Glance Trader

Glance Trader By Anna Jacobson [[Click here to begin]] </style> <img src=http://www.annajacobson.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/jar_smaller.gif> </div>

You catch glances in your fingertips, shove them deep into your pockets— more glances than you can count. You brush aside furtive glances, menacing leers, plain indifferences. One glance is harder to decode. Choice 1 [[Do you decode the glance later?]] Choice 2 [[Or do you keep trying to decode the glance now?]]

The miscellaneous jar is the jar that perplexes. You look through the jar at night, to hone your skills, work out those veiled glances, what they mean. The glances swirl like blue gas. You distill the glance into the miscellaneous jar to decode later. [[Click here to journey on]]

You examine the glance by candlelight. The glance is lulled by shadow-flickers. You’ve picked up something rare. A glance of recognition. You distill the glance into the rarity jar. [[Click here to journey on]]

Traders come to your store, to cash in glances they’ve caught. Botched jobs— you turn them away. A woman arrives— her yellow eyes remind you of the cat who’d given you three days’ bad luck. She wants to buy the miscellaneous jar— the one with glances too hard to decode. [[Choice One: don't give her the miscellaneous jar]] [[Choice Two: ask her what she wants to trade for the jar.]]

‘It’s not for sale,’ you say. ‘I’ll pay you in books,’ she points to the bag she carries. How does she know you read books for glances? When times were tough, you didn’t feel like going outside, boiled sentences, distilled them down. A whole jar of text-based glances, as good as real ones. A fair trade— but you want experimental books, impossible to come by. [[Choice One: Ask what kinds of books she is willing to trade]] [[Choice Two: Repeat that the jar is not for sale]]

You ask what she wants to trade. She pulls out a fairy tale book with lenticular cover. You know you’ll have to go ahead with the trade. The cover shivers like a hologram. Her hand grasps yours. Our eyes meet— she gives nothing away, releases your hand. You try to catch her veiled glance to start another miscellaneous jar— something slippery stops you getting a hold on her glance. You’ve only met one other who could block your glance catching. She heaves the bag of books onto the counter, wraps the jar in a shroud, walks out of your store. You turn the door sign from open to closed, hear a knock. [[Choice One: Do you open the door?]] [[Choice Two: Or do you leave the door shut?]]

‘Experimental.’ You don’t know what she will do with the jar— a trade is a trade. You doubt she’d find the miscellaneous jar useful. ‘Deal,’ you say. She heaves the bag of books onto the counter, wraps the jar in a shroud, walks out of your store. You turn the door sign from open to closed, hear a knock. [[Choice One: Do you open the door?]] [[Choice Two: Or do you leave the door shut?]]

She points finger to counter, casts her curse— says 'when next you are asked for help, you won’t be able to refuse.’ She prizes the jar from your fingers, leaves as you hear a knock at the door. [[Choice One: Do you open the door?]] [[Choice Two: Or do you leave the door shut?]]

‘Whaddaya want?’ you say, annoyed— you want to read the experimental books, not deal with more traders and customers. The boy looks like one of the street urchins you once caught a glance off. A good glance earning you three helpings of goat curry one night. The boy holds a jar. You take it. This is no botched job. ‘I’m good and you know it. I can help you get twice as many glances as you do each day. You hardly venture beyond your own front door. I’ve seen you pilfering reflected glances in the water. I can get you more.’ [[Choice One: Do you consider his offer?]] [[Choice Two: Or do you tell him to go away?]]

‘I want to be your apprentice,’ the voice calls through cracks.‘You’re joking.’ You’ve worked on your own forever, place eye to hole in the wall and see the boy has dirty blonde hair; shrewd. He glances your way and lets you catch it: an intelligent glance, you shove in your pockets. That one glance would account for your food for the week. ‘Alright, you’re hired. [[Click here for the next page]]

‘What do you want in return?’ you ask. ‘I want to be your apprentice.’ You calculate figures in your head. If this urchin can catch glances outside, you are free to peruse the books, distill the text down. [[Click here for the next page]]

You want to tell him to go away, but picture him on starving streets. You tell him he’s hired. [[Click here for the next page]]

You try to see what he sees in your store: wooden shelves lined with glass jars filled with swirling glances above dirt-caked floors. You hear a commotion outside. A woman laughing and cackling; the one who has bought your miscellaneous jar. She flashes you a glance; you can’t interpret it, realise it’s an old glance you’ve examined before. She is using the miscellaneous jar against you. She laughs again. [[Choice One: Do you retreat inside?]] [[Choice Two: Or do you call the urchin for help?]]

The urchin wants to help. You won’t let him fight the woman on his own. You head back out, tucking rare glances under your patchwork jacket as you go. [[Click here to continue on]]

The urchin rushes out, assesses the scene. His face is hard, unforgiving. You know he'll fight for you, don't know what you've done to deserve his loyalty. [[Click here to continue on]]

It’s two against one. ‘Trying to use my own grandson against me are you?’ My curse may have backfired, but I’ll be back.’ She disappears and you turn to the boy. [[Click here for the ending]]

I’ll be keeping you on as my apprentice. Payment upfront; meals and shelter provided. The boy nods, he does not hide his expression. This time, you don’t steal his glance. You let it shine on his face, all light and hope. The End </style> <img src=http://www.annajacobson.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Twine_theEnd.jpg> </div>