In the Dark of Night – Part 9

I know that previously I indicated this space was reserved for political discussions, but we’re going to take a brief detour.

I have a new job! I start September 13th. I am overjoyed.

To let you know why I am so excited, I’m going to share a story with you. It’s about something small and insignificant, but it’s very illustrative of my former employer.

They used cardboard balers. Both of them got full multiple times a day. It’s retail and they did a ton of business, so when I say they got full it meant that each one needed multiple bales made every day. I had been with them since October of 2019. I stood in their aisles during some crazy nonsense, including the bulk of the 2020 happy joy-joy golly-gee-whiz fun times. I rarely called in, I stayed late, I came in early. I went the extra mile. I. Was. Reliable.

The balers required a key to operate. For safety reasons, minors can’t operate them. Given what I saw from the younger employees on a daily basis, that was a wise decision. Okay, makes sense they didn’t give the keys out willy-nilly, right? Logically, it follows that keys should have been given to the people who were older or those who demonstrated responsibility. Problem solved, right?

I was never given a key.

At first, they indicated that I would require a training certificate demonstrating I could use the baler appropriately. So I took the training, acquired the certificate, and informed my supervisor and the technician responsible that I had done so.

Still no key.

Now, bear in mind, during this entire time other people had been getting keys. Like, lots of them. They weren’t even required to do the training I had undergone, either. Baby wanted a key, so baby got a key. Except for me.

Bear in mind; I was solo’ing a department meant for three people. I was also the only one in the building able to cover receiving on off days / vacations. Receiving handled tens of thousands of dollars of loose freight. AKA: extremely stealable product. Which I obviously safeguarded zealously, but I share that so you know it’s not that they didn’t trust me. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Still no key.

So I complained. I had been good, I had checked all the boxes, I had indicated my need (which was vast) and my only response was radio silence. My complaints went up and down the chain of command. My boss, his boss, his boss’s boss, and the technician in question’s boss.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.

Every day. Every day, I found myself standing at the baler wishing I had a key. Waiting for someone to bring me a key. Realizing no one was going to bring a key and that I had to shove a vehicle full of cardboard into my cooler because there just wasn’t anywhere else to put it. Leave for the day frustrated, knowing I had to spend at least half an hour the next day fixing it.

Repeat this process for nine months.

I was never a priority for them. I was never something worth investing in. My concerns were noted, but not deemed important enough to do anything about. They were solvable, too: it wasn’t an unreasonable request. IT WAS A FREAKING KEY TO THE BALER. And yet, there I stood day in and day out, waiting for the most basic request imaginable to be met.

Eventually I realized they were never going to do anything about it, so I quit asking.

The system worked; inertia won the day.

That sums up my career there. Being starved of readily available resources because they needed to keep the balance sheets as lean as possible for their stock-holders. There was never, EVER, going to be a time where I factored into any equation. I was left to drown in an ocean of money in full view of men and women who couldn’t even stir themselves to get me a key let alone throw me a life-preserver.

So, I’ve got a new job now. It’s not great, as jobs go, but it’s got some stability I can plan around. There’s a three-day weekend every week. I have overtime options and more hours than the dairy ever offered even on the best weeks. Did I mention it’s a stable schedule? That’s a rather huge deal all by itself. Honestly, after ten months of the shambolic parody of a “schedule” retail forces you to endure, having set hours every day was worth the move by itself.

I wanted to share the observation I had while I stood in front of the baler inevitably waiting for a key before wheeling the U-Boat full of cardboard into my fridge. On what would turn out to be my penultimate day there.

Even then, I was not exempt from their lack of care. It would be maddening any other day. Now that it’s over, I just can’t get over the pathetic absurdity of the whole situation.

Story time.

In the Dark of Night – Part 9

“Please be sure you drink all your tea Claire. How about you go upstairs and lie down while the medicine kicks in? I can handle these miscreants.”

Jacqueline was pressing a jug in a mug full to the brim with her homemade sweet-tea into my hands. I almost rejected it because I had so much on my mind, but manners didn’t mind themselves. Besides, I was thirsty and her tea was sweetest ambrosia.

