Fortune

“So you mean I just tell you my wishes and you make it happen?” I asked.

“Not quite,” he replied with a voice smooth as silk and as sticky as honey.

Somehow even though we sat in direct sunlight, he was partially obscured by shadows. Looking at him too closely hurt my eyes, almost like looking directly into the sun. The contradiction was jarring. A hand reached into a secret compartment under his lapel and produced a little black journal.

It was an entirely unremarkable pocket journal. A worn leather-bound booklet. I thought I may have seen a symbol etched into the spine of the book as he twisted it in the light. He laid the tome between us with reverence, like he was presenting me with a prized jewel rather than an old notebook.

“The deal is this,” he began, his voice once again entrancing me. “You will write your three greatest desires in here along with the names of the five people who have wronged you the most.”

“Desires? Anything I want?” I asked.

“Almost anything.”

“Almost?”

“I am unable to effect free will and death, and I’m unable to extend more wishes.”

“Fair enough.” I’ve seen that movie with the genie. “But why do you want the names of people that have wronged me?”

“That is simply the cost of your desire.”

I tried to meet his eyes once more but winced at the pain in my head when I did. It was strange, why couldn’t I look at him? More importantly, why was he offering this to me? I hadn’t done anything to deserve it, had I?

“Why me?” I asked.

“Call it a cosmic lottery,” he retorted.

“Do I get some time to decide? This is sudden.”

“Of course. I will grant you 24 hours. Also be sure to be specific.”

“How do I-”

A glass shattered behind me loudly, drawing my attention away for just a moment. When I turned back, he was gone. I glanced around to catch his retreating back but he had disappeared like a ghost. The only evidence he had been there at all was the book, still laying on the table where he left it.

The next day I showed up to the coffee shop early. After ordering my usual lemon scone and vanilla latte I sat at the same table as I had the day before. As I munched on my scone, I thought about the way I felt drawn to the book. It pulled me in like a magnet. I was hyper aware of where it was at any given moment. There was even a point when I thought it was talking to me. Just when I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled the book out of my work bag. I checked the spine first. When he pulled it out I could’ve sworn I saw a symbol or a rune on it. I ran my finger along it to try and capture what I may be missing with my eyes but there was nothing. Next, I flipped through the book, greeted by unlined blank pages, yellowed around the edges. I’m not sure what I expected, perhaps scribbles or even an ownership sticker but the pages hadn’t been used despite the worn state of the book.

At some point I decided I was going to go through with these wishes. The dilemma for me wasn’t what to wish for. I knew what I wanted: financial security, after spending the better part of my teen years and early 20s homeless, I never wanted that to happen again; serenity, living life with crippling anxiety and trust issues was hell, I wanted to know what a quiet mind was like; and a good life. It wasn’t a problem for me to write these wishes in the journal with all the detail the man had warned me to include. But when I had to write the names of those that had wronged me I paused. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think of who made the top five, I just didn’t know what would happen to them after I put their names in the book.

As I sat at my regular table outside the neighborhood coffee shop munching on my scone, I couldn’t help thinking I should feel worse about the fate I could be subjecting people to. It’s not as if they wouldn’t deserve whatever divine retribution came their way. And I guess that’s how I justified it. If they had to suffer in order for me to get what I want, I’d find a way to move on. They hurt me in the first place and caused the problems I’m trying to wish away now.

“Have you completed your task?” a honeyed voice asked from behind me.

“I have,” I said, standing. I presented the book to him.

“There are no questions you have for me?”

“Should I have any?”

He hummed. “Usually, this is the part where people ask what happens to the names they wrote down. To be clear, there are no refunds or reversals once the deal is done.”

“I understand.”

He took the book and held out a hand to shake. His grip was warm and strong. I almost didn’t feel the pricking sensation as he pulled back. I looked down at my hand and noticed a splotch of blood in the center of my palm. The stranger reached out reverently grasping my hand in both of his, I hadn’t seen him pocket the book, and brought my hand to his lips. They were soft and gentle like a caress. I should’ve been weirded out by this man kissing my bleeding hand but it felt completely normal in that moment.

