It was a time for the ending of all familiar things. The day that Bella went to the market was the last day of normal things she would ever know. She had only gone out of curiosity, thinking she could buy some jewellery to take back home to her friends and relatives, a nice present from abroad. But she was doomed, doomed to a life of disaster from that moment on.

The market was busy, most of the city appeared to shop there. Coming from a much more sedate area of the world, Bella found it amazing the way people would push and shove one another aside to look at a handbag or a shirt. Some of the produce was quite nice - here she saw a pewter necklace, there, a bracelet made out of brightly-coloured plastic that a child would love. Though, looking closer, the price was not something a child could afford and many adults seemed to be buying the things. How strange they all were in this city!

She wandered through market stalls selling Asian products, shirts and skirts she always thought of as “hippy” even though the 70s had ended ages ago. She even thought she saw some old hippies lounging about - looking very odd with their long hair now grey and straggly. There were stalls selling food, too, and she bought some noodles, feeling most cosmopolitan.

Everything was most intriguing - all the smells were different, and a thousand different languages seemed to be spoken around her. She even overheard one woman accusing another of swearing at her in Hebrew - what an odd place this was! Turning round a corner, her noodles now deposited in a bin, she saw the entrance to another type of market. It was in a building, not in the open air, and as the wind had turned chilly, she decided to peruse.

This market seemed to be in a timewarp, selling clothes and music from the 1960s. Fortunately this was something Bella was fond of, and she spent a good hour flicking through racks of Cds and records, looking at Bob Dylan and Beatles music, wondering if she had enough money to buy some. She had carefully saved for this trip, but still did not have much money, so she decided to look some more before splashing out on anything.

Round the corner she saw the most amazing punk clothes, all printed faces and safety pins. Fun to look at, but a little chilly, she thought. Then…she saw IT. The best coat in the whole world. It was purple, with a white fur collar, which looked most sophisticated. It had stitching, and was made of some supple material which felt like suede though the price indicated it wasn’t. From the moment she saw it her heart was set upon it.

She quite failed to notice the stall-holder as she was examining this coat - a woman who would put one instantly in mind if the Wicked Witch of fairy tales. It had something to do with the way she was rubbing her hands together as she watched Bella. She had a bottle by her side which she quickly whisked away when Bella turned and asked if she could try the coat on.

“Please do,” said the strange woman. Bella tried on the coat, and it fit perfectly. So perfectly it could have been made for her. And the price was just right. She decided at once she must have this amazing coat. Turning to ask the stall-holder if she could take the coat and walk out wearing it, Bella was amazed by the extraordinary beauty of this woman, who did not look at all like a Wicked Witch, where had that thought come from? Bella was quite taken with the woman, and entertained notions of running away with her to Scotland, where they would live in a little terraced house with a non-obscene dog and lots of purple clothing. But the woman just took her money, removed the tag from the coat, and smiled a little.

Bella walked out of the market, feeling very pleased with herself, if a little despairing because the stall-woman had not apparently appreciated her admiration. She stroked the coat a little, preening in passing mirrors, and abruptly decided to adjourn to the nearest bar. Not that this was unusual for Bella, who was a dedicated enthusiast of alcohol. She skipped up the road, looking a little like five year old, if rather an old dark five year old, and found the perfect bar.

It was dark and old-mannish inside, but the beer was extremely cheap, which was all Bella’s desire. She ordered herself a pint of lager with lime, which disgusting combination she had always enjoyed, and sat and chain-smoked for some time. Eventually, as was her habit, she found herself singing a cheerful ditty with a woman with nails through her face, and a man with green hair. She was having a very good, if rather drunken time, when all of a sudden the coat leapt sideways and made her talk to a dissipated man with grey stubble on his face!

His name was Alistair, and he had a friend who was also called Alistair. At least that was what they said, but they were both drunk, and convinced Bella was in the army, so it was difficult for her to tell. She tried to go back to talk to the woman with the nails and the man with green hair, but the coat held her in thrall and made her talk to the Alistairs! All that night she spoke to them, and kept on speaking even when they recited Shakespeare to her and started singing sea-shanties! Eventually the Alistairs left, and she was free to return to her erstwhile friends. But they were leaving too, and giving her strange looks all the while. Just as they were leaving the bar, the woman with nails in her face turned, pointed a finger and said “Doomed….”

Feeling a little shaken, Bella went back to her hotel room, where she admired her coat some more - and tried to dismiss the suspicion that it had leapt at an Alistair from her mind. In the morning, she gathered her things, and made the long journey home (wearing a different coat.)

It was the right season now, and Bella had convinced herself that she had been merely “tired and emotional” in the pub, and that was why she had been talking to the Alistairs. So she wore her coat here and there. One day she was going to the pub with her friends, and drinking her usual nauseous mixture, when a party of Belgians came in. All but one of her friends had to leave at around that same time so Bella was left with them. One of them had amazingly purple hair and strange glasses, which they supposed was a Belgian aberration. They were not going to speak to strange Belgians but drink their drinks and gossip as normal people do. Until…the Coat decided to take matters into its own hands. As she was on her way to the bar, Bella felt the Coat fling her into a chair next to the purple Belgian, and soon she was embroiled in a conversation which she could not get out of. To make matters worse the Belgian evidently had strange intentions toward her for he kept on saying “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Eventually her friend cottoned on and, by reading aloud Thomas Aquinas, managed to dispel the Belgians from their midst.

The next few weeks were desperately puzzling for Bella. Every time she wore the Coat to her favourite pub, she found herself talking to the most peculiar people. One week, it was Belgians, the next, Frenchmen who wished to buy her mussels (she supposed). It was all most peculiar. Then she found that a strange Scotsman had taken to following her whenever she wore the coat, and could only be removed by her offering to show him puppies, which frightened him for some obscure reason.

She became haunted by the fear that that Coat was lurking in her cupboard, ostensibly innocent, but really plotting her ruin. The Coat of Doom was how she termed it yet…she had spent money on the Coat, it had been an expensive Coat, and she was from a race not known for its fondness for spending. So she wore the Coat, and she talked to strange people, and could not stop. One day, she tried to stop wearing the Coat, but felt it speaking to her, saying “Wear me! I cost you money!”

And so Bella’s sad life continues. She tries not to wear the Coat of Doom but it will not stop speaking to her. It was the curse of the Stall-Woman, that old witch of the South who puts charms on her garments, that the owner thereof shall fancy whoever unsuitable who passes, and talk to those who had best be avoided. One day, Bella fears, there will be no one to exorcise the strange people away from her, and then truly the nightmare will begin.

Beware the strange stall-holders, should you fancy them, and beware strange purple coats in foreign markets, for they are doomed, and will doom you also. And let the stall-holder witch of the south be damned, for she is the cause of the curse upon Bella, and of the dodgies who come flocking.

Authors note: These events actually happened. More or less, anyway. Names have been changed to protect the guilty!