James Gardner - A Changeable Market in Slaves

Still, through no fault of his own, he found he was bankrupt. And he had no idea what to tell his family.

A man sits beside a pond. It is night. The sky is full of stars, but he does not see them.

He throws pebbles into the water one by one. Each one gives a blooping splash, and rippling circles glide outward from the point of impact. When the ripples have died down enough that he cannot see them in the starlight, he throws another pebble.

His name is T’Prin. This afternoon, creditors came to his dirty shop on the edge of town and told him to get out. They had a written order from the Tribunal. They refused to let him remove a single thing from the premises, not even his father’s small library of books.

He had hated his job. He had hated treating people like animals. But as his father lay dying, the old man made T’Prin swear to keep the business going. It was the only thing his father had to leave the world. His mark. His legacy. T’Prin couldn’t find the courage to say what a shabby little legacy it was, so he made the oath his father demanded.

Tonight the business is gone, the oath broken. A friend told T’Prin he should be glad to get out of that squalid place. And so he should be.

He throws another pebble. It disappears beneath the water. Its ripples disappear slowly. The surface of the pond becomes clear as if the pebble had never been thrown.

T’Prin throws another pebble.

“Mistah T’Prin — he broke.”

Sometimes it takes a number of rewrites before I find a good tone of voice for a story. And sometimes the rewrites get out of hand…