The Tea Shop and it’s Keeper

In the heart of a town cloaked in whispers and draped in the hues of burnt orange autumn, stands the Last Tea Shop, a threshold between the tangible and the unseen. Each guarded by keepers dedicated to the comfort of those who enter. Our journey begins at the doorstep of one such sanctuary. Tucked away on the brink of a place quaintly named Somewhere, this particular shop hides down a dimly lit alley of an aged town. A solitary bicycle, owned by the keeper of the shop, rests out front, suggesting stories of its own. Besides a cosy setup of table and chairs under shelter.

The shop itself is a gem, its charm accentuated by the lush plant life draping over its front and the inviting window nestled among the greenery. Autumn has coloured the town in shades of burnt orange. The air is fresh with the scent of rain on earth, a welcome change after the season’s first downpour. The rainwater’s melody, spilling from drainpipes to the streets and into gutters, seems to wash away the remnants of summer’s heat, refreshing the town’s atmosphere. It feels like a welcome reprieve from the heat.

The Last Tea Shop

The Last Tea Shop, as it’s known, might not be everyone’s choice, with its off-the-beaten-path allure. However, it becomes a magnet for those souls searching for healing, forgiveness, or a moment to reminisce. Through its softly lit window, one can glimpse the gentle glow that fills the space, suggesting a calm, candlelit ambiance. Inside, a figure moves gracefully, tidying and arranging, in a quiet ballet of hospitality and care.

This nook in the world, the Last Tea Shop, offers more than just tea; it’s a haven for reflection and solace. Attracting those who seek to mend, to forget, or to remember, enveloped by the warmth and quietude it offers.


Through the window of this little shop, you find it tended by an enigmatic figure known as Marielle. With hair as silver as moonlight and eyes that reflect the depth of the world she bridges. Marielle is as much a part of the shop as the ancient bricks that lay its foundation. Her journey to this liminal space, where the edge of life and death blurs, is one woven with threads of fate, loss, and a quest for understanding the cycles of existence.

Marielle’s path to the edge of Somewhere was not marked by a singular moment, but by a series of events that tugged at the very fabric of her soul. Once a wanderer searching for meaning, she stumbled upon this forgotten alley during a night painted with the strokes of a tempest. It was here, amidst the storm’s fury, that she encountered the shop—abandoned, yet alive with a presence that whispered of sanctuary. She knew then that her search had led her to a crossroads of destiny.

Her mission transcends the mere serving of tea; Marielle sees her role as a keeper of thresholds. A guide for those who find themselves at the shop’s door, seeking solace from the tumult of existence. She believes in the power of tea to soothe the spirit, but also in the silent language of tarot cards. The reflective truths revealed in mirrors, and the healing vibrations of crystals scattered around the shop. These tools serve as her allies in navigating the lives and stories of her visitors, offering insight, healing, and sometimes, a glimpse into the morrow.

Serving herself

On days when the shop remains untouched by visitors, Marielle devotes herself to the care of her surroundings and the exploration of her own spirit. She tends to the plants that embrace the shop’s facade, finding joy in the simple act of nurturing life. Her companions in solitude are not of human form but are equally resonant with the spirit of the place—a sleek, black cat named Nocturne, who weaves silently through the shadows, and a wise old owl named Hestia, perched high among the books and jars that line the shelves. Both creatures, in their own way, contribute to the aura of the shop, guardians in their own right.

Marielle spends her hours in quiet reflection, shuffling her tarot deck with a reverence for the stories it might tell, polishing the ancient mirrors that hang upon the walls, each a portal to inner realms, and arranging crystals in patterns that catch the light and scatter rainbows across the worn wooden floors. These practices are not just rituals but conversations with the universe, a way to keep the fabric of her world woven tightly with the threads of magic, mystery, and a deep, unwavering love for the souls that seek refuge in her tea shop.

The Last Tea Shop, under Marielle’s guardianship, stands as a beacon to those wandering at the edge, offering a cup of tea, a moment of reflection, and perhaps, a step towards healing.

AI disclosure here.


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