Writer's Block Challenge 82

Photo by: Mickey Mills - 2009
All Rights Reserved

The Shop That Sold Everything 

The man stood outside the shop, and surveyed it thoughtfully.  It was a sunny day, though he could hear the breeze around him.  He looked at the shop, with its colourful posters, its display which was neither exotic nor tacky, but somehow a mixture of both; with its slogans painted in bright yellow above the entrance (he didn’t understand what most of them meant, which deepened the mystery from his point of view); with its ragged shop front composed of wooden pillars that did not look as solid as they should. 

In front of the shop was a donkey.  It was a perfectly white donkey that minded its own business, sniffing around for a snack that it would surely never find in that hard, dusty road.  Next to the donkey was an orange traffic cone.  The stranger frowned as he looked upon this object.  Was this the thing that would take the payment he did bring?  There was one way to find out. 

The man took out a piece of paper, and read what had been written upon it – words that he had been told to speak when he knew the time was right.  Something told him that that time had now come.  

When he read the words aloud he did not hear his own voice.  Instead he heard the voice of another speaking through his mouth, and uttering a language he had never heard.  When he spoke these words, the donkey stopped sniffing around and looked directly at him.  And the wind picked up at that moment, and howled softly in his ears, as if the world had stopped what it was doing and was letting him know he had its attention as well. 

The shopkeeper came up though the road in front of him, rising up from the tarmac.  Or perhaps he materialised directly beneath the orange cone that stood in front of the shop.  

The shopkeeper was very tall and very thin, and wore a white shirt with brown braces and black, crumpled trousers.  Round spectacles adorned his drawn face, the lenses of which obscured his eyes; and he sported the orange cone that he had risen under as a hat.  When he saw the newcomer he rubbed his hands together with glee.  “Ah,” he declared, “a customer!” 

The shopkeeper stepped forward and appraised the stranger, a grin alighting his features.  “And what can I do for you this fine day, good sir?” he asked. 

The stranger buried the surprise he felt at the manner of the shopkeeper’s appearance, and strove to answer the question that had been put to him.  But his reply was hesitant.  “I have need… of one of your remedies,” he stated. 

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes as he looked at the stranger, and he stroked his chin.  At that moment the stranger felt the sensation as if someone, or something, was not looking at him but through him.  “Did someone break the heart of your ass?” the shopkeeper asked. 

The donkey looked over at the shopkeeper.  “I have no broken heart,” it said. 

The shopkeeper shot the donkey a mildly irritated glance.  “Not you,” he replied, “the customer.” 

“Oh”, said the donkey.  

The shopkeeper looked back towards the stranger, who gave a heartfelt sigh.  “Yes,” the newcomer concurred.  The stranger realised that hiding anything from the shopkeeper would be not only pointless, but counter productive to his purpose.  So he was completely honest.  “Yes, someone broke my heart.” 

The shopkeeper nodded with an expression of satisfaction and understanding.  “I get so many through here with that malady…” he intoned.  He stepped up to the stranger and reached out to place his hand on the newcomer’s shoulder.  The stranger glanced down at the shopkeeper’s hand, but otherwise he did not react.  “Beautiful, was she?” whispered the shopkeeper. 

The stranger sighed again.  “Yes, she was beautiful,” he confirmed. 

The shopkeeper nodded again and looked down, solemnly.  Then he inhaled sharply and looked back at the stranger.  “Choose another, did she?” he asked. 

When the stranger answered, his breathing had become more laboured, and he gritted his teeth.  “Yes”, he whispered, as if the words were being torn from him by force, “She chose another…” 

“Hmmm…” said the shopkeeper.  He walked round until he stood behind the stranger, and stroked his chin again.  The wind moaned to itself quietly, and the donkey blinked slowly as it chewed the cud.  

The shopkeeper’s face appeared next to the stranger, almost touching the customer’s cheek.  “Did she cheat on you?” he asked. 

“I…” began the stranger.  He ground to a halt.  The man glanced to his left to where the stranger had put his face, and a look of distaste entered his eyes.  Though he realised he could not lie, he did not see why had had to divulge the details of everything that tormented him.  “… I would prefer not to say.  I don’t see how it’s your business anyhow.” 

The donkey raised its eyebrow, and the wind moaned in a deeper voice at this.  It seemed that the world evinced surprise at the stranger’s show of reluctance.  But the stranger did not see why his reticence should be scrutinised like this.  He was willing to pay the shopkeeper’s price.  Was that not enough? 

