Songs of Seong

Category: Writings

written by Susan
February 3, 2022 0

The Science of Clean Sheets and Plant Talking

How do I deal with grief? I talk to plants. I have two big, bushy, white peace lilies from my brother’s funeral that I was able to squeeze back into the house and I talk to them. Often. Sometimes I have to whisper so my family doesn’t think I’m crazy, but I’ve had them for just over four months and I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t talked to them.  I am a practical person so it barely makes sense to me. If you asked, I would tell you straight up that it’s a grief process. You would think that knowing that would take away some of the magic, but it doesn’t.  I need to regain control over my life and if I just give them water and make sure they have the right kind of light, they will live and grow. They won’t die unless I give them a reason. 

My mom thought I was crazy at first. A week after the funeral when people finally stopped coming by, she was ready to throw them out. I was pretty livid when she pushed them outside onto the wood deck because I’d been watering and chatting with them every day. At first, I thought it would be okay since it was the back deck that gave primarily morning sun, but I could tell in the first two days when they started to yellow and wither that it was too much. 

I felt a clawing in my chest when I found them outside. The same kind of clawing that you get when you watch Bambi’s mother die for the first time as a child. Only it doesn’t go away when you put a new movie on. So I pulled an old plastic kiddy pool from around the yard and paired it with a wire patio table to construct a plant tent. That same clawing sensation would wake me up every morning at about sunrise. So at about 7 am every morning I would wake up, water the plants, and talk to them. “You can do it. All you have to do is live. I’ll take care of everything else. If you live through the summer, Mom will let you back in.”

Those were words that never actually came out of my mother’s mouth. For the first few months, she wanted everything that reminded her of the funeral gone. My brother’s stuff remained untouched in a side room because even looking at it would make all of us cry. Not looking was hard enough.  At first talking to the plants while I watered them made me cry too. It seemed like I cried at everything. Maybe I did. 

***

“He’s in a better place.” people say that all the time. “At least he’s not suffering anymore.” They say the words but have no idea what they are talking about. If there was nothing else that my brother could do, he could smile. For a boy with severe Cerebral Palsy, controlling his body was difficult. When he was a baby we would work all day sometimes just to get him to unclench his fist and later try to get him to bring his fist to his mouth. Things that normal babies take for granted. To him, we were always playing games like that. So at fifteen when he would smile, he smiled with his whole body. His eyes would light up and his arms would wrap around you and his whole body would shake as he giggled with pure joy. 

He went to school just like other kids. Granted, he had special classes but his physical therapist was teaching him to communicate with a computer that would track his eyes. In his scheduled tests, he always scored just slightly below his age level. I always wondered what he would say as he learned to use the screens more and more.  I have a feeling that I already know. When he was about five years old, he managed to learn one word. Love.


***

When dealing with my grief, I have learned a few more tricks. My dog died recently and this time the first thing I did was change my sheets. Even the day after, my mom couldn’t understand my hysterical insistence on changing them or why my hands were shaking so much that I couldn’t do it by myself. She didn’t understand that I could still smell sour milk and feel the cold sweat that hit me the night my brother died. Even knowing that it was irrational, it was enough to make me stand in my doorway like a stranger and refuse to go in until they were changed.  

“You didn’t even get this upset when your brother died,” she said the next day.  She didn’t dare say it that night. That night she just walked around me and changed all my sheets and pillowcases but she paused when I refused a clean sheet set of the same color. It didn’t matter to her. I’m sure she thought I was going overboard considering my dog had died on a thick burgundy towel and not on the sheets or pillowcases. But it wasn’t about being clean. 

It was dark and humid outside and the tall light post near the back of our property made everything glow an eerie orange. I hated it and I didn’t want to leave her out there but I knew it would rain soon. There’s not much worse than trying to dig a hole in wet Oklahoma clay. My mother, older brother Gary and I spent probably two hours in the dark with flashlights digging a hole that would ultimately be only 2 x 1 x 3. Before we tucked her in, I checked once more to confirm what I already knew. Even if my mind wanted to forget, I wouldn’t because I had felt her die. I had held her soft white and tan head in my hands as she passed. 

When it happened I felt helpless and I wasn’t ready to be helpless again. She’d been sick for about a week and while I’d taken her to the vet and even secured a personal loan to pay for the expenses, her heart just couldn’t make it long enough to get better. While I held her head and watched her last trembles, I thought of my brother. I had given him CPR for thirty minutes until county paramedics arrived. 

***

That’s something they don’t tell you about CPR when they teach you- how to accept failure. You are trained to keep doing it until the paramedics arrive.  The brain has up to six minutes after the heart stops pumping blood before it loses all function. You have no idea how long he hasn’t been breathing. So you do what you are trained to do. 

In the days after his death, you look up keywords like death and Cerebral Palsy. The statistics confirm that of course, he died. Like you should have known or been prepared for the inevitable. That’s ridiculous. The doctors didn’t know so why would you?  When you love someone, you care for them. You feed them, you talk to them and protect them. You expect that as long as you do that, they will live forever.

***

I watched a movie about a month before he died that made me cry. Looking back now I wonder if it was trying to prepare me for this life. Prepare me for a change that I am still not comfortable with. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. It follows the same ten souls in a story that spans multiple lifetimes. It follows every character and flashes back through each lifetime to show that each soul is connected and recycled. In one lifetime, you might be a bad guy; in another, a hero. All pieces lead up to a great finale of love and existence. Then and now, I hope that is the case. I’d like to know my brother again even as a neighbor or a mother. I’ll take the wheelchair next time.


***

As I lay in bed that night I run my hand along the smooth texture of my new sheets and inhale the clean smell of Lavender laundry detergent. There is nothing but habit to make me check to see if she is okay, much like I used to check if he was okay. But the smooth sheets remind me that she isn’t and he isn’t without having to move. Despite that, the sequence of their deaths replay in my head. I don’t cry. I let all that go while we dug the hole, changed the sheets, and talked to the plants. New sheets? Check. Removed dog toys and water bowl? Check. Nothing I could have done to make them live? Check.

I hug my pillow tighter. It is always warm, like he was. The pillowcase has been washed so many times that it’s frayed now, but it was my little brother’s favorite. The constellations on it are faded but you can still make out the line and scribbled distance from the Earth to the Sun.  That distance is nothing now. I stole it from the living room where its match still remains since the funeral. Sometimes I catch my mother in there late at night lying next to it. Old habits die hard.

The truth is that I wanted the sheets replaced because since the funeral I have learned that memories are feelings. Not just intangible emotions but a physical memory of touch, taste, and sound. During a time when change hurt so much, I needed to change the sheets that acted like a Band-Aid.  

If I could go back, I think I would just caress his head and hold him like I did with her. Remember the soft burr of his head and the feel of his hand in mine. Then later, when enough time had passed, go change the sheets and water the plants.

written by Susan
February 3, 2022 0

Happiness for Hire

“Mrs. Powers, what would make you happy?” 

Just like that, her hopes came crashing down. Lena thought it was too good to be true when she saw the ad in the Talon Tribune. Looking for a maker of miracles and master of your own universe for a call center position. Great pay and benefits on hire. It was a strange recruitment line, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. Maker of Miracles was a superficial and sly way of saying that the business wasn’t going well, so they were looking for fresh blood willing to accept minimum wage. Master of your own universe and great pay…must be a sales job where your pay is on commission which probably means worse than minimum wage but could be great. Never lying, just deceiving… they’re all soul suckers, but she had come to terms with all that. Rent was already past due, and there was no time to be picky. One good thing about jobs at a call center was that there was usually a training period which could be enough to catch up on her rent.

She’d faxed in her resume and received an email the next day, which just affirmed how desperate she thought they must be…and shady. They still hadn’t disclosed their company name or location, but considering the fact that she’d applied to a “friendship hotline” before, this couldn’t be much worse. So when they insisted on a telephone interview, bells went off, but she was relieved. She could talk the talk better than anyone. It was always in person that she had trouble with. Something about getting used to being alone meant that she forgot when to smile when she made a joke or forgot to let the smile reach her eyes. The end result of trying to force either one was pretty creepy, even when she practiced in the mirror at home.

