The hunt

“It’s seven thirty, anyone that wants to go to the flea market better get up, get dressed and be in the car in fifteen minutes.”

Oh, for God’s sake….ya think maybe you could brush your hair?

We’re going to the flea market Mom, not the Mall, this is a fashion statement.

It’s early Saturday morning as we pull into the huge parking lot, dust is flying everywhere and there are hundreds of people. My two daughters and I are anticipating a good hunt. Jodi is 10 years old and collects pillows, tinker bell, Scoobie-doo, anything under three dollars, and she doesn’t hesitate to bargain. Britini is 19, makeup and jewelry are her passion. I love hand blown colored glass. It sounds like a frivolous hunt for crap we don’t need, which in essence is true, but the need is deep seated. It’s really more about the thrill of the hunt and kill, (bargain).

There are eight long buildings, side-by-side that house all the usual vendors, but that’s not what we came for. There are hundreds of concrete tables set up all around the outside of the buildings that anyone can rent to sell their stuff for a few dollars. That’s the good stuff, the real bargains.

As we walk, incense is wafting through the air and Mexican music is playing so loud little babies are dancing in their strollers. Some people bring their cute little dogs for everyone to ogle over. Jodi has to pet every one.

A big sweaty man is yelling “everything’s one dollar” as we walk by and quickly determine that he has nothing we want. People are happily walking by eating bags of boiled peanuts, dropping the shells on the ground, no one cares.
Britni and I panic momentarily when jodi is not visible. Then she emerges out of the crowd with a big bag and a big smile. She found a fluffy pink Pooh pillow for only two dollars. I scold her for disappearing, but I can see she feels the find was worth it.

We scour the grounds for hours, and find nothing of value. Then on a table of old holiday ornaments a hand blown red and white striped glass vase sits on its side under a Halloween mask. I pick it up and try and contain my excitement. How much, I ask? The owner looks like she’s never seen it before and says I can have it for three dollars. I know it’s worth at least fifteen, so I pay her quick and walk away feeling victorious.

On the ride home Britni goes through the make-up and cds she bought, Jodi admires her pillow and I spend the trip thinking about the next time we get to go. I mentally plan for our next hunt.

The hunt

Solar Zorra

Charleston, United States

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Artist's Description

Written for graphic scratch To market to market. Challenge #2

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tomarket

Artwork Comments

  • Arcadia Tempest
  • Solar Zorra
  • girlinthestars
  • Solar Zorra
  • Lisa  Jewell
  • Solar Zorra
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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