What I Bought at The Market

Once every fifty-one years, they come to the edge of our sleepy little town.

Ha. "Town". Barely more than a village, really, with stone cottages lining picturesque lanes. This is where Father Time goes on holiday. He slows down, takes his boots off, idles. Stretches.

They coalesce before sunset with their brightly-coloured stalls. Before morning, everyone would have visited. Prices are high, though. Most go just to be able to say: I was there.

No money changes hands. There's no price tags, haggling, or raised voices. They deal only in memories and whispers.

I was eleven, my sister five. Impossibly shy, normally, but here she was, tugging on coats and skirts, and whispering urgently into vendors' ears.

What's she trying to buy?

"No, little one," said one, sounding sad. "We only deal in happy memories here."

What unhappy memory was she trying to get rid of? And why does she only ask women?

A scowl congealed on her face as the night wore on.

"What is it you want, young sir?" said a soft voice behind me. I turned, and there was the oldest man I'd ever seen wearing a dusty black suit that might have been at home in any century.

I thought hard. "Can you take a bad memory from my sister?"

He whistled backwards through his few teeth. "Rightly, no," he said. Then, so quiet I almost missed it: "Wrongly... it'll be steep."

I didn't know how this was done so I waited.

"Do you love someone who's died?"

I thought of my mother, who died when Emily was born. My eyes burned, and my heart felt like a wet face-cloth being wrung out. Throat too tight for speech, I nodded.

"All of them," he said.

"All? Don't you only take one memory?"

"I said it'd be steep."

Memories were all I had left. I imagined seeing her picture on the mantel and seeing a stranger. I swallowed hard.

Life is for the living, she'd say.

I nodded. He held out his hand, dry, wrinkled and brown like a walnut. I shook it.

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Word count (excluding note): 366

Submitted on 2nd March at 15:04

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it! Especially if you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure.

If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another. I'd like to suggest my Runner Up entry to the Snow Micro Challenge.

Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: This one is inspired by one of my favourite films of all time. Have a guess which one!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 62 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post. It's also pinned to the top of my profile. I'll be posting my reflections on February, plus some prompt ideas for March, this weekend.

Thank you

Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads. Please do leave a comment, and I'll pop over and read one of yours as soon as I can.