Nothing she practiced before their appointed call prepared her for this. She had been expecting the typical interview questions like, ‘Why are you interested in our company?’ or ‘What makes you the perfect fit for our company?’ Without a stock answer, she felt the natural confidence of a practiced liar sucked out of her all at once. Happiness. Who has time to think about Happiness?

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Surely there is something that could be changed that would reset your fortune, as it were.” The nasal-like voice seemed to stress the first few words in a way that suggested annoyance- it certainly annoyed her, but she could hear a stern undertone that reminded her that this was an interview and her answer was important. Employers hate indecisive answers during interviews. 

“I…I just don’t know.”

“Well, that’s very disappointing.” She heard a sound that she guessed was a pen clicked shut and the squeak of an office chair being moved. Lena pulled the phone away from her ear and let out the nervous breath she had been holding. She gave the offending phone a good glare before putting it back to her ear. What she wouldn’t give to be in a face-to-face interview right now. 

“Look, Mr…”

“Adam.” An exasperated sigh crackled through the line. That was it. The job was lost already. Adam was about to be the unfortunate victim of years spent job hunting in a crappy job market.

“Adam. I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve probably undergone more interviews to get a job than you’ve undergone to hire for a job and while I’m not impudent by nature, I’m tired. I’ve sold myself in these interviews so many times that if I were a whore; I’d need reconstructive surgery on my vagina.” 

She stopped there long enough to let the offending word soak in and take a calming breath before continuing. “I hate call center jobs with a passion. They may seduce you in with some vague idea that you are customer service or, at best, a support tech, but generally, they are sales positions that prey on stupid people that don’t realize that they are being sold something until it arrives and they’ve already paid for it. I don’t like lying to people, Adam, and I don’t like being lied to or having my time wasted. -However, I’m a single, unattractive woman who needs to pay my rent and at this point, I am more than willing to sell my soul to your call center if it pays enough. So please, if you’re going to hire me -do it or stop wasting my time.”

There is a moment of silence before he replies. “…You need a job.”

Holy Mother of God, are we just now on the same page? “Yes. A job would make me very happy.”

“Monday at Eight O’clock, Mrs. Powers… Meet on sixth and line. Daniel will be your trainer. I’d suggest you get all your anger out before then. He doesn’t take well to vulgar analogies.” 

***

    Sixth and Line was an old part of town. It was home primarily to old, long-abandoned buildings that the city would love to condemn if they weren’t probably owned by wealthy old men to whom buying something meant they would never let go even after the dust had settled on the prime of their real estate lives. Standing outside the door, Lena was reminded of the small businesses in her hometown because the sidewalk was quiet and although the street level of the building was made up of bricks and windows, they were dark and murky enough that you couldn’t see inside. Warm, dark wood made up the frame of an old, long unkept door. It was obvious that the door was heavily used because the gold polish on the handle was cracked and faded.
    Seven-thirty… I’m too early. She leaned against the side of the building, glancing nervously around the corner at the door. She was checking her watch again when the door opened and a man peered out at her. He looked to be in his mid-forties, balding a bit but with a strong face and clear skin. He had wild eyes, though, the kind that saw too much and didn’t care if she noticed. Judging by his posture, he was not just passing through. “Mrs. Powers. You’re early.” You could pretend you didn’t notice. 

She smiled all the same. “Ah…yes. I can wait here if I’m too early. I was concerned about traffic, so I left early, but there was none… So here I am.”

He nodded and held the door open wide. “No need. Come on in.” As she walked in, she noticed even in the low light that he was wearing a tweed suit that might have been popular twenty years ago, but now it just looked eccentric. It made her self-conscious all the same. She had chosen to go business casual based on her cumulative experience in call centers. Her blonde hair was tucked in a tight ponytail, long black slacks, and a soft beige sweater. What if she were underdressed? Granted, she had almost yelled the word vagina to their hiring department so it would serve her right if she were.

He led her through a low lit hallway that highlighted several smaller offices, all full of people and paper. It was a tremendous amount of paper for any business that made money over the phone. As she walked through, she could see people huddled together surrounded by that paper and it amazed her that the furniture was just as old as the outside of the building. One office even had a large black rotary phone. Rotary? This place must be owned by some stodgy old man who doesn’t believe in technology. That could be a good thing. Less technology meant a less likely chance that she was being hired to sell something to someone. No automatic dialer would work with a rotary phone.

With one right turn, the man opened the next door on the left and waited for her to go first. This room was similar to the rest but empty except for two desks facing one another. He led her to the first and motioned for her to sit down. “Have a seat, Mrs. Powers.”

“Lena, please.” She smiled quickly before setting her purse on the floor and sitting down. As usual, the smile felt forced and she wondered if he noticed. 

“Lena, I’m Daniel, your trainer. I suspect we’ll be working together for the next few weeks. Do you have any questions before we start?” He sat to her right, and now that he was closer and face to face, his eyes were that much more disturbing. He leaned forward in his chair with an eerie excited look on his face that reminded her of someone passionate about their work. Absolutely creepy… 

“Yes, actually. My interview was over the phone and a little…unorthodox, and this is my first time through this neighborhood, so I’m not familiar with the local businesses. What…company is this, and shouldn’t I fill out some paperwork first?” At her timid question, he grinned.

“We’ll see to the paperwork later, first I’d like to tell you a bit about our company and what we do. Happiness for Hire,” on seeing her lips twitching, he laughed, then she laughed, and she was finally able to relax. “I know it’s cheesy. Don’t feel bad. I had no hand in the name. Bear with me. Our company sells happiness.”

“Ah, I knew it!” Dread started seeping into her. If I can just make it through training and catch up on my rent, I can look for something else. “What kind of happiness do we sell?”

“No, I feel like you’re still misunderstanding. We don’t call and sell anything. The calls that are forwarded to us are recipients. Happiness has already been bought and paid for by a third party.”

“What exactly is happiness?” A scented candle? Sixty-two-inch flat-screen? Satellite service?

“What a perceptive question. Happiness is an abstract concept, so it’s different for everyone.” He leaned around her and grabbed one of the folders beside her as he talked. He leaned back in his chair to leaf through it.

What in the hell is he talking about. “How do you sell something abstract? I’ll be honest, I’m feeling like you’re about to tell me that we sell weed over a rotary phone or something.” He looked up from the file at that. “Not that I would mind as long as I’m not legally responsible as an employee. We can just pretend I don’t know, but I’d really like to know…secretly, so I’m not so confused or don’t say the wrong thing to an um… customer.” He smiled again, a rather quirky smile.

“Lena. We don’t sell weed. We don’t sell happiness or something. We sell happiness itself, whatever makes the recipient happy. Literally anything. A buyer pays a one-time fee for a one-time use of Happiness for Hire.”

“So we have a lot of rich repeat customers?”

“No. There are rules against that, actually. A buyer cannot be the recipient, and there is a one purchase per lifetime limit.”

“I don’t think I understand…how can we know what makes someone happy. Adam…” she said his name with due snark, remembering the snarky voice that he used. “…asked me that during my interview, and I had no idea what to say. Even if I’d said that I want a car, I don’t think that would make me happy. Thrilled to ride in it but not really happy. So how do we know and how happy do they have to be?”

“Adam called you himself?” He looked surprised, and he sat up and set the folder back on top of the stack. He turned toward her and leaned an arm on the edge of the desk, inspecting her intently.

“Well… yes. Is he someone important?” That would figure.

“No…never mind that.” He glanced behind her towards the door long enough to make her start to turn around and look before he continued. “Our job isn’t easy. When I say happiness, I mean happiness as in the pinnacle of their existence up until that moment. I suppose a fancy car might work if it were a single mom with six kids who was about to lose her job because of her lack of transportation. In that instance, a car would be the exact catalyst that you would look for. A low price to pay for someone’s happiness, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Maybe…what is our budget?” The entire scenario was ridiculous. There was an old saying that money can’t buy happiness and the Monkeys said money can’t buy me love, but she wasn’t that stupid. Money could buy a whole lot of fucking happiness. But who would pay for someone else’s happiness? And probably beaucoups of money since this guy wasn’t even blinking at buying a woman a car. 

