Kilney is almost eighty percent sure Ramshackle looks different. He is taller and instead of his infernal suits, he is wearing a rather fluffy sweater. He looks like an elongated cat that will purr if scratched correctly. Kilney blushes at the thought.
“Mr. Kilney,” says Ramshackle.
His voice is different too. It sounds more present.
“Mr. Ramshackle. How are you this fine evening?”
Ramshackle and the house are displeased with this audience. They may have thought that having Kilney around will help. But turning away two clients just that morning because things hadn’t settled yet made them feel decidedly angsty. Ramshackle has faced angry spouses, hysterical society members and the constabulary. But Kilney is changing him and thus the house by his sheer bullheadedness and frankly that is irritating.
He wants to close the door on Kilney’s face. Instead he says, just as politely and inanely, “I’m doing well, thank you. How about you?”
Kilney had convinced himself that either he wouldn’t find Ramshackle or if he did, he wouldn’t be entertained. Since neither has happened, he feels unprepared so blurts out, “I’m good.”
Then, he shakes his head and corrects himself. “No, that’s not…I’m not good. I am decidedly not good.”
“I see.”
Ramshackle is standing in the doorway, as if hiding the interior from view. Kilney does not know if it’s deliberate.
“May I come in?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Kilney has never been this uncomfortable in his life. But he swallows his pride and says, “I would like to speak to you, please.”
“Why?”
And the words start pouring. The same words that seemed stuck when Lunar had asked him become unstuck. “I have tried, really tried to understand the thought process that led Gimby to your door but I cannot understand it. And I need to. I have to know.”
Careful Ramshackle. This could go well, or very poorly.
He takes a moment before responding. “Mr. Kilney you must realize this is most irregular. Use your discernment and tell me: why? Because if you are unable to answer, you have no business being here.”
Kilney drops his head. He feels like a chastised child. He wants to bleach the name Ramshackle from his brain. He wants to turn back the clock so he can stop Gimble from ever hearing of this man.
“You were right, okay? All those months ago when you asked me what about me could she no longer tolerate…you were right.” He takes deep breath. “I know I can be cruel. I know I’m not the easiest person to live with. I’m afraid it was my fault and I inadvertently drove her to you.”
Ramshackle looks sympathetic but not in a condescending way. “You may not like the answers.”
There is something about him. It calls to you, doesn’t it?
Ramshackle thinks, I only know I want to ease his pain.
Kilney smiles. “You have said that before. I did not listen to you then, what makes you think I’ll listen to you now?”
Ramshackle instead of responding to his humour becomes even more subdued. “You could have left, then. I’m not sure the house will let you leave until it’s finished.”
That wipes the smile off Kilney’s face. A shiver runs up his spine. But it is not a physical danger he is feeling. It’s deeper. Like the very foundation on which his life is based is about to be incontrovertibly changed. But he has done his thinking. He wants no more of it.
“I understand.”
“Do you really?”
“I suppose not,” he says as he takes a step towards the house. “But I find that I don’t care.”
“So be it,” says Ramshackle as he moves away to allow Kilney to enter.
Kilney doesn’t stay long but after he leaves, Ramshackle finds itself in need of an escape, especially from the house whose thoughts have become loud.
Donning the role of a human woman, she goes for a stroll on the beach. She is in blue cotton shorts and a thin white t-shirt. Barefoot, she can feel the warm sand. The wind in her black and pink hair is lovely and the blue of the water reminds her not of sapphires but lapis lazuli. She wishes she could capture that colour and the peace she feels.
Within a few moments, a stone appears around her neck. It is a lapis lazuli but it contains yellow lines for the sun, grit for the sand and silver lines for the wind. She smiles at the stone and then at the water.
She spends the day on the beach and despite her rancour, never strays too far from the house. When dusk falls, she goes back.
As soon as the door closes behind her, Ramshackle feels her body change back to its nondescript self. Though it does not mind how its body changes, the utter lack of feeling is one it dislikes.
It goes to its table and removes its journal. The print on the front says Volume XVI. It removes the stone, which is still around its neck, and puts it in a drawer. The drawer has two more items. A feather the colour of purest white which it had used to capture the feeling of loneliness and desolation. The other is a jade ring that represents love. It adds the lapis lazuli to the collection.
It finds a fresh page and starts to write:
Though I have a token that tells me today was a happy day, I find myself feeling an ache. Is it for home? It has been so long since I left my realm that it is not the image that my mind conjures when I think of home. In fact, home conjures nothing.
Humans and their problems have started to blur into one big ball of nothingness. I find myself uncaring and uninterested. What is it that I’m experiencing?
Humans lead such short lives and yet all of it is mired in guilt, shame and fear. It is spectacular how they cannot even live their small lives without hurting themselves or others.
Is that what I want? Do I want to be one of them? With all the knowledge of their folly I have gained, if I become human, will I be able to lead a life that is “best” and set an example for them? Or will I too become so gloriously human that I will forget everything that I have learnt?
Maybe I need a companion. Someone I can talk to rather than this journal which only shows my thoughts as they go through their well-worn cycle of happiness, despair, hope, purpose and despair again.
Ramshackle huffs. In its state, it should not be feeling anything. But the anger and helplessness are ever-present. It makes no sense. The entire point of it, in its primal state, is the ability to leave behind the baggage it picks up while impersonating, interacting or consuming humans. Then why does it feel restless?
Curse the day Gimble and Kilney decided to invade our lives, says the house.
13 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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