Chapter 2
It was mid-November, the fall chill in the air revealing my breath, when I saw that the stand had been occupied. Not only had the stall been filled, but it had been filled quite well. As I rounded the wall, I could see more of the stall's interior. The space was cleverly utilized with very few shelves. The layout was simple: a large, multi-tier shelf in the middle of the room, covered in fresh fruits, such as oranges, strawberries and melons. To the left was a glass doored drink cooler, stocked with water and health beverages. Further to the left was another smaller multi-tier rack covered in fresh vegetables. The floor was concrete, and walls were stark white, like a clean room in a laboratory. I stepped inside, peering around. "Hello?", I spoke, breaking a repetitive sweeping sound that was filling the room. The sweeping stopped, and a man's voice came from the back of the room.
"Hello! I'll be just a moment.", he said. "Can I help you?"
The man emerged from the back of the store, carrying the broom. He was a shorter man, late forties, with a graying moustache and thinning hair.
"I was just welcoming you...", I replied. "I'll probably look around for a bit."
"Okay then, take your time, and let me know if you need anything.", he said.
Just as he finished speaking, I heard another person enter the stall. I turned to see the person, and was immediately struck speechless. It was a girl, early twenties, with long brown hair, dark skin, and green eyes. She was the first person I had ever seen who had green eyes. But her eyes aside, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
"Hi, Dad!", she spoke. "What are you up to?"
"Just tidying up before people start pouring in...", he replied. "...find anything you like?"
"A few things.", she said. "A few 20's era cameras, a sword that the shop owner swears belonged to General Grant, and the gem: a late 1800's cash register. Locked."
"That's great sweetheart! Just let me know how much you need."
"Daddy....", she replied. "You know you don't have to do that."
"I know...", he rebutted. "I just like to be able to treat you sometimes."
At about that time, the two turned and noticed that I had been more involved in their conversation than either of them was.
"Who is this?", she asked.
"Just a man I met a few moments before you arrived. I'm not quite sure if he's going to be a customer, of if he's just visiting.", he joked.
I finally regained my ability to speak. "I'm sorry.", I stated. "I didn't mean to pry. I just find the two of you so intriguing together."
He was taken by surprise. "Well, thank you, I guess.", he chuckled.
"It was definitely a compliment.", I started. "I appreciate your understanding, but...I really must be going."
"If you insist.", he replied. "But we didn't catch a name."
"Its Sebastian.", I stated.
"Well, I'm Alex, or Mister Bannister. And this is my daughter---"
"Emily...", she interrupted. "Its...Emily."
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Introduction and Chapter 1
Introduction
Its funny how things happen sometimes. You meet someone new who happens to hate one of your closest friends. Your favorite restaurant closes. A person dies just days after you see them. Or you fall in love with someone who defies anything you thought was real. Someone who wasn't intended to exist. My love came to me in a dream, or at least what I thought should have been one. So here is the story of how I loved, then lost, and wished I had never loved at all.
Chapter One
I had gotten to the point in my life where time had begun to slow down. I started going out less, and staying on the internet in blocks of time barely measurable by hours. The television remained on, although unwatched, just for background noise. Educational daily programming had become as regular as the nightly info-mercials. Needless to say, things were becoming rather monotonous. I can even remember lying in my bed, contemplating the pros and cons of counting my ceiling tiles, and how to go about doing so. Finally, I sat up from my couch, covered in junk food from the night before, and realized that I was only digging myself an early grave. Now, I knew that being young had its advantages; the ability to, in college, change your sleep schedule three times a week, eating nothing but ramen and off brand Cheetos, and downing Mountain Dew like tap water.
But I had told myself that I would stay fit through my younger years, and that self-proclamation was the reason that I decided to do something about it. I decided to start paying daily visits to the local market in an effect to get some exercise, and possibly pick up a few neat things in the process. So I pulled out and dusted off my winter coat; a flashy black blazer with hidden pin striping inside, and prepared to go out the next morning.
I arrived in the lot, poured a cup of coffee from my thermos, and lit a cigarette, awaiting the arrival of steam from peanuts being boiled. This told me at least the early risers had arrived, and it wouldn't be much longer until everyone else would begin to arrive. After about forty five minutes, I exited my car and headed towards the buildings.