“There is no budget restriction. Money will never even pass through your hands. You talk to the customer, find out their major malfunction or untapped mine of happiness and fill out a form. Then you move on to the next customer.”
    There was a moment of silence while she processed what he said. Could this be a hoax? A reality TV show meant to judge people’s reactions to unbelievable situations? The desk near her was another black rotary phone, but the phone line was unplugged from the wall. “Why is the phone unplugged?”
    “Excellent question, you’re very observative. That will work in your favor. We keep them unplugged when not in use, so the switchboard knows not to forward any calls.”

“You can forward calls to a rotary phone?”

    “Of course, you can.” She wanted to argue, but if it came to a battle of wills and rotary knowledge, she suspected that he knew more than she did, so she chose not to comment. Instead, she focused on the stack of plain manila folders stacked next to the phone. “What are these?” she asked as she reached for the same folder he had looked through earlier. 

He reached around her and grabbed the whole stack, sitting them on his side of the desk. “Not so fast. We’ll get to those soon enough.”

“Sorry.” She gave a sheepish smile, and he returned it.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s just that the contents are sensitive and should be examined only when you intend to answer the phone.” Again there was a moment of awkward silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she almost didn’t know where to start.

“How do we know they have achieved happiness? What if we requisition something and it doesn’t make them happy.” 

He leaned toward her slightly and touched her arm. They were close then, close enough that she could see even in the low light that his eyes were blue. Still creepy… 

“Lena. This is really important so listen carefully to this above anything else that I tell you. When you get it wrong, there is a process for a callback. You do not want a callback. I’m not just talking about a huge monetary loss. For you and me who never see the bill, the cost is nothing. I’m talking about the fact that your job gets incrementally harder after the first call. If you’re lucky, you will never have to talk to the same customer twice.”

“Would I be fired? That’s a lot of responsibility and some people… well most people are difficult. If they don’t know what they want then how am I supposed to know…”

“You won’t be fired.” He let go of her arm and leaned back. “You’ll wish you had been. Don’t forget my warning. Don’t hang up until you’re sure.”

“How will I know?” 

“You’ll know… Do you want to listen in on a call?”

“Yes! Please, I think that would really help me understand.” Before she even finished talking he was opening a drawer to his right and shuffling through it. He pulled out a small boxed connection of some kind and something that she stared at intently with an unknown sense of fantastical terror. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. 

It was a bright pink rotary phone with a darker pink Barbie printed on the side. “Do you like it?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s absolutely…awful and awesome at the same time. Do you save that for all the new female employees?” 

He smirked and started to hook the phones together. “No, you’re the first female trainee I’ve had, but I am politically correct. Just in case you hated it, I have a GI Joe one in there too.” At this point, they were both laughing so hard that by the time they stopped, he was finished and waiting to plug in the line, still wearing a cheeky grin. His suit is old, his head is practically shining at me, but he has a nice smile. Maybe he’s just awkward, like me. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” She pulled the pink monstrosity closer to her and waited as he plugged the phone in. It rang almost the second he plugged in the line, and the sound still made her jump. I was the harsh, grating bbbrrring that she learned to dread when she first worked at a job that involved answering a telephone. Always someone wanting something or her trying to make them want something. She swallowed the angst as much as she could for the time being. For now, it wasn’t her on the line. She was just listening. 

He grabbed the folder from the top of the pile again and flipped it open in time to answer on the second ring. “Hello, Mr. Brinkman, how are you doing today?” He gestured for her to look at the file with him. What she saw could only be described as amazing. Mr. Brinkman, 43 year old born in Benchkirk, New Jersey. Married twice with two kids- a boy and a girl. The information continued like that, listing his past residences, a brief summary of his finances, a series of checkboxes next to a variety of things like a security background check, known contacts, employment history… all things that from her past experience, a phone representative should never have all collected in one place. Since the folder was pretty large, she’d be willing to bet that the checkboxes signified documents inside the file. 

“Hello, who’s this?” The voice on the other line was scratchy like a man who smoked but should have quit a long time ago. There was a scratching noise and a muffled, “Nancy, who the fuck is this? Nobody should have my private line, Nancy. Did one of the newsies let a ‘porter tween their legs again an sell it?”

Lena pulled the phone from her ear and looked at Daniel and then the phone in question. He did the same and leaned forward to whisper, “As I said, Buyers are not Recipients. He doesn’t know who we are until we identify ourselves.” He then leaned back and put the phone back to his ear and she did the same. “Mr. Brinkman, my name is Daniel, and I am calling on behalf of Mr. Vaughn.” Daniel tapped where on the first page in the folder that the Buyers name was listed as he talked. “Did he tell you that we would be calling?”

There was another scratching noise and a yelled, “Never mind, Nancy. Don’t fire her yet.” Then he was clear again, “He did. He just didn’t say nothin’ about you callin’ my private line.”

“My apologies, Sir. Did he tell you exactly what we would call about?”

“He said you deal in happy shit, and you’d be my fucking fairy godmother. I think you’re a fucking bunch of pansy-assed con men is what I think, but he said you did him right once with his ma, and he ain’t one to lie.” Daniel frowned and grabbed a pen from a cup holder nearby and clicked it on, poised to write, but then he hesitated. Instead, he grabbed a note from a sticky note pad to the left of the phone and stuck it in between them, and wrote: Customers are not supposed to talk about their experience with our service. It makes our jobs difficult if the customer has a precedent or expectation. I.E Predetermined idea of what makes them happy can be wrong. The message was long enough that he had to get a second sticky while he talked.

“Mr. Brinkman, I see you are running for your local mayoral office. Is that true?”

“Sure as hell. Stayed up all night watchin’ Nancy make some flyers. This place needs some managin’, and it might as well be me. Tellin’ you the truth, Danny, if you wanna make me happy, you can work on this campaign for me, if you know what I mean.” 

Lena fought not to set the phone down. Listening to this guy was painful, and somewhere while he was talking, he started crunching on god knows what while he spoke. She looked at Daniel, and his face looked pained as well. Around the same time the crunching started, he’d started to draw circles on the sticky note, and the circles were dug pretty deep. Mr. Brinkman was done talking and was waiting on a response, and Daniel continued to look pained. He leaned to the side and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes. When he finally did answer, his words were polite, but his tone was forced. 

“Yes, Mr. Brinkman. I understand. I’m happy that we could be of service. Please enjoy a life full of happiness and joy.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Daniel hung up and immediately jerked the line out of the plug. 

“You’re not seriously going to help him win an election, right?” Daniel was pulling a form out of the drawer as she spoke.

“Yes, I am.”

“But that’s ridiculous! It’s a complete misuse of power! That guy is a P-I-G pig. There’s no way that he’ll be good for his town.”

“That’s not our decision to make. We find out and fill out the form, Lena.”

“But he won’t be happy with that! He’s an idiot. He probably woke up yesterday and decided he wanted to be Mayor!” At that comment, he stopped filling out the form and looked at her carefully.

“Lena. A rule was broken, and the Buyer will be fined for breaking it. But the unfortunate part is that Mr. Brinkman is not the one who broke the rules, so his happiness is still our priority for this call. By having a scale of what we can do, his expectations were already set. This is one of the few cases where temporary happiness is acceptable. As soon as an expectation is set and the Recipient decides by himself what will make him happy- to give him anything else will make him unhappy. There is nothing else we can do.” With that, he signed the form and put it in the folder, and set the folder to the side. “It’s unfortunate that this was your first training call. Most are much happier than that.”

“What if he’d asked us to kill someone.” She asked because he looked so resigned but so reserved and so afraid. He stilled immediately when she asked. She expected him to deny it and laugh. She wanted him to deny it and laugh.

“Lena, our job is only to find out and report.”

“That is bullshit!“

“Please control your language, Mrs. Powers.” He shuffled and scooted his chair at a diagonal and backward slightly, visibly increasing the distance between them. Definitely, a good thing that he wasn’t the one that did her interview. 

“It’s still Lena.” She said carefully. “How can you work someplace with this much responsibility that isn’t checked. None of this can be legal.”

“Lena…I had hoped to ease you into this slowly, but this place is outside the realm of culpability. If you left here with the intent to tell the police, nothing would come of it except they would think that you’re crazy and you wouldn’t be able to return. You need a job, don’t you?”

“How very sly of you, do you think I’m that desperate? If I leave, I’ll get kicked out of my apartment, and at worst have to move in with some friends for a while.” She didn’t mention that she didn’t really have any friends. “If I stay, I run the chance of ruining lives.”

