Ladies and Gents! Get your beautiful fresh cut flowers. Tulips! Daisies! Posies, all half price today!
Roses for the lady… And your wife
Oh, but if their sweetness could but compare, my dear! For you I have something very special: A rare breed of forget-me-not, cultivated by The very Memoryman himself.
Whose The Memoryman I hear you ask? Whhy, the story of The Memoryman is one of tragedy and beauty.
Draw closer as I tell you tale…
They say he lived beyond those mountains. Just over there. But this man, was a man, born without memories.
Imagine! A life in the perpetual present! To have no concept of time, to recall Nothing of your life to date!
Well. This man without memories had one instinct that drove his very existence. His Garden
Somehow this man knew how to harness the memories of others, And nurture them into the beautiful flowers that you see before you.
Thats right! Inside this flower is a stolen memory, if only we could unlock its secrets.
But where did that man get the memories? I will tell you.
Everynight, he crept down into the village in his quest of thievery, and upon finding his victim he would PLUCK the memory straight out of their sleeping head. Before long he would have a fist full of hairs, each containing the silvery essence of a memory. Only he knew how to plant the hairs, and from them grow the beautiful distillation of a memory that I have on sale for You today.
But wait! There’s more!
I have told you of beauty, but not yet of tragedy… There was one that he loved, for he was not beyond the grasp of love.
She had heard of his nightly visits and had set him a trap! Upon their chance meeting, she could see he was nothing to be scared of.
Night after night after night they shared their nocturnal adventures. He had found a new accomplice in his pursuit of the villagers hair, and the girl felt lucky to have found someone so full of innocence and sincerity.
Soon the girl was invited into the garden, where no other had ever stepped. He confided in her the ways of his strange horticultural practice. They were truly content. Love had blossomed, and it seemed as if they very symptoms of his ailment were fading away.
But the tempestous mountain had a different fate in mind for the secret lovers. That night a fierce storm raged, RAGED across the mountainside leaving all in its wake a barren wasteland. The girl watched helplessly from her window, yearning to discover the fate of her beloved.
Alas, the garden of memories had been destroyed.
As she picked through the broken plants she already knew that his memory of her would be gone, along with all recollection of the times they had shared together.
As a selfless act of love she ripped out hairs from her own head and planted hurriedly amongst the debris. By sacrificing her own memories she gave the man a new chance at life. The garden of memories would grow again, and the man would forever know that he was once loved.
Nobody ever knew the fate of that poor girl and I doubt we ever will.
The flower I have before you was plucked from the remnants of The Memoryman’s garden. Who knows what melancholic memory lies within its petals. The fleeting thoughts of a maneternally severed from his beloved? Or perhaps the image of a girl whose heart once belonged to him. If only one could know the secret to unlock the mystery of The Memorymans flower.
And for you my good woman, half price!
Thank you maam, and good day to you maam.You sir! Over there! Did you know that this flower was plucked from Cleopatras eyebrow..?