PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

5

“Gargilre, I am he-” my announcement is cut short when I enter his home and notice that the cobwebs and dust had been replaced with a clean home filled with intoxicating aromas, clean Victorian furniture, lovely silk drapes, sheer fabrics draping from the ceiling, exquisite chandeliers, candelabras, and twice as many spell, potion, and incantation books upon several clean bookcases. “Odd, Sir Gargilre’s home is never this clean unless…” I smile. “His wife is home. It is the only explanation for why it is so clean in here. Mrs. Ectmech,” I call. “Sir Gargilre, I am here. I have come for the potion at a quarter past eleven just as I had promised.” I walk through the first level of their four stories high home. “Mrs. Ectmech? Sir Gargilre?” This was quite odd. Gargilre was always awaiting my arrival. He always sensed when I was making a visit. I even had to use the long forgotten key that Gargilre had given me when he first moved here. I only found when stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Sir-”

  My call was cut short by a woman’s shrieking filled with pain, fear, and…heartbreak.

  “Sir Gargilre?”

  The shrieking continued.

  “Sir Gargilre!” I run up several flights stairs towards the shrieking ‘til it comes to an abrupt stop. I say nothing; only walk towards the one solitary door on this floor. “Mrs. Ectmech, are you alright?” I finally whisper, once I am several feet from the door. “Mrs. Ectmech, do you need-”

  The door bursts open, slamming into the wall beside it and slamming me back against the far end as a women with wind and black flames whirling around her steps forth. “You,” she growls. “You and you’re your stupid little condition caused this.” With each step she takes, the floor shakes, the earth one the first floor quakes. Her anger radiates. “You forced him to do it didn’t you? You forced him into making that potion even when you knew the risks of making it! You did this!”

  “Did what? What risks? Mrs. Ectmech-”

  “Stop calling me that! That is not my last name!” Her arm sweeps the air between us but forces me down the hall, close to the next set of stairs.

  I struggle to sit up as the avenging woman steps towards me. “Miss, I am a companion of your husband’s. I have only come for the potion-”

  “The potion you forced him to make!” Once again her arm sweeps the air between us and thrashes me against the wall opposite of her.

  “I… I did no such thing. Zrimdon-”

  “Silence!” I am thrashed harder against the wall. “Silence now! I know you forced him! Gargy would not be as so reckless to create that potion, knowing the consequences! I know he must have told you! You must have known! You forced him into to it! I know you did!” She grabs the air and thrusts them in the direction of the staircase I had just come up, propelling me towards them. I tumble down the last two with such force, it leaves me paralyzed, but for only moment. “Tell me what you did to convince him! Tell me what you did to make him do such an idiotic thing!”

  What was she talking about? I only begged and pleaded---which is something I do not often do---with him to help me make a very old, very close friend of mine happy. I guess you could say I convinced him, but not by force. I would never force a man that was willing, in the first place, to aid me in this horrid life that I am imposed to live. “Centuries back, Sir Gargilre offered his assistance to me. I wanted to turn him down, but your husband was oh, too kind and very much persuasive.” I regain use of my limbs and slowly rise, hearing as my limbs screech and creak in pain. How odd is that? Someone has actually caused me, the causer of, physical pain. “You see, Miss, you have only known Sir Gargilre Ectmech since you were fifteen. I, on the other hand, have known him for several centuries. Sir Gargilre Ectmech cannot be either persuaded or forced to do something that he in his heart does not believe is right.-” I am once again flung down the hall, down a staircase, and paralyzed for a slim moment. I let out a sharp intake of breathe. “He will not do anything that he does not believe will assist another individual in either the near or distant future. Sir Gargilre Ectmech is a good man and does this for the greater good. I did not force him.” I am flung across the room to the far wall. “I would never force him. I did not make him.” I am slammed harder against the wall. “I would never make him. I did no convincing of such.” Another slam. “I only came to him when I saw the note that my dear Melarvious Myth had left me, saying she was coming to visit. I would not have come if it were not for the command she had given me.” I braced to be flung, slammed, thrashed, or paralyzed but it did not come. I finally open my sight---which I had not known I’d closed---to find that the avenging mistress had calmed only the slightest and were standing on the far side of the room, unmoved from when she’d thrashed me.

  “What note?” She growled. “What command?”

  I slowly rise up my hands, lower my left one into the left side of my overcoat, reach into my pocket, and slowly raise it to her eye level at my arms length. “This note.”

  She makes a snatching motion in the air the note flies from my hand into hers.

  “It was taped to my door when I arrived at home late this afternoon. I had rushed over here to see Sir Gargilre after several attempts of restless sleeping.” I continue on. “I had only asked if his search had come closer to its end. When he said yes, I asked him if I could have it. He said it wasn’t perfected to the point to where it would last all my immortal life, that it was temperamental. Or as he would put it-”

  “Demperzamental…”

  I look at and nod, saying, “Yes… As I was saying, I had only begged him to help me. I told him of how it is not possible to deny a command fro my Melarvious. I saw the hesitation in his eyes but did not press. I let him consider and give me his answer. There was no force. I had told him I was willing to take the risk for I believed that the risk would be caused upon my using it. I did not think that the risk would be put upon him.” I finally glance over Sir Gargilre’s wife. She was beautiful, but a dark beauty. She had calmed some. Her eyes held remorse, grieving, anger. The anger was held towards me for reasons unknown, as were the remorse and grieving. I close my eyes and swallow hard at the thought formulating in my mind. “Miss? Where exactly is Sir Gargilre? What has happened to him?”

  She only flicks her wrist, pushing a potion bottle and a slip of paper off the edge of a table several yards away from me. “Just take it.”

  I quickly move to catch it and, thankfully, succeed. I glance over to see Miss’s head hung low in defeat. “Miss?”

  With teeth clenched, she growls, “Just take the bloody potion and never come back. I do not ever want to see your face around here ever again. Just leave.”

  I stand up right and bow. “As you wish, Miss. I am just sorry that our first and last encounter with one another was on such horrible, misunderstanding times.” I erect myself once more and before turning to leave I say, “And if it helps, I shall be sore and bruised for at least a year.”

  “It helps none.” The growl was gone from her voice, but she was no where near calm.

  “Very well.” I turn to leave. “Tell Sir Gargilre, wherever he may be, that I apologize for the damage that my body has caused to your home, and that I shall see him when our paths cross once more.” I exit out of the house sore but still in a relatively good mood.