Midnight Auction - Halloween Micro Fic Challenge entry

[Rei-chan]

This is my entry to Anchoku's challenge for a micro-fic for Halloween. Not my best but the setting and situation wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it. Here we go.

“Come one; come all to our Dark Auction upon this All Hallows Eve.” A portly looking man with a genial face and a personable air stood there on the side of the street barking about this event. That is what caught my attention as I walked down the street this night. As a writer I often find myself looking about for inspiration and it seemed I might have found it. Seeing as I had heard about this event from a friend who had attended one last year I now felt the urge to go double.

You may ask yourself who I am but I would tell you that is hardly important. I’m merely a mildly successful author of macabre tales and standard fantasies. You have probably never heard of me as I seem to only be popular locally for the most part. About the only place my writing goes beyond this city is into a few magazines here or there. I believe the lack of broader appeal can be found in that none of my stories contain a hint of romance. I’ll admit I believe that is because I’m rather foreign to it myself and it is hard to write of such things. Currently I am suffering from the bane of all who work in the same field I do, the writer’s block now two weeks from a deadline for a new book. So to clear it I was following some half remembered anecdote of a dear friend to observe something he claimed was truly wondrous.

Having come out tonight not too long after the clock had struck 11 o’clock in the evening I proceeded to the edge of town near where a theater used to do quite a lot of business in my youth but is now little more than building awaited to be turned into splinters. I suppose the town still hasn’t found a reason to demolish it yet and perhaps wouldn’t before it would become a historical location. Similar buildings line the street here as what passes for our homeless survive either inside or along the alleyways of this region of town. But I have digressed and I return to my tale.

The barker was a normal enough looking man even if something about him felt off. He stood around 5’8-9” judging by how much I stood above his height. I’m not a very tall man myself but I could tell he was a bit shorter than I even as I begin to walk in his direction. I believe the man must have been a dracophile though since a dragon adorned all jewelry or button upon his person. The coat looked more like what would have been at home in my stories or a few centuries in the past during the age of nobles and royal courts than this modern era. As I approached I could see that the buttons on the cuffs themselves held the depiction, or where they links? I can’t remember for certain what to call them. Without my notes I can never quite place what is up with the clothing.

I approached the barker as he continued to invite anyone to attend his auction. After a moment he addressed me directly since it seemed little if none of the others present were going to pay him any attention.

“So son, would you like to attend our Dark Auction? Perhaps join us and purchase for yourself a change in fate? Our items are all authentic I assure you.”

Admittedly I was dubious of any ‘dark’ auction and doubly so of any that would be upon this night but I felt no reason not to attend. It was why I was here on this street after all anyway. My friend had insisted that his purchase last year was why he had had such a booming year with his business though he wouldn’t tell me what exactly it was that he bought. Personally I was here simply to get some inspiration. The whole situation smacked of something that could at least get my creative juices flowing and perhaps break me through my current doldrums and writer’s block.

“Very well sir. Can you tell me how to get to your auction?”

The rotund barker smiled as his eyes alit in amusement at my question. He, if possible, became even friendlier in behavior after my request.

“I’ll do you one better my young friend. Follow me to our hall and enjoy the show.”

With that said he beckoned me to follow him as he began to walk into the shadows of this ally. You might be thinking I would have to be stupid to follow him and perhaps you are right but I did anyway. My interest was already too piqued about this to turn around now and so I followed. The man seemed to almost literally fade in and out in the shadows as he led me along, turning in my direction every now and then to make sure I followed. He reminded me a lot of those characters often times used in a movie to cover the role of the trickster or the intervening fate that lead them onto either greatness or damnation. This only raised my interest in what I was about to see. After a time and having long ago left the alleyway’s other end I found myself heading up a rather steep hill.

At this point I began to note, much as I had expected, that they had it done up in Halloween cliché. On either side of the hill was a graveyard though I will give them points for it being a real graveyard rather than a fake one. I should know as I visit this particular one often enough to visit an old friend of mine from high school. A shame she didn’t get to see the world we now have all these years after. But that isn’t important now. As we proceeded up the hill I saw the pumpkin patch I knew to grow here already fixed up in the spirit of the holiday. Every one of them had been carved into a jack o’ lantern of varying expression and lit from within. I will say though that I wonder where they purchased candles that were treated to make them give off such an otherworldly light. Still, I figured it best to play along with the show rather than interrupt to satisfy my curiosity.

