The Bookstore was Greg’s project and it was looking up. The new little town he had moved to was what he had always looked for. Maybe finally he would be home.
It was a quaint building, wooden tiles in every room. The chandelier in the main showroom to him was reminiscent of an airy 1900s drawing room. That would have been the last time Greg had been to Britain.
He remembered the times well. His diseased soul had taken him everywhere in flight and in pursuit of relief as well. None had come to him. And he had come back home, his natural habitat, hoping that the source of his release would be in the same place the curse had found him. And yet he was still here, and still cursed through time and in time.
Greg shook his head bringing himself back to the present. The bookstore would be open the next week and there was still much to do. The shelves were almost done but the porch needed work.
But he knew his assistant Natsai would see to it. They had the best carpenters and contractor on the job. It was what he lived for, turning old buildings anew, he felt like he was giving them life. If for nothing else, he lived for that.
Natsai walked in, ''Gee, there's someone here to see you..She says its urgent.''
“Who?...”
''No idea..''
He clenched his jaw. He was in no mood for interruptions. As she walked in, he was immediately struck by her eyes. They told nothing but it seemed they knew everything. He was oddly uncomfortable.
''I was told you'd be here. I need your help.''
He did not know her from Adam and here she was asking for his help. It couldn’t be about a building, her tone exuded some more serious underlying matter.
''Well, I’d be obliged if you would introduce yourself first. Then we'll get to the problem.''
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, the part where his glasses always made him itch.
She looked impatient for a moment.
''My name is Chenesai. I'm here because you are the only one who can help. You are needed in your village.”
His village? No one knew where he came from. Needless to say when he came from. He had made sure, all through the centuries.
“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about. But how can I be of service?”
“You are the last of your family”, she said.
He looked her over, trying to read her. She couldn’t be lying. He always had a sense for such things. Chenesai wrung her hands in an effort not to roll her eyes. She was getting annoyed. He was looking her over like she was some cockroach infested furnishing. Well, she was not impressed with him either. This tall wiry fellow could hardly be the one she had been told to look for. She had expected a heroic looking warrior type.
“Your real name should be Tsvakai. I had to dig really hard to find you. The Oracle’s special gift for sight made my burden somewhat easier. You could try to deny it, but I’m never wrong, especially after research.”
Greg was shocked, somewhat. No one had called him that in what seemed eternity. How had she found him? What manner of shamanism was this?
“Let’s say I buy into this story..What exactly do you want from me?”, he asked.
She begun to doubt herself just a little but would not let it show.
“I am here on behalf of my father. He has asked for you. He is dying ,you see, and seeks redemption for his soul before he enters the afterlife. he has it in his head, and strongly I might add, that you are the man for the job. So I have been looking for you as per his instruction. If I were to find you I was to bring you back with me, so that you can perform the ritual.”
Greg looked at Chenesai as if she had greatly offended him. He felt the urge to wash his hands, so badly that he felt like they were on fire. He imagined soft little kittens like his therapist had advised at some point. He had indulged in psychological absurdity – as he saw it- for lack of anything to do over the years.
Chenesai saw him go pale and would have rushed to his aid, but the smouldering look he gave her only exasperated her. She did not believe in any of this and she would be damned if she had to beg him to come, but her father was gravely ill. She knew this would be the end, and she so desperately wanted her father’s last wish to come true.
So she would do whatever it took to make sure her father’s spirit would journey to the afterlife in peace.
“I have heard what you have to say. Now I need you to leave. Get out of my office and never return.”, Greg croaked.
His throat had gone dry. He turned and she could all but feel his anger radiating from him.
“Go back and tell your father there is no hope to be found, I cannot help him.”
Chenesai stuttered, “But… he said… Please, you are the only one who can help.”
“Get out!”, he shouted.
And so she did.
