On the northern outskirts of Douglas Bridge lay a small house of curiosities. Sadah’s shop was the ground floor, and her dwelling sat above like a benevolent and equally watchful cat, all signs of life present and yet subdued in the eyes of passersby. If her home was a cat, then her shop was a dog, exuberant and full of energy apparent even to passing folks. And while both shop and home had similar features, far more people were familiar with the shop than the home.
The truth is, Sadah would have loved to welcome others into her home. Two days after the balloon flight, Sadah was busy in her shop, still a feeling of pride that she had assisted the young enthusiast in some way with her elaborate weavings that he had bought. She was replenishing the spice jars that day. Powdery puffs of fragrance rose in the air, lit by shafts of light that fell through the two large shop windows. Brooms of dried herbs hung like bats from the rafters. Baskets of various weaving designs and sizes clustered about the floor on one side, like squat sentinels. The air was fragrant, deep, and mysterious.
“What a pleasant shop you have.” a stranger appeared in the doorway, skin deeply lined by the sun and flowing garments travel-stained.
Sadah nodded. “Thank you and welcome, friend. What do you seek?”
The man looked over the spices, stopping to sniff the seed pods in one jar. “I am a stranger here,” he replied, as if that answered her question. Sadah looked at him searchingly.
“You are from the north, are you not?” when he did not respond, Sadah continued, “My grandmother came from there. All my life I have wished to see it. What is it like?”
The traveller gazed at her. She saw in his eyes a person in love with his land, a person who had not wished to leave but who had to search for something long missing. A person in search of an answer. An idea occurred to her that she could not ignore, as crazy at it might seem.
Sadah held up a key. “Stay,” she offered. “My shop is yours if it suits you. I will go north. You will have a place to stay while you search. Then one day, we will meet again in our country.”
Minutes later, Sadah left, armed with only a few belongings, provisions, and a sense of direction.
Tales of Enndover 6
To read the other Tales of Enndover, click on the category by that name on the right side of the blog.
Ugh! Can you tell I’ve hit a little writer’s block? Anyway, we’re almost through the challenge. Carry on, fellow bloggers!