Shopping for Stories

How a Man that was looking for a Gift found it.

I stopped for a moment and walked in. I heard the bell on top of the door ring. The room was dark and quiet. Nothing moved among the shelves and pieces of furniture. I looked around a bit, and decided to try to call for aid.

“Excuse me… Hello! I’m looking for a gift!”

Only silence answered me. I walked towards one of the shelves. In there I found small wood carvings, some old looking candle holders and two books written in a language I had never seen before. I tried again.

“Hello! Is anyone there? I’m looking for a gift!”

“Well we don’t have those here, not since last Christmas, and those are mine. Not for sale.”

I jumped forward and hit my head in a lamp. Behind me was a smiling old man. He was very short, with a short grey beard that seemed to have never contacted water and a pair of thick glasses, hiding some weird yellowish eyes. He was wearing a grey suit that had seen better days and a multicolour scarf. I rubbed my head.

“I’m sorry, sir, you frightened me, you see.”

“Good, good, that’s what I was going for.”

He laughed.

“So, can I help you with anything? I have no gifts here, but maybe I can convince you to buy another of our many items.”

“With gift, I meant I am looking to buy something to offer to another person you see.”

“I do, I do. Be warned, though. I do have colourful gift wraps here. That would make it possible to buy gifts here, and we don’t sell those.”

“I see.”

I did not see at all. This crazy old man was getting weirder by the minute.

“This store was recommended to me by a friend of a friend, so I thought that it would an interesting place to buy a g… thing.”

“We do have some great things, knickknacks, pieces and items. What are you looking for?”

“Well, it’s for a lady…”

“Lover, friend or family?”

“Well, it is complicated to…”

“Lover, then. I’m happy for you, kid. Come, come, I have a great selection of things that lovers like.”

Kid? I followed him through the store, hitting my head a few more times in the process. We stopped at a counter, were he took a few items and placed them on a table.

“First, here is a skull of a cannibal.”

“Excuse me?”

There stood a human skull, very greyish and creepy as hell. There was no way of knowing if the former possessor of the skull was cannibal or not, but the thing looked very authentic.

“Consider yourself excused. Now this item is extremely rare, you see, cannibals tend to disappear when civilization or their hunger takes a hold of them. I mean they eat each other. This one is in mint condition, prone to entice any young lady, or lad if that’s your thing, that you are a suitable reproductive partner.”

I was dumfounded.

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Impressive, I know. I assure you it’s real. I can pass a certificate of authenticity, with your name as the one who finished him off, if you like.”

“As impressive as it is, I don’t think it’s what I am looking for.”

“Fair enough. Next, then.”

He took a small case and opened it. Inside were ten golden small rings.

“Here are some rings that belonged to a pharaoh.”

“Which one?”

“Rajatecutash the Eleventh.”

“I don’t think that one with such a name existed…”

“As if you knew the names of all pharaohs. Well, these rings have each a compartment, you see, and inside are pieces of the wives of the pharaoh.”

“You mean… body parts?”

“Hairs, teeth, I think there’s some skin and one has a piece of an eyeball.”

I was feeling nauseated.

“I don’t think that is what I’m looking for either. In fact, no body parts, please.”

“Are you sure? I can make a discount.”

“I am pretty sure.”

“Bah. Well, what about this?”

He placed a knife on the table.

“This was a ritual knife used by Satanists to commit a mass suicide plot in the beginning of the twentieth century. In great condition, with a bit of blood. It’ll come out eventually.”

“Why would I want such a horrible thing?”

“Well, it did kill around two hundred people. And it’s old. Very interesting, you see.”

I did not. I was beginning to think this had been a complete waste of time.

“Ok, ok. You’re the squeamish type. So, you want something more boring.”

“Please.”

“How about a book?”

“Not a bad idea.”

He took a volume from a shelf.

“This one came from Spain. It’s in Spanish.”

“No kidding.”

“It belonged to the Spanish Inquisition. It’s a torture manual. You can get the truth out of any heretic you want with this. Very educational to young ladies. I have some tools that go with the book, but you probably don’t want them, being delicate as you are.”

“Come on, that can’t be original.”

“I can pass you a certificate.”

I sighted. I turned and was getting ready to leave, when he called me back.

“Wait! I have one more thing to show you.”

“What, the gun that shot Lincoln? A human finger in a jar?”

“No, those sold out. A necklace.”

“Ok, ok. Show it to me then.”

He brought me a red case. Inside was a thin, golden necklace, with a delicate little red stone in the middle.

“It’s… beautiful!”

“And cheap enough for you to afford. Only sixty units.”

“So what’s the deal with it? Who was strangled to death while wearing it?”

“No one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It belonged to a young woman that came to me one day. Terribly distressed, she was. She offered me the thing for ten units, I gave her twenty and a meal. I remember like it was yesterday…”

“What happened to her?”

“She used the money to escape the federal agents and returned to China, were she was hailed as a heroin for stealing nuclear weapon plans. She still writes sometimes.”

“So it belonged to a Communist spy?”

“Well, she was a beautiful spy.”

I took a breath and decided to take it.

“I’ll take it. Here’s the money.”

“Thank you, my child.”

I went to the door and readied myself to go once again into the outside world.

“Just one question, old man.”

“What, kiddo?”

“Were any of those stories true?”

“Who knows? Even if some details are exaggerated, people love things that have a good story connected to them. That’s what I sell, you see. Stories that come with a bonus thing, knickknack, piece or item. And they love it. Not as much as they should, though. Business has been slow.”

“I see.”

“The skull’s real, though.”

“I’m sure it is. Well, I’ll be back, old man, thank you.”

“See you later, sonny. Bring me a story next time, will you?”

Smiling and holding my gift, I exited the store, with less money in my pocket, but with a story to tell. So, what do you think of my gift now, dear?