a PuzzLIng exIStence By joSh deStefano

Decades

Francis Rogai

gâLvIn ran throughout the dILaPIdated Manor, the MoLderIng journaL cLutched tIght to hIS cheSt. BehInd hIM, the aBoMInatIon ShrIeked aS It ShaMBLed ever cLoSer. PuLLIng the door Shut BehInd hIMSeLf, the aged frenchMan Wondered Where the rItuaL had gone Wrong. It had aLL SeeMed So SIMPLe juSt a feW dayS earLIer, the PLan’ S SteePed decePtIon orcheStrated to PerfectIon. It WaS thIS tIMe that gâLvIn thought Back to aS he dragged furnIture over the doorWay, arrangIng hIS Scant ProtectIon Into PLace. gâLvIn MartroM WaS, By trade, a farMer In the outSkIrtS of the ProvInce of eLySe. croP-groWIng WaS a StruggLe that far froM the rIver, So he WaS a Poor Man. dIrty ragS adorned hIS Body for MoSt of the day, and hIS SLeek, MuStachIoed face WaS Burdened By the hoLLoWS of hunger. occaSIonaLLy the Man Went traPPIng, But the feW raBBItS Brought In Were not enough to SuStaIn hIM. It WaS durIng one Such endeavor that he encountered hIS neIghBor- and BeSt frIend In the WorLd- darIen toMaS.

“greetIngS,” SaId darIen one day aS gâLvIn Set hIS traPS. “I have a MeanS of MakIng eaSy Money uPon WhIch I WouLd LIke to IncLude you.” gâLvIn, MILdLy IntrIgued By the ProPoSItIon, queStIoned aS to the nature of the venture. “ah,” reSPonded darIen to the InquIry, “here It IS In My Pocket.” and WIth that, he Produced a SMaLL, yeLLoWed edItIon of the county PaPer. In the center of the Page WaS an advertISeMent that ProcLaIMed the foLLoWIng: “occuLtISt for hIre! If you or a Loved one are BeSet By the forceS of darkneSS, caLL uPon Me By MeanS of a Letter to 18 rue LeStat. I WILL coMBat theM MoSt arduouSLy.” gâLvIn Stared hIS frIend In the face, BareLy aBLe to BeLIeve What he had read. “you ’re takIng advantage of PeoPLe, darIen. Sooner or Later, the truth WILL out and It WILL Be you that the next fraud IS after.” SMILIng SLyLy, darIen WaLked aWay. “I receIved a reSPonSe to It yeSterday,” he caLLed over hIS ShouLder. “froM the WIdoW Mouen, Who LIveS out In the countrySIde. 10,000 francS In advance, and 1,500 More once the joB IS done. Let Me knoW By toMorroW.” and So, It WaS WIth Much reLuctance that gâLvIn found hIMSeLf on the road to the WIdoW ’ S vILLa, SIttIng In darIen’ S carrIage the WhoLe Way there. LIStenIng to the cLInkIng and thuddIng of the oBjectS In the Back, he Brought forth a queStIon to hIS frIend. “darIen, Where dId you Buy theSe oBjectS? SureLy aLL of theM can’ t Be needed for thIS joB.” aMuSed, darIen gave a Wry chuckLe. “I Made aLL of theSe MySeLf. thoSe gLaSS BottLeS there? Water and Ink. that cauLdron IS My oLd cookPot to WhIch I aPPLIed tar. MoSt of theSe thIngS I found on My Land; aLL excePt for that Book there. I Bought that froM an oLd PeddLer juSt the other day.” gâLvIn Looked at the Book; It WaS aBout the SIze of a journaL, WIth a Battered and torn Leather cover. a Strange creature adorned the front, and each Page WaS StaIned In a MySterIouS red LIquId. “that,” he SaId dISSeMBLIngLy, “WILL reaLLy SeLL the Part. good acquISItIon By you.” darIen oPened hIS Mouth and WaS aBout to thank gâLvIn, But then he SaW It. “We’re here,” he SaId to hIS frIend. “ProSPerIty IS ourS.” aS Soon aS the carrIage PuLLed uP to the SteP, the WIdoW Mouen ShoWed the tWo Into her foyer. tWo Battered SofaS Sat around a coBWeBBed end-taBLe, and It WaS here that She receIved theM. “I aPoLogIze for the MeSS”, ProcLaIMed the WIdoW aS She PuLLed off her veIL, “But I haven’ t Been here SInce My huSBand’ S PaSSIng.” darIen cLeared hIS throat, PuLLIng