Welcome to Ten Silver Coins, a new section of Things I Wrote Down, where I release fiction from my YA series week by week.
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Chapter Four: Mr. Kay
The room was dark and cold, but Jill could not find her coat. The door slammed as a strong wind blew through the room. As the fire ignited, Jill heard the sound of a terrible, guttural laugh echo all around her. Startled, she dropped the letter that was in her hand, and watched as it was pulled in the direction of the fire.
Jill reached for it but could not move. It felt like her feet were nailed to the floor. “No!” Jill shouted as the letter was pulled into the flames and slowly caught fire. When the letter was reduced to ash, the evil laughter stopped and the room was silent. Wind blew through the room once more and the fire disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Jill stood shivering and immobile. From the darkness of the fireplace she heard an almost inaudible whisper: You will not succeed. I will stop you.
Jill woke with a start. She was disoriented and afraid, relieved she had only been dreaming. The fire had burned down to its last embers; the room was mostly dark. She felt around the couch for the letter. It was not there! She dropped her feet to the ground and crouched over the armrest of the couch to look at the floor.
“Great, Jill, you’ve gone and lost the letter already! You fool, how do you expect to find and guard a treasure?”
“Now, child, don’t be so hard on yourself,” said a voice from somewhere in the room.
Startled, Jill let out a short shriek. She looked across the room, but saw no one. She surveyed the space, listening for sounds as her breathing slowed down. After a few moments when she heard nothing else, she said, out loud to herself, “Jill, you need some food in your stomach, you’re starting to imagine things.”
From the other side of the room Jill heard the sound of pleasant laughter. “I wouldn’t be so sure. But it is true, hunger can do many things. Never go to sleep on an empty stomach, you’re sure to have nightmares, or so they say. We better find you some food.”
Once again Jill was startled. She stood up and stepped toward the fireplace where there was a little more light.
“Where are you? I hear you but cannot see you,” Jill said. “Show yourself so I can know if I should fear you.” Jill clenched her jaw and glanced about the room.
“Well said, child. Well said. Look over here, on the wall.”
Jill looked onto the wall, in the direction of the voice.
“Beside the mirror.”
Jill walked over to the mirror and looked into it, half expecting to see someone other then herself. All she saw was her own reflection. Jill tucked loose wisps of hair behind her ear.
“You’ve just about got it. I’m right here.”
Jill looked beside the mirror at a painting of an old man holding a pipe. She squinted and brought her face closer to the painting so she could see it more clearly in the low light. Her nose almost touched the canvas.
“Now there, not so close, an old man still needs his personal space, you know.”
At that, a puff of smoke curled out of the painting. Jill coughed and stepped back, waving her hand in front of her face.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Did your caretaker not tell you anything about the place?” the voice asked through the cloud of smoke. “He was always so good at keeping secrets. Step back a little more, please, and I will show you.”
Jill took a few steps backwards. As she did her stomach suddenly felt queasy. Her head felt light and swirly and little black dots formed all over her field of vision—the same sensation she had when she jumped out of bed too quickly in the morning. Jill put her hands on her knees to steady herself from falling. After a few moments, when she stood back up, an old man stood in front of her.
Jill stood, staring at him in amazement. “Did you just – ” Jill said and pointed at the painting.
The man winked at her then bent over and coughed. He dusted himself off and stood in front of Jill, then extended his hand. Jill accepted it, all the while staring in amazement at the old man. “Pleased to meet you. You’re much larger than I remember. It’s been a long time. You still have your mother’s eyes. I’m Mr. Kay, but you can call me Gilbert if you like, for that is my Christian name. And you must be Jill.”
Jill realized she had been staring, mouth gaping, for some time. “Sorry,” she said, it’s just that, I – ”
“You thought you were alone.”
“I thought I was alone. What are you?”
“I already told you. I’m Mr. Kay and I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand, which Jill took again. “And you can call me Gilbert if you like.”
“Are you—are you, real?” Jill asked hesitantly.
The old man laughed, a deep belly laugh. While he did, the pipe, which he had not removed from his mouth since he started speaking, coughed out more smoke. “Alive and well. Possibly more real than anyone you’ve ever met. Of course, when you meet my master, or the Keeper, as you might know him, you’ll have the same questions all over again. But he’s able to answer the question definitively, once for all, as they say.”
“But, how did you – ”
“How did I do that? You’ll learn, but not yet. What you’ll discover is that things are often more real then they seem, especially in this house. There are many rooms and many doorways here that lead to other places.”
“The other paintings?”
“Paintings and—” the old man paused.
“And what?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. One thing at a time. You said you were hungry?”
“I said that because I thought I was going crazy.”
“A full stomach is a happy stomach, as they say. Come, let me show you my favourite room in the house: the kitchen.”
The old man extended his arm in a sweeping gesture and bowed. Jill started to walk in the direction he pointed. “Can you—can you do that with the other paintings in the room?” Jill asked, curious as to the extent of his magic.
“Some of them.”
“Only some?” She asked.
“Yes, only some. Don’t look so disappointed. And some in other rooms as well. I will move to the others when I am ready.”
“When will that be?”
“Time—if you can call it that—time will tell.”
