The Grace Creek Market
Last night, I was phenomenally weary--of the world, of everything--by the time I got home from work. So I ate a small supper, did a couple of things (like feed the kitty horde) and went upstairs to bed. I turned my light out by 8:30pm. When I woke at 3:40am, five minutes before my alarm would go off, I had not moved at all.
That's because I visited the fleamarket/antique show/bazaar in Grace Creek last night. It makes sense there would be a place like this in Grace Creek; they have just about everything else, after all, including a shopping mall. I bought nothing (the lady reading fortunes assured me that if I saw something I couldn't live without, the means would be there to buy it), but I spent those hours asleep perusing almost all of the indoor/outdoor market--where you could buy close to anything imaginable, some of which probably wasn't quite legal.
It's a 24-hour/7-day-a-week place, but you don't have to be there at your booth all the time. If you let the people at the gate (you pay to get in; trinkets, really, a smooth stone from a creekbed, perhaps, or a piece of cracked pottery; nothing dear, just something old and worn will do) know that you'll not be at your booth/space, they'll take care of the selling for you.
Some vendors seem to live there. Some have built rather interesting "shops" to house their wares. I saw a few tiny house-type dwellings, and an actual garden in one space outdoors--the farmer's market direct. There were herbs and spices and antiques and handmade pottery and just about everything under the sun. There were weavers, and spinners and a blacksmith; and so many others I can't begin to list them. It was the perfect place for me to visit last night. I awoke quite refreshed.
I want to go back, but it seems I don't visit these spots in Grace Creek on consecutive nights, or, at least, I don't remember them if I do. I've only visited the general store twice, after all, after losing my way each time (which is the usual way I find myself in Grace Creek.) Last night, though, it seemed I walked. From somewhere. Perhaps I've found a place there with my stories and my looms. Hopefully there's a cat curled up on the bed beside me as I fall asleep to dream... about what? My life here? I think I need to make it a bit more interesting before it becomes more of a nightmare, don't you?
That's because I visited the fleamarket/antique show/bazaar in Grace Creek last night. It makes sense there would be a place like this in Grace Creek; they have just about everything else, after all, including a shopping mall. I bought nothing (the lady reading fortunes assured me that if I saw something I couldn't live without, the means would be there to buy it), but I spent those hours asleep perusing almost all of the indoor/outdoor market--where you could buy close to anything imaginable, some of which probably wasn't quite legal.
It's a 24-hour/7-day-a-week place, but you don't have to be there at your booth all the time. If you let the people at the gate (you pay to get in; trinkets, really, a smooth stone from a creekbed, perhaps, or a piece of cracked pottery; nothing dear, just something old and worn will do) know that you'll not be at your booth/space, they'll take care of the selling for you.
Some vendors seem to live there. Some have built rather interesting "shops" to house their wares. I saw a few tiny house-type dwellings, and an actual garden in one space outdoors--the farmer's market direct. There were herbs and spices and antiques and handmade pottery and just about everything under the sun. There were weavers, and spinners and a blacksmith; and so many others I can't begin to list them. It was the perfect place for me to visit last night. I awoke quite refreshed.
I want to go back, but it seems I don't visit these spots in Grace Creek on consecutive nights, or, at least, I don't remember them if I do. I've only visited the general store twice, after all, after losing my way each time (which is the usual way I find myself in Grace Creek.) Last night, though, it seemed I walked. From somewhere. Perhaps I've found a place there with my stories and my looms. Hopefully there's a cat curled up on the bed beside me as I fall asleep to dream... about what? My life here? I think I need to make it a bit more interesting before it becomes more of a nightmare, don't you?
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