tales of Suchita

Kilney takes in the quality of the thick white paper, the bold black ink and the absence of a letterhead. It doesn’t necessarily make a contract void but he finds it curious that Ramshackle’s business doesn’t have a name. Maybe otherworldly beings don’t have to bother with things like logos, registration or licenses.

It’s a one-page contract. The language is simple to understand. It says: the signee recognizes that they are forfeiting their life for a chance to spend twenty-four hours living their heart’s truest desires. It further confirms that the signee is not under duress.

Kilney is…disappointed. He says, pushing the contract back towards Ramshackle, “This seems straightforward.”

Ramshackle inclines his head in acknowledgment.

“What I don’t understand is why Gimby would do this. We were happy. We were engaged for two years and not once during that time did she voice any complaint. Tomorrow…”

At the prick of tears, Kilney turns away. He cannot, will not, cry in front of a man wearing a better suit than him. “It’s our wedding tomorrow. Everyone has arrived. People have travelled from all over the country to wish us well. I don’t…why is this happening to me?”

The house whispers in Ramshackle’s ears, offer him a chance to understand. This is what we have been looking for mellon. He is the key.

The message makes Ramshackle shiver in fear and anticipation. Are you sure? Will it be safe?

He feels the house’s exasperation. It is disconcerting how human the house acts sometimes.

What are you afraid of? You’re immortal.

Ramshackle wants to roll his eyes but instead says, “Would you like to understand why a seemingly happy girl, on the brink of getting married to her beloved, would sign away her life to me for living her deepest desires for twenty-four hours?”

The way he puts it, so baldly, makes Kilney sound pathetic. But he needs to know. That’s why he’s here instead of outside Gimby’s house, demanding explanations from her like the rest of her family.

Kilney straightens and nods.

“You may not get the answers you’re hoping for,” he cautions.

The warning is ominous and Kilney finds himself unable to speak. So, he shrugs.

“I’ll need verbal consent Mr. Kilney before we begin.”

He wonders what Ramshackle’s motivation in all this is. He had thought this would be difficult, that he’d have to convince Ramshackle but it’s been too easy, so far.

“I give my consent.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” says Ramshackle, extending his hand, to seal the deal.

Kilney takes his hand for a firm shake and notes Ramshackle’s is devoid of any lines. It makes him gulp, wondering just what he has agreed to.

---

3 of 26 of an ongoing series The Dream Maker. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.

---

I also have a weekly newsletter that I send out every Monday at 8 AM. You can read one of the newsletters here.

---