Supply & Demand
Pt. 1
The little girl intimidated me greatly. I say little for she was small in size and very youthful in complexion yet she exuded years of experience and gave the distinct impression that she could dominate me physically. Not the petty anger of a child who thinks they could destroy you, yet achieving nothing more than to bruise your shins but the cold confidence of someone who knows from a combination of training and years of putting it to use knows how to cause you pain. It was this and the air of challenge, that she'd enjoy very much to show me she could that left me highly perturbed whenever we met.
She sat opposite me, in a red thick felt over coat with a black ribbon holding her dark hair away from her pale face. I thought it odd that she should wear such clothing indoors for her compact busy little study in which, dark green leather and near black hard wood furniture that was an underlying theme to that of mass papered clutter. It was this office where we always conducted our meetings; it was stiflingly hot as always. My own heavy winter coat was hung on the inside of the door I came through, my top hat I fingered nervously in my lap.
Her lids were closed and she would've looked serene if only her eyes would remain still underneath them. Frantically they moved, as if tracking a torrent of leaves in a heady gust. So it was with quite a start I flinched to the flicking open and sudden probing stare she gave me. Her irises were large and black taking up most of the eye; she could well induce vertigo with the perceived depth of her stare. She smiled at this and then spoke with her gravelly, grating voice that was painful to listen to for too long. 'You've returned for another package. It is too soon.'
'If it is too soon then I would kindly request that the next package is larger, for I perceive an opportunity to increase trade for both of us. It has incurred quite the reputation amongst my customers, selling out well before our regular meetings. You are quite devilishly hard to get hold of outside of our allotted time.'
‘The timing of this request is ill, for it takes much to obtain what you desire.’
‘If you would allow me to assist you I would gladly share the burden of this task.’
‘No, this place is not for you. You are a construct of great fragility; I would need someone of great power to be my assistant. This is not you?’ She spoke in these riddles often, much I have made of the conversations we’ve had in the past, she speak a denial in one sentence whilst ceding to my will in the next. With little to make of the words she spoke it was more of the skill in translating how she told you. In the last statement I could detect a tone of challenge, so it was with little trepidation that I pursued her further.
‘You speak of power, I am a man of cast iron will, through two hard wars I’ve fought and never was my spirit broken though many a man about me crumbed. I’ve a hearty constitution, not taking the ills of this world both physical and moral. I’ve a true influence over people who can make a difference to at least seven countries. And as for being of fragile construct, I am no more or less fragile than yourself.’
My ostentatious little speech drew a smile to her lips; she seemed always amused by me.
‘Greed shall always be your downfall.’ The way she pronounced “your” felt very much as though she wasn’t just talking about me. ‘Pray tell just what it is that you do with what I acquire for you?’ She leaned unblinkingly forward slightly to wait for my reply.
‘The people I sell it to tell me it is a delightful pleasure drug, I have no tolerance for such things, but they are willing to pay great sums to obtain small amounts.’
I remember that this was the first time I heard her laugh. It was truly ghastly. It sounded like crumbling chalk. That laugh would stay with me.
‘It has so many uses, you do not realise what you sell so cheaply. You are a fool to think I would let you come with me.’
I shall not hide the fact the fact that I am quick to temper, this was no exception. I stood to leave, one arm reaching out to gather my coat to me.
‘So this is to be an example of your iron will? It shall make a fine one.’
I made to open the door, my hand resting on the knob. ‘My dear, do not mistake this for a weakness, I merely came to enquire if another transaction was possible, you’ve been clear in your intention.’
‘Have I? You may accompany me this time, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Be careful now, I wouldn’t want to lose my favourite customer. Temptation is everywhere.’ She slid off her chair to a stand; she was half my height near exactly. A smile played on her lips, as she opened the other door to her office she spoke over her shoulder. ‘You may wait whilst I ready myself for travel.’ Then she disappeared into the gloom of the adjoining room leaving the door wide open.
I was unsure whether she meant for me to wait in her office or the room to which she had left door open to. Curiosity got the better of me so, coat and hat in hand I followed, precariously, into the darkness beyond her office.
