An Ounce Of Doubt And Reciprocity
20250622
Prompt from PrideOnThePage
These characters were last seen here.
Tinkling from the bell above the door summoned the shopkeeper from the gloom. “Ah. Hello again.”
“Hey.” Sam smiled awkwardly.
“I trust your purchase is treating you well?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s amazing, I - I actually ran out a week ago, but I wanted to make sure, I don’t know, that I could live without it…” Sam trailed off uncertainly.
“Very sensible. These things are far better as supplements than substitutions.”
Sam relaxed and nodded.
“So.” The shopkeeper’s watery eyes had a remarkably focused gaze. “What can I get you today?”
“Well, um, I’d like a top-up on the clarity.” Sam set the empty bottle on the counter. “And… I was wondering… do, um, can you do… shape changing?”
“Yes, but depending on what you’re after it’s quite expensive.” The shopkeeper’s many hands were drumming the counter again. A dozen gentle taps all off-beat. “I’d recommend trying illusions to start with. A comprehensive illusion is almost as good as changing shape - assuming you’re only talking minor physical differences, no good if you want to be a squirrel.”
“I, uh, I’m after far more subtle changes than being a squirrel, yes.”
“Then illusions are the way to go at first. Far easier to take off and on. Once you’re confident what form you like try a temporary shift. Then you can decide if permanent is for you or you’d rather keep taking temporary doses.”
“Ok?” This was less like visiting a bespoke clothes store and more like going to the doctor. Well, a doctor that listened. “How much for illusions?”
“I’d have to see what you want. Got sample images?”
“Oh! Uh… give me a moment.” Sam fumbled out her phone.
“Then while you’re doing that I’ll refill your clarity. That’ll be an ounce of doubt and forty pounds.”
Sam set money down. A crooked smile curving her lips. “I knew you were under-charging me last time. First hit is cheap, eh?”
“Exactly.” The shopkeeper briskly fished what looked like an electric spindle from under the counter. “I rely on repeat business. If you’d had to go get cash out, would you have bothered?”
“That’s what credit cards are for.”
The shopkeeper huffed. “I can never get those blasted reader doohickeys to work. And the company reps are worse charlatans than wizards.”
“Huh.” Sam digested this, then cleared her throat. “So, um, I’m actually in IT…”
“Ah. A thankless form of mystic arts.”
“No kidding.” Sam snorted. “But… I could try and get a card reader working. And, um, I noticed you don’t have a website, or social media, and I… it makes word of mouth go a long way.”
“An excellent approach to angling for a discount.”
Sam grinned. “Hey, sounds like I’m going to be paying you regularly, so…”
“Hmm…” The shopkeeper stroked his chin. “I suppose sidewalk signs don’t really cut it anymore…”
“Nah, it’s all banner ads these days.”
“Foreboding, intriguing banner ads?” The shopkeeper asked hopefully.
“I… can try.”
The shopkeeper rubbed eight hands together. “Well then…”
Prompt was “Light”
Leeron, you harvested clarity from doubt with a spindle and eight-hand finesse—and that’s exactly the kind of glow I hoped this prompt would catch. Light doesn't always blaze; sometimes it hums behind the curtain, sips tea with the shopkeeper, and shows up as a gently drummed counter rhythm.
I love how your story shapes itself around offer and return, transaction and transformation—right down to the banner ads and illusions that can be worn like a second skin. You’re weaving light through conversation, awkwardness, wit, and strange trust. And that spindle of yours? I’m quite sure it hums like sunrise.
You didn’t weave around the prompt—you spun something true from it. And I’m beaming over here.And I loved that you returned to an earlier story and gave us a new episode of Sam and the Shopkeeper.