The Memory Auction

Chapter One- The Night the Market Appeared

The rain had stopped hours ago, but the streets still glistened beneath the amber glow of the streetlights.
Evelyn Cross shoved her hands into the pockets of her worn jacket as she walked home from the late shift at the bookshop. The city was quiet, the kind of silence that only arrived after midnight, when even the traffic seemed to hold its breath.
She took the same shortcut she always did.
An old alley squeezed between two abandoned buildings.
Halfway through, she froze.
A warm breeze drifted across her face.
That wasn't possible.
It was the middle of October.
Then came the music.
Soft violins.
A distant piano.
Laughter.
The alley should have ended at a rusted brick wall.
Instead...
There was a gate.
It hadn't been there yesterday.
Towering black iron stretched toward the night sky, wrapped in twisting vines that shimmered like silver beneath the moon. Above the entrance hung a weathered wooden sign.
THE MEMORY MARKET
OPEN UNTIL SUNRISE
Evelyn blinked.
The words remained.
Someone laughed beyond the gate.
Curiosity pulled harder than fear.
She stepped closer.
The gates creaked open on their own.
Inside was another world.
Lanterns floated through the air without strings. Cobblestone streets wound between hundreds of stalls, each glowing with impossible colours. People wandered quietly, carrying glass bottles filled with swirling lights.
Some bottles glowed gold.
Others burned crimson.
One was completely black.
No one looked surprised to be there.
As though this place had always existed.
A child ran past clutching a tiny crystal jar.
"I traded my nightmares!" he shouted happily before disappearing into the crowd.
Evelyn frowned.
A nightmare?
A woman nearby carefully placed something invisible into an old wooden box.
The shopkeeper smiled.
"Thank you."
The woman paused.
"What was my husband's name again?"
Her smile faded.
She searched her mind.
Nothing.
She walked away in silence.
Evelyn's heart skipped.
"What...?"
"First visit?"
The voice came from behind her.
She spun around.
An elderly man in a charcoal suit stood beside a stall overflowing with empty glass bottles. His silver eyes seemed almost luminous.
"You look confused," he said with a gentle smile.
"I think I'm dreaming."
"They all say that."
"What is this place?"
"The only market where memories are worth more than gold."
Evelyn laughed nervously.
"You're joking."
Without another word, the old man reached into a wooden drawer.
He pulled out a tiny bottle.
Inside floated a golden light.
He uncorked it.
Instantly, Evelyn smelled cinnamon.
She heard children laughing.
She saw flashes of snow, a roaring fireplace, and a little girl opening a birthday present.
Then it was gone.
The old man sealed the bottle.
"A stranger's happiest memory," he said.
"They sold... that?"
"They needed the money."
Evelyn stared at the glowing bottle.
Her chest tightened.
If memories could be sold...
Could they be bought?
Could someone remember something they had forgotten?
Could she remember...
Her brother?
Five years ago, twelve-year-old Noah Cross had vanished without leaving a single clue.
No body.
No witnesses.
No answers.
Only questions.
Questions that had haunted Evelyn every single day since.
"What would someone pay," she whispered, "to remember someone they've lost?"
The old man's smile disappeared.
For the first time, fear crossed his face.
"You shouldn't ask that."
"Why not?"
"Because someone might answer."
Before she could speak again, every lantern in the market flickered.
The music stopped.
The crowd fell silent.
Then a deep bell echoed across the streets.
One.
Two.
Three.
The old man's eyes widened.
"Run."
"Why?"
"He knows you're here."
"Who?"
The old man looked toward the enormous black building at the centre of the market.
Its doors were slowly opening.
From the darkness emerged a tall figure dressed entirely in black, wearing a smooth golden mask that reflected the lantern light.
No face.
No expression.
Only silence.
Everyone in the market lowered their heads.
The stranger turned.
And looked directly at Evelyn.
Even through the mask...
She knew he was smiling.