Atop the hill stood what appeared to be a rather old building of eccentric design. I believe I recall as a child hearing about it belonging to an old woman who used to live in this area. Apparently she had it designed in varying ways both outside and in simply because she was never happy with the idea of it looking too uniform throughout. Personally I am of the theory, now that I am older, that a few generations had lived here and just built on according to the popular style of the time. The door opened readily enough as my host turned the knob and with a smile and a bow he gestured me inside.

Into the darkness I went of course, ignoring all the images my head were filled with at this act. Sometimes it’s a pain to be a writer as your imagination is a bit too active. Every little gesture or event if pondered for a moment spirals into a tale of madness, dementia, or the fantastic. After a moment I spotted the glow of candles ahead and went in that direction. There beside a lit candelabrum was a door into what had to have been at one point either a dining room or a ball room. Seeing as this town wasn’t quite so old as to have held nobles I’m inclined to assume it a dining room. Within that room radiated more of the soft glow of candles flickering and providing light. I entered within and noticed that quite a few were already here. It would seem they were all monsters but that should be expected given the night. Very good costumes might I add as the wolf man to my right looked almost down right convincing. On my left stood what looked like a Dracula and his three pets as well as a witch a few feet ahead. I would imagine all present had spent a small fortune on makeup, spirit gum, and other items to array themselves in celebration of the night. I immediately felt a little under dressed and hoped I didn’t ruin any of the other attendees fun having arrived arrayed in only my normal street clothes. It would seem though that they were mostly conversing with each other and left me alone.

After having spent some time observing the others in the room I noticed a stage like platform in the front. It smacked of something temporary and at that even rushed as I could tell it was hastily prepared. I wonder if they even had permission to use this house but felt that it was no matter of mine. Before I had a chance to really ponder about it much though; the barker from the street stood out upon the stage.

“Ghouls and ghosts, gentlemen and ladies, I invite you all to our Dark Auction. As you all know all bids are final and you will pay for your purchases this night. And on that note we shall open up the show tonight with this puppy.”

After a moment a young lady who appeared quite familiar, though I couldn’t see her face, carted out on a trolley something I should have expected but was still surprised by. Upon that wheeled cart sat a monkey’s claw which had me almost swallow my tongue in shock. While I am sure we are all aware of what those do in fiction and while I knew it really would possess no power I still was terrified of the object. All that could be done with such a thing should it work rambled through my head. Have I mentioned how annoying it is to be a writer at times? I could already see my writer’s block cracking and probably dissipating by the end of the night if this was their opening item. I held myself quite though as I wanted to see what would come up next. I seem to recall the wolf man being the proud winner of this particular bidding.

After a moment where the woman took the item off stage the now dubbed auctioneer looked in my direction with an amused face before telling us what the next item was. Next up, again carted on stage by that same young woman, was a stuffed raven. At least I thought it was at first until it moved. It opened its beak and rather than the expected caw all that was heard was “Nevermore.” As a writer of the macabre you will forgive me for almost going through the roof in excitement at this. If that was truly the raven talking rather than an elaborate show I would have been snatched it up in a heartbeat. I was certain though that there was something in the cart that the woman pressed as the bird opened its beak to make is seem as if it could talk. So naturally I paid close attention to this as there was something of a fierce war over it between one of ‘Dracula’s’ floozies and the witch. I was surprised at the heights their bids raised to until I figured they may be part of this event. Convinced that some of the attendees must be here to help set up the whole thing to make it more convincing I consoled myself that no one was wasting their money.

Having finished that sale next up came a typewriter that the auctioneer insisted was cursed. Supposedly whatever was typed upon it had a tendency to come to pass but at the cost of the life of the person using it. Each thing that was created was one more year less of life for the person using it. Now this just sounded borderline cliché but again this holiday is rife with them so I couldn’t complain. I was tempted to accept that as an idea for my next story but I seem to recall a more famous author having done something similar before. While I was busy pondering both that and what ifs of such an item really working Dracula bought it.

