Ghostwriters Tales

"Ah but these ain't yer evur-day, ordney spectacles sir." The street merchant continued in his grimy, cockney accent. The gentleman to whom he was pitching seemed less than apt to listen, but refrained from displaying his irritation out of politeness.

Many of his garbled words were lost in the din of the customarily loud, Apothria street noise. I made out the last of what he was saying to the gentleman.

"So ye see kind sir, I recon there ain't no good reason fer ye not buyin' these here, finely crafted spectacles."

As the sales pitch came to its grinding halt, the gentleman gave a polite nod and said, "Thank you kind sir for your... vivid description, but I am afraid I have no real use for your... fine spectacles. Good day to you, sir."

As the man turned to continue on his way the grimy merchant sneered and grimaced a poor attempt at a smile.

"Yer loss then, I recon, yeah, yer loss." He grumbled under his less than savory breath.

I had of course been listening to what I could from the back of the meager crowd gathered at the man's merchant table. What sparked my interest were the markings upon the ear piece that was immediately recognizable by a connoisseur of fine, rare antiquities such as my self, as the craftsman's mark (the symbol by which any maker identified him or herself).

I pushed and prodded my way to the front for a face to face audience with the grimy fellow.

"Pardon me?" I said tentatively, with as meek and soft a smile as I could muster. "I could not help overhearing about those spectacles." 

I tried to seem mildly interested to keep the man from upping the ante too awfully high. These fellows might be grimy but they can smell money from a good distance.

The fellow crinkled his nose a bit, grinned that atrocious mockery, and said.

“Oh what, these here that gentleman turned down? No good reason there, I tell ye. No good reason at all. An whut might ye be wantin’ ta know ‘bought these here visual wanders, there, kind sir?”

"Oh, I expect how much more I might see with them than I presently do, kind sir."

"Alrighty, I be liki' yer attitude, there sir, maybe I might jus' let ye try 'em on fer a spell, and maybe a pence or tree. That be sounden' good ta ye... He sneered me up and down, ...kind sir?" he finally uttered licking his darkly soiled, chapped lips.

“Well then, I suppose I wouldn’t mind trying them on for size.”

“As ye wish, sir. As ye wish.”

He grinned, and it appeared subtly, slightly more sinister than before. I shivered but shrugged it off. I knew what I was getting into, knew what I wanted, and felt the trill of that desire welling in me once more. If these were, certainly, those very spectacles that I had so long sought...well...then the power within them be bestowed upon me.

“Well, then. On with it.” I boomed with great gusto as I reached for the spectacles.

The merchant jerked them back and shot his other grubby hand forward.

“Ah, sir, but there is that slight matter of a few pence, jus’ a lil’ compensation fer me bein’ so kind as ta let ye try these lovelies on, eh!” He winked and grimaced even more grotesquely.

I reached mockingly reluctant for my deceptively meager coin purse – another such magical antiquity acquired by me many years afore.

“But of course, my good fellow. How forgetful of me. Forgetful indeed. I handed him three pence for his troubles, that somehow, later on, made their way back into my coin purse without a memory of that part of the transaction left to the merchant.

He brought the spectacles back into my reach and gingerly placed them in the palm of my hand. Their appearance was quite filthy, with scuffed and fogged up lenses. I pulled out my kerchief and rubbed them clean as I could, all while thee man scoffed and snickered with that sinister grin never fading.

I placed the temples over my ears and pushed the nose bridge up to eye level. Nothing amazing happened in that moment, as expected. I promptly removed the spectacles though, knowing full-well their power, and knowing they would soon be mine alone, as they would “bond” with me unto my death or their loss or otherwise. I decided to pay the fellow whatever he asked for them, though I kept a poker face in order to prevent him pricing them out of my range.

I pulled the glasses off and began to hand them back, saying,

“I suppose these will do. I do see somewhat better with them, though I wouldn’t mind if they were a little stronger. What do you say, my friend? Would Twenty brigunds be a fair price for them, then?”

He tried to hide his surprise at my somewhat high-end offer, which was slightly less than the going rate for used spectacles. Perhaps I should have offered less. This one was sharp, he was.

He paused a few moments, looked at me sidelong and said, “Well, seein’ as these particular kind o’ spectacles er’ a bit harder ta come by, I was thinkin’ more like Thrtee.”

Not as wise as I might think, or he knew my limits. Either way.

I said, “Well, that sounds a bit steep, maybe, say... Twenty-five eh? What-a ya say?”

I was wanting to get through this little game of chaffering more quickly.

“Well, they is nice, whut wid’ that golden inlay an all that. Whut ‘bought Twenty-eight, eh? Don’t they suite yer fancy a bit there?”

“Well, yes, I suppose...” I purposely stammered.

“Ah, come on then. I’m thinkin’ these’ll be lasten ye a a good sight long. Twenty-eight sounds right fair ta me then. Don’it ta ye...sir?”

“Well, I... Yes, I guess you’re right about that. Twenty-eight it is then.”

The man grinned big. He knew his victory was at hand. I nodded my agreement further and reached into my pocket for my not-so-magical coin purse, counted out Twenty-eight brigunds and handed them to the merchant without further ado. I tipped my hat to him, and as I turned away he blurted out,

“Oh yeah! Ye wouldn’ wanna be fergetten this!”

He reached behind him into a small, wooden crate and retrieved a musty, yet somehow shimmering, subtly golden hued, hinged box, handing it over with a wink. I was surprised that he didn’t try to pilfer more money out of me for it.

“Them won’t be lastin’ ye long wiffout this here, sir.”

He nodded with mock politeness, and turned to his meager crowd, never missing a beat spieling out another of his many, practiced sales pitches.

I turned and smiled victoriously to myself, knowing full well the magnitude and true value far beyond any monetary limits of these preternatural spectacles.

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© 2022, C. Bernier, Ghostwriters in the Sky, all rights reserved, copying of this written material in any form and under any circumstances is strictly forbidden

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