The woman’s hair is a curious mix of black, white and silver. They are combed back from her face which is pale but determined. It is as if she has run out of every argument to not go ahead with what she is about to do. Her blouse is bottle green and her skirt that touches her ankles is of tweed. She is wearing no-nonsense black shoes. Her figure cuts a severe image but her eyes shine with excitement.
Ramshackle next to her is a mirror image of the woman. Similar hair and clothes though she wears red instead of green and black instead of brown. Her shoes have a bit of heels but Ramshackle’s face is the same as always. Nondescript.
She says, “Are you ready, Lowena?”
“What will happen once you open the door?”
They have been through this before but Ramshackle repeats it nonetheless. “Once I open the door, your deepest desire will unfold in front of you. Remember you’re completely in control of everything that happens. You’re in-charge Lowena, no matter what anyone says.”
Lowena hiccups. “I have never been in-charge of anything in my life.”
Ramshackle smiles but doesn’t say anything. People react differently when they stand where Lowena is standing right now. Some do not hesitate. Some cry. Some get angry and some shiver with nervousness. Almost no one returns from the door and requests to walk away. It’s something that fascinates Ramshackle.
“What if,” Lowena licks her dry lips, “what if after the twenty-four hours, I don’t want to die? Will you…” her voice drops, “kill me?”
Another common question. Ramshackle takes a moment to decide how to answer because everybody needs a different kind of reassurance and she wonders what would best work for Lowena.
She settles on, “You won’t need more than twenty-four hours.”
Lowena nods her head and Ramshackle is pleased. Even though she has been studying humans for a millennium, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how similar and yet different the species are.
“And if I don’t like my deepest desire?”
Ramshackle chuckles. Lowena gives her a hard look so she simply repeats, “You’re in-charge. Always. This house, your desire, me…we’re all here to serve you.”
That seems to satisfy her. “I’m ready.” As soon as Ramshackle starts to twist the knob though, she stops her. “Will you be there?”
“If you need.”
Lowena doesn’t like that answer. She wavers for a moment, uncertain, terrified of seeing her own mind laid bare in front of her, stripped of all the loops of delusion, fear and defences. But she pulls herself back together.
“Open the door.”
The door closes with a soft click behind her. Lowena’s eyes are closed. She wants to give herself a moment. She knows something is happening when she feels herself changing. The skirt turns into pants so soft she does not think they’re real. Her blouse is a shirt now and her breasts, which she has never liked, become less pointy and more rounded. She looks at herself and catalogues the changes. A bright smile appears on her face. This is who she is.
It is night time. There is water to her left, a promenade and a lamp that is giving out a soft yellow glow. She breathes and the air is crisp and it burns her nostrils as it goes down to her lungs.
She has spent thirty-three years on Earth but it is now, in this moment where she feels alive.
Now that Lowena has gone into her world, Ramshackle no longer looks like a woman. It does not even look like a man. It has no form or body. It just is.
It sits at a desk – though desk is a generous term. It is a square table, barely big enough to hold a journal. It has as much detail as Ramshackle’s body which is to say none. But it serves its purpose as Ramshackle sits on a chair.
The journal that appears on the desk has a brown cover and in golden lettering it says Volume XIV. It is half-filled. As Ramshackle skims through the previous pages, we get a glimpse of the penmanship. It’s beautiful, the only thing in Ramshackle’s vicinity that has some form and substance.
Words, Ramshackle has understood, are its favourite way of recording the stories of its clients. It had started with souvenirs but it had realized that over time, souvenirs lost their lustre and importance. Only words grew in power as time went on.
Ramshackle looks at the pages and as it starts thinking, words start appearing.
Lowena came to me four months ago. Her spirit, she said, had been broken because all her life, she had been told that once she was old enough, she’d be able to do anything she wished. But the older she grew, the smaller her ring of control shrunk.
She wanted, she said, just one day where even the idea of rules did not exist.
It takes a pause. Every time it feels it has a handle on who humans are, it sees how wholly unknowable they truly are.
8 of 26 of an ongoing series The Dream Maker. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
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tales of Suchita 
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