The Mirror & The Angel
For years I have written non-fiction in my journals. Most of it was pretty good... I think.
Recently I've had a bit of a writer block. I wasn't as in tune to the world as I was.
Last week I finished reading a wonderful book of short stories by Neil Gaiman. It started my mind wandering again. I began to feel that block lifted, but this time I want to go in a different direction. That's not to say I won't write more true stories, but for now I'd like to go somewhere else...
Two days ago everything seemed normal, like any other day at the rental car company, but it wasn't.
It was after midnight at the Jackson airport and I was the only person left in the rental car area. The others had clocked out and gone home about an hour earlier, leaving me, the salaried manager, to make sure enough vehicles were prepped and cleaned in order to meet the early morning rush. I didn't mind. I backed a brand new Uplander to the fuel island and was cranking DJ Dan's mixed CD, Tilt, and was washing away.
Most of the vehicles were new as it was a Wednesday night and almost all of our cars were on the road. There were only five cars on the lot left to clean so I grabbed the closest, a silver Impala, which had been returned right before we closed earlier that evening at 10p.m.
The normal process for cleaning a vehicle with my company is relatively simple; wash the front, vacuum the car, wash the windows, check the fluids, fill it with gas and run it through the car wash. It's a process that takes fewer than ten minutes per car when you're in a hurry.
The Impala was practically new, with less than a thousand miles, I knew it would be a quick turnaround since it had little garbage inside. I popped the trunk of the Impala and brought the vacuum around to suck out anything the previous renter may have left when I saw a jagged-edged gold-tinted mirror inside. The mirror wasn't quite two feet across or three in height, but it has an aura unique and all of it's own.
As I carefully removed the mirror from the trunk of the car, I caught a glimpse of something in the mirror. I turned around but nothing was there. Surely I had seen something? I looked back in the mirror and there he was, no more than ten feet away from me, hovering two feet off the ground. Immediately I recognized my guardian angel. He looked a lot like myself, but his hair was lighter and longer and his eyes were almost translucent they were so light. His complexion was also quite pale and he had a bushy beard with several years of growth.
"Well, I didn't expect to meet you this early in my lifetime," I said, not expecting him to answer.
"Well, I didn't expect you to find a magical mirror to reveal me, either, mister smart ass," the angel smirked.
I hit the shut off button to the large vacuum and locked the gas pump. I picked up the mirror and began to walk into the office. I could still see him in the mirror so I motioned for him to follow me inside so we could have a conversation. While no one else was left but myself, there were still other employees who worked at the airport who might think something odd if they witnessed me carrying on a conversation with no one at the gas pumps.
"So, now what?" I asked. "I assume you know who I am. It's only fair you introduce yourself."
Like something appearing out of the fog, the seraph appeared before my very eyes and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you'll no longer need the mirror, Brandon. But hello, and if you clear your mind, you'll know my name."
"Dick? Dick is that you?! Oh Dick! I've always wanted a guardian Dick!"
"Now you know why you're thirty-seven and still single mister smart ass! No! My name is not Dick! No it's not Harry or Claude! My fucking name is Brandyn as well you tool! Why can't you ever be serious? Did you ever think if you'd apply your wit and charm to something constructive instead of a stupid joke where you might be?"
I looked at Brandyn, my namesake, and began to wonder what I'd gotten myself into. Not only had I seen my guardian angel, to which I didn't even believe in (Hell! I'm agnostic for heaven's sake!) but he was a foul-mouthed sharp-tongue like myself!
"Point taken, " I said, "So what now? Are we going to be bosom buddies? Are you going to tell me my innermost secrets or things I never knew? Was Jenny Snodgrass really sick that time in high school? Or are you going to sacrifice me to some unknown god I don't believe in?"
"Well, it's all up to you, you see. I can tell you anything you want to know but I'm not omniscient, or omnipresent, or even the most knowledgeable angel within a thousand yards. Yes Jenny was so sick, and after you stopped calling she got hooked on pills and her life went down hill. After she got cleaned up she always thought about you and how mad you were at her and how you wouldn't call her back and she went out and found the first guy who wouldn't trust her and married him. They were married for three years, until he killed her one night, drunk, in a fit of rage and violence. Feel better buddy? I got plenty more to tell you if you want to hear it, Mister Class-Act. But no, I won't sacrifice you to an unknown god, you know him quite well, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll sacrifice your self."
I looked around the office and found a pair of pliers laying on one of the desks. One of the other managers had left them out while attaching license plates to the cars earlier in the day. They were supposed to be locked away after use, but people rarely do that around the office. I picked the dirty pliers up and smashed the golden mirror to bits. By the time I was done, there wasn't a piece large than an inch wide. And Brandyn was gone as well.
I swept up the pieces, turned off the lights, and closed the office for the evening. I took the garbage, and the pieces of mirror, to the garbage bin and went home for the evening. As I drove home I kept looking in the mirrors for another glimpse of Brandyn, but he was gone, gone for good.
This morning I found myself at St. Pious XXII Catholic Church. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but nevertheless, I went. I didn't feel any better after I left, but drawing the mustache and bushy beards on the angels in the painting in the foyer did give me some satisfaction.
