A Gift in the Dark

The Speech

Dedicated in oddity to my brother and his lovely wife. Bet that wasn't on the wedding list... =]

The Speech

The sound of a glass being tapped gently with a fork dissipated, the murmuring conversation of the assembled family and friends subsiding as they turned to face the head table. The Master of Ceremonies smiled benignly and began to speak.

"Thank you folks. Now, seeing we've all had a lovely lunch, it's time for the speeches. So, without further ado, pray silence and attention for the Best Man."

The MC swung an introductory arm towards a middle-aged man in a suit, matching that of the groom, and polite applause filled the room. Sweating profusely under the combined attention of over a hundred people, the best man stood to attention and cleared his throat as the susurration died away.

As he opened his mouth to begin, there was a muffled thud as his chair tipped over backwards to the carpeted floor, and a quiet tinkle as he knocked over his champagne flute in his hurry to right his chair.

Gentle laughter and a few raised eyebrows made him flush beet red, and he turned to face the groom, his brother, who looked vaguely amused and smiled encouragingly at him.

"Er... I... ah, um... hang on a moment." Reaching into his inside jacket pocket he pulled out his carefully prepared speech cards and promptly dropped them prompting a snort of barely contained laughter from the bride, and a resigned sigh from his brother. After a few moments frantic scrabbling, a bump on the head, and an encounter with one of his young daughters and her teddy under the table, he reassembled himself and froze with his mouth open, unable to speak.

A light flickered and clouds dimmed the sunlight from the windows. With the encroaching darkness came silence, and...

"Bravo, well done! Encore! More, more."

A tall man in a smart black suit lifted his feet from the table at the other end of the room and stood up, still applauding but ignored by those around him who seemed stunned into immobility. No, he realised, not stunned, frozen. The only people in the room who appeared able to move were himself and the strange man who was striding toward him with a broad smile on his gaunt face, his dark attire more in keeping with a funeral than a wedding.

"Er..."

"Oh sir, your eloquence and power of oratory is astounding; astoundingly bad of course, but astounding nonetheless. How do you do it sir? Your audience is utterly in thrall to you, it's like Shakespeare. 'Er...' Can't beat a powerful opening sir, you will go down among the great speech makers of all time. Churchill, Mandela, Malcolm X, Hitler, Homer Simpson, Bugs Bunny, Forrest Gump."

"What the f..."

"Forrest Gump sir, yes. Life is like a box of chocolates, just like speeches, although at the moment you are making an absolute fudge centre of this one."

Gary hung his head in shame, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Well, fear not sir, for I am here to help you."

"Er..."

"Oh dear lord, we really have got a lot of work to do."

"Who the hell are you?" Finding his voice, a sudden burst of anger clawed its way into Gary's brain. "And what the hell have you done to everyone?"

"Ah, yes, right. Let me explain, I'm Death." As Gary's jaw hit the floor, the tall man in black continued. "Well, you know how it is, diversification and so on. Just like farmers can't simply herd cows now, they have to have a shop on the farm or make cheese. Well I'm the same, sort of."

"You've diversified into wedding planning?"

"No, no, no. You're making a speech, but quite frankly you're dying up there. Where dying is concerned, Death gets busy. I deal with a lot of comics these days too, particularly on open mic nights."

"Right," said Gary. "So you're trying to tell me the anthropomorphic personification of Death is now paying me a personal visit to tell me how shite my best man speech is? Bloody hell, what was in the wine?"

"Anthropo... what? Someone's been reading too much Terry Pratchett I think sir, although I have to say I do like the way his Death speaks, sonorous and tomblike, and of course ALL IN CAPITALS. I might have to try that sometime."

As Gary opened his mouth to speak, Death help up a hand to stop him. "Let's dispense with the flowery satire and cut to the chase, shall we? I'm here to help you if you want me to. You can either stand up there sweating like a great useless lump of middle-aged numpty, or you can deliver a top notch speech which makes both your family and your new in-laws think you're the best thing since sliced bread. Tumbleweed time or free beers at the bar for the rest of the evening. It's entirely your choice."

"Well, of course I'd like to be able to make everyone proud of me, but I can't help feeling there's a catch here somewhere."

"Ah, so you're not as stupid as you look." Death raised an admonitory finger as Gary flushed with anger, and continued, seating himself familiarly on the lap of a nearby uncle. "Yes sir, there is a deal. You have to agree to something. Once you've done so, I can guarantee you that at the end of your speech you will receive rapturous applause and people will talk about your delivery for years to come. If not, you stand a great chance of delivering an absolute howler, and people will talk about your speech for years to come but for all the wrong reasons."

"And the deal?"

"A year of your life."

"I'm sorry?"

"You give me a year of your life. You will shuffle off your mortal coil a year earlier than you would otherwise have done, and I gift you with a heavenly speech."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will deposit you back where I found you, stumbling through your miserable little five minutes, and dying on your arse."

Gary slumped back into his chair and looked around at the unmoving faces of his family. Frozen expressions were set in a statuesque tableau of humour, disbelief, resignation, and in one case absolute horror. He looked down at his shoes. His daughter's teddy stared back at him, unblinking, its frozen button eyes boring a hole into his soul. Lifting his gaze, he spotted the little girl still kneeling under the table. Her steady gaze was looking at where he had stood mere moments earlier, and he smiled.

"I think I'll refuse," he said clearly. "I think Mr Death you can bog off. I'll see you at some point in the future, but I'm not giving you anything."

Death stood, his face darkening and the lurking shadows filling the room, all trace of his earlier good humour gone as he loomed over the seated form of Gary.

"You dare to refuse me little mortal?"

Gary also stood, placing himself between the darkening menace and the girl under the table. "I do, now do naff off there's a good lad."

"I'll be waiting for you human."

"You'll be waiting a year longer," muttered Gary.

Sound washed over him and he found himself facing the crowd again, his speech cards in hand, his mouth dry and a variety of expressions confronting him. He reached over and took a mouthful of wine, the acidity cleansing his mouth and giving him a few seconds breathing time.

He swallowed, smiled and looked down under the table where his daughter smiled back at him, love plain in her eyes. Her hand crept into his and he faced the crowd once more, throwing his speech cards over his shoulder. "Now then, where was I?" he began. "Oh yes. 'Er...'"

~~~ The End ~~~