“The merchant in the black market sell anything, even fictional items” the rumors said, but it was way to easy to identify this foolish deception, only people driven by pure impulse would believe it, that I believe. I’ve never visited the black market, not even once, yet, today my friend suggested me to at least pay one visit. I couldn’t believe my friend’s naivety, it would be a waste of money and time. In the end , I’m convinced, I will visit it once and only once.

The entrance is well hidden, the guard around the city didn’t even notice the existence of this black market. I waited until they passed over the entrance, I checked to see if anyone was around, then entered the entrance. The inside is bigger than I thought, the black market were made of a street and many stands. I seek for my friend who was said to be waiting for me, ah, there he is. “Where did you went? I’ve been searching for you” I said in a impatiently tone. My friend apologized to me and offered to showcase me the black market. We’ve walked around and my friend explained to me how the black market work. First you tell the merchant what you want, then they will give it to you, lastly you’ll pay the price. “It’s just that simple?” I asked in disbelief. “Yes, it is, also remember to always ask the price before they give you the item” my friend reassured and warned me.

After a while we separated and I found a well decorated stand. “How may I help you?” the old merchant asked. “I wanted to marry a beautiful lady, can you make her my wife?” I asked, I don’t expect the rumors of the black market to be true, so I asked him to give me a wife to prove it. “As you wished” the merchant replied, his hand draw a full circle in the air, a beautiful lady walked out of the circle. “How much do I need to pay you?” I asked while being baffled. “Hehehe, I ask for your life!” The merchant said madly. I realized I forgot to ask the price, but it was too late. My body become older and older until I dissolved into a pile of bones.

I stand there looking at him blankly. “What do you mean? I can kill her, finally!” I say to my friend Anna, who stands behind me.“They will be after us big time, what are you talking about!” Anna exclaims. I turn back to the man who swears I won’t be caught. “I want a magic staff!” I finally shout to the man, “can’t catch me if it’s not real!” “Are you sure?” Anna and the man say. “Of course I’m sure, I am desperate after all. Anyways what shall I call you sir?” “My name is Matrix and I will find you when it’s ready.” I nod and Anna and I walk back towards the party where we pretend everything is normal.

The next day I woke up and walked to work like normal. The day after that was normal too. I decided to stop thinking about the staff and how much I could hurt him, but it wasn’t just me that changed, I noticed everybody soon forgot all about the party. “Hey Nalla, when is your next party? It’s been years since we got together and talked!” Amber exclaimed as I walked into the bar. Amber had a beer in her hand but soon threw it away. I told her not now and walked straight up to the bartender. “How goes it Nalla?” Jeff asks. “You, me, car, now!” I say through gritted teeth. “What’s up?” He asks. “Your dealer hasn’t come through!” I say as calmly as possible. “He will don’t worry Nalla. Now did you only ask me to the car for that?” He says and quirks his eyebrow. “Yes,” and I get out afraid that I might care to much.

The next day I get stopped by my boyfriend, “what’s wrong, you haven’t talked to me in a long time. Am I not good enough?” He adds jokingly. I tell him I haven’t felt good and kiss him before making up something to escape.

Over the next week I wait patiently. I soon realize it’s not coming, until the next day. When I wake up I can tell it’s not a normal day. I walk out to take out the trash and then it’s there. Sitting by the enormous can. I pick it up. Damn it! What do I do now?

As i hovered the mouse over the small avatar of a cartoon man, I considered all my options. Either I click this and risk everything or I close the webpage and hide my laptop pretending this never happened, but it did happen and it IS happening. Before I knew what I was doing I clicked it, shocked at my own movements.

“What do you need” the message popped up in the bottom right hand corner of my screen, startling me. I didn’t realise it was going to happen so quickly. “A way to help my friend. He’s not a normal person you see, he’s special and he’s in a sticky situation. He needs a person...a dead person. Someone to feed off of... he drinks blood. He’s a ... night walker.” The words felt so silky as I typed them. But I needed to help him, I loved him and love makes you do crazy things.

Nothing. No response for a long 10 or so minutes and finally the sound of the message binging brought me a sense of relief and instant anxiety. “Ok. No problem. It’ll cost you” he wrote. He or she I didn’t know. I just assumed this was a mans job. How could this person not react to what I was saying? Maybe they thought I was lying and just wanted some dead person for nothing. “It has to be fresh. I’m not asking you to kill someone just maybe come across a dead person I don’t know how this works.” I wrote back biting at the last on my nails.

