There was a time when Reya Joshi would have been absolutely thrilled to have a talking coffee table. However, as times changed, people changed . Reya Chaturvedi had been scared stiff to know that not only could her coffee table talk but also move.
The first time her table had moved, she had chalked it down to her exhaustion and forgotten about it. The second time it happened, she had been distracted -she was studying to become an archivist - and hadn’t given it much thought.
The third time it had happened, was in broad daylight and unmistakable. As soon as she opened the curtains, the table moved under the sunlight and sighed in contentment, like it was enjoying the warmth.
Reya on the other hand had screeched loudly and backed away to the furthest corner, away from the table. The table had shaken slightly and with what could only be described as a giggle, had turned towards her.
She could not do anything but stare at it wide-eyed - non-living beings didn’t start moving suddenly, right? Had she started hallucinating?
As if the table could read her, it replied, “Hello, my dear. It’s nice to know that I won’t have to hide the fact that I can talk and move anymore.”
Reya screamed again.
“Oh, sorry, where have my manners gone? I am Bathilda Barlow. What's your name?”
Reya yelped again. Her coffee table was moving and talking to her and wanted to know what her name was. A table - something that should not be able to talk and move - wanted to know her name.
She was equal parts intrigued and terrified.
Intrigued, because, what if Bathilda Barlow ends up being useful to her? What if she gets a helping hand in dire situations? What if she ends up with a new friend?
Terrified, because, if she opened up to Bathilda, what were the consequences?
What if she got tricked into something and it led to her untimely death?
Stop overthinking it, a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother said.
“I am Reya,” she replied, and before she could stop herself, “Have you possessed my coffee table?”
She blanched. That sounded rude.
The table shook a little as Bathilda laughed, “Oh my. No, no I haven’t possessed your table.”
Feeling bold, Reya tipped her chin up and said, “You do have to explain why you are a table, though.”
If tables could blink, Bathilda Barlow would have been blinking owlishly at her.
“It’s quite a long story if you truly want to know, my dear.”
Reya nodded vigorously, what’s better than knowing how your coffee table can move and talk?
With what could only be a sigh, Bathilda told Reya about the time she was alive. She told her in a soft voice about how she was a witch, and back then how they were hunted and killed for practising magic. She told her about the time where women dressed up in beautiful gowns, and the men in waistcoats and when people got around in carriages.
Bathilda painted a view of the 1750s for Reya and narrated stories of years long gone by.
Reya whistled appreciatively, that was an era she would have loved to experience.
“You’re avoiding the topic,” she said a while later when Bathilda had told her about yet another tea party she had attended.
Bathilda went still and didn’t talk for several minutes, leading to Reya thinking that this was all a fever dream.
Then, she moved a little, the table’s wood screeching on the floor. “The events that led to me being stuck in a table, is something I am ashamed of.”
Reya nodded minutely and smiled a little, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want to, but you’ll have to explain yourself eventually.”
What she said must have been something reassuring - because the next thing she knew Bathilda was recounting how she had been challenged to a duel by a woman named Agatha. How Agatha had lured her into the forest and had cursed her to a tree - something which was not allowed during duels. Duels only included magic and runes; not curses and hexes.
“Oh, it’s the fact that I should have seen it coming!” Bathilda wailed, “Agatha was known to be cunning and I should not have trusted her!”
The wood of the tree she had been cursed to, was used to make the coffee table she now inhabited.
For half an hour more, Bathilda cried and moaned about what a fool she had been and Reya listened patiently.
When all was done, Reya said in a small voice, “I can look up cures for you, if you want.”
Bathilda seemed to jump up and down, but it was hard to know as she was a table.
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course, but only if you help me in return.”
“What can an old soul like me be any help to you?”
Now it was Reya’s turn to describe what she wanted to become - an archivist - a profession the world did not know much about and was the sole reason history records existed in the first place.
Reya wanted Bathilda to help her record history more accurately.
Bathilda agreed to help her instantly, talking about her past was something she loved to do.
Reya smiled in the afternoon sunlight and thought about what an interesting turn her life had just taken.
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