Night Market

Photo redacted to protect the innocent.  Or the guilty.


Everyone seems to have a different story for how the Night Market came to be, though most seem to agree that it was the last outpost on the outer edge of the known world of a dying empire.  That empire has been gone so long that no one even knows what they called themselves, but the Night Market remains.  In fact, it has grown to be the size of a city in its own right.  It belongs to no nation, but is comprised of people from many - and some whose lines have been there so long that even they couldn't tell you what nationality they were.

In keeping with its name, the Night Market is much more lively at night that it is during the day. People emerge from their homes, or the encampments that constantly surround the edge of the Night Market, to stroll through the barkers and merchants.  A cacophony of voices fills the cool, evening air as the sun sets and silence becomes a stranger to the Night Market until the sun rises again.  All kinds of food, clothing, and items are available, both exotic and mundane.  It's said that you can find anything in the Night Market, and that everything has a price.

Mingled with the more straightforward shops and merchants are the roving carnivals.  Performers of all types make the Night Market a stop on their tour.  Some never leave again, finding the eager crowds ready for consumption enough to support abandoning the road for a more predictable life. All of this forms the surface of the Night Market - controlled chaos of merriment and abandon, where every desire has the potential to be fulfilled.

Beneath the surface, is a quieter, more serious Night Market.  One populated by those for whom the Night Market has become home.  This level of the Night Market is made up of those who trade in stolen or questionable goods and the people who supply them.  Dark magicians seeking dangerous ingredients, blackmailers trading ill-gotten information, thieves... all the sorts of people the surface doesn't want to acknowledge.

Mouse grew up in this world.  The Night Market was a place where opportunity abounded, but where money was king.  Her mother was a madame in one of the brothels that ruled the Eastern end of town, but that was not a life that appealed to Mouse. Still, she could always stop in for a good meal when pickings were slim so she was careful to keep on good terms.  Nimble fingers and a quick, slim build gave her an advantage when slipping through the crowds that sought distraction and entertainment in the Night Market, and likewise provided her income.  And if picking pockets wasn't lucrative for some reason or another, she could always do a bit of impromptu acrobatics for tips - at least until one of the traveling troops could chase her off.  Sometimes pickings were slim, but she could always visit her mother for a bit of food and a bath.

She made a place for herself in the world of the Night Market.  It was home.  She was content. And generally, she loved it. And then the law came to the Night Market.


------------------

This isn't really a story proper. And it fails to have a picture because the idea of the night market came to me without one and I couldn't find a good one for it and that seemed to be the backwards way to do it anyway. So this is just a snippet of background idea rather than really a story, per se.  Still, I love the image of the night market in my head and this probably does nothing to really convey it.

Word Count: 535
YTD: 6480