The only source of light in this room was diffused from a green velvet gaming table. There were two gentlemen concentrating on the cards in their hands and on the surface. Just to their side were two grand armchairs, one was empty; the other barely contained the quite the largest man I’ve ever witnessed. My eyes struggled to take him all in, not just because of his impossible size, but from the fact that he barely moved, it was only the thick volumes of smoke the poured from his nostrils that belied him a statue. Sitting in the chair he looked compressed, his knee’s reached to cover three quarters of his chest. Where his elbow’s touched the arm rests they forced his shoulders up near his ears; with one of his arms passing behind his long calves steadying the bottom of a pipe, the ornately carved opposite end was held by his other hand allowing his mouth to clamp over it. A tall hookah pipe stood between the two chairs.
The air in the room was heavy and thick, I had the strongest desire to sit down yet no notion as to what backwards was, thus the only option that represented itself was the one beside the smoking giant. The smooth leather creaked as I settled into the chair, the two playing cards paused glancing at me briefly then haroomphed and muttered back to their game. A sticky sweat trickled down the small of my back, ice compared to the heat of the room. The giant registered not my presence, merely continuing his slow, deep inhalation followed by the steady, acrid exhalation of syrupy, white smoke. Grey predominated the man. From his suit and shirt to the colour of his skin and hair, it was as if his was carved from stone or moulded from ash.
Waves of pulsing heat were attacking my eyelids like a pack of baying wolves taking turns to bring down their weakening prey, with each blink there was a danger of them being brought to a close. I was just about to let sleep takes its dominion of me when a so subtle jolt of realisation worked its way through my immediate neighbour. Like a glacier’s crawl his eyes turned to meet mine. Locked into his stare I could focus on naught else, my mind was a blank, a sheet of paper free in a storm had more chance of being written on than I had of moving my body in that passage of time. All was lost to me until the business end of the hookah pipe broke his stare. No words were said but I knew to not accept the pipe would be a grave error. Placing the dry carved wood between my lips in taking a deep pull on my lungs what felt like cold air washed into my body. I thought I’d done it wrong, for surely there could be no smoke in my body. As I exhaled I was shocked to see such a volume of smoke venture forth. Tastes of cherries and brandy filled my senses, a rush of blood purged clear my mind, I felt detached from my body, yet more together and physically ready than I had in years.
Just as I thought I was getting used to this feeling I saw a light turn on through a doorway opposite my chair. One of the card players grumbled but didn’t look up from or stop fussing at his hand of cards. Through the door a rhythmic and wet spluttering was matched to a metallic clink. What looked like a tin box with wheels rolled into view stopping with a loud splutter that made it sag onto its wheels. It was mainly red with black squares running in two horizontal strips ran around it. Upon a more determined inspection I spied that there was writing on the side of it reading “London Bus”. It was a most peculiar thing.
I stood to get a closer look at it, gathering my coat and hat from my lap and allowed my feet to lead me. When I came within about ten strides it coughed into motion, turning down a hallway. I stopped in surprise, as did it. Every step I took closer it appeared to maintain the distance. I took I should follow this fascinating little device weaving its way down the corridor. When it came to the foot of the stairs there was an open cloak room door. As it ploughed between the coats in the cupboard the noise abruptly stopped. I quick stepped forward and dashed the coats apart.
There was a broken hole in the wall only slightly taller than the wheeled box. Squatting over my heels I peered into the darkness. I could see no end to the hole, but bizarrely I was going in. Far from my mind at this point was waiting for the girl, my focus was to follow. So I mopped my brow with my pocket kerchief and replaced it, fitted my hat securely to my head and folding my coat over as small as was comfortable I clutched it to my person. The hole was just my size at a crawl if I ducked my head down. It couldn’t be described as comfortable but this seemed of little import as I passed the entrance.
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It’s been a long while since I’ve posted anything, but fear not, alongside the horror that is moving house I have been crafting hard on this little number. A short story. As these things have their tendencies they run away with themselves, so instead of waiting until I’ve finished I thought I’d pop it up in parts. Hopefully it’ll just be two, but it might spread to three.
Big love.