At this point I am fairly certain I knew the girl who was carting out the items. I made my way closer to the stage passing a person dressed as the swamp creature or whatever you may wish to call it and three more women who appeared to be rather beautiful if similar. I suppose they were here as the three sisters from various works of mythology, legend, and tales. While I will kick myself later for not noting exactly which ones they were I continued upon my journey. As I did so though I noted that the auctioneer’s smile grew the closer I got.

The woman who was helping by carting out the items had hair and an outfit that now brought to mind memories as she stepped out. Those memories most bittersweet and of a lost friend who meant more than most everything I had achieved so far. I still ponder what happened to the drunk driver after he got out of prison all those years ago. If the world were just I would imagine he too is now taking a dirt nap but now isn’t the time for bitterness. I instead lost myself in trying to see her face which was kept out of the light somehow. I believe the next item up for bid was a supposed cursed lamp that contained a genie that would take your soul if you died while still owning it. I was more than familiar with that old tale so I let that item go.

At this point I already knew what I would write tonight. A tale of a man who had gone through all the cursed items in the universe to bring back his love only to fail was going to be my contribution. Still, I had to attend the rest of this auction as the items for bid while familiar and somewhat terrifying to my imagination were amusing to observe. After a host of other items ranging from more cursed to bring suffering to the one who held them and a few that were of some minor mystical obscurity the auction began to wind down. I was now beside the stage as with every new item I moved closer and passed even more strange and exotic costumed individuals.

“Our last item up tonight is this.” Our host now said as out stepped into the light the young woman who had been helping. After waiting for a moment to make sure all attention was focused he continued. “One human soul is our final item up tonight. This young woman died not twelve years ago three weeks from now. A victim in a traffic accident involving one drunken man and walking late at night. Any of you willing to bid something of equal value for this one human? How about you vampire’s in the back? Willing to trade in one of your servants for an eternal blood doll? How about you witch? A new apprentice to train in your craft? How about the young gentlemen here in the front? All you need to do is outbid all present and she will get to live once more. Walk upon the Earth and enjoy life once again rather than continue to decay and rot under it.”

I was admittedly horrified as indeed this was her. Eliza my old friend was standing there upon the stage as an item up for auction. It would seem this wasn’t some obscure oddity of an event designed to heighten the amusement of the holiday and was the real thing. Before I could let that realization sink in I heard the starting bids and the recommendations of the auctioneer rattled in my head. I can’t let those monsters, as I surmise they truly were having her. Perhaps I wouldn’t make it out of her alive with her as they might eat me sure but I had to try. The bids were already passed money and moving onto more occult offerings.

“One harpy’s tongue and a dragon’s talon. That is the currently highest bidder. Who here can bid one better? Remember we do take souls as well as servitude.”

Noting that servitude was an option and highly preferable to wagering my soul I was lifting my arm to bid. The three sisters from earlier though bid the servitude of one of their own. Now I really had no choice. My soul for my friend or to walk away was the only options left. Which would I choose? I sighed and chose to ….

[Anchoku]

Nice story, Rei-chan. You used more words than I would have but I really liked how you wrapped it up at the end with the main character having to choose between giving up his soul and condemning his dead girlfriend's. It was a very good idea ending the story with a cliffhanger.

I had fun with this little challenge, Rei-chan, and hope you did, too. Perhaps a fluffy end-of-year story will be my next micro-fic challenge. The idea is (for me) to practice writing in different styles for different genre. Maybe I'll even try a short spoof challenge using famous movies. (Hm... Sisterhood of the Talking Pale Green Pants, a cross-over from Dr. S. with elements of HP where five friends buy a pair of pants to share at a magic shop intending to write about their experiences while wearing them but find out the pants will tell each other, at length, about all the indecent or humiliating experiences the others go through while swearing them to secrecy about the pants' real ability. In other words, the pants blackmailed them into silence all because the pants were lonely.)

[Rei-chan]

Yeah, I'm a bit on the wordy side which is a bit of a problem at times. I enjoyed it as well and thank you for praise. I look forward to seeing any other challenges you might put up as I think people don't propose them enough. They are great writing exercises.