Chapter 4
719 Words
VENDOR’S POV
Lanterns floated overhead untied, weightless as if the air itself held them in place. Vendors murmured to customers in low tones. Some shoppers clutched glowing jars. Others walked with empty eyes, already changed by what they had traded.
Adaora walked deeper into the rows of stalls, heart hammering.
A vendor with no shadow watched her pass.
A woman with half a face smooth and blank, like carved wood, turned in her direction.
Someone whispered her name, although she had not spoken to anyone.
Adaora, she spun around.
Nothing.
Just the hum of a market that should not exist.
She swallowed hard and kept moving.
At the First Stall: A small wooden table sat under a blue lantern. Behind it, a young boy, maybe twelve, sorted through tiny bottles, each glowing like a firefly.
He looked normal until he spoke.
Looking for a trade?He asked, his smile too calm for someone his age.
Adaora stepped closer.
What do you… deal with?
The boy held up one of the bottles.
Regrets. People give them to me. I keep them safe.
Adaora blinked. Safe? You mean people can get rid of them entirely?
He shrugged.
Depends on the regret. Some are small and go easily. Some cling.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
But yours… yours is loud.
Adaora froze.
Loud?
It keeps shaking my shelves.
The bottles rattled slightly as if confirming it.
Adaora took a step back, her pulse racing.
How do you know anything about me?
The boy pointed to a faint glowing thread floating behind her, invisible until he motioned at it.
Everyone who enters the market brings their burden. You followed you here. It wants attention.
Adaora wrapped her arms around herself.
She did not tell him anything.
He already knew too much.
A Sudden Voice
Leave her, Timo.
Adaora turned.
An older woman tall, with grey braids and eyes like cracked mirrors approached the stall. Her presence bent the air. Even the floating lanterns dipped.
Timo, the boy, lowered his head.
Yes, Madam Ebele.
Adaora sensed immediate danger.
Madam Ebele observed her in silence for a moment.
Then she said softly:
Your mother stood where you stand now.
Adaora’s breath caught. My—my mother?
Madam Ebele nodded once.
Chinwe, A strong woman, a stubborn woman. She came to trade something she could not carry anymore.
Adaora’s throat tightened.
What did she trade?
Madam Ebele’s cracked-mirror eyes softened, but not kindly.
That is for you to discover.
Adaora stepped forward, desperation slipping through her voice.
Please. I came here to understand. I need to know what she did.
Ebele studied her for a long time, as though weighing her soul in her hands.
Finally, she said:
Then come.
She turned and walked away, not checking if Adaora followed.
Adaora hesitated just a second and then hurried after her.
Inside the Hidden Tent, Madam Ebele led her to a tent at the far edge of the market. Unlike the colorful stalls, this one was black made from cloth that swallowed the lantern light.
Ebele lifted the flap.
Enter,
Adaora stepped in.
Inside was darkness.
But not empty darkness; darkness that listened.
Ebele’s voice came from behind her.
Sit, A chair appeared from nowhere. Adaora sat, hands trembling.
In the center of the tent’s floor floated an object the size of a mango glowing softly like a sleeping heart.
Adaora whispered,
What’s that?
Ebele stepped into the glow.
A memory. Not yours. Not mine.
Adaora felt her chest tighten.
Is it my mother’s?
Ebele did not answer directly.
Instead, she said:
You will see what she wanted to forget. But it will cost you.
Adaora swallowed.
What price?
Ebele kneeled, her face inches from the glowing memory.
A truth. About yourself. One you’ve been running from.
Adaora’s breath quickened.
I—I’m not running from anything.
Ebele’s laugh was not unkind, but it cut through the dark.
Child, even the ground knows when you lie.
The tent pressed tighter, like the walls were moving closer.
Adaora shut her eyes, steadying her breathing.
Finally, she whispered:
What do I have to do?
Ebele stood.
Touch the memory.
Adaora’s hand shook as she reached toward the floating glow.
The moment her fingertips brushed it…
The world exploded into light.
The tent vanished.
And Adaora was somewhere else entirely.
- Writer
