The Side-Street Silk Worker

There is a legend that once a year, somewhere in the world, a festival is held by spirits. The streets are filled with the aromas of fresh food and the sounds of playful children under the lanterns’ warm glow. It is said that if a person manages to get into the festival, they have a chance of meeting the one they call the silk worker. His shop sits out of the golden light’s reach, hidden just barely, in the shadows. But a person just might make it in this year.

A young girl comes across the gates, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she wanders into the busy beaten paths of the festival grounds following a sweet scent that sticks out among the rest. She hurriedly walks towards the origin on the smell and finds a booth giving out all kinds of candy. Sadly the front of the booth is crowded with children so there is no way to get past. She sadly tromps away and somehow ends up away from the comfort of the lights and the crowd. She’s alone in a cold and dark alleyway that’s nothing like the place she just left. As she stands at the threshold of darkness she feels around for anything useful hidden in the shadows. The little girl finds a simple stick, most likely a leftover from the construction of the festival’s booths. She first uses the stick as a sword, whipping it through the air with a sharp woosh resulting from each swing. After a little bit she grows bored of this and starts prodding at the ground instead. She accidentally taps a wall, and a bewildered expression flashes across her rosy cheeks. The young girl uses the stick to follow the wall, as using her hands would make them wet and cold. She slips along into the darkness until she can no longer see. But she is so indulged in tapping the stick that she doesn’t even notice. The sound of something a distance away clicking open resounds between the stone walls, and a faint glow can be seen glimmering in the darkness. The girl skipped along into the dark, unaware of the light or the sound. It takes a while until she finally notices the fact that she’s completely surrounded by darkness. The little girl won’t scream, and she knows this, and that’s because she’s surprisingly lion-hearted. The soft and melodic sounds of humming being accompanied by the rhythmic schiff-schiff of a broom is echoed and amplified by the close quarters of the space. Even in this situation, these mundane but familiar sounds being comfort to the girl. So she trods on ahead, one foot in front of the other, and the stick held in her tiny hands. A small spherical lantern is hanging outside of a shop, while a young man dressed in peculiar clothes and rectangle-shaped glasses sweeps away dust. His humming seems louder now that the girl is closer.

The scraping sound of her stick against the floor and walls is what jolts him back to whatever reality they were in. The shopkeeper’s curious gaze settles on the tiny figure before him. The little girl puffs up her rosy red cheeks and holds the short stick up to the much taller figure in front of her. The shopkeeper only smiles and walks inside his store through a curtain. Through the gaps of the curtain, she can see brief flashes of brilliant colour. So she hurries after him inside to investigate. The shop’s walls are covered in delicately crafted masks, fish made of soft silk hang from the ceiling, and flags of all shapes, colour and designs fill the empty spaces in between. Ribbons, chimes, and beads dangle from every angle, adding another dimension to the scene. The shopkeeper is in a corner, retrieving something from the wall with his slender fingers. It’s a small sheep mask that has a cute, but tough, expression displayed on the front. He kneels down to the little girl’s height as best as he can, and holds out the soft pink mask for her to take. “Here,” He says with a voice as soft and smooth as the silk he works with, “you don’t have a mask for the festival. They won’t let you do anything without one.” She looks at the mask. It would fit her perfectly and even has a tiny ribbon ties around one of the ears. While the silk worker looks on, she tries on the mask. But it’s upside-down, so he had to fix that for her. However before the young girl leaves, he gives her a tiny blue fish to tie to the end of her stick. She runs off on her way after giving her thanks as best as her little self could. The little girl passes through the curtain and is immediately back in the heart of the festival. She runs about with the other children and enjoys the candy very much. The girl ends the night with her new found friends under a dark sky embroidered by the vibrant streaks of colour made by fireworks. She walks home while the sun is only beginning to rise. Just as she exits the gates, the little girl turns around to see it one more time.

There is no festival anymore. The lanterns’ glow had been replaced by equally warm sunlight that was just starting to warm the chilly early morning air. The dazzlingly coloured clothes and masks were exchanged for softly coloured flowers and foliage that swayed in the wind. The scents of sweet treats were swapped for the aroma of shimmering early morning dew. She would be sad, if not for one or two little things. A soft humming could be heard riding faintly on the breeze, and the silk gifts given to her were still intact. The little girl happily skips home that morning, with a belly full of candy and a head full of happy memories.