BlogchatterA2Z
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The bar is sticky to the touch like it has absorbed as much alcohol as it can and is now oozing it back out. Ramshackle is sitting on a bar stool, a glass of daiquiri in front of him. Though it is uncomfortable, sitting with his arms crossed across his chest rather than resting comfortably
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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.
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Ramshackle does not ask for Kilney’s coat or umbrella. He thinks the man would prefer to keep them handy. He notices the way Kilney’s eyes turn round with disbelief at the smooth wooden panelling, the way the air and light pulse with life through the rooms and the general sense of well-being that emanates from
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The door opens with a sigh. Two men stand facing each other. The one holding the door open has a nondescript face but he’s wearing an impeccable suit. It’s well cut, grey and hangs on his frame like he grew into it. The man with his hand extended to knock, looks at the suit and
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What price are you willing to pay to live your deepest desire? People call Ramshackle the dream maker but he thinks of himself as more of a facilitator. If you have a wish you want to fulfill then he is the man you turn to. All you have to do is sign a contract and
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Chanderi had wanted to give her parents a lavish anniversary party to celebrate their years of togetherness. But considering this was their thirty-second anniversary and not a milestone anniversary, she had planned a small dinner consisting of exactly thirty-two guests. That bit of symmetry was for her because she enjoyed such things.
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It was strange, to be so close to Chanderi and yet behave as if he wasn’t crawling out of his skin. Though he had spent two hours in her company, he had barely spoken two words to her.
tales of Suchita 