Recently I've had a bit of a writer block. I wasn't as in tune to the world as I was.
Last week I finished reading a wonderful book of short stories by Neil Gaiman. It started my mind wandering again. I began to feel that block lifted, but this time I want to go in a different direction. That's not to say I won't write more true stories, but for now I'd like to go somewhere else...
Two days ago everything seemed normal, like any other day at the rental car company, but it wasn't.
It was after midnight at the Jackson airport and I was the only person left in the rental car area. The others had clocked out and gone home about an hour earlier, leaving me, the salaried manager, to make sure enough vehicles were prepped and cleaned in order to meet the early morning rush. I didn't mind. I backed a brand new Uplander to the fuel island and was cranking DJ Dan's mixed CD, Tilt, and was washing away.
Most of the vehicles were new as it was a Wednesday night and almost all of our cars were on the road. There were only five cars on the lot left to clean so I grabbed the closest, a silver Impala, which had been returned right before we closed earlier that evening at 10p.m.
The normal process for cleaning a vehicle with my company is relatively simple; wash the front, vacuum the car, wash the windows, check the fluids, fill it with gas and run it through the car wash. It's a process that takes fewer than ten minutes per car when you're in a hurry.
The Impala was practically new, with less than a thousand miles, I knew it would be a quick turnaround since it had little garbage inside. I popped the trunk of the Impala and brought the vacuum around to suck out anything the previous renter may have left when I saw a jagged-edged gold-tinted mirror inside. The mirror wasn't quite two feet across or three in height, but it has an aura unique and all of it's own.
As I carefully removed the mirror from the trunk of the car, I caught a glimpse of something in the mirror. I turned around but nothing was there. Surely I had seen something? I looked back in the mirror and there he was, no more than ten feet away from me, hovering two feet off the ground. Immediately I recognized my guardian angel. He looked a lot like myself, but his hair was lighter and longer and his eyes were almost translucent they were so light. His complexion was also quite pale and he had a bushy beard with several years of growth.
"Well, I didn't expect to meet you this early in my lifetime," I said, not expecting him to answer.
"Well, I didn't expect you to find a magical mirror to reveal me, either, mister smart ass," the angel smirked.
I hit the shut off button to the large vacuum and locked the gas pump. I picked up the mirror and began to walk into the office. I could still see him in the mirror so I motioned for him to follow me inside so we could have a conversation. While no one else was left but myself, there were still other employees who worked at the airport who might think something odd if they witnessed me carrying on a conversation with no one at the gas pumps.
"So, now what?" I asked. "I assume you know who I am. It's only fair you introduce yourself."
Like something appearing out of the fog, the seraph appeared before my very eyes and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you'll no longer need the mirror, Brandon. But hello, and if you clear your mind, you'll know my name."
"Dick? Dick is that you?! Oh Dick! I've always wanted a guardian Dick!"
"Now you know why you're thirty-seven and still single mister smart ass! No! My name is not Dick! No it's not Harry or Claude! My fucking name is Brandyn as well you tool! Why can't you ever be serious? Did you ever think if you'd apply your wit and charm to something constructive instead of a stupid joke where you might be?"
I looked at Brandyn, my namesake, and began to wonder what I'd gotten myself into. Not only had I seen my guardian angel, to which I didn't even believe in (Hell! I'm agnostic for heaven's sake!) but he was a foul-mouthed sharp-tongue like myself!
"Point taken, " I said, "So what now? Are we going to be bosom buddies? Are you going to tell me my innermost secrets or things I never knew? Was Jenny Snodgrass really sick that time in high school? Or are you going to sacrifice me to some unknown god I don't believe in?"
"Well, it's all up to you, you see. I can tell you anything you want to know but I'm not omniscient, or omnipresent, or even the most knowledgeable angel within a thousand yards. Yes Jenny was so sick, and after you stopped calling she got hooked on pills and her life went down hill. After she got cleaned up she always thought about you and how mad you were at her and how you wouldn't call her back and she went out and found the first guy who wouldn't trust her and married him. They were married for three years, until he killed her one night, drunk, in a fit of rage and violence. Feel better buddy? I got plenty more to tell you if you want to hear it, Mister Class-Act. But no, I won't sacrifice you to an unknown god, you know him quite well, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll sacrifice your self."
I looked around the office and found a pair of pliers laying on one of the desks. One of the other managers had left them out while attaching license plates to the cars earlier in the day. They were supposed to be locked away after use, but people rarely do that around the office. I picked the dirty pliers up and smashed the golden mirror to bits. By the time I was done, there wasn't a piece large than an inch wide. And Brandyn was gone as well.
I swept up the pieces, turned off the lights, and closed the office for the evening. I took the garbage, and the pieces of mirror, to the garbage bin and went home for the evening. As I drove home I kept looking in the mirrors for another glimpse of Brandyn, but he was gone, gone for good.
This morning I found myself at St. Pious XXII Catholic Church. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but nevertheless, I went. I didn't feel any better after I left, but drawing the mustache and bushy beards on the angels in the painting in the foyer did give me some satisfaction.