“Or saving lives and making a lot of money doing it. If you stay, you will see your luck change forever. It’s your choice. I can count how many calls like this one I’ve had on one hand, and I’ve been working here for… a very long time. Nowhere else will you get this kind of freedom. Most call centers give you a timeline, and you may answer hundreds every day. I answer anywhere between ten to twenty calls a day depending on how long it takes me to find their answer.” At that, he stood and collected his coat, preparing to leave. “Look… take some time. Think about this rationally. Think about it in terms of what would make you happiest. Stay as long as you like. Look around if you like or go, but remember… don’t close a door that you don’t want to stay closed.”

Lena watched him go and didn’t move. Her morals said she should get up and walk out. Go back to her job search and accept being covered in grease or cleaning dirty toilets if it meant that her soul would be clean as well. Clean or dirty. Angels or demons. What was the difference? Was there a difference? Was it a choice? She knew what she should do, but something made her reach towards the stack of folders and grab the next one in the stack. 

written by Susan
February 3, 2022 0

At First

At first, I had every intention of doing the right thing. I was not a religious woman but even if I had been, it wasn’t like there was a commandment that said, “Thou shalt return what thou find.” But I was a simple woman and there was a feeling inside me that demanded I return him to his owner.  It was his fault that I didn’t, really.

In the summer of 2055, I found him lying on the sidewalk baking under the sun-filled sky. Frankly, when I saw him I almost ran away.  Nobody goes outside anymore because it’s just too hot and the administration issued warnings that the outside air was no longer safe. People disregarded these warnings to the danger of themselves and their children until the administration made laws prohibiting anyone from going outside without prior authorization and equipment. 

That was exactly why I still came down from my apartment 423 floors above ground level at least once a week to clear my thoughts. The chance to be completely alone even if I had to walk around with an oxygen mask and an umbrella was worth it. Needless to say, when I found a random man lying face down, his naked body badly burned on an old abandoned sidewalk at ground level; it made me nervous first and then concerned second.

The concrete around him was busted. I looked up at the structure I already knew was there. Many people lived and worked in the buildings that stretched from ground level and connected to what used to be the first space station but now was much more than that. The structure connected each building together at height intervals, in essence extending Earth outward on all sides via the man-made structures.

There was no way for me to tell how far he had fallen. I was deliberating if I could even report him found without giving away that I had come down when he moved.  His left arm moved and he slowly pushed himself onto his back. 

Pale blue eyes that were so beautiful that they could only be digitally manufactured looked at me for instruction. They showed no concern over the burned state of his backside or the circumstances of where he was. He confirmed my suspicion when he sat up and said, “I’m sorry, but I seem to have been reset. If I am not yours, could you please guide me to the nearest service station?” 

As I said, I had every intention of doing the right thing. I had never owned a robot before but I knew they were high maintenance like any advanced piece of equipment. Generally, only one percent owned such a luxurious piece of equipment.  I was lucky to afford my cramped little apartment and the utilities. 

I tried not to talk to it. I figured it would be like naming a puppy, if you could avoid getting personally involved then it would be easier to leave it in a hallway later. It was the small things that made me change my mind. Little things it did things on its own. Like it took my umbrella on the way back and held it for me until we were back inside. Can you imagine? He fell thousands of feet, was burned on one side and he held an umbrella just for me.

I had no idea where the nearest service station was so I took him home first so I could look up the locations online. I think I was still going to return him until he said, “I can cook.”

written by Susan
February 3, 2022 0

Don’t Go

Don’t go, I thought. There’s so much you’re going to miss.

I see your eyes, and although they don’t move from their skyward haunt, I imagine that you are there—just waiting to breathe. Waiting for me to start your heart again because it must have been a whim that it stopped in the first place. It was a game that you were playing to get me to come play with you in the middle of the night like you so often wanted. 

I used to stay up all night and wander the house. Creep from my room and check the fridge just in case something new and appealing hit my nose. I never knew if my shuffling in the kitchen woke you up or if you waited for me, but as I rolled my feet like a cereal ninja, I would hear your soft laugh. So I would deviate and kiss your peach fuzz forehead. Cover you up if you were cold, pull them down if you were hot. You loved when I would flip your pillow so you could feel the cool side. Always before I left, I would kneel on the floor and put my head on your chest. Like we practiced so many times, your arms would wrap around my head and give me a hug that I knew took all your concentration. 

I always felt safe hearing your heartbeat when we hugged, something I relied on since you were a baby slung haphazardly over my shoulder. You loved that when everyone treated you so carefully as if you would break, that I held you like a sack of potatoes. You learned that way to hang on to Sissy. To wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist and hang on with everything you had and laugh about it.

That’s all I wanted. 

For you to hang on while I fixed everything. To breathe and look at me and tell me that it’s alright that I didn’t wake up last night. To let me hear your heartbeat one more time while I hugged you.

To ask you not to go, because there’s so much that I am going to miss.

written by Susan
February 3, 2022 0

Breaking Fate

Sometimes I can still see the bright lights of Vegas. The flashing bulbs that reflected off the glossy streets at night visit me in the darkness. I was strutting out of the Cosmopolitan in a gold-sequined cocktail dress when the colors converged and exploded, leaving me blind and pissed. The old hag wasn’t supposed to die for another ten years, but there I was, just shy of thirty and the newest blind Fate.

Some women are born with the gift of sight, but I’m not one of those. I was born with a special gift of touch, which up until that point just meant that I had a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Some dresses felt warm and slick when I touched them and made me nauseous with remnants of the last cheap whores who tried them on. Some felt soft and comforting because they were handled with care, but they generally looked like they were made from a Do It Yourself kit. Needless to say, I grew accustomed to wearing unsavory things that looked fantastic. 

As far as Fates go, I was one of the best. Granted, my perceptions were a gift from God, but I had a certain talent for storytelling that made life worthwhile for anyone who crossed my loom. But it wasn’t always that way. Realizing that my life as Anna Snow was over and I would be called Sister by a room full of blind lunatics made my first few years a little tense.

It was during my first week that I met our young protagonist. I had been weaving souls flawlessly for hours before coming onto one that I couldn’t place. I knew that souls were like veins. It took a practiced touch to distinguish one from another and even more, practice to know which ones should cross for a moment or a lifetime. As a Fate, my job was to braid these fragile souls together and form their Story. I was a divine tool. I was supposed to just know … without knowing. The contradiction wasn’t lost on me.

But hers felt like a dandelion. It was soft and vulnerable, and I had no idea what to do with it. I spent hours with it cradled in my left hand while I strummed and stroked the other souls with my right, looking desperately for others like it.

My stomach growled. No matter how many times I ran over the other souls nearby, the only ones that stood out were ones I thought were incompatible. One felt like a bizarre guitar string… It was discordant. The other felt crisp but smelled like burnt wood.

When I finally snapped, my stomach was growling impatiently, and my grip on her soul was less than gentle. “When can I get a fucking burger?”

The old weaver that I dubbed Hagniss for reasons that will become obvious later, chuckled from the left behind me. Being blind was a bitch.

“Why is that so funny?”

“We don’t eat anymore, Sister.”

One reflexive jerk, and she was gone, nothing but a soft fuzzy soul dangling from my hand. I must have made a noise because everything stopped and became quiet. No one moved. I wanted to run my hand along the length of her soul to make sure it really snapped, but I couldn’t risk the noise. These women had been Fates for a long time. They could see better by sound and touch than they could when they had eyes. Besides, I could feel her lifeless thread in my hands.
I was in deep shit.

I heard Hagniss push her chair back and the whisper of fabric and the crackle of old bones as she stood. “What’s wrong, Sister?”
“Nothing.” I would never admit fault. If God didn’t like it, he could have replaced me in a heartbeat.

When a few minutes went by and I remained unpunished, I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat to give the illusion that I was going to continue. The sound of the looms resumed and I heard Hagniss sit back down. “Very well, then.”

I had no idea what to do. I had her severed soul in my hand and no idea where it came from. With the busy looms and somewhat psychotic hums as background noise, I ran my right hand along the thread. Too long. It was too long. It must have snapped from another lifetime altogether. I felt along the woven cloth and my hand shook. There was a feathery ripple along the cloth where her absence had unraveled the souls. At least a handful of souls were barely laced together. There was no fixing it without unraveling the whole thing and starting over. I may have been naïve and reckless, but not stupid.