The conversation lasted 10 exchanges between me and this person and ended with us deciding the local library as the meeting place for payment. I had to tell jake right away I was so eager for him to see how normal I could be about all this. Instead of ringing or texting him I just got in my car and drove to his house, running up to the door and banging on it relentlessly. The whole journey from door door was usually a 15/20 minute one but I made it in 10.

He opened it, confused but happy to see me. I could barely control myself. “Guess what I’ve done” I said, like a child telling their parents they’ve cleaned their room. “I’ve gotten you dinner” I thought it would be funny. Apparently not. “What?” He demanded. I didn’t sense the anger behind his words. Explaining everything to him I was beginning to realise what was happening. He was not happy ... and I was in mote trouble than I even realised.

Desperately, I surveyed the huge market. My eyes darted from stall to stall, in the hope that I could find what I came here for. A strange artefact surrounded by brightly coloured jewels caught me off guard, almost distracting me, but I refused to be fazed by the peculiarity of this place. It suddenly occurred to me that I was very much out of place. The people here were... different.

A firm hand gripped my shoulder from behind, causing me to flinch and turn around dubiously. An elder woman with a slight hunch was looking up at me. She did not speak but signalled for me to follow her. I nodded, as she led me to a plush velvet curtain in a rich shade of plum. Past the curtain was a trapdoor, which the old woman opened up with a metal rod, and I did not hesitate to climb down the ladder which led me far, far below.

At the bottom of the ladder, I turned around, marvelling at the sights that beheld. Stunningly shaped glass reflected the little squares of sunlight that entered through tiny windows near the ceiling. It was clear that this room did not belong with the rest of the black market. The woman coughed, motioning that we did not have much time, and proceeded to hand me a tea stained sheet of paper, filled with question. Hastily, I noted down my answers. I was only moments away from receiving what I had been dreaming of my entire life. I returned the paper, and I could feel my face light up in anticipation, but the woman remained expressionless as she read through the questions and walked through another luxurious set of curtains.

After thirty minutes of revelling at the luxuries surrounding me, the old woman emerged, followed by a lean figure with silky dark brown hair, and piercing green eyes. She let out a slight squeal and ran into my arms. I was taken aback for a slight moment, but embraced her warm, beating body. She felt so real. She was everything I wanted, everything I had selected. The old woman smiled coldly at me and I passed her the money I had stuffed away, deep in my pocket.

As I headed home with the girl of my dreams, I couldn’t help but look deep into her emerald eyes. They were so full of life for someone who had been created in a mere half hour. I dismissively put those thoughts aside. I had everything I had ever wanted holding onto my arm for warmth, and I smiled to myself, finally content. From her body shape to her beautifully healthy hair and perfect cheekbones, she was everything a man could ever- I felt something plunge into my back, causing me to drop to the floor. My newfound love was towering above me, holding a bloodstained knife. She uttered one last sentence before the world went dark: “People like you are the reason body standards still exist.”

The little man holds his hand out to me, as if repeating his question - ‘What is it you want?’ I look at him in disbelief. He really did say ‘anything’. And he meant it. I don’t dare question his sources. I just know that I can ask for it, the thing I’ve always dreamt of, and he can make that come true. I can finally get my wand. It’s a big risk, if I’m honest. There’s only a small chance anyway that I could actually do magic with it. After all, I’ve never shown the usual signs of magical ability - no strange things have happened around me, nothing abnormal. No speaking with animals or moving things with my mind. Perhaps I need to expand my view of empty handed magic. Maybe anticipating someone’s next words or being in the right place at the right time is also something. So gather up the courage and I say: ‘Could I have a magic wand?’ He lifts his eyebrows and gives me a skeptical look. ‘A magic wand? Really? What kind?’ ‘What kind? There more than just one kind?’ ‘Of course. There’s countless types of magic, there’s white magic, dark magic, natural magic, magic of the moon, the sun... there’s domestic magic, wild magic...’ ‘Ok ok, I get it, there’s lots of kinds of magic. I’d never thought of that. I guess... light magic?’ ‘Fine. A light magic wand.’ He turns around and disappears into the back of his shop. I hear him rummage around, knocking over a few things, cursing something that fell down, and then he comes back out holding a long, narrow black box. Just as I’d always imagined it. ‘Here. Try it.’ He puts the box on the table and crosses his arms in front of his chest. I can tell he had even less faith in my magical abilities than I do. I approach the table and reach out for the box. My hands are trembling as I lift the lid. Laying inside is a thin wooden wand. It‘s dark brown and has a very smooth finish. No knots or imperfections as I’d sometimes imagined. The handle is decorated with fine carvings of stars and suns. I pick it up and run my fingers over it. It‘s slightly warm. I could swear for a moment I saw a glow around my hand but when I look more closely it‘s gone. ‘Well, do you feel anything?’ the merchant asks. I try to hide my puzzled look and give him a confident smile, but I don’t think I fooled him. I don’t really feel anything. I close my eyes for a moment, if nothing else just to escape the ‘I told you so’ look on his face. I focus my attention on my hand. It’s growing warmer, the wand almost pulsating in my hand. I lift it up and open my eyes. The tip gives off a shy but very real white light. It‘s happening!

