I decided not to go shopping with my mother because of homework. I had a paper due in my creative writing class and it was going to take me all day to finish it. I'm not a writer and I often wondered why I took the class, but at times I enjoy letting others know my thoughts.

For the assignment, I had to write about everyday experiences and how time had changed them. The topic came slowly because I hadn't anything to write about, but soon I was typing away at the keyboard.

"Shopping" by Balinda H.P. Lovecraft

Having to shop has always been a woman's job, at-least that's the way it's always seemed. My mother shops for our house, perhaps because she's the cook or because she knows where the bargains hide. At any rate, we know men can't shop.

In olden times, it was probably different. The women that went to the market probably went for things other than food. The gardens and the livestock kept people in food then. So, what about even older times, the old-old times; in, let's say, Noah's Day. What would shopping have been like then?

I pictured a rugged market lined with bearded men, selling vegetables, goats, and supplies for travelers. Then, it occurred to me that in those days no-one heeded God's Word and lived for their own accord. Sure there was a market, but it took on a different color for me then.

With children linked together like slaves and human parts hanging on hooks, the bearded men, now macabre carnival barkers wielding heavy cleavers, imparted the bought to the buyers and traded in death. This quickly caused me to rebuke my own sanity. I wanted not to think of it.

Then, it was too late. I heard them. I heard them barking.

"Virgins for sell." And I saw them, with beards bouncing. "Fresh meat."

"Only five years old," another voice barked, "still untouched by man."

A giant stepped into the street then -- yes, there was giants then -- pointing at a fat, blonde boy in a wooded cage. "How much," he bellowed to the bearded man.

"That will be two."

At this, the boy started crying and rocking his cage.

"But to have as a slave, I will sell him for three."

The hairy giant handed forth an unknown amount and the boy's cage was opened. Seeing his freedom, he ran out, but the giant swooped him up and bit into him, blood squirting out like jam from a jelly doughnut.

Then, a shadow passed over and I looked hard into the sky, where a dark shape had formed. A giant bird, I thought. But, no, it had legs and arms.

It was an angel.

I had forgotten they lived with man in those days. But since they were there, they would need things from the market as well.

At the angel's arrival, all the barkers, with beards bouncing, started barking. "Virgins!! Virgins!!" The voices came from everywhere. "Just the right age. Never been touched by man!!"

It dawned on me then that the angels impregnated the women in those days and would have bought the young girls from the market while seducing the older women from their homes.

"I've got the perfect girl for you Ariel," a barker yelled loudly, obviously knowing the angel. "She's one from the tribes, perfect for you."

The angel turned toward the voice. With a booming, beautiful voice, which sounded like many choirs singing, he asked the barker if he would take a trade. "Of course, of course, come this way," the bearded barker pleaded.

Into the tent they went, the angel having to duck the upper flap.

When they exited the tent, I was watching one of the bearded men sell what looked like an internal organ to a haggardly old lady. Knowing better, I told myself it wasn't human.

I watched the angel fly out of sight, wondering what he traded for the girl he held in his arms. I didn't watch him long because the barking started again.

"Virgins!! Virgins!!"

I closed my eyes to the bright sun and tried not to feel the excruciating heat. It was miserable here in the desert. The wind did not move.

Another angel landed in the market, looming over everyone. But, this time, no one said anything. No one barked, for everyone was looking into the sky.

I felt the cold wind on my face.

I realized, it had started raining.
© 2007 Thad Presley