The Lost Souls Dating Agency (3 page)

‘That would be a
no
.' I instantly regretted discussing this with Neha.

‘Well I think that is a brilliant idea. You should start a zombie lover's matchmaking agency.' She chuckled down the phone. ‘You could include all sorts of unmentionable characters — why stop at zombies?'

‘Why indeed,' I said grumpily. I wanted to end this conversation, or at least move on to something else. ‘Anyway enough about my crazy ideas, tell me what the latest is?'

An hour later with my head full of Neha man troubles and general gossip, I decided to do some baking which for me, was as close to therapy as I could stand. I had insane ideas for my warehouse running through my head…

So, like any non-insane person, I decided to avoid thinking about them for the rest of the day. Instead, I baked one of the most delicious pineapple upside-down cakes I have ever tasted.

For the next two weeks, in between work shifts, I furnished my neglected warehouse with cheap second-hand furniture. I gave the walls two coats of Arctic White paint. The office started to slowly appear out of the old damp rooms.

One Saturday, I realised I left my laptop charger at the warehouse and went in to retrieve it. It was on this day that I saw the first newspaper, folded neatly on the oak desk I had placed in the bigger room. It stood out conspicuously in the sparse interiors. I picked it up curiously and read its name, ‘
The Mythical Weekly
'.

I skimmed through the headlines on the front page and didn't recognise any of the people, places or events it referred to. I wondered how it got into my office. I looked around the room for any signs of disturbance. The bay window was intact and still as grimy as I had left it. There was no other way of getting into the warehouse, except through the front door, which had a lock that was untouched when I opened it earlier.

I read through the newspaper more thoroughly. It seemed to have no geographical focus though it didn't seem like an Australian newspaper. The articles read oddly, about political deals being done in places I had never heard of, about an exclusive feeding zone treaty that had been signed between Albion and Confederatio Helvetica. There was also news about something called the
Gorkhali
men having a conference to decide on their future survival.

It made little sense. I stuffed it into my bag and took it home with me. I was disturbed by its sudden appearance in my office and wanted to get out of the building. Reading it in the afternoon sun, in my backyard with a cup of tea, made it seem less alarming. It was not a very big paper with only thirteen pages. There was an editorial section, and letters to the editor referring to previous news stories. It must be a serial publication. There were advertisements, one of which, for super heavy duty hair removal cream for “the creature within” disturbingly caught my eye. I read over the paper a few times. The more I read it, the more it seemed to be a newspaper for non-human readers. Its name should have given that away to me immediately.

I didn't understand how this was possible. I thought someone was playing a very elaborate hoax on me. But who would do that and more importantly, why?

I came up with no answers.

On Monday morning I decided to go to the one place I could think of that might. I walked straight to Flemington council library and made a beeline for their mythology section. I carried the strange newspaper in my large canvas handbag. I spent a few hours poring over books about mythological creatures and the worlds they inhabited. I repeated this again on Tuesday. I came across a few terms that were in the newspaper. I highlighted them and made notes. Apparently Albion was the old name for England, and the
Gorkhali
men were yetis, or abominable snowmen,
as if
!

I was sitting on my usual table at the library on Wednesday afternoon, when a loud thud made me jump. I turned around and saw a book lying on the floor behind me. I picked it up and extended it back to the lady who had dropped it. She gave me a surprised look.

‘You dropped your book,' I said. She took it from me silently.

I went back to my notes.

‘What are you reading?' the lady asked, sitting down on the vacant chair beside me. She had a plump, friendly face and frizzy grey hair that radiated from her head in waves. She had a name badge which read “Roxanne”. She must be one of the librarians. I sheepishly explained my reading interests. Roxanne smiled and launched into a whole list of books I should read. She turned out to be extremely helpful and non-judgemental about my curiosity of the supernatural world.

‘Oh all the kids are into it these days,' she said smiling.

‘Into medieval mythology?' I was unconvinced.

‘Well, not so much the origins of the myths, but into the existence of supernatural beings. You know books about vamps and weres and other supernaturals are very popular.'

I nodded as I realised she was telling me what I already knew. After all, my own interest in supernaturals had begun this way.

‘Yes, I've always thought there is something in that. What's the old saying? Out of the mouth of babes…I think there might be an ounce of wisdom and truth in this interest.'

Roxanne gave me hope. Maybe I wasn't going crazy, and the newspaper sitting in my canvas handbag was not an indication of my escalating insanity.

I spent the day searching for the myths of wolf-men. I also searched for the origins of fairy myths and the one I found most terrifying — the vampire myths. The fact that every culture and country in the world had stories about these creatures only reinforced an idea that was slowly forming in my head. How could humans across the world, for many centuries, have similar experiences to record with these so-called fictional beings? I started to convince myself that perhaps they were not so fictional after all. It was a conclusion that seemed palatable to me. But would it be to anyone else?

I spoke to Roxanne about it at the end of the week.

‘Roxanne, do you think vampires and werewolves are real?'

‘Well, it's hard to say. You know some people would argue about the use of the word real. What is reality anyway?' she said with a twinkle in her eye.

I ignored her philosophical question. Instead I asked, ‘So, say hypothetically, I wanted to meet one, what do you think I should do?' I waited with baited breath for what she would say next. I was anxious even though I sensed she was sympathetic to my wild ideas.

‘Shalini, you're an intelligent girl, I'm sure you'll figure it out.'

That was not the response I was expecting. But then, I hardly knew what to expect.

The only thing I did know for certain was that the key to unlocking this puzzle was the newspaper that had mysteriously appeared in my warehouse.

That evening, I went to the warehouse and looked around the large room, satisfied it was empty, except for the furniture and the annoying clock which refused to budge from the wall. I left it exactly like that. I felt a twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach when I locked the door to leave.