I suppose that was where my stubbornness came in handy. If I couldn’t fix a mistake that was already centuries old, I could at least fix it from that moment on. As I wove her carefully between Guitar String and Burnt Bark, I occasionally pulled in an array of other souls that while I was sure didn’t resonate, would push and pull her to others that did. I didn’t realize then the full extent of my mistake.

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written by Susan
September 3, 2021 0

Learning to Breathe – Seongs #4

It took months to get here, even though it was clear now that all the other options were never going to work from the start. Like a drowning man, he had to cling to all the buoys before admitting that there was nothing left to do but sink into the abyss.

And make no mistake about it. It was a deep chasm to fall into, but there was no better place to fall so far. Some people said love was like jumping off a cliff or drowning in the ocean. He disagreed. To him, love was learning to breathe underwater.

So here it is. Sitting outside again on a clear, starry night with Seong Mi. His eyes locked up at the stars as he took a deep breath and prepared himself to say what he hadn’t ever intended but somehow had already said many times in the last few months. Seong Mi, for her part, was mostly silent. That itself a testament to how the two were finally coming back into alignment. Mostly silent because she couldn’t help a final, “Are you sure?”

He chuckled, glancing down at her and offering a nod and a smile to show how alright he finally was. “I’m sure. The melancholy, the discordance…I think it’s been because I was fighting myself. And not just you, this time. We tried, Seong. We tried so hard that I think it was hurting more that way.” He leaned over and knocked shoulders with her lightly. “You can feel it too, right? We’re closer now than we’ve ever been and I think that’s why. We want the same thing. Maybe not the same ways, but your goals and mine are one. I appreciate how hard you’ve tried lately to hold us up, but there is no letting go. Not yet. Maybe never.”

She winced, looking away. “Never is a long time. That could be how long we have to wait.”

She snapped her head around at the chuckle he gave in response as well as the muttered, “Probably so.”

“Have you gone mad.” She demanded.

“Yes.” His chuckle had broken down into a slightly mad laugh at this point. It was crazy enough that her lips twitched as she resisted the urge to smile. Hell, if it made him that happy.

“You too.” He murmured. “I’m not doing this alone. You agree with me and you know it.”

“I do, but I don’t know if I can say it.” She sighed and flopped back onto the cold grass to get a better view of the stars.

“Technically, you said it first.” He smirked. ‘Remember? If you can’t be mine, then I’m yours.’

“I was being rediculous.” She whined.

“You were being honest. You don’t like not being connected to him.”

“It can’t be any more serious than that. It’s the pressure that he doesn’t like.” She muttered and rolled away.

“Pretty sure that he’s complained about us deciding how he feels about things before.” He countered, for once completely unswayed by her petulance.

“THIS is not the argument with which to use his logic.” She snapped.

“Fine. Then as a counter-argument, our decision and feelings are not debatable nor do they require validation, confirmation or a fucking receipt. Love isn’t a fucking transaction.”

She sat up abruptly and smacked him on the chest. “You fucking cad. You used that word.”

He grabbed his chest and sat up, glaring at her for once again, not understanding. “Oh piss off, seriously? Do you think that using it somehow invalidates what we want to say? I could go into a long diatribe about love and all its forms, but that’s really just pussyfooting around. Isn’t it? Put a fucking box around everything physical and toss it away. Sex…sex is not love. Sex has no fucking room to even stand where we are.”

“Bullshit. You still want him.”

“We do because, fuck you, we aren’t dead. But this whole conversation isn’t about sex.” He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “We’re not dead, Seong. There’s no one that I want more. Frankly, I’d be fine telling the whole world to fuck off. But that’s not really what this is about. This is about a simple observation. One that has taken months of deliberation because it’s not smart. It’s likely the worst decision that we can make together, but we’ve tried everything else and rather than feeling free, the alternatives have made us fucking unhappy. And why? Why was it so important that we distance ourselves and create lines where there doesn’t have to be any.”

“Lines are important because they protect him.” She reasoned.

“No, lines were drawn to protect us. We know where the lines are and we never forget. But that has nothing to do with forcing ourselves to find replacements or create distance just to prove we can. What you said? It got stuck and I’ve been thinking about it. And you know, since I started thinking about it- I’ve gotten fucking happier.” He huffed a soft melodic laugh. “He can be mad if he wants. The fact is that on some level, we can and will provide what he needs. He’ll continue looking for his perfect love and we’ll support him every day in any way that we can because we love the fuck out of him. Unconditionally. If he wants to be petty and angry because he’s having a danger night, we’ll handle the flames because it’s worth it. If he wants to ignore us until he feels like we’ve lost interest, it’ll be a really long, lonely time but we have goals and we’re persistent as fuck. We’ll still be there.”

“And if he finds his perfect love?” She murmurs, shifting over to lay her head on his lap. “What is your grandmaster plan then?”

He hums at that, his hand raising to trace a strand of hair from her face. “So we’ll love him more. I can’t really see how anyone can have too much love.”

“Won’t it hurt?”

“No more than it has trying to ignore it for the last few months. Personally, I may still want to make him kneel…but we’re fucking switches. We’re his whether he wants us or not. I don’t see any use ignoring it anymore.”

After a moment of silence, she sighs and plays the mediator between them and their unspoken audience. “So what exactly does this change? What do we want by saying this?”

“Nothing at all. Maybe I just want to share it the right way. Since last time I was too upset to get it right. I was pining and pouting like a fucking child and I didn’t understand what I had versus what I didn’t. I have…the best friend I could ever ask for. I have someone that I care for more than anyone else on this earth right now…and he doesn’t have to do a damn thing differently than he has for months. Just accept a fucking warm and fuzzy compliment.”

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written by Susan
September 3, 2021 0

Also a Bad Idea – Seongs #3

“What is this?” He muttered, blue eyes narrowed at the surprise that his ridiculous twin left on his bed.

“I would think that’s rather obvious.” Seong Mi yawned and looked down at her cherry pink nails as if she were bored, even if it was impossible to hide how absolutely proud she was of herself.

Obvious indeed. In his bed, fucking Shibari-tied with a baby blue ribbon was a man. Probably. Well, most certainly. She was fucking crazy, but not a criminal. So logic said that the thing on his bed was an adult, but the lithe body was lacking most of what Seong Bin considered masculine. Was the lack of body hair natural? Jesus. “How long has his…thing…been tied? It looks a bit red.”

“That’s because he likes it. It hasn’t been that long. It’s not like it’s going to fall off. I thought you were the kinky one.” She snorted and leaned over the bed to run her fingers through the man’s hair and coo at him.

Seong Bin took a calming breath, looking away from the sight and starting to count in hopes of achieving peace before he spoke again. It rarely worked, but flaming at her was useless. Her pouting was much, much worse than just humoring her most of the time. “What gave you the idea that he is my type?

At that, she looked up from her affectionate petting and frowned. “Of course he is.”

“He’s not. He’s pretty, don’t get me wrong but we could have absolutely nothing in common.” He cast an apologetic look at the eager-eyed…. pup? Yeah, that’s absolutely what this guy was. A fucking puppy.

“S-E-X, Bin. This is about sex. You don’t have to TALK for sex.” She sat up and pointed one of those long pink nails and Seong Bin knew she was about to preach and countered as quickly as he could.

“Bullshit. Did you fuck him?” He was 90% sure that he’d know if she had. The brat was a bigger sap than he was and he wasn’t about to be handed the blame in this weird unnamed war. Seong Bin glanced down at his present and immediately barked out a laugh. Trussed up as he was with his privates twitching with each shake of his head with how the ribbon was leashed, the young man answered for her by a vehement shake of his head. “You are a fucking hypocrite. I don’t even want to know how you got him tied up without any fuckery.”

She opened her mouth to answer before she stopped and rolled her eyes. “I was just trying to help.”

“You can’t help me. You can’t even save yourself.” He muttered, stalking forward with a pair of scissors to cut the guy free. The man made a few muffled noises until Seong Bin finally stopped to remove the ball gag from his mouth.

“That’s part of a song.” Was the croaked response.

“No shit.” Could you give real life League honors? Because if so, he’d get Tilt-proof.

Seong Bin cut the loop around his ankles when Mi interjected. “It would have unraveled by itself if you’d have pulled the ribbon around his dick first.

