This particular chair, in all honesty, does not deserve to be in the antique shop. The shop is filled with various chairs, flowers, and all sorts of interior decorations, but this particular chair, as old and worn out as it is, still finds a cute spot to stay.
Looking at the arm of the chair, you can very well tell that it has been used before; the arms were smooth from years of use, the designs are already fading away, and it definitely does not deserve a row in that shop, not to talk of having a front spot.
Despite all of that, David couldn't take his eyes off it immediately after he entered.
"Is there something about that chair that's making you stare, or are you just wondering how such an old and worn-out chair could be in a place like this...?" The shop owner smiled as he asked.
David just smiled; he didn't know the best thing to say, but there's definitely something about the chair.
"Want to buy it?" The shop owner asked him...
"How much?" David asked with a smile.
"You don't have to look like that; it's cheap. Nobody keeps it." The shop owner replied.
His last words made David take a look at the chair and shop owner again..."Nobody keeps it." But he didn't ask what the word means. He felt he needed the chair urgently, and cheap was all he could afford.
He got the chair and returned to his one-room apartment; he placed the chair right by the window. That evening, he forced himself to write and see the comfortability of the chair. He's writing a novel he believes will make him known to the world, a book he's set to make a word best seller. So, that evening, he decided to bring the story to an end. The story was about a detective who was doing all he could to unravel the incident happening in the country; unknown to him, those who are in government that he feels are working together are actually the ones sponsoring the evildoers.
The next morning, as David went out on his usual morning walk, he stopped by the newspaper seller's side to take a peek at the news of the day; lo and behold, written in very bold words was the news of how a detective had been able to unravel the mystery behind the insecurity of the country.
He couldn't believe it; why does it look so much like the story he just finished writing? But then, it could just be a coincidence; it definitely is a coincidence. He convinced himself.
Getting home that night, he checked his to-do list to see what's next, since he's already planned how to go about all his writings. He saw that the next was to write various very short stories that he could market in primary schools and marketplaces so he could gather enough funds to publish the novel he believed would take him to the spotlight.
So, the next day, in the evening, he wrote about a fisherman who caught a big fish and was surprised on seeing gold in the belly of the fish.
The day after he finished writing that piece, the newspaper carried exactly the same news story. A fisherman in a remote part of that country has caught a very big fish and was surprised at the gold that was found inside of it.
"It can't be real." David said to himself as he made his way home.
A few days later he began another story of a brilliant child going to school in the village; the principal of the school encouraged the young lad to be a part of the upcoming scholarship exam coming up in the city in a few weeks time. The young boy felt reluctant because he felt he's just a local champion and that there are better brains he can't compete with in the city. At long last, he went for it and won.
About a week later, the same story came out in the news. A young boy from a village school had gone on to challenge several other schools in the city and has won as the overall best.
That was when David decided to test what was actually happening. He's been owing his landlord, as his rent is overdue already.
So, that night, he wrote that his landlord had forgiven him and let go of his 5 months rent.
It was fast this time; early the following morning his landlord knocked on his door.
"Good morning, sir." He said yawning.
"Good morning, David... Erm, I'm here to tell you that you don't need to pay for the last five months rent you're owing me. You've been a good young man; let's start it all over now." His landlord said.
David managed to say thank you as his landlord left. He closed the door and slid to the ground.
"What exactly is happening."
His eyes caught the chair, and he can't help but think back. It all started when he bought this chair. This chair isn't ordinary, he concluded.
And that was how greed found its way into his life. He went to borrow some money and published the book he's written for a long time. Then the following day he wrote about how that book he wrote became the best seller and sold all across the world.
Guess what, within a few months he became very well known, and various publishers all began to fight over his work. Recognition came, and he began to go from one interview to the other.
And as his greed increased, things began to change. He didn't pay attention to it at first. As he wrote, and it was happening, that was how each of the stories began to demand something in return.
One was when he wrote about how a struggling bakery suddenly rose up; a week later, on the day the business peaked, the owner fell ill. A week later, he died.
Every good and happy ending comes with sorrows in it.
That day, he felt bad. Terrible that he refused to write for weeks.
He pushed the chair off and locked it in another room. He didn't want to have anything to do with it again.
"I don't want it anymore." He shouted at himself as he locked the door.
That evening, he picked up his pen and notebook and began to write. He wrote about the chair, and he wished no one would ever find it.
Two days later, as he went to the room where he locked the chair in to pick something, the chair was no longer there.... It was gone, gone forever.
Years later, he was still very well known, and he was still writing, but then it was no longer the type being pushed by magic; they didn't predict the future or change anything anywhere, just stories from his heart.
There are times he wondered where the chair had gone.
But then, some gifts are just too powerful to keep, and some stories, in all honesty, are better when they don't go past the pages of a book.
馃尮
Images are AI generated.
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