The next morning, my hands shook as I let myself in. I rushed into the back room. And there it was, another newspaper, waiting for me in the same spot the previous newspaper had been. I began to read through it. It was in the same style it had been last week, only with different news items, editorials, breaking news about unruly Yakshas who had travelled across the border and were causing trouble in the forests of a place called Ayutthaya. There were more advertisements sprinkled throughout the paper. It was hard to believe anyone would carry out a second elaborate hoax.

I spent the rest of the day looking over the newspaper. I took extra interest in the advertisements. My fledgling plan hinged on those little printed grids of marketing material.

I picked up my mobile phone and dialled. I called Megan first, and asked her to call Neha. They agreed to meet me.

***

I was somewhat nervous when my friends arrived the next day. They peered suspiciously around the warehouse office. Neha sniffed the air and declared that at least it smelled better than the last time she had been there. I made them sit on the sofa I had placed in the large room and passed them each a copy of The Mythical Weekly. I let them silently flip through the papers for a while. Neha was the first to speak.

‘Are you starting a comic newspaper business?' she asked.

‘I didn't publish these newspapers. They just appeared in this room.'

‘What do you mean appeared?' Megan asked sharply.

‘Well one day I walked into the room, locks untouched, no window broken or sign of forced entry, and found it sitting there on the sofa. Then this Saturday, another one appeared.'

‘Should we call the police?' Neha said anxiously.

‘No, I don't want to call the police.' I decided to plunge into the deep end. ‘I want to tell you about an idea I've been working on.' I hesitated and my friends looked at each other.

‘Right.' I collected myself. ‘It started when Neha told me about her matchmaking troubles.' I saw Neha bristle. ‘I thought to myself, why not start a matchmaking agency like they have in India…?'

Neha interrupted and looked at me pointedly as she said, ‘And I said it's not a very good idea for obvious reasons.'

Megan looked silently at the two of us.

‘Yes, I know, but then these newspapers started to appear in the office and it was just,' I paused to search for the right word, ‘just like someone was sending me a sign.'

‘A sign about what?' Megan asked abruptly.

I spoke slowly and hesitantly. ‘A sign that maybe I should look into the possibility of starting a matchmaking agency for the supernatural world.'

There, I had said it.

My friends both listened in stunned silence.

Finally Neha spoke. ‘Is this because I had mentioned zombie lovers when you told me about your matchmaking agency plan? You know I was kidding right?'

‘Well maybe that got me thinking. You know, vampires, werewolves, or zombies might also have problems in the love department, just like your own matchmaking troubles.' I looked at Neha who stared at me mouth agape.

I continued, ‘I'm serious about this. I am becoming more and more convinced that there is a whole other world out there. These newspapers are further proof.'

Megan interjected. ‘Okay, even if this world existed, and I'm not convinced by these newspapers it does,' she was studying journalism at uni and had a healthy mistrust for newspapers of any kind, ‘how are you going to let them know you have an agency ready to make matches? Actually, how the hell do you know they need matchmaking at all?'

‘I think everybody, human or not, looks for love at some point in their life,' I said trying to be noble.

‘Or their non-life,' Neha snorted.

I started to feel the heat rise in my face and I heard my voice grow louder. ‘Every source I read in my library search revolved around infatuated men or women, or a beautiful star-crossed lover, or the gruesome death of a mate, and eternal devotion. The one common theme that threads through all these tales is the quest for love.' I stopped and collected myself from my little speech. I was panting a little. ‘Is it so ridiculous to assume that non-humans would have the same trouble as humans in finding love? What if there was a way to help them? All I'm doing is spotting a gaping hole in the market. Purely a business concern,' I concluded boldly.

‘I would be more concerned about how someone has been getting in here to leave newspapers for you to find,' Megan said gruffly.

‘I know I should be. But somehow it feels like the right thing, exciting even,' I implored.

‘How many people have you told about this?' Megan persisted.

‘Only you two, oh and Roxanne at the library knows I have been looking up a lot of supernatural books lately, but that's all.'

We all fell silent for a while. Megan flipped through the paper on her lap. Neha read some advertisements and I saw her make a face at the one about hair removal.

‘If this is a hoax, it is a really good one,' Megan finally said.

‘I know, right? It is so detailed.' I hoped my friends were warming to the idea. ‘Also, I had another thought yesterday that I wanted to run by you two.'

I told them about my latest plan. It answered Megan's question about how I was going to market my agency. I was going to put an advertisement in The Mythical Weekly.

When my friends left, both gave me concerned hugs, and I was sure their speculative talk about me would continue into the night. We had not resolved anything. Their disbelief in my matchmaking plan and the whole thing in general had not surprised me. I had to repeat my plans to them again, and also how and why I thought they would work. The newspapers had been my biggest asset. They were evidence, albeit scant, that I was onto something. Neha seemed semi-convinced, but Megan remained steadfastly cynical. She had suggested on this Friday night, the three of us sleep in the warehouse office, so we could see for ourselves how the newspapers were appearing. I leapt at the suggestion. I had been too scared to stay the night on my own to find out, despite my burning curiosity. I was glad she suggested it, although I knew it was only to prove me wrong.

On Thursday, I brought a few extra blankets and pillows from home to the warehouse, not that we would get much sleep. I was thankful for my supportive friends, no matter how crazy they thought I was.

Finally it was Friday evening. Neha and Megan arrived with pizza and a few other things, including a hammer, insect repellent spray, and a very large plank of wood which I suspected had been picked up from the Preston tip.

‘All of these items can be used in self defence or offence, if the need arises,' Megan said when I looked questioningly at them.

‘The insect repellent too?' I asked.

‘Well since I can't buy pepper spray, I thought this would work just as well. It's toxic you know,' she replied calmly.