The Shop of Undoing

A writing prompt that was shown to me on Reddit:
You own a shop in a fantasy world and people keep returning items that you had previously sold to someone else.

I wrote a longer, different version but that needs work for which I do not currently have time, so this is a short:


    The sickly man with a weak, stammering voice who brought in the magnificent bastard sword, who could barely hold it let alone lift it to the counter, was of stark contrast to the barbaric monster of a warrior I’d sold it to not months before.

    But that was not the strangest of returns.

    An old, disgusting hag, bulbous and yellow, her skin riddled with blemishes, handed me a golden looking glass as she wept uncontrollably. I recalled the original sale of the mirror to a fine, young beauty, a maiden, a princess. She wanted nothing more than to gaze upon her own angelic face wherever she went.

    But this was also not the most curious of returns.

    The spry lad who skipped through my door and set the top down with a twirl, whose eyes glowed with fervent youth, whose smile radiated a carefree heart, was not the dying man with one final wish. A wish to be but a boy one more day, to play with a simple toy and remember what it felt like to have no troubles or worries.

    These odd occurrences are what I’ve come to expect, though. When the sorcerer cast his spell upon my shop, he said in naming it Undoing it would be the opposite. And so my pockets overflow with coin, and my customers have all their wildest dreams, or their worst nightmares, become reality.