12. Black Market

“And I PAID the farmer for his barn, AND his cow, AND his horses, IN FULL!” Adjusting his hat, “POINT being that I happen to KNOW the Verrdrä.”

CHOICES is the first book in the Chronicles of a Hero fantasy series. This is the story of Wendell P. Dipmier, who I’ve been writing about since 1990. I hope you’ll join me on this new adventure….as I tell the honest, complete story of this amazing 17 year old, exclusively on Life of Fiction.

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CHAPTER 12

During your travels through life, you may have experiences which seem random, crazy, or near impossible. It might be a look, a comment, or even someone you recognize. Some will tell you this is ‘déjà vu’. Others will dismiss the experience altogether.

I’m starting to believe that the Universe is talking to us. It comes through every look and every experience we have; leading, guiding, and prompting us along our path.

It is when we fail to recognize those gentler prompts that the Universe is forced to reach out to grab our attention. 

When I was told about this ‘Black Market’, naturally I assumed it was a place where people sold illegal things. That’s why it would seem natural for folks to keep its location a secret. But it wasn’t until I was standing at the entrance that I understood why no one knew where the market actually was. The entire enterprise wasn’t in a hidden cover or secluded village…in was an underground cavern.

At first I thought we’d come out the side of a mountain. The emerging from the tunnels was a deposit into a giant valley. At first glance, you’d honestly think you were staring into the clear night sky. Far from it.

All we’d done was to pass from a smaller cave into a much larger one.

Scattered lanterns and fires poked through the haze of smoke, bioluminescent snails feasting on stalactites overhead, bringing a dim light from the ceiling above. Through the haze, it looked like thousands of stars in a distant sky.

The Black Market’s private universe.

I stood on the edge of a shallow bowl, the wide path under my feet sloped downward, branching out to weave through the hovels and shacks of an overpopulated city. The dim light and smokey atmosphere cloaked the details of the market in secrecy, just waiting to be explored. I inhaled deeply and smiled to myself. You could taste the air, it was so thick. It clung to your flesh and clothes with its meaty, earthy flavor. Everything moved to the rhythm of a rumbling. Holding still, I cocked my head to the side and listened with my whole body. I could feel it through the soles of my sandals. The muffled sound of an underground river met the distant but clearer twang of a blacksmith’s hammer.

“Move along, kid,” a guard barked. “You’re in the way.” He pushed me with the flat side of his drawn blade.