I mumble-slurred gratitude around frantic slurps, and slowly made my way upstairs as the presence of the tiny Millers filled the downstairs area like water in a saucepan.

The tea and the pain-killers were a helpful distraction, but as I finished the last few steps onto the thin hall that led to my bedroom, my stomach began sloshing about ominously.

I was an idiot for even considering this course of action. There was no universe where this didn’t bite me directly on the buttocks, as the Good Gump would say. My mind searched frantically for an answer. My mouth pantomimed a helpful attitude by searching for an out in the lake of tea I’d been given. Stupid and reckless as my next move was, it was also the only play I had left. For all I knew, that three-headed brute was already waiting for me in my room. Sure,everything I’d been taught or studied said that was supposed to be impossible, but I had a broken clock that said otherwise.

My room was demon-free. As I leaned my back against the closed door, holding the now-empty mug, I tried one last time to talk myself off the ledge I’d found myself on.

You’re insane Claire. Don’t do this, don’t do this.

My instructions on this subject had been equal parts dire and specific. My teacher had been obligated to show me how it was done once I had proven myself capable of controlling and sculpting the magical energy within me. It hadn’t been their idea to do so. Nor was it my desire to devote a section of my mind to a perfect recollection of every aspect of the ritual. The Powers-That-Be had simply packed the ritual into the marrow of magic’s bones. Upstairs management wanted every wizard to know their door was always open.

The only problem now was how to avoid the pit-trap they’d dug under the welcome mat.

With frustrated tears falling down my cheeks, I flipped my mattress off the bed and got to work. Thirty minutes later, nursing not one but two sliced fingers, I lay back on the mattress and closed my eyes. I focused all of my will and all of my desire into a single pinpoint of power on my forehead. Then, using all the magical might I could muster, I launched it heavenward.

In the world that Karen and Jacqueline inhabited, nothing special happened. To their eyes, I was inexplicably laying on my mattress upon the floor. A mattress around which I had drawn strange symbols that no human would think of in exact equilateral distances. In my own blood. Creepy and off-putting, but not magical.

To those granted power or sight, my bedroom lit up like the brightest lighthouse imaginable. A beam of pure energy was lancing through my ceiling into the clouds above. It would be visible to every practitioner, petty ghost, or foul-mouthed familiar within a thousand miles.

The ritual may have been instinctual knowledge, but what happened next was a total mystery. I lay prostrate, eyes closed, oblivious to the brilliant column of light I had sent rocketing into both literal and figurative Heaven.

“Well well well. I wondered when you would come crawling to us for help.”

The voice didn’t enter my ears. Instead it entered my brain via bankshotting off my innards. It made me want to rip my organs out for their vile treachery.I sat bolt upright, clutching my skull and groaning as I opened my eyes to try and find the culprit.

Standing at the foot of my mattress was a being. Their arms were crossed over a black three-piece suit that looked like it cost more than our house. They were wearing enormous aviator shades lifted directly from the set of Top Gun and their hair was a bubble-gum pink mohawk. I could see the arch of three pairs of wings as they poked out demurely behind shoulder, back, and midriff. As for the wings themselves, they were invisible against their back in defiance of physics.

I would have commented about how cool they looked had my mouth not been full of pure terror.

“I… I.. w-wanted y-y-y-ou-y-y-yo-ur h-h-”

An eyebrow managed to surmount the edge of one overlarge lens, and a single finger lifted to silence my stammering. Invisible hands slammed over my mouth and pushed on the bottom of my jaw. Painfully.

I groaned, the figure leaning towards me as they pulled the shades down along their nose. The eyes were diamonds full of every color named and infinitely more which no human knew existed. You could spend a thousand lifetimes trying to document each of them and still not have enough time. All the knowledge my magic could provide my brain would never allow my eyes to process what they were seeing. Both of them burned.

The angel understood exactly what they were doing.

The gaze lingered for a few more agonizing seconds before the shades resumed their perch, blocking the infinite depths as they did. I sagged towards the floor, more invisible hands arriving to lock me into a sitting position. I was sobbing as I sagged against my restraints. Pain, anger, and molten panic flowed within me instead of blood. I had reached out to Heaven for help. God save me from the angel’s tender mercies.

