Marketing Moonlight

You could say that the little store cost her and arm and a leg.  And maybe a measure of her pride.  But Mallory would just tell you it was worth it, that her remaining pride had latched onto the store the way a tree graft catches onto its new home in the winter.  Gradually, slowly at first.  When spring comes, the newcomer takes or it does not.

The court with its plethora of little shops had unexpectedly welcomed her, even the unusual man who spoke to the streets.  The homeopathic shop of goods had flourished in the mishmash of ancient cobblestone and unique ventures just when Mallory had been certain she would have to file for bankruptcy.  Running this little business used to keep her up at all hours; now it was the very thing that let her sleep easy.

The shop had kitschy little dream catchers hanging over its doorway inside, the web glistening in the shadows; really, not many people noticed them there and that was just how she liked it.  They were meant to catch dead dreams and moonlight, not the attention of patrons.  The people would never notice their dreams departing or, if they did, they would probably welcome it.  Dead dreams were a burden in themselves, always present but never with a chance of fulfillment.  Some days the little dream catcher would jangle as the last customer left, desperate to be relieved of the burden itself.  Those would lead to busy nights.

The stories normally say that eye of newt and puppy-dog tails went into cauldrons; Mallory didn't like that side of the business.  Not only was it messy and would never come out of her wood floors that still needed a good waxing to seal them, it was generally frowned upon.  So Mallory turned her talents to goods of a different sort.  It was a stroke of fortune that cosmetics and homeopathic goods were not as strictly regulated as medications.  People didn't ask questions so long as you labeled it 'hand-made' or 'animal cruelty free.' 

Thankfully things were never labeled 'human-made.'  It would get a bit more awkward then.

Her craft room was equipped with a few feeble light sources if she were particularly intent on a project, though she used these only when absolutely required.  A number of her ingredients were 'shy' of harsh light and were prone to sublimation before they were affixed to the appropriate material or suspended in the right mixture of materials.  There was nothing more troublesome than sublimated materials because the gas would just glow and hang in the room for days.  You couldn't have customers catching glimpses of that; they would be convinced the area was radioactive or something of the sort.

That sort of talk was terrible for business.

Marketing moonlight was one of the wisest courses of action Mallory had taken in some time, the woman playing with a short curl as she looked up at the rows of little jars.  And it was so amazingly varied a resource!  Of course, this presented a different set of challenges.  The moonlight that spilled from a wet moon was different than the light of a full moon that was different from the light of a blue moon. . . and so on.  Each had different material requirements, each had different properties.

Each was suited for a different sort of client.  Mallory made it her business to know the difference.