The Time Merchant
A street vendor sells minutes, hours, and days of time — literally. When someone buys an entire year, the consequences ripple through the fabric of reality.
A street vendor sells literal time. A businessman purchases a year, causing a ripple effect.
CHARACTERS
Vendor
supporting
Businessman
supporting
PAGE 1
Panel 1:A bustling city street. Pedestrians hurry past. A small, ornate stall is set up on the sidewalk, overflowing with various clocks and hourglasses. A sign reads: "Time For Sale!"
Panel 2:Close-up on the vendor, a wizened old man with twinkling eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He gestures towards his wares with a smile.
“Time, friend? I have minutes, hours, days... even years!”
Panel 3:A sharply dressed businessman, looking stressed and harried, stops at the stall. He's holding a briefcase.
“Years, you say? What would something like that cost?”
Panel 4:The vendor leans in conspiratorially, a glint in his eye.
“For you, my friend, a bargain. One year... for everything you hold most dear.”
PAGE 2
Panel 1:The businessman hesitates, looking conflicted. Close-up on his face.
Panel 2:The businessman slams his briefcase on the stall. Inside, we see stock certificates and a family photo.
“Deal!”
Panel 3:The vendor hands the businessman a small, ornate hourglass filled with swirling, golden sand.
“Handle with care. Time is a precious commodity.”
Panel 4:The businessman clutches the hourglass tightly, a manic grin spreading across his face.
PAGE 3
Panel 1:The businessman walks away, clutching the hourglass. Behind him, the stall and surrounding street begin to shimmer and distort.
Panel 2:A street sign flickers and changes names erratically.
Panel 3:A bird flies backward in time, then disappears entirely.
Panel 4:The vendor watches the chaos unfold, his expression unreadable.
“Interesting...”
PAGE 4
Panel 1:Wide shot of the city street. Buildings flicker in and out of existence, cars vanish, and people are frozen in time or moving erratically. Chaos reigns.
Panel 2:The businessman is kneeling on the ground, clutching his head in pain. The hourglass has shattered in his hand, the golden sand spilling onto the street.
“What have I done?!”
Panel 3:Close-up on the sand swirling on the ground, forming miniature vortexes.
Panel 4:The vendor is still standing behind his stall, now almost completely obscured by the temporal distortions. He smiles knowingly at the reader.
“Time... is a dangerous thing.”
