Writing Prompt - #02

Welcome to the second of my writing Prompts. This one will have a part 2 at some point in the future. Enjoy!

Prompt : 'Remaining years of life can be sold at a high price. When you go to exchange a year of life, the monitor reads 'Insufficient Funds''

A man in a business suit waves his hand at the shop-owner. She turns and walks over to the business man, spinning the monitor around to face her as she comes to a stop. The man takes out his phone and checks his emails…

Dear Mr. Derell,

This is your final warning. If you DO NOT leave our offices by midday tomorrow, we will press charges. I hope you make the right decision…

Yours Sincerely,

Sir Aiden Potter

CEO of ‘Time To Spare Enterprises’

[message deleted]

Honey,

How long until you get home?

Lucy

XXX

[reply?]

Not long… promise

XXX

It is only once the message is sent that Mr. Derrell notices how the seconds whilst the shop-owner checked the system have reformed into an eerie, vigil held by the shop. The shop-owner places her hand over his, which was resting on the desk, and looks into his eyes. Another woman from the silent crowd comes up from behind him and places her hand on his shoulder. In one violent movement, he shakes them both off but doesn’t break eye-contact with the owner.

“Sir, I’m very sorry…” she says quietly, almost too quietly like she doesn’t want to say the words, “You’re going to die…”

The man takes a step back, “We’re all going to die in the end, aren’t we?” He replies in a jokey shout. He laughs nervously and looks at the faces surrounding him. One little girl in particular much like his own daughter facially, has her head buried in her father’s side with one eye turned towards him. The cotton of his shirt woven between her fingers. He returns his gaze to the shop-owner. She holds part of her own blouse as she continues, “The insufficient funds... You don’t have long left…”

The people around react, some whisper, some gasp. The little girl goes to bury her head deeper but still keeps one eye out to watch.

“What…” he stutters in disbelief.

“I’m very very sorry. There are some people I can get you in touch with- “

“I needed that money…”

The girl clenches her fist holding he fabric tighter.

“I’ve got a wife, I’ve got kids. They need me!”

People begin to approach him from all directions.

“They need this! Why!”

He swings his arms suddenly and the people stumble back to their positions as the crowd begin to stir.

“Can’t someone help! Anyone!”

Mutters start to arise from the crowd as people turn away. Mr. Derell rapidly scans the audience, desperation filling him. His eyes full of tears and lost. Lines are etched into his face. The creases of age drawn across his face get deeper. He runs towards the little girl. He reaches for her hand but she turns away squealing. Her whole head turned away. The man presumed to be her father pushes Mr. Derell away with one arm and protects his daughter with the other. An imaginary shield of trust. What right do his kids have to trust him now? Their disgusting excuse of a father who can’t even provide for his family. He remembers the day he met Lucy. The day the kids were born, all 4 of them. A loud thud brings him back to the harsh reality. He realises he is on the floor and the girl’s father is walking away, holding her under his arm. Gradually, the crowd start to disperse and he is left on the floor sobbing.

“Why…” he whimpers.

The shop-owners pushes her way through the remaining on-lookers to get to him. She puts both hands on his shoulders and looks him up and down.

“Shhhh…”

It sounds like she is calming a baby. Maybe that’s what he is. He is only just thirty; some people think he’s young. Too young to die…

“I can call someone to come and get you- “

Abruptly, he stands up and looks down at her.

“No! Lucy can’t know!” Mr. Derell shouts. His voice has authority… Irony.

“Who’s Lucy?” By this point the shop-owner is also standing up.

“My wife.” He cries, “my wife… My precious Lucy…”

The owner stares at him.

“She can’t know!”

He turns and walks out the door with confidence, contradicting his breakdown so much, it’s almost like it never happened…