The market was a very unique place. There were stands of middle aged men who, when told to clean out the attic and garage by their frantic wives, see fit to sell it to others as 'vintage memorabilia'. There were also other stands where the vendors have knock off versions of brand new items in the packages, and entire stocks of them, like a dollar store may have burned down. But even worse still, people actually made it a point to come, every weekend, and buy these things. But the saving factor was everything else. Everyone was friendly, always making sure you felt welcome when you were at their stand. And then there were vendors selling fresh fruits and vegetables, who had pre-cut samples of their produce readily available for you to try.
The environment was comforting, and the market had become a safe haven for me. I had become well acquainted with the people of the market, and I noticed fairly quickly when an older vendor left, and a new person filled their spot. Although one spot, unlike the others, strangely hadn't been filled in at least a month.
I continued to visit the market for almost a year, and had developed a perfect routine. I would arrive early, sit in my car with a cup of coffee and the first cigarette of a pack, watching the vendors arrive and set up. Cue the steam from the food stands. Forty five minutes pass, and I start making my rounds. I would start out by walking around to the stands I was interested in, exchanging hellos with the vendor, but only checking for new items, and making mental notes to return later. I would then walk by the food stands, which were amazingly diverse, and try to decide what I was in the mood for that day. After this, I would begin walking through the shelters, soaking in the smell of incense. As I rounded the wall of the fourth building, I stopped suddenly.
The long empty stall had been occupied by new vendors.
Its funny how things happen sometimes. You meet someone new who happens to hate one of your closest friends. Your favorite restaurant closes. A person dies just days after you see them. Or you fall in love with someone who defies anything you thought was real. Someone who wasn't intended to exist. My love came to me in a dream, or at least what I thought should have been one. So here is the story of how I loved, then lost, and wished I had never loved at all.
Chapter One
I had gotten to the point in my life where time had begun to slow down. I started going out less, and staying on the internet in blocks of time barely measurable by hours. The television remained on, although unwatched, just for background noise. Educational daily programming had become as regular as the nightly info-mercials. Needless to say, things were becoming rather monotonous. I can even remember lying in my bed, contemplating the pros and cons of counting my ceiling tiles, and how to go about doing so. Finally, I sat up from my couch, covered in junk food from the night before, and realized that I was only digging myself an early grave. Now, I knew that being young had its advantages; the ability to, in college, change your sleep schedule three times a week, eating nothing but ramen and off brand Cheetos, and downing Mountain Dew like tap water.
But I had told myself that I would stay fit through my younger years, and that self-proclamation was the reason that I decided to do something about it. I decided to start paying daily visits to the local market in an effect to get some exercise, and possibly pick up a few neat things in the process. So I pulled out and dusted off my winter coat; a flashy black blazer with hidden pin striping inside, and prepared to go out the next morning.
I arrived in the lot, poured a cup of coffee from my thermos, and lit a cigarette, awaiting the arrival of steam from peanuts being boiled. This told me at least the early risers had arrived, and it wouldn't be much longer until everyone else would begin to arrive. After about forty five minutes, I exited my car and headed towards the buildings.
The market was a very unique place. There were stands of middle aged men who, when told to clean out the attic and garage by their frantic wives, see fit to sell it to others as 'vintage memorabilia'. There were also other stands where the vendors have knock off versions of brand new items in the packages, and entire stocks of them, like a dollar store may have burned down. But even worse still, people actually made it a point to come, every weekend, and buy these things. But the saving factor was everything else. Everyone was friendly, always making sure you felt welcome when you were at their stand. And then there were vendors selling fresh fruits and vegetables, who had pre-cut samples of their produce readily available for you to try.
The environment was comforting, and the market had become a safe haven for me. I had become well acquainted with the people of the market, and I noticed fairly quickly when an older vendor left, and a new person filled their spot. Although one spot, unlike the others, strangely hadn't been filled in at least a month.
I continued to visit the market for almost a year, and had developed a perfect routine. I would arrive early, sit in my car with a cup of coffee and the first cigarette of a pack, watching the vendors arrive and set up. Cue the steam from the food stands. Forty five minutes pass, and I start making my rounds. I would start out by walking around to the stands I was interested in, exchanging hellos with the vendor, but only checking for new items, and making mental notes to return later. I would then walk by the food stands, which were amazingly diverse, and try to decide what I was in the mood for that day. After this, I would begin walking through the shelters, soaking in the smell of incense. As I rounded the wall of the fourth building, I stopped suddenly.
The long empty stall had been occupied by new vendors.
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