“Never going to happen.” He growled.

“Is anyone going to fuck me?” The words came from the newly freed present. For fuck’s sake.

“NO.”

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written by Susan
September 3, 2021 0

Bad Idea – Seongs #2

“This is a bad idea.” He muttered, unlocking the door and letting her inside. As she slid past him into the house, he glanced out at the night sky and could have sworn that the stars were dimmer than when he saw them last. He was still in a dark mood at that was only one of many reasons that letting her in wasn’t smart.

“It can’t be the worst.” She countered, stepping over the empty beer cans and pizza boxes. “I don’t even like beer.”

“Let’s argue about the mechanics of why I can do what the fuck I want in my own house regardless of whether you like it or not later.” He warned, his tone short but more exhausted than angry. As usual, the scene was metaphoric anyway. “You know I’m gay, right?”

“Oversexualized homosexual…” She murmured under her breath but he winced because he’d have heard it even if she hadn’t said it.

“I’m that easy to sum up, I guess.” He stepped back to lean against the couch arm behind him. He knew that he’d be sorry that he let her in but misery loves company and all that.

“He didn’t mean to insult you.” She blinked and her head turned towards him as if realizing what she’d said and that it was hurtful.

“Yeah, he did.” He shrugged and reached up to scratch head and fuck up his hair in nervousness. “We’re not here to talk about that.”

“No, we’re not.” She looked down at her hands a moment before steeling herself for what she wanted…needed to do. Then she took a deep breath and stalked towards him.

He sat on the arm of the chair, dark head bowed and eyes averted and when she stopped between his outstretched legs, he stiffened. “Wait.”

“What do you mean wait.” She demanded. “We’ve both done this before. Do you want me to be a man? Obviously, I can.”

“NO.” He hissed, gripping the edge of the couch arm tightly. “That would make it worse.”

“Then what?” Her voice softened, her hand coming up to curve against his cheek, and then when he leaned away from her, curl into his hair and grip tightly to hold him in place.

The action caused his temper to flare. His hand came up and knocked her hand off of him, the sting of his scalp pleasant in its painfulness and that just pissed him off even more. “You’re forgetting your place. I’m not your bitch.”

“Then stop acting like it.” She spat, the fury at swallowing her insecurity while he was gone rising to the top.

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written by Susan
September 3, 2021 0

Letting Go – Seongs #1

“You’re pining.” He murmured, gaze set to the starry sky but seeming to look through the celestial masterpiece. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“I know.” She shifted her head in his lap to wipe a few damp strands of hair from her face. If he asked, she would deny it but even he knew better than to address the reason for her puffy eyes. “You too.”

“I’m not.” He grunted and shifted his glare down to the back of her head. For a moment, he considered shoving her off but then she’d be looking at him and he didn’t feel like being dismantled tonight. “Why the fuck are you upset. He’s not gone. You see him every fucking day.”

He regretted the vehemence in his voice when her head snapped to look at him, her eyes narrowed in fury. “You’re right. I do. I see him every day and I’m nothing.”

“What? That…doesn’t make sense. You’re missing words again.” She did that fairly often.

“I am not. It’s…well, yeah. I skipped a lot of unnecessary inner dialogue and warped to the end, but that’s the summary. I’m nothing.”

He rolled his eyes and finally pushed her off, standing and heading back to the house. He didn’t have time for feminine dramatics. “You’re not nothing or he wouldn’t hang out with you. He’d have cut you off already.” The unspoken *like me* was still present even if he wouldn’t dare say it out loud. He wasn’t pining. He’d barely gotten the chance and he’d squandered what chance he had. There would be others…when he was ready.

“He won’t.” She rolled onto her knees and then back onto her ass to watch him go, unwilling to go back yet. “He’s nicer than he says.”

He stopped with his hand on the screen door and sighed before turning around to really look at her for the first time in a long time. Her eyes were puffy, but the redness was gone. So she’d finally stopped crying like a child who didn’t get what she wanted. This conversation wouldn’t help but she wasn’t moving on. If he was honest with himself, neither of them were. “That may be. But he’s a man accustomed to picking up and leaving whenever he wants. If he didn’t value your friendship, he’d be gone. Your website bullshit isn’t enough to make him put up with you if you were as annoying as you think you are.”

“I never said I was annoying.” She blinked and she was the one to look away this time.

“You said you were nothing and you forget- I know you. Trust me. You have value…but you’ve got to stop pining.”

“I’m not. It’s enough.” She snipped, followed by a slight sniff which she tried to play off as a huff but failed. She couldn’t do it as well as he could.

Her eyes were red again. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a flood in his yard again just because he was an insensitive bastard.

“You’re not insensitive.” She countered, bringing up the annoying fact that even his thoughts would never be his own. “And you are pining. More than I am. As you said, I see him every day and I never really…well.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair to buy time. “I didn’t really get a lot of intimate time with him, did I?”

“Now you’re fucking ridiculous.” He snapped. “You held a remote in your fucking hand that gave him pleasure. He talked to you as he came. That’s fucking intimate. He asked you to be his girlfriend. That’s fucking intimate.” At this point, he had to let go of the handle to his screen door or risk breaking it and fucking up the small measure of protection he had against the elements.

“A week.” She replied softly. “I got a week and I chased him off.”

“You didn’t.” He argued, his tone soft but for all the wrong reasons. Frankly, he agreed with her but he couldn’t let her take all the blame. He was equally responsible. “I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I was too soft… We both are.”

She blinked rapidly and then stopped to fan her eyes. She didn’t want to wade through the mud if she decided to go back inside either. “So you admit that you’re pining too.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In the darkness, he saw the eager eyes looking up at him and the fact that even now he struggled with what had to be an unhealthy amount of tenderness. Even if he’d managed to give him the roughness he wanted, this fucking tenderness would have ruined it. He’d have loved him until he ran away and there was no future in loving someone who didn’t want to be loved. He’d felt the cynicism from the start and he’d warned her about it. It was the only reason they were still standing. He’d done what he could. Now it was time to go home where he could recover. He opened his eyes and reached for the door. “I’m going.”

“Don’t leave me.” She pleaded. “I can’t do this.”

“You are doing it. Just keep doing. You know the drill. One day at a time. I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

“You’re running.” She wasn’t holding back now, that’s for sure.

“My presence here is not needed.” He argued, glancing to the side but refusing to turn around. “I tried. I don’t want to play with anyone else but I don’t have a purpose without it. I have no fucking outlet for this…bullshit. Do you…Fuck!” He cursed and finally turned around to glare at her. “Do you have any idea how it feels to try to play with someone else but it feels empty? I don’t feel anything. Nothing but bitterness because I know that- YES. I’m fucking pining.”

He growled and turned to kick the door, his boot putting a dent in the metal and shaking the frame. He hid his relief that the frame and lock held before turning to continue. “Are you happy? It bothers me because I know that it wasn’t what he wanted but I miss that closeness. It bothers me that I’m a confident fucking creature that feels inept. I exist -my sole existence- is to carry you when you’re feeling vulnerable and insignificant. I can’t do that right now when I’m fucked up. You say you’re nothing but you’re *everything*. I’m just a fucking gimmick. I can’t even fuck your cares away because I’m just…pathetic.”

The silence lasted longer than it should have. She didn’t agree, but when she opened her mouth to argue against it, she realized that by arguing against his argument, she would be arguing against her own. She was arguing with herself again.

“Do you think it’s because we’re crazy?” She sighed, falling onto her back to look up at the stars instead, hoping for the nonchalance that he portrayed earlier and knowing that if she looked at him any longer, she really would cry.

“Probably.” He returned the sigh and turned back to the door. “I’m going.”

“Bye.” She murmured, already feeling more alone than she did before but she didn’t really have an argument for him to stay. He was right. He didn’t have a purpose. He’d failed to protect her and he wouldn’t be helpful at all if he didn’t go heal. She’d do what he said. She’d just keep doing one day at a time.

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written by Susan
August 1, 2021 0

Lost, A Sarah Hale Novel

Walking. Again. Sarah rubbed her nose and tugged her sleeves down farther. With each breath, she saw a puff of white steam that made her feel like she was really in an arctic tundra. Her character, Kitsu, trudged through an unbearably cold landscape with her hunting group.