“You will tell me,” murmured the shopkeeper, “or we will not do business…” 

The stranger quailed.  So he did have to reveal everything after all.  Part of him admonished himself for his stupidity and stubbornness.  After all, would it not be worth it in the end? 

“It was…” he began reluctantly, “it was…” 

His bottom lip trembled, but he stilled it.  

“It was unrequited love…” 

“Unrequited love…” repeated the shopkeeper, quietly and thoughtfully.  The wind sighed. 

The shopkeeper stepped back and clapped his hands in delight.  “Unrequited love?!” he said excitedly, “that’s my very favourite kind!  Oh, sir, oh sir I have just the remedy for you, yessir, just the remedy…” he paused, “of course I’ll have to charge your ass…” 

“Why?” asked the donkey, “I need no cure for love.” 

“Not you,” said the shopkeeper, his tone of irritation much increased, “the customer.” 

“Oh,” said the donkey. 

The shopkeeper turned back to the stranger, “so,” he declared, his voice business like, but with the hint of a challenge, “do you know my price?  And are you willing to meet it?” 

The stranger nodded solemnly.  “I know your price, good shopkeeper,” he said, his voice like a recitation, “and I will meet it.” 

“Good, good,” said the shopkeeper in delight.  “Ah, unrequited love,” he said in a reflective tone, “the province of the ever young and innocent, so sweet, and so very bitter, and so sought after by my clients…” when he spoke these words, the shopkeeper became lost in his own thoughts, and it seemed he was speaking to himself.  The donkey stared at him, its expression an approximation of resentment. 

Eventually the shopkeeper appeared to shake himself from his contemplation, and he addressed the stranger again, his voice and demeanour animated with passion. “But I have such a remedy for you, sir,” he declaimed, “such a remedy…” he gestured like an actor beholding something on an invisible stage, “it will draw your malady from you like a poison…” he declaimed, “and leave you in the warm embrace…” he stood next to the customer now and gestured towards an invisible revelation, “of comfortable numbness…” 

The shopkeeper glanced back at the customer, “does that sound good to you?” he asked. 

It was then that the shopkeeper became aware that the donkey was still staring at him, and still carried an expression of resentment.  “What are you looking at?” he demanded. 

The donkey did not reply, but continued to regard the shopkeeper with an unblinking gaze.  The wind sighed. 

The shopkeeper folded his arms and addressed the animal with quite menace.  “You’d better point the stare of your ass in another direction,” he growled. 

The donkey glanced at the stranger, “You talking to the customer?” it asked. 

“No,” answered the shopkeeper, “I’m talking to you.” 

“Oh,” said the donkey.  It looked away. 

The shopkeeper smiled again and beckoned the stranger towards the dark entrance of his place of business.  “So come now good sir,” he said merrily, “it’s time to come and to heal what ills you, and then I’ll have my price.” With that the shopkeeper skipped through the entrance to his shop.  He gave one last instruction of “don’t be shy,” and disappeared inside. 

Slowly, the stranger walked towards the shop, following the being who had beckoned him inside.  And it seemed to the man that as he approached the door that it widened to admit him; and at the same time the darkness of the shop’s interior increased.  The customer stepped on to the threshold. 

“I wouldn’t go in there…” said the donkey. 

The stranger froze.  He turned and looked towards the animal, who returned his gaze meaningfully. 

“…if I were you,” said the donkey.  

The wind moaned again; its voice was rising in intensity, though at the same the voice remained distant, as though it were a powerful but impotent presence in this moment.  A clump of tumbleweed gamboled through the empty streets as the would-be customer and the white donkey regarded each other. 

“But you are not me,” said the man. 

The donkey turned away from the man.  “You were warned,” it said dismissively. 

The man disappeared inside the shop. 

For a time there was quiet again, with the exception of with wind’s intermittent sighs.  

The donkey returned to its snuffling, looking around for a snack that it would surely never find in that hard, dusty road.  After a few minutes the orange cone - that the shopkeeper had worn as he walked into the shop - materialised again on the hard ground, and sat quietly next to the donkey as it sniffed around the road.  It was as if the scene that had played itself out so recently had never occurred. 

A woman appeared, standing in front of the shop and gazing around uncertainly.  The wind sighed again, but the donkey did not look up.  

Slowly, the woman drew forth a crumpled piece of paper.