“It is done,” he said, his voice echoing in my mind. It took a moment for me to realize I was staring into his eyes. They were amber and smoldering like fire. No, not like fire, they were fire. The longer I looked the more I realized this wasn’t just some kindly man with means and opportunity, something mystical was happening.

A powerful vibration in my pocket shocked me from the staring contest the stranger and I were having. “You should get that,” he commanded.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Hello?” I answered, turning away from him just far enough to keep him in my peripheral sight.

“Is this Bahram Solarin?” the voice on the line asked.

“This is he.”

“Sir, I’m with Brightfield Life Insurance, I’m sorry to inform you your parents, Chibuzo Solarin and Nika Solarin, were on a plane that crashed in the Rockies. There were no survivors. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She paused. “You are listed as the beneficiary of their life insurance policy in the amount of $10 million. Do you still live at the address in New York?”

“Yes,” I responded, oddly calm. I confirmed the address with her at her request to be doubly sure.

“I will be sending paperwork for you to fill out. Please complete it and return it as quickly as possible so we can get your payout to you. Again, I’m sorry for your loss but I hope this pay out can provide some solace for you.”

“Thank you,” I replied robotically. My parents were dead. I should’ve been more devastated or at least a little horrified since they were the first two names I wrote in the book. But all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of calm. The stranger gazed into my eyes like he was staring into my soul. For all I knew, with his fire eyes, he was. Exactly what kind of bargain did I make?

“What happens now?” I asked turning to face him.

“Now your wishes come true.” He replied.

“Will they die? The people in the book?”

“Death is not required. But, yes, as with all things, their lives will come to an end. Do you wish to go back?”

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that.”

“For you, I will make an exception. If you sacrifice yourself in their place, I will return things to the way they were.”

“What kind of sacrifice? I have to die for them?”

He chuckled. It was an ominous sound. One that made my heart drop into my stomach. “Nothing so pedestrian. Rather, you will live out the rest of your days as you would have if we never met and when you die your soul will belong to me.”

I couldn’t believe I was even considering that offer. Sure, my parents were dead but, I hadn’t spoken with them since I was 14. They kicked me out of the house after they caught me kissing the neighbor boy, Raul Montez. I’d tried to contact them over the years and they acted like I didn’t even exist. It made me wonder why I was on their insurance as a beneficiary if they didn’t care about me.

But was I really comfortable with a similar fate for the other three names on that list?

The next name was Raul, after my parents caught us he took the opportunity to simultaneously out me to our school and mark me as a sexual predator. He claimed I had forced myself on him and his parents threatened to get the police involved. I guess they decided the daily torment I faced in school was enough punishment. Between my parents kicking me out and the bullies that pretended to befriend me only to beat me up when my guard was down, high school was the worst time of my life.

Then there was Nina Karlova. She was the first person I allowed myself to trust and befriend in college. We met freshman year and moved into an apartment on campus together sophomore year. I met a guy, we fell in love, and then it all fell apart. One night we threw a party and they disappeared together for a couple hours. I was too drunk to care and they were the people I loved. The next day he broke up with me and not long after he started dating her. She stole him from me. She stole my happiness.

Lastly, there’s Zachary Ford, my boss. He was just the latest in a long line of horrible bosses. On top of being terrible at his job, every Wednesday and Friday he makes the whole team go out drinking at a local bar. It’s all just an excuse he uses to keep from going home to a wife he despises. While drunk, he’s tried to fight me several times and he verbally berates me constantly. The last time he got so drunk he couldn’t walk I offered to take him home to sleep it off since I was the only one on the team without a family waiting at home. I dumped him on the couch on my way to bed and later woke to his drunken hands groping me in the dark. When I told him about it the next day he denied the whole thing and threatened to fire me if I told anyone.

They deserved what was coming for them.

“Nah. Let them rot,” I replied flatly.

The man nodded with an insidious grin. “It is done.”