A Market For Circumstance ::[Flyss & Sockie]::
Mar 10, 2018 4:31:49 GMT -5
Post by Sockie on Mar 10, 2018 4:31:49 GMT -5
I'm sitting in the kitchen by myself, flipping pages in a book I am not reading, with my face pointed clearly out the window to the grassy grazing land. A stance any member of my family would recognise as 'don't bother me, I'm sulking.' About what doesn't matter. Don't bother me. I'm sulking.
Despite the familiarity, my mother still walks into the room brandishing her regular demanding tone.
"Hesper, I need you to run to the market. Your Father wants chicken in his pasta for his birthday." My mother digs around in her bag for the little coin purse, then gives me what she considered fair for chicken, plus a little padding because she admits I'm a dunce at haggling. If she went herself it wouldn't be an issue. If she sent Hansel it wouldn't be an issue. But I know why she sends me instead - because she's doing what she has always done. The longer I'm out of the house the longer I'm away from Father.
"Oh, and Hess, if there's enough leftover after the chicken would you buy a thing of blackberries? I read that they improve brain function," Hansel adds. Maybe you need them more than you think, Good Brother. But I promise him I will look around, if there is anything left after I skillfully wrestle a chicken 's price tag into submission.
By the time I reach the door my mother and brother have stepped back into the study, and I step outside with a sigh of relief. I could remember the days when it took half an hour for my mother to finish compiling what she needed me to get. Not that there was much to consider, but that she couldn't make up her mind. That was when there were more of us living at home.
I breathe in. The fresh air, the sun, and a view of the grazing fields without the glare of a glass window are among my favourite things. For an hour, I walk the old dirt roads, and I slowly pass the widely spaced houses on the way to the market. The closer I am, the more frequently I pass a house, until finally the only houses left are the small merchant homes packed side-by-side between shops. At the square, stalls are set up with slightly more room.
It seemed to be quite a slow day. There were people around, but more often crossing paths towards some destination than stopping to buy or trade. Nothing like the bustle during sheep sheering, or the rush of an autumn harvest. This was the dead time between seasons, but, luckily, season doesn't dictate when to buy a chicken.
I walk around a little, seeing what kind of things were out today. A few people asked me what I was looking for, but it was enough of a response to smile and move on. Despite coming with a mission, getting home quickly is not high on my list of priorities. Supper won't be for another nine hours or so.
At last, I see a stall for beef and poultry. I walk slowly towards it while I glance around for other sellers - no one near. The woman looks nice enough.
"How much is your chicken?" I ask.
Despite the familiarity, my mother still walks into the room brandishing her regular demanding tone.
"Hesper, I need you to run to the market. Your Father wants chicken in his pasta for his birthday." My mother digs around in her bag for the little coin purse, then gives me what she considered fair for chicken, plus a little padding because she admits I'm a dunce at haggling. If she went herself it wouldn't be an issue. If she sent Hansel it wouldn't be an issue. But I know why she sends me instead - because she's doing what she has always done. The longer I'm out of the house the longer I'm away from Father.
"Oh, and Hess, if there's enough leftover after the chicken would you buy a thing of blackberries? I read that they improve brain function," Hansel adds. Maybe you need them more than you think, Good Brother. But I promise him I will look around, if there is anything left after I skillfully wrestle a chicken 's price tag into submission.
By the time I reach the door my mother and brother have stepped back into the study, and I step outside with a sigh of relief. I could remember the days when it took half an hour for my mother to finish compiling what she needed me to get. Not that there was much to consider, but that she couldn't make up her mind. That was when there were more of us living at home.
I breathe in. The fresh air, the sun, and a view of the grazing fields without the glare of a glass window are among my favourite things. For an hour, I walk the old dirt roads, and I slowly pass the widely spaced houses on the way to the market. The closer I am, the more frequently I pass a house, until finally the only houses left are the small merchant homes packed side-by-side between shops. At the square, stalls are set up with slightly more room.
It seemed to be quite a slow day. There were people around, but more often crossing paths towards some destination than stopping to buy or trade. Nothing like the bustle during sheep sheering, or the rush of an autumn harvest. This was the dead time between seasons, but, luckily, season doesn't dictate when to buy a chicken.
I walk around a little, seeing what kind of things were out today. A few people asked me what I was looking for, but it was enough of a response to smile and move on. Despite coming with a mission, getting home quickly is not high on my list of priorities. Supper won't be for another nine hours or so.
At last, I see a stall for beef and poultry. I walk slowly towards it while I glance around for other sellers - no one near. The woman looks nice enough.
"How much is your chicken?" I ask.
