[ WP ] He had a second hand soul .

Jason pulled his coat tighter as he approached the little shop on the corner of Market and Fourth. Despite his efforts, the harsh November wind cut through the hazy air and chilled him to the bone. He should have came earlier when there was more daylight and less smog, but he was here now and that ’ s what mattered. 
 
 
 He stood outside the door, looking in to see the worn shelves and antiques that lined them. Jason wiped away a circle of dust to get a better look inside through the thick glass pane. There were tiny statues and book sitting haphazardly and seemingly randomly throughout the rows. He saw nick knacks and instruments leaning against walls across from collectables and junk. He knew what he needed was here though, he searched everywhere for it. 
 
 
 The door swung inward with surprisingly little effort causing a small antique bell to chime above the door. Jason was greeted with a blast of stuffy hot air. It was a welcomed change from the frigid temperatures outside, but it made him sweat. 
 
 
 “ Be right out. ” An impatient voice called from from the back. 
 
 
 Jason didn ’ t need help, he knew what he wanted. He knew it was here. It had to be, he looked everywhere else. 
 
 
 After a few minutes of browsing, an older man stepped out from behind the counter and looked Jason over. 
 
 
 “ You ’ re looking for something very special aren ’ t you, boy? ” His raspy voice clawed the air from his grin. 
 
 
 “ I ’ m looking for a soul, sir. ” Jason looked towards him. The old man scoffed at him and he hobbled back into the back, one arm pressed against his hunch and the other holding his cane. 
 
 
 A few moments later, the old man produced a snow globe from the back room. It swirled with dancing light, casting a deep purple glow across the scuffed wooden shop counter. Jason stared into it with awe, it had been years since he saw it. 
 
 
 The old man covered it with a scarlet cloth. 
 
 
 “ Now what would a boy like you want with a soul? ” He asked, studying Jason ’ s face. 
 
 
 Jason clawed at it, but the man pulled it out of his grasp. 
 
 
 “ If you want it you have to pay. ” He sneered at Jason. 
 
 
 “ But sir, that is MY soul. ” Jason begged. 
 
 
 “ Yes yes. It can be anyone ’ s for the right price. ” He snickered at his own joke. 
 
 
 Jason frowned, reaching into his pockets. He didn ’ t have much, but it should be enough. He placed down three dingy silver coins, and the shopkeeper howled with laughing. 
 
 
 He laughed for a good minute before taking a deep breath, “ Oh, that is a good one boy. You ’ re a real funny one you are. ” 
 
 
 “ That ’ s all I have sir. ” 
 
 
 “ Well it ’ s not enough. ” 
 
 
 Jason looked down and felt around in his pocket. His hand felt one more piece of metal and he sighed, pulling it from his coat. The shopkeeper's eyes went wide. 
 
 
 “ N-n-n-no, P-p-please. Y-you can h-have it boy, on the house! ” He stared down the barrel of Jason ’ s gun. 
 
 
 Jason was frustrated. He was so close to what he wanted. He was sure he had enough now. He was sure that he would have his soul soon. 
 
 
 “ I changed my mind. I want yours instead. ” Jason replied coldly as his finger found the trigger. 
 
 
 Jason stepped outside into the cold smog once again. It didn ’ t bother him though, he was cold already. His pockets jingled with with the sound of coins, and the slightest green glow could be seen from the cracks of his coat as he walked down the street and into the fog. He finally had his second hand soul. 
 
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