The year 2018: I was on the cheapest flight I could possibly get to Romania. The attraction to the capital city of this country had stemmed from my study of Art. In most of my lectures at the University of Michigan, the lecturers would talk about Picasso and Da Vinci for days on end. I began to get bored with the same old Art and artists. I started my research on international artists. I had never heard of the famous Romanian artists Nicolae Tonitza or Stefan Luchian. Their artwork as original and as fascinating as those I studied at Ann Arbor.

Getting to Romania had been a trek in itself. My road trip to New York City had been exhausting and very time-consuming. The drive had taken about 15 hours as I had stopped at various points for about 3 hours in total. But it was all worth the hassle as I knew the benefit in the long run. As soon as I got to NYC, I ate breakfast and made my way to JFK international airport. The flight from NYC to Bucharest took about 13 hours in total. My patience was wearing thin at this point, but my fascination was more significant. When I finally reached the hotel at 19:30, I collapsed onto the bed. The next thing I knew, it was 10:38am. I had slept for about 15 hours.

I had a shower, got dressed and went out the door ready to explore this country without actually leaving the city. I had brunch at Frudisiac and then roamed the streets. I happened to bump into individuals who spoke English. They directed me to the art gallery where I got to see the artwork that inspired me to travel a good thirty-five hours. The atmosphere within the walls of the gallery was a multitude better than at the university. I was happy for once in my life.

Art had been something I studied before. It became something I lived by. A hobby, a pastime. Being, held a new, better meaning. I had something to live for. It was after this discovery I decided to stay in Romania for a month longer. Although my vacation was supposed to be two weeks, I asked my university if I could get two weeks extra. My excuse had been to finish off my study on a particular piece of art. I was granted an extra couple of weeks.

I had the best few weeks of my life. I made friends; went clubbing. I had experienced a lifestyle I could only dream of in Ann Arbor. My life there was uninteresting and tedious. Here I appreciated life. I wanted to live forever with these people and the art galleries.

About a week before the end of my holiday, I spent some time exploring the markets. I searched for souvenirs that reflected the fantastic time I had in this underrated city. I found a rare pendant for my mother and a traditional Romanian shirt for my father. As a token to highlight my travel, I searched for the best shop where I could find Art.

On a steep road at the corner of a deserted street, my eye caught sight of the perfect framed photo. The color and exquisite details of the painting were beautiful, despite the image being gory. Tears came to my eyes. The beauty was so exhilarating. I walked into the shop, absolutely sure I would buy the painting.

The interior of the store was quite different from what was advertised on the glass. The lighting dim and ominous. At the desk stood an eccentric-looking woman. Her hair striped white and gray, yet her face and body were youthful. Her clothes billowing even though there was no wind in the humid room. Her head wrapped with a silky baroque patterned cloth; her white dress and the bulk of gold around her neck weirdly suited. The juxtaposition between the thin material of her clothing and heavy jewellery stark; it looked magnificent.

The content of the store had nothing to do with art. Instead, it had ornaments of the supernatural, orbs; large crucifixes. Suddenly, a ghostly hand touched my back and began speaking. I jumped back petrified. The trill of her voice causes a chill to run down my spine. I couldn’t understand what she was talking about, so I got out my phone and translated her voice. It first said: Pot să-ți ofer ceva ce îți dorești, dar nimeni nu este conștient că îl dorești așa de rău. Bea asta și dorința ta se va împlini. Then it translated it so I could understand. “I can offer you something you desire, but no one is aware you want it that bad. Drink this, and your wish will come true.” I laughed and said in an intentionally bad English accent,” I am not interested, ma’am.”

