Writing Prompts

"How much?"

Prompt 4:
"How much for that?" I asked the merchant, nodding my head to my sword hanging on the wall.

It had been a long time since I was home. In that time, most of my old village forgot about me.

Before I explain anything more, let me introduce myself. My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I am (age) years old, and am different, to say the least. While most girls grow up playing with dolls and dresses, I grew up with weaponry. Most girls had a Teddy bear, I had a favorite sword.

I left home years ago, and never returned. I left because my childhood home burnt down, and everyone thought I was dead. I pull my (h/l) (h/c) hair into a(n) (h/s).

I then take a deep breath and walk into the merchant's shop, looking around. Nothing has changed since I lived here. The dents in the wall from when I first started learning how to use a sword, the scratches from my old pets, all of it.

I take a look at all the weapons for sale, and see it. The old sword, the one with a beat up handle and a rugged sheath, hanging on the wall behind the merchant.

The merchant is behind the counter, in between my old weapon and myself. I step into line, waiting for him to deal with the customer in front of me. When he finished with her, I step forward, my eyes focusing on my sword.

"Hi, how can I help you today?" The merchant's cheery voice breaks me out of my head, where I was reliving my old memories.

"How much for that?" As I said this, I was looking at the sword on the wall. The merchant's eyes followed mine before his jaw dropped.

"No, you don't want that old thing. Legend has it, it's cursed! The rest of the weaponry is on the back wall, hard to miss."

I shake my head before answering. "I don't care about the other weapons. How much is the one on the wall?" The merchant shakes his head, adamant about me not wanting the weapon on the wall.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I was told by my boss not to sell that sword. Legend says that the whoever wields that blade shall die a horrible death." I snort.

"I know what the legend says, and I can tell you its not true. That blade has caused people to die horrible deaths. But never has the weilder of the blade been caused to die a horrible death." I pause, catching my breath and allowing a pause for dramatic effect. "I know, because that was my sword, a lifetime ago. Now, I'm going to ask this one last time. How much for the sword on the wall behind you?"

The merchant is silent, not knowing how to respond. "Ma'am, you must be mistaken. That sword was made thousands of years ago, for a warrior named (f/n) (l/n)." The merchant sighs. "Legend says she died a horribly gruesome death during battle, cursing the blade."

I sigh. "If the blade is so cursed, why won't you sell it to me? No one else will ever want it, and at least by selling it to me you know that someone is going to but it." I pause, letting the merchant consider my offer, before placing my money on the counter. "In this bag there are a hundred schillings. I feel that is sufficient for the cursed blade. Will you sell it to me?"

The merchant nods, and hands me the blade. After centuries of searching, my preferred weapon is back in my possession. I leave the shop and head home.

A/N
I know the ending sucks, But I've been working on this for months and wanted to post something for y'all. I don't think anyone even reads this book, But if you do, please give me constructive criticism so I can improve. Thank you!