Likewise, it was forty degrees outside of her apartment, and only a single layer of brick meant that the inside wasn’t much warmer. Sarah reached blindly for her coffee and cringed when she felt the cold glass. Instead, without taking her eyes off the screen, she leaned forward in her seat and pulled her arm inside her shirt. As long as they all walked in a straight line, she wouldn’t have to use that hand anyway.

The landscape on her screen had an icy beauty, but it was slowly getting darker, and as it did, the blue gave way to black like a stained bruise on a tender sky. Around her, the cracks and corresponding drag through ankle-deep slush shuddered through her speakers. Every once in a while, she heard a piercing cry from her surround sound and a low rumble from the subwoofer that signaled they were getting closer to the dragon’s lair. A strange noise made Sarah stop and listen.

 A frog echoed along the frozen cliffs.

A distinctly Canadian voice cut through her speakers. “Really? A frog croaking in a frozen biome? Way to wreck the fucking illusion.”  Yes. Way to wreck the illusion, Sarah thought. Nothing could ruin the suspense and wonder of a new expansion like her antagonistic guild leader Ziprig.

Sarah heard a gravely cough and labored breathing before another voice broke through at an ear-shattering decibel, “I hate to do this, guys… but I gotta pee.”

Bjord was a major sweetheart, but the quality of his microphone and the fact that he possibly wore it so close to his mouth that he could be in danger of swallowing it meant that your ears were never safe. You couldn’t turn him down either because it had a way of being super soft one day and super loud another. It was a crapshoot. Actually, although not harboring any ill will for the guy, Sarah’s friend Joey often kept him muted entirely. Today was one such day. As expected, Sarah’s phone lit up with a text from Joey asking why everyone had stopped. Sarah typed a quick explanation and then tried to get some feeling back by rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“Bjord, really? You should have just said something earlier.” Zip wasn’t fond of breaks. Especially since some people had a unique sense of time. One of their group mates had a habit of taking a five-minute AFK and returning two days later with a tale of what an awesome party he had with the swingers next door. Considering he was an anesthesiologist in real life, Sarah was certain he was a frequent flyer and never came down.

Sarah’s stomach growled hard enough to almost forget how cold she was. Almost.

“What was that?”

“Sorry,” Sarah mumbled. “I wouldn’t mind a break too. I’m starving, and frostbite might have already set in.”

“Fine. Let’s take five. And I mean five. Not ten, not twenty. Five.” Good luck with that, she thought. Bjord was guaranteed to need a refill of cigarettes if history was any indicator.

The first thing Sarah did when she got up was pull out her heater and turn it on. The central heat and air hadn’t worked in this apartment since long before she moved in. As anyone could tell by the peeling yellow paint and unfinished wood floors, the place was a complete dump, but Sarah couldn’t get the energy to paint or argue with her landlord about the carpet. It was either save money for their meet-up in Vegas or find a new place to live, and frankly, she didn’t look at the walls or the floor much anyway. She was almost to the bathroom when she heard it kick on. Then, just as she sat down to do her business, there was a loud pop, and her apartment went dark.

Sarah felt around in the dark for the toilet paper and cursed the old wiring. This was why she had been playing in the freezing cold. One in every three times she ran the heater and her gaming rig at the same time, it would pop a breaker. She had to be close to five minutes already. So much for being on time.

By the time she reached the breaker box, she had tripped over a pile of clothes and wrecked her shin on her suitcase that she was supposed to already have packed for Vegas. Thankfully, she knew exactly which switch to flip. Three flips later, she was still in darkness. She felt around a moment until she found the edge of her bed and sat down. She didn’t have to feel far. Her whole apartment was probably just over 450 square feet. She felt a small shudder beneath her feet. Was that thunder? Four seconds later, she heard the low answering rumble. One more trip over the same suitcase, and she peeked out her yellowed blinds. The whole block was out. A storm was coming.

She could see the fridge was empty with the tiny light from her phone. Or it might as well be. Miracle Whip, while being the foundation of everything wonderful- was not wonderful at all with nothing to eat it with. In the cabinet, she found a used package of crackers with about four left.  She peeked in her silverware drawer and grunted when it predictably had only silverware in it. Outside, the wind picked up, and a series of taps signaled that it had started to rain. Her stomach growled again as she went over her options.

It didn’t take long. There were only four crackers to consider. So she’d just order pizza. She was about to dial Dominoes when she noticed it was 2:35am. No pizza place in this hell hole would be open past midnight. Only one place was open so early in the morning. She found her jacket and pulled out her boots.

Her phone lit up again. Zip would never believe that her electricity was really out, and she didn’t blame him.  Joey would have to cover for her this time. Sarah shot him a quick text about the power being out and then headed out the door.  There was just a steep stairway from her garage studio to the door outside, and she was extra careful on her way down because her boots were a half-size too big. They were a gift from her Dad, who never really bothered to ask her size. For him, it was always the thought that counted. Unfortunately, it was never forethought.

She stopped at the door and peered out of the glass. It wasn’t sprinkling anymore. It was a full-on downpour. No umbrella, but she did have her hoodie and her boots. Arcadia was only a few blocks away. Four, to be exact. She could run it. Maybe. She didn’t run much, but there shouldn’t be much to it. She zipped up her hoodie and put the hood on, making sure to tuck her carrot-colored hair in as far as she could.

The owner of Arcadia, Raj, tried to steal a lock of her hair once because he thought it must have magical properties. Talk about stereotypes. She tried to be insulted, but honestly, there was a fair amount of people in town that thought he was a Muslim terrorist when he was really a Hindu from India, so they were even. They were on good terms, but people came from several counties to buy his specialty goods so she wouldn’t put it past him to try again. Raj was all about the money.

Sarah ran in place a few times to psych herself up and then threw the door open and burst out into the rain. Cold. It was so cold, but she ran. Past her landlord’s house up to fourth and across. Arcadia was just ahead, not as well lit as the Quiktrip across town, but it was the brightest thing on this side of town, and with it raining so hard, she was thankful. Both her and her hoodie were soaked, so Sarah didn’t see the woman until she ran into her.

“Watch it!” The woman snapped, pushing Sarah off as they both squeezed into the gas station at the same time. Her black hair was in a tight ponytail, and she wore professional black from head to toe. She was definitely from out of town.

“Sorry,” Sarah muttered, wiping her wet face with her sleeve. The hoodie hadn’t helped much. It made a better sponge than a shield.

“Whatever.” The woman looked around with her nose turned up slightly, her lips tight. She had to be lost. Most people from out of town stopped at the QuikTrip off I-40 because it was a beacon on the long stretch of interstate. She probably missed the loop and ended up on highway 64 instead. If that was the case, she was lucky because this was the only gas station for another forty minutes.

“Raj!” Sarah yelled. “You’ve got a customer.”

With a long groan, a bald head appeared from behind the counter and then a smiling Buddha face. Sarah smirked. Raj saved that look for new people from out of town. It kept him from having to deal with most of their bullshit.

“Can I use your bathroom?” The woman asked.

“Yes. Yes. Here key.” Raj held out a key attached to a 12-inch ruler with the word bathroom in capital letters. She looked at it for a moment and then accepted it gingerly and headed to the back.

Sarah gave Raj a nod that he returned and then grabbed a bag of Funyons before heading to the back where the soda was stored. She was debating Diet Pepsi or Pink Lemonade when someone brushed past her from behind. Sarah smelled cinnamon like the old cinnamon toothpicks that Raj used to sell when she was young. She turned to see who else was dumb enough to be up at almost 3am in the morning, but all she saw was a full head of shaggy blonde hair walking up the next aisle over towards the cash register. No one from in town. Maybe Raj got more business at night than she thought.

Sarah chose Pink Lemonade and a hoagie. As she headed to the register, the dark-haired woman slid into line in front of her. All thoughts of telling her where to get back on I-40 disappeared. She’d figure it out when the highway dumped her into Fort Smith anyway. The guy with blonde hair at the front of the line was tall and lean, with a black leather jacket and tight blue jeans. In one hand, he held a Mountain Dew and in the other a sleek black motorcycle helmet. Sarah glanced outside, and while it was still sprinkling, at least it had calmed down a bit. It still probably sucked to be him.

“Get out,” Raj said quietly to the guy, pushing his drink and cash away.

