Restitution

Slighted in a bitter divorce, Charles Brookfield unwittingly hires an otherworldly attorney to win back his wasted years. But his services can't be paid for with money...

Photo by Sebastian Pichler on Unsplash

My mailbox overflowed with fliers, coupon catalogs, and credit card offers. I groaned, and began prospecting for correspondence of actual importance. Even in my shorts and faded concert t-shirt, the summer sun was brutal. Heat radiated off the blacktop, and I wondered if my dollar store flip flops would actually melt into the pavement if I lingered too long.

Sifting through the mail pile, I encountered a thick tanned envelope. I tucked it beneath my arm and dropped the rest into my nearby recycling bin.

There was no sender, or address. A glopped wax seal held the flap down. It bore a crest that felt simultaneously familiar and alien: a hunched vulture with wings partially folded. The bird gripped an hourglass in the talons of one foot, and a skull in the other. Four Latin words encircled the creature in a ring: Receptio Tempus ~ Memento Mori

Curious, and careful not to disturb the seal, I sliced open the envelope with my house key. A single sheet of thick papyrus fell out. I read the hand-written message under my breath: