the doorbell rang.
A young lady in heels and a bright red dress walked in. She looked around the store for a while. Then she walked to the counter and slid a note to Ayo. “My Okumaku wish,” she said with a pleasant smile.
“It is 2025. You still believe in Okumaku?” Ayo looked at her searching her eyes.
“It is 2025! You still run this store.” She stared at Ayo intensely then smiled and walked away.
Ayo’s irritation intensified and from that day, he stopped putting the wish notes he received in the box. Days passed and Ayo began contemplating closing the store. His life had no real meaning and he needed to find himself.
One evening as Ayo was preparing to lock up, he heard the doorbell ring. The numbing sound that vibrated through the wooden walls echoed. It didn't come from the front. It came from the back doorbell made of old bronze that never worked. Ayo felt the echoes through his chest. He felt like all the blood had left his body and he froze. He knew that jingle very well from ten years ago - the night his father disappeared.
Memories of himself at sixteen, lying half asleep on a mat behind the counter, how his father briefly spoke to him and grabbed his coat flashed him in seconds. The bell rang again. This time, it was louder like an awakening. Ayo dared to trudge closer. He peeked. The door stood open. Ayo saw a narrow stretch of glistening path as if lit by moonlight from another sky.
Another bell rang and this time, it sounded like a last call - strong yet compelling. Ayo stepped into the light. The world beyond was haunting and silent at first. Then suddenly, forms started to drift around Ayo like gusts of wind. Then Ayo began to make out faces. Some were familiar from family photos and others from a distant memory.
Their drifting moved Ayo deeper inside. Soon, he came to a place that looked like a market. A lot of cheering and bargaining was happening. Ayo could now make out clear faces. Some had a bunch of notes neatly stacked in corners ready for bargaining. Others were patching up torn pieces and rewriting notes. It was like a wish market where the best ones are granted.
“Ayo! You came.” A voice from the far end caught Ayo.
He looked ahead and it was his father standing behind a luminescent counter. He looked slimmer, brighter, and stronger. Ayo smiled running toward him like a child again. Then he frowned as he observed his father.
“You came,” the man said again as though it were only a day ago that they had spoken.
“You left!” Ayo squealed watching him stamp the notes loaded behind the counter.
“Ayo! Someone had to be here. It was my time. Wishes don't grant themselves.” He gestured to the stacks behind him. “I asked that you take care. Why did you stop?”
Ayo was short of words. Only tears trickled down his face.
“Ayo, you are my son and I am always with you. I will always be. But this is who we are. We are the Okumakus. Our lineage has always granted the wishes of true believers and so shall it remain until the end of time. This is what we were called to do.” His father stopped stamping. “Ayo! You must take care.”
Ayo nodded keeping his emotions in check. “Will I see you again?” he asked.
“Here. When the time comes, you will know.” His father handed him a bell identical to the one behind the store.
Ayo heard the bell ring again. First, it was distant then it grew louder. He began to feel a pull. Ayo woke up behind the counter dazed. Then he looked in his palm. An old bronze bell rested in it.
Ayo quickly packed the wish notes he had set aside neatly into the box. He then glanced around the shop before locking up for the day. The next day, Ayo found the box empty and he smiled. For the first time in years, Ayo had found meaning in something and he became determined to learn more about his roots as Okumaku.
Suddenly, Ayo didn't hear the front bell ring but he heard the familiar sound of heels.
“Hi, unbeliever. Would you like to get a drink sometime?”
It was the lady from a couple of days before.
Ayo looked up and smiled. “I believe...so,” he replied.
