Ideas for stories

He stood along the wall in a brightly lit but cold and industrial warehouse. The brim of his hat veiled the top portion of his vision as he looked at the item upon the stage. The bidding was still within his price range, and if not he was confident he’d make the purchase regardless of the cost. He held a leather fan with crisp jagged edges creased toward and pointing away from him, but he didn’t need it to keep him cool in this heat. He was a Southern man and he could tolerate a climate so much warmer than a stiflingly hot, overcrowded room such as this. He used the fan to mask the better part of his face, allowing only his eyes to be visible should anyone care to notice him.

On this particular day he was able to conceal his identity, perhaps through years of touring the world, perhaps by practicing the fine art of meditative breathing he practiced in large crowds and intense situations. He could slow his breathing and heart rate, he’d done it before and he was doing it now. His focus on bidding remained undaunted save for one person persistently outbidding him.

He’d lost interest in the item two thousand dollars before his goal became pushing the limits of his rival bidder. He could see the guy shifting impatiently in his seat each time he placed a bid. The guy had a set of nervous habits that didn’t seem to faze the other people present. He’d place four fingers near the base of his neck and run them vertically to the crown of his head before folding them neatly in his lap again. He’d fan his face with a paper fan decorated in a flowery design exactly three and a half times before setting the fan impatiently upon his lap. He’d briefly pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, nod his head slightly and return his hands to his lap. He’d trace an index finger along the bottom corner of his eye socket, rest his thumb upon his cheek while waiting. Every time Ashley outbid the guy, a new nervous gesture emerged.

Ashley wasn’t going to let his own guitar get away from him at an auction. It wasn’t his fault the storage locker had gone to auction; he wasn’t even in the country when the notices were being sent. Maybe Ashley knew the items were about to slip from his grasp and wanted to see who would step forward and try to claim them. When the bidding dragged on long enough Ashley removed his heel from the wall he’d been leaning against and shifted his posture to stand feet shoulder width apart, arms folded, cap still shading his face.

This caused the bidder to turn around and look at Ashley. At first he glanced quickly, looking away and bidding again. This time when Ashley outbid him, the guy’s head cocked slightly to the side as though making a realization. “Ten thousand.” Ashley said his voice a deep rumble as though he’d been clearing his throat. The bidding was closed.

The guy turned around to look at Ashley for a second time with utmost annoyance, impatience, and a little bit of anger. When their eyes met and the guy realized who he’d been bidding against, his jaw dropped.

Ashley nodded his chin briefly at the guy as though congratulating him on finishing a game well played. He left the room with a smirk.

Notes