What I Bought at The Market
2nd March, Story #62/366
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.
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Comments (17)
This is one of your best L.C. I can easily see this being a short story or even the premise of a novel. I read the second part first, then came back for context in this one, and I like the mirroring between the two pieces. “He held out his hand, dry, wrinkled and brown like a walnut” is so visual as a line. I think this resonates because everyone has wanted to be able to do this at some point or another, especially after loss. Loved reading it!
L.C. Schäfer, you have crafted a moving narrative that will stay with readers long beyond the last word. Your novel skillfully examines the weight of memories and the extent we will go for people we love.
So few words, but such a large impression
Hmmm no idea which one of your favourite films inspired you 😅 Loved your story!
"The Fair Trade"? I've not seen it but it sounds interesting & like it might fit. Achingly beautiful story.
Wonderful suspense. What did the little girl want to forget? That could be the most menacing thing.
Money might not change hands but that was definitely a high price. What a great concept and fantastic story telling.
What an intriguing concept! I wonder what the vendor means by “wrongly” taking a bad memory…such a selfless brother, though, to give up all his memories of their mother just so that his sister could be rid of one obviously terrible memory. Very well done.
This is great. I love the idea of the memory market. Well done.
I really enjoyed this. I loved the line about Father Time idling and stretching, boots off!
This is inspirational, the love a brother has for his sister and what he is willing to give up for her happiness. This one is more than just a story a day.
Ooh, I like this one. I was trying to figure out what kind of market wouldn't take money...the answer was unexpected. Very creative. One tiny bit of unsolicited advice, if you ever decide to edit this a bit more. I might lead with this line, or some version of it: "This is where Father Time goes on holiday". They say to hook the reader with your first line and, for me, this one was the hook. Awesome story!
Ooh, what a price. And what a market. Well done, L.C. and congratulations on #62!
This is powerful and gave me a small chill at the end. I feel bad for the main character. The pain of loss is so unbearable at times, we've all been there. But to not see the happy memories too, albeit tied in with the bad, and deciding it's before to not remember anything, is just as heartbreaking in my opinion.
A steep price indeed... I often wonder what impact losing deeply important memories like that would be like, what impacts it would have on our psychology and emotions. Great work LC!
I love the theme of haggling for the removal of bad memories. As D.J. wrote the story is rich in pathos. Although I loved every sentence in this story (I generally do when reading your work) these three were especially delicious: 'This is where Father Time goes on holiday. He slows down, takes his boots off, idles. Stretches.' Great storytelling, LC!
Rich in pathos and neatly constructed. Well done!