“Is my money not good for you?” The guy asked with an amused European accent.

“It’s on the house. Now get out.” Raj nodded towards the door, staring down at the counter.

“Just take his money.” The woman bit out, shifting on her heels with a squeaky click. She clutched one of those cold coffee drinks and a honey bun.

The guy grabbed his drink off the counter and nodded to the woman. “Then I’ll buy hers too. “

Raj grit his teeth when he glanced at the woman but then looked away again. “Fine.”

The woman looked surprised as they both moved away from the register.  “Well…thank you.” Sarah rolled her eyes. No one ever offered to pay for her stuff. Not that he’d paid for anything. She planned on grilling Raj as soon as the two of them left.

And then he smiled, and Sarah was lost. Her skin tingled, and her heart pounded, but her reaction was to sink into herself. Sarah leaned over to lay her items on the counter, watching through a haze as the man and woman talked. She was curious about what he was saying, but she couldn’t hear anything. It was like all the sound had been sucked out of the room.

Somehow, her lemonade didn’t make it. It dropped to the floor, and when she looked down, she saw the fizz shooting out of the lid. She saw it, but her muscles didn’t coil into motion. Sarah couldn’t move.

“You should go get another one.” The guy prompted. He was still smiling, but the woman looked on with an upturned lip. Suddenly her trance was broken, and she blushed, dropping immediately to put her hand over the hissing bottle. It coated her hand, arms, and then face as she picked it up. She was about to run back to the back with it but stopped and turned to say something- anything to him. Maybe she meant to thank him, but when she opened her mouth, she couldn’t think of why or for what. It didn’t matter because when she turned back, the shooting stream of fizz sprayed across the dark-haired woman’s white shirt, and the woman let out a scream.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Sarah lurched forward as if to help, but the woman just screeched and put her hand out.

“Stop, just get rid of it.”

Sarah hurried to the back. The bathroom was locked as usual, but Raj had an industrial sink that she used. Sarah sighed heavily and took off her rain and lemon-soaked hoodie. She washed her arms and face and then leaned against the sink until she heard the telltale jingle of the front door. She was so embarrassed. In all the hurry, she hadn’t noticed how she would look to strangers. Red and black polka-dot rain boots, red flannel pants, a gamer t-shirt, and a green hoodie. Why did she leave the house like that?

A few minutes later, when she was sure everyone but Raj was gone, she roamed back up front, stopping only to get a different lemonade. This one wasn’t carbonated…just in case. Raj was waiting for her. “You okay?” He asked with no trace of the broken English from before.

“Yeah, they’re just passing through anyway. I doubt that’ll be the last time I do something dumb.” Sarah gave him her card.

He nodded and swiped her card. As he gave it back, he held onto it when she tried to put it away. “Hey.”

“What?” She asked and leaned back because she remembered her hair was no longer safely hidden.

“Stay away from that guy.”

“What? I don’t know him. He’s from out of town, right? Probably just passing through.”

“Yeah.” He let go of her card. “I’m just saying it for your own good. He’s bad magic.”

Sarah smirked, grabbing her sack and heading for the door. “I’m the first one to wish there were such a thing as magic, Raj, but I know better. There’s no such thing.”

She barely heard what he said as she left, but it sounded like, “You’ll see.”

The rain had stopped completely, but it was damn cold. Sarah held her hoodie and sack close, but neither helped. The hoodie was soaked, and her bag was filled with refrigerated goods. As she stepped down off the walkway, she paused. The woman’s car was still there and the motorcycle too, but neither was to be seen. Sarah looked around, but just like before- besides the light from inside the gas station and a light above each gas pump- it was dark. Her head snapped to the right as she heard a scraping noise from the side of the building. As Sarah walked to the edge of the building, her steps slowed more and more. A sharp cry came from around the dark corner. Sarah closed the distance, rounded the corner, and came to a full stop.

A distinctly awkward stop. His helmet was forgotten on the sidewalk along with both of their purchases. Her bare legs were wrapped around his lean hips, and Sarah could see the perfect rounded curve of his ass. Sarah felt a tingle down the back of her neck as she realized the situation. If these two were strangers up until ten minutes ago, they definitely weren’t now. Sarah looked down the empty street that she had to take to get home. There was no way to go that wouldn’t be like a voyeur walk of shame. Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Sarah chanced one more guilt-filled but envious look and froze.

He was looking at her. He was breathing heavily, the pale steam of his breath mixing with the steam from the vent beside them. He never stopped moving, but his eyes smoldered at Sarah. She tightened her grip on her bag, flustered but unable to look away until it happened. The iris of his eyes that were dark before flashed a brilliant blue, and the effect was like blue lava. Once again, the spell was broken, and Sarah started walking backward. As she did, she saw him start to untangle himself from the woman. Sarah didn’t know what else to do so she ran.

The run home was excruciating. The electricity was back on, so instead of hiding in the cover of night, the hideous orange illuminators lit the path right back to her apartment. Sarah almost panicked when she saw a shadow pass across her window, but she remembered that she was expecting her friend Miranda, so she pulled open the downstairs door and ran up the stairs. When she reached the top, Miranda was sitting on Sarah’s bed with her own neatly packed suitcase.

 Sarah quickly flipped the light switch off and moved across the room to peer out of the blinds. She couldn’t quite see the gas station, but she could see up the street well enough.

“Uh…why are we in the dark,” Miranda asked.

“Shhhhhhhh.”

“Do you want me to lock the door?”

“YES.”

“SSHhhhhh.” Miranda retorted as she locked the door and then returned to her seat. “Can we at least watch TV? If not, this is going to be a long night.”

“What’s happening?” Joey’s voice whispered through Sarah’s speakers making both Sarah and Miranda jump.

“Jesus.” Sarah sighed, leaning against the wall. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Bitch, don’t change the subject. What’s going on? Did you rob the quickie mart or something?”

“No, I…” As if suddenly remembering why they were in the dark, Sarah peeked back out the window. “This guy with a motorcycle just… I mean, his eyes were blue. Suddenly. Like they weren’t before, but then they were blue.”

Miranda just stared, and Sarah’s speakers were quiet. Sarah sighed again because, once again, communication had failed her.

“There was a guy and a girl at the gas station.” Sarah gave up the window and plopped down in her desk chair. An oddly warm desk chair. Sarah’s eyes narrowed at the softly glowing red coils on her heater. Traitor.

“And?” Joey prodded once again through the speakers.

“When I came out, they were having random stranger sex on the side of the building.”

“And what does that have to do with his eyes?” Joey asked. “Or did his dick start glowing too?”

“How’d you even look at his eyes anyway? Did you try to get an autograph?” Miranda joked.

Sarah reached over and grabbed a pillow so she could smack Miranda with it.

“Hey, you didn’t hit Joey!” She laughed.

“Only because he’s not here. Anyway, I knew because he was looking at me.”
“Whoa whoa whoa.” Joey interrupted. “Girl, was he hot? Could you see his dick?”

“What?!” Sarah blushed. “Joey, his eyes glowed blue. Glowed as in bright as a freaking Light Brite. I was a little busy and didn’t have time to gawk at his crotch, which was also kind of busy…”

Joey scoffed, and the speakers crackled. “That’s why you’re single. There is always time to check it out.

“Maybe it’s a new kind of colored contacts.” Miranda offered.

“Maybe,” Sarah admitted. She looked out the window one more time and saw nothing but orange-tinted pavement and deep grass-filled ditches. “I guess we can turn the lights on.”

“Why did you turn them off again? Were you scared?” Miranda stood and leaned across to switch the lights on.

“Not exactly…” Sarah thought for a moment, trying to remember the exact feeling. “I was, and I wasn’t. His eyes were startling, but I don’t know… I think it was mostly embarrassment, but then there’s what Raj said too. He told me to stay away from him because he was bad magic.”

“Now that’s creepy.” As Joey spoke, she heard the flick of a lighter from over the speakers, and then he continued with a muffled, “That’s the dude that tried to scalp you, right?”

Sarah rolled her eyes and then remembered that Joey couldn’t see her. “He didn’t try to scalp me. He just wanted a little piece of my hair.”

“Uh-huh, and that guy outside the gas station probably just wanted to share some candy. Just keep your doors locked tonight. Shit gets crazy in the bible belt.”

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