“Tell me, Ms. Miller, why should Heaven aide you? What’s in it for us?”

They bent over me, my mouth still firmly bound shut, sing-songing a question that they had no interest in having answered. Every facet of their being dripped with condescending malice. They hated me. Us. Human beings. They must have been nursing a grudge for eons. They were enjoying this moment of power, lording over their dominion upon my life and future. I was the perfect target; I had nowhere else to go. They had me by the short and curlies and they were in no hurry to let go. They made a production of studying their perfectly manicured and polished nails as they straightened.

“I suppose we could find it within us to help even one so lowly as you. After all, Heaven is nothing if not magnanimous.”

I sat upon my mattress, bound and gagged by invisible shackles, cheeks streaked with my distress. I realized two things in that moment, clarity coming with the fear and tears.

I could always call upon heaven again if I wanted to; the requirements were simple by design. My teacher and all of those who had never been forced into this moment had believed that this was an action you could only do once. Theirs was an error of ignorance. I would never, even if my life depended upon it, put myself back on this mattress. They were an angel. They were supposed to be my protector in this moment, not subject me to more terror than the demon that had driven me into their arms.

The second certainty was far more enraging. Here stood a representative of heaven, summoned by my power, who was trying to imply to my face that I had nothing of value to offer them in exchange for their assistance. My fear and pain subsided. In their place came rage; blinding and white. I snarled, hurling muffled obscenities at the horrid thing which bore a smile of relish at my distress. There might not be a point to struggling, but God as my witness I wasn’t just going to sit her and take their abuse any longer.

I am Claire because I, and I alone, am the captain of my soul.

They noticed my struggling, and the smile went from gloating to wicked glee. They bent back down, cupping their ear in mockery of my muffled attempts to speak.

“mmmHHmmmHHMmmm mmm HHmmmm mmmHmm”

The bonds squeezed tighter, but I did not cease my struggles. Instead, I redoubled my efforts, gathering all the power I could contain within me as I thrashed wildly.

“I’m sorry dear, you’re going to have to speak up.”

I screamed into the bonds, pushing power through my lungs and into the words themselves. I hadn’t tried channeling my power without a focus to guide it. The raw strength of my barbarian howl blasted away the bands around my mouth and midriff. I was on my feet at once, hurling myself at the shell-shocked angel as I went.

“HHMMM MMHHND GO STICK YOUR HEAD IN A BOILING BUCKET OF SAND YOU RAT WITH WINGS!”

I’m tall for a woman. Tall even for a man. Most people, with the exception of Mr. Cushinberry, were shorter than I was. The angel would be average height for a woman if they had been one. I picked them up by the collar in a bull-rush towards the naked wall where Mr. Bigglesworth should have been.

The angel was frozen by the sudden turn of events. They had been absolutely certain that none of this could happen. I smashed that certainty as I slammed them into the wall.

Their smile had vanished, and in its place was a twisted snarl of rage. Suit, shades, and mohawk vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by armor that was so brilliant it pierced my eyes like daggers.

I let go immediately, covering my eyes as I collapsed to the ground. My last view of the angel showed them covered in platemail, wielding a sword white as alabaster, six wings spread behind them to their full glory.

“Reckless mortal, how dare you touch one of the Ascendant!”

The room grew hot as white light blinded me through lids and hands alike. The intensity of both increased and I must surely be about to die.

The both vanished as swiftly as they had arrived. I opened one cautious eye as I lay upon the floor, no spots clouding my vision. The angel was tightening the knot on their tie, suit and glasses and hair as they once had been. The nails and fingers they had been studying as they stood over me were now covered in black leather gloves.

“Well mortal, it seems your actions have caught the eye of my superiors. I would say that you are lucky to have avoided the thrashing I was about to give you, but you’re not.”

They leaned over me, their smile poisonously sweet.

“I do have something before I go. A boon from Heaven, from me to you.”

With dramatic slowness, they extended one gloved finger and gently brought it down upon my injured ribs.

Pain such as I have never known spread out from their touch. It was as if I were being filled with liquid hot-magma.

I screamed.

After a few moments, the world went mercifully black.

To be continued…

Angelfully,

The Unsheathed Quill