***
Mr. Kay would have no other questions until Jill sat down to eat. When she finally relented, she was happy she did. The food was warm, filling, and good. Without noticing, the questions only moments earlier that were so urgent, drifted to the back of her mind. The room was quiet except for the old man’s occasional sighs of delight. By the looks of it, he enjoyed his food far more than Jill could if she tried.
“Are you sure you’ll have no wine?” he asked her, whimsically. “I picked the grapes myself, have been looking forward to opening this bottle for years. Today seemed as good a day as any. Have a glass.”
Jill lifted her glass of milk into the air and smiled politely. “Thank you, but milk is good enough for me.”
“Ah young one, you have so much to learn. The finer tastes of the palate among them, to be sure. But it’s better we not rush things. It’s good to wait until things are ready, or so they say. A good wine takes good time.”
The old man was fat. The only thing bigger than his smile and the look of mischief in his eye was his belly, which burst out like a great boulder from his waist. He wore thick glasses that made his eyes look bigger than they really were, and he had wild white hair on the temples of his bald head, which pointed out in all directions. He wore a brown wool suit but unbuttoned his top button and loosened his tie when he sat down to eat.
Once he finished his ample meal, Jill waited what seemed like forever as the old man stared at his glass, humming under his breath. When she put her empty milk glass back on the table, she did it with a thump, but that didn’t wake the man from his happy dream. When she pushed her chair away from the table so that it scraped across the wooden floor, the old man didn’t notice. Finally, Jill put her hand to her mouth and cleared her throat twice.
“Oh,” said Mr. Kay. “Oh, right. Where were we?”
“Well, I had some questions I wanted to ask you.”
“Yes, you did.” The old man cleaned his top teeth and gums with his tongue.
“Well, they can wait.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Jill leaned into the table with a look of recognition.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
“Easy does it, easy does it. No need to worry. I was just holding on to it for you. Don’t want a letter like this to fall into the wrong hands now do we?”
“Did you read it?”
“Child! What do you think I am, a thief? I didn’t read it, and I will not read it. Letters like this are to be read only by those to whom they are given, and those whom the letter carrier chooses to share them with.” Mr. Kay hesitated, looking a bit flustered. “I’ve been a good friend of your family for over three generations, and I would expect to be treated as such from you, young lady.”
Jill blushed in embarrassment when she realized how silly her outburst was. “I’m sorry,” she said, truly meaning it. “When I woke and couldn’t find it I was worried. I’m glad to see it safely in the hands of a trusted family friend. Thank you.”
The old man slowly handed the letter back to Jill. His face was suddenly stern. He pulled out his pipe and lit it. He puffed out his cheeks and let out a few clouds of smoke.
“I don’t need to read the letter, Jill. I’ve seen many like it leave and return to this house. You’ll find what you seek upstairs. That is all I know and that is all I can say. It is yours to guard and to keep, that is, until he takes it back for himself.” Mr. Kay pulled the pipe from his lips and pointed it at the letter. “Take seriously the words of that letter. Those things you long to know, the questions you have forming on your tongue, you will discover them as you go. Don’t be afraid to go slow. But, you will find your own pace. I must go now. Perhaps I’ll see you again.”
“So soon? We just met.”
“You’re fed. Soon you will be tired. Sleep wherever and in whatever room that seems good to you. Make yourself comfortable.” Mr. Kay smiled, suddenly warm again. “Make yourself at home.”
“When will I see you again?”
“Whenever I am told. Time, if you can call it that, will tell. Time will tell.”
The old man looked to a far off place, beyond Jill, beyond the kitchen walls. For a moment she experienced near total silence and was lost to the rhythm of her own breathing.
“Well, that’s that,” he said. The man winked at Jill and smiled. “I’m off.”
And with that he turned. Before Jill could speak, he pointed to a picture beside the fridge, ran with a speed that Jill didn’t think he was capable of, and jumped toward the wall. It felt as if the whole room bent and spun. The tables and chairs moved about like rubber. Her eyes watered and she felt nauseous. Then, just as quickly as the sensation began and her knees went wobbly, the room was normal again. The table was a wooden table; the fridge was a metal fridge. But the old man was gone.
In the distance, as if very far away, Jill heard the old man hoot and holler. His laughter made her giggle out loud until she realized she was alone in the room.
Jill walked up to the picture and slowly, carefully touched it with her hand. She was surprised when her finger was stopped by the glass covering the photograph; she half expected her arm to disappear like the old man did, right into the picture. At different angles, she could see her own reflection in the glass or the smudge of her fingerprint where she touched it. She shook her head then frowned.
“I hope I see you again, Mr. Kay.”
© 2024 Andrew Kooman. All rights reserved.
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About Andrew Kooman
Andrew Kooman is a Canadian writer of fiction, poetry, plays, and films. His work has been enjoyed by audiences around the world and translated into lots of different languages.
He’s the author of the children’s books Popcorn Helmet and Simple Christmas Spectacular, the first two books in the Ramsey P. Heaton, Future Billionaire series. Andrew likes to make people laugh in church. His popular plays and skits are performed across North America and can be purchased at SkitGuys.com.
Andrew founded UnveilTV with his brothers Matthew and Daniel, where you can watch content that inspires you. You can follow all of Andrew’s latest work on his weekly newsletter Things I Wrote Down and find him on X and Instagram.