A Collection of Things – Samantha Christie

Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.

Once upon a time there was a woman who had spent her life collecting things. Some of them were valuable and some of them had value only in the eyes of those who could find a use for them. The uses could be wide and varied, items to be admired, items that could perform specific tasks, items for which there was not yet a fixed use or even one that could be imagined. But it was important to collect these things, these items. One never knew when a need for their use may arise.

There were small things. Large things. Shiny things. Dusty things. There were things she’d forgotten all about until she would go looking for one of the things and stumble across something altogether different from what she’d set out to find.

It wasn’t exactly what you’d call clutter. It was as though there was no order but at the same time, a kind of system had emerged over time.

Every day, she would welcome people into her store. Some of them were regular visitors. They’d browse and pick up items to feel their weight, their texture and think about whether there was a place for them in their home on the homes of those they bought gifts for. Some of them were visiting for the first time. Perhaps on recommendation, perhaps because they’d always been meaning to stop. The store’s shop front was deceptive. It appeared small but as one walked through the many rooms and caverns, it opened up into new rooms and caverns. A labyrinth of things to be found.

One day, a stranger arrived. She moved slowly through the rooms. Touching nothing but eyes roaming everywhere. She looked familiar but at the same time foreign. Her eyes finally settled upon a bronze cup on a high shelf. She stood, looking at the bronze cup for the longest time. Because of that, the woman moved out from behind the counter where she’d been distracted from her work by the trancelike gaze of the stranger and enquired as to whether she could be of assistance.

The stranger turned to her. Tears in her eyes.

‘I wonder if I could trouble you to get that trophy down from the shelf?’

The woman fetched her ladder, climbed to the top shelf and retrieved the bronze cup. As she climbed down, she noticed for the first time, the engraving on its tarnished rim. It was indeed a trophy.

She handed it to the stranger.

‘I had heard that you have been collecting things throughout your life. And because of that, I knew I should come here to seek out the trophy. I’ve looked in so many places, until finally my journey brought me here. I’m so glad I did. Your sign says Trash and Treasure. This trophy was my most treasured possession for many years.’

The woman nodded. She saw this from time to time. The item which had sat with no use for so long had been found by someone who had a use for it. The tarnished bronze cup, now had a use. The way the stranger was holding it and turning it over in her hands while looking off into some memory from long ago indicated that its use was to return some sacred memory to the owner.

She smiled. This was why she collected things.

 

 

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