The Knife Grandpa Bought on Credit Must Be Paid for with My Life

Before my grandfather died, he left me a rusty utility knife and a yellowed ledger.

I thought the old man was just a collector of keepsakes, until a man in gray showed up and, right in front of me, drained three years of a little old lady's life, leaving her a dried-up corpse.

The ledger listed forty-seven IOUs. The price of redeeming each one was a life, a memory, or good fortune.

The final entry named me as the borrower of a knife.

The price of redemption had been inked out.

But the man in gray said, "Don't ask what the knife costs. If you do, you won't be able to pay."

Only later did I learn that every knife my grandfather loaned out had to be repaid with someone's life.

He stopped paying, so now it's my turn.