As I was about to leave the store, she says in perfect English- “Mia, I know what your biggest wish is and if you take this potion, you will become immortal.” I stayed in the store. My feet felt like they were cemented to the ground. The woman’s proposal was so absurd I decided to listen to what she had to say.

To my surprise, she held my hand and pulled me further into the store. The back of the store had the most illegal items in the world from caged bootleg animals to the most dangerous medicinal drugs. Amongst them was the potion she was offering. Deep down, I knew I wanted to be immortal as I could live on to make art and see it become popular. I would be rich forever. I then said to her,” surely, I would age even if I am immortal.”

She replied,” This potion not only gives you nemurire but it also gives you everlasting youth and beauty. Underestimating her promise, I bought the potion and drank it.

The year 2118:

The witches potion not only worked but it gave me the life I had dreamt about. In terms of age, I am 120 years old. Over the years my art career took off and I am currently the most affluent and influential artist alive. My beauty is reserved as if I have been frozen and I have not aged even an inch from when I was 20. I am good friends with Codruța Mihai, the witch that gave me the gift of nemurire. She is still alive to this day as she is the first to drink the potion of immortality.

I finally found someone who can help me. Years of searching and I am this close to realizing my dream. I wasn’t born beautiful, so I did what any woman in my position would do. I tried to become a good person. But did that work? No it didn’t.

Nobody could look past my physical deformities. No body wanted to know the person inside. So, what other choice did I have? I started practicing the Forbidden Arts. Slowly I got better at it and now I am going to use it to fashion myself a new body, a better face.

Only one thing is missing, the black crystal. Extremely rare and nearly impossible to find, it is a powerful talisman. The stone itself is not much to look at but exposure to the light of three consecutive full moons will activate its potential to give me what I want. They say beauty is not everything, it isn’t, to people who are born with it.

Shady, dusty, dark, The alleyway getting smaller, Lurking, peering, shadow, Its getting closer, Evil intent, glooming, grinning, Holding out a hand, Shiny, huge, bundled, Layers around a block, Velvet, smooth, delicate to touch, Open it up and you find a book, Pinecone scent, paper of ink, new but old, A few coins in his hand and he is gone, Shady, dusty, dark, The alleyway getting smaller.

“Please,” I beg, ignoring both the balaclava and the obvious reluctance. Behind me, a seagull shrieked bloody murder over the turbulent ocean, swooping so low that a splash of spray soaked its wing. The dock market was thronged with people, smelling faintly of rotting fish, but what was strange was that no noise came from them, none at all. All I could hear was the raging sea, and my own hyperventilation.

“What are you willing to pay?” The voice was velvety, and it sounded rich, luxurious and vaguely feline, as odd as that may sound. The gloved hands held the tiny, corked bottle at both ends, filling me with anxiety that it would slip and smash. And then all would be for nothing.

“For her life?” I asked, somewhat incredulously. I’d have thought the answer was simple. She was on her deathbed, was probably passed away already while I’d been gone, but it didn’t matter, as long as I could get this to her before the time was up. “Anything,”

The dark eyes behind the balaclava flashed bright silver as a clap of thunder preceded the lightning strike out at sea. The merchant’s eyes followed it with something akin to menace. “I see,” The face covering was all of a sudden ripped off and I found a girl, much younger than I’d originally assumed; maybe nineteen? Still, she towered over me, as I cowered on the floor, silenced by surprise. Her long hair, falling from her concealing bun, was a gorgeous dark red, like darkened coral. “Well, then, here’s your price,” she whispered.

“Tell me your story,”

I heard through the grapevine about a black market merchant that could sell the craziest and most unthinkable items on earth. I knew straight away what I wanted. My whole life I’ve loved food , never been a fussy eater , always ate what was on my plate and that’s lead to my downfall. I’ve always been bigger than other girls and I’ve always been aware of it. However I’ve never had the strength or willpower to get to the size I want to be. That’s where the seller comes in. I bought from him the pill that would change my life. It allows me to eat what I want and never put on weight from it. The magic pill eased the pain of self consciousness and self loathing that I’d felt my whole life. Relief washed over me like a wave on a Hawaiian beach. Freedom. Over the next few weeks I stuffed my face with anything from heaps of McDonald’s food , chocolate, milkshakes and sweets. There was no fat gained only a thinner frame. There I realised a downside to the pill. As I couldn’t gain weight , I had to lose it , and I hated my body in a whole new way...