The Night Bazaar of Forgotten Dreams
The clock struck midnight as Selene stepped into the misty alleyway. The city around her was silent, its streets empty save for the occasional flickering streetlamp. Her heart pounded as she pressed forward, gripping the slip of parchment given to her by a nameless old man at the train station.
“Come to the alley behind the clockmaker’s shop. Midnight. Ask for the Dreamkeeper.”
The air shimmered as she took her final step. Where there had been nothing but damp bricks and shadows a moment before, an entire marketplace now sprawled before her, glowing with the soft luminescence of a hundred lanterns. Stalls lined the cobblestone path, each one manned by hooded figures, their faces obscured. The scents of incense, aged parchment, and something sweetly metallic filled the air.
Selene had come here for one reason. A year of her life was missing—gone, erased as though it had never happened. She had woken up one morning to find that an entire span of time had vanished from her memory, leaving only the eerie certainty that something important had been stolen from her. No doctor could explain it. No journal held the answer.
But the Night Bazaar dealt in the impossible.
She moved through the stalls, her breath hitching at the wares displayed: bottled laughter, pressed flowers that whispered forgotten confessions, glass orbs filled with swirling dream fragments. People bartered in hushed voices, offering up secrets, locks of hair, even pieces of their own memories.
At last, she found the stall she sought. A wooden sign read Dreamkeeper in curling golden letters. The vendor sat behind a velvet-draped table, his face concealed beneath a deep hood. His voice, when he spoke, was like wind through hollow bones.
“You seek what was lost.”
Selene swallowed. “Yes. A year of my life. I need to know where it went.”
The Dreamkeeper reached beneath his table and withdrew a silver vial. Inside, a swirling mist danced, shifting into shapes—shadows of something familiar yet unknown.
“This is your missing time,” he murmured.
Selene’s fingers twitched with the urge to grasp it, but she knew better. “What’s the price?”
The Dreamkeeper tilted his head. “A trade, as always. Memories for memories. Give me one of equal value, and it is yours.”
She hesitated. What part of herself was worth a lost year? A childhood summer of endless laughter? The moment her father had taught her to dance on his feet? Her first kiss, stolen in the rain?
“Or,” the Dreamkeeper whispered, “if you have nothing to spare… I could take something else. Something unseen.”
Selene shivered. She had heard whispers of the ones who bargained foolishly here—who left with their memories intact but their reflections altered, their shadows moving just a little too slowly.
Her eyes fell on the swirling mist inside the vial. She had come too far to turn back now.
“Take my most painful memory,” she said at last. “The moment I felt the most alone.”
The Dreamkeeper reached out, placing his cold fingers against her temple. A sharp pull, a fleeting ache—and then it was gone. He placed the silver vial in her hands.
Selene uncorked it. The mist poured over her, enveloping her in visions—faces she knew but had forgotten, a voice calling her name, the echo of laughter, then fear, then…
She gasped, stumbling backward as it all came rushing back.
The missing year had not been stolen.
She had given it away.
Selene’s breath hitched as the final pieces settled. A bargain, one she had made willingly—to forget something too painful to bear. She had been here before. She had stood at this very stall, looking into the Dreamkeeper’s hooded gaze, pleading for escape.
And now, she had undone it.
The Dreamkeeper’s lips curled in the faintest of smiles. “A pleasure, as always, Selene.”
The lanterns flickered, the stalls wavered—and in the blink of an eye, the Night Bazaar was gone.
Selene stood alone in the empty alley, the weight of her restored memories pressing heavy against her chest. She clutched the empty vial, knowing the truth:
Some dreams were meant to be forgotten.
In the Night Bazaar, what you reclaim may weigh heavier than what you lost.
Note:
Thank you for reading “The Night Bazaar of Forgotten Dreams”! This is a story in a series created for avid readers and English learners who want to enjoy captivating tales while practicing their language skills. Stay tuned for more stories and language tips to enhance your journey!
Explore more short stories in English and Spanish by visiting the section:
Short Stories / Cuentos Cortos
When the world feels dull, your mind restless, or your heart heavy, let a story be your escape. Just one page, one sentence, one word—and suddenly, you’re somewhere new, where imagination breathes life into the ordinary and turns the simplest moments into magic.
“Liked it? Smash that like button! 💥❤️”
The English Nook 
Leave a comment