Chapter 1
‘Herbert Ward. Resident of Buckhorn, Kentucky.
Born January 3, 1949.
Died April 1, 2007 of Unknown causes.
He will be missed.’
This...is what I imagine my epitaph is going to be after the kids and the grandkids are done with it.
In the meantime, I have to attend to the issue at hand: The trespasser I am confronting in the woods behind my home appears to be a pissed off supernatural being, who was ranting about my granddaughters’ offense against her.
Let me repeat that in more emphatic terms.
I AM IN FRONT OF A PISSED OFF FEMALE SUPERNATURAL BEING WHO WAS RANTING IN ANGER ABOUT MY OFFSPRING WITH NO COVER IN SIGHT, AND NO WEAPON IN HAND.
This is definitely...the worst mistake I have ever made in a supernatural encounter, next to discovering that lost temple in Cambodia while I was separated from my unit.
‘Damn zombies, damn demons, and God bless the jubilant, thankful VC’s that let me go free after I managed to kill everything in the temple. Wonder if they are still ali-‘
I am brought back to the present when the girl, light coming out from her eyes, suddenly grabs my shirt and brings my face down near hers and asks, in a voice that shakes my bones (No, I did feel my entire body vibrate) “Now do you understand why I am making your grandchildren’s lives miserable?”
I deadpan.
“Because they made you a laughingstock in front of most of the supernatural world, to the point that trickster deities and long dead Greek comedians were using you and them as the subject for new jokes, and thus offended you so much you have to keep messing with their lives for half a year? Yeah, I think I understand.” Then I go back into a confrontational tone of voice “But listen here kid-”
The girl interrupts me, returning to a normal human voice. “Do I look like a kid to you?”
“…You have a teenager’s body right now. Anyways, back to what I was saying, this isn’t productive. If you have a problem with them, go talk it out with them. Resolve your problems and finish this whole mess. This is just a waste of time for everyone concerned.”
The girl let go of me, steps back and crosses her arms. This is the first time I see her clearly, since a while ago both of our tempers were very hot, which is…not conducive for proper conversation.
She is a young (probably around 20 or so), dark and waist length haired girl dressed in a white t-shirt with the words “AnimeFest 2006” printed on it and blue jeans you could find in any department store. The only thing different about her looks compared to any other girl her age in the county, is that she is wearing sandals made of…what looks like rope, with the blue jeans.
That and she's glowing from the inside in a way that does not feel like any kind of normal light I had ever seen, and at the same time she is not glowing.
“Sorry…gramps. I just don’t trust myself to not slap them silly if I do talk to them. Besides, it’s worth it, believe me, making their lives miserable is really worth it.”
I look at the…SMILING (?!) girl in her by now normal eyes, wondering what the hell is wrong with her to look so happy talking about messing up somebody else’s life. I then remember my grandmother’s fairy tales.
The original ones, not the watered down versions Walt Disney are turning into happy, family movies.
I remember that those who aren’t human have their own values. Heck, even the Vietnamese have different values, and they are fellow humans. And I also remember the nut jobs of the Greek pantheon from high school classes. So I decide to change tactics.
“Look. I’m trying to be fair here. I accept that you have the right to be compensated for the humiliation, so can we just have a settlement?” I pause for a little bit, suddenly having thought of something.“Do you know what a settlement is in the first place?”
“Oh, of course I know what a settlement is. I even know what to use to sue your granddaughters in court. I could sue them for negligent infliction of Emotional Distress, if I were a human. Unfortunately, human courts only deal with humans. And you don’t have anything that could compensate me.”
“Err…money?”
“I am the Irish goddess of prosperity, as well as two other things. I donate PURE GOLD to you humans. Try again.”
I am silent.
I…didn’t know what to do, since usually, if not all, settlements and litigation were ended with someone paying money. If this…’goddess’ doesn’t want money…my poor granddaughters are going to get killed if this continues.
Then I get an idea.
“Hey, do you have any debts or favors you owe anyone? How about I help you with those if you promise to let this vendetta against my granddaughters go away?”
Now, the girl blinks, and looks at me like I just said something stupid.
She asks “You have a death wish? If you are Chu Chulainn, sure, why not? If you are 30 years old or younger, plausible. At your age? You’ll get a heart attack first before finishing whatever I send you to do. I don’t think so.” Then she shakes her head in negation.
“But you said you are the ‘goddess’ of prosperity” I counter. “’Happiness’ and ‘Health’ are also related to that word, isn’t it?”
“Ok, now you are telling me how to do my job?”
“It’s magic. You claim to be a goddess. What’s so hard with making sure I don’t have a heart attack?”
The girl looks to the left, thinking hard about something. It is silent for…a while, I guess. Then she starts tapping her foot on the grass, still thinking about something. Then the tapping stops, and the girl looks back at me, with a face that just reeks of curiosity.
“Can you fight? Been in any fight at all?”
“Kid, I am a Vietnam veteran. I was at Saigon with the 25th during Tet. Even after all these years, I do still remember how to fight, it’s just…I don’t practice anymore.” I chuckle, and then stop with a smile on my face.
I don’t know why, but my guts are telling me something is going to go a little bit wrong.
“Good. Practice again. Some of the jobs could get quite dangerous.” At the word ‘dangerous’, I lost the smile at my face at this bit of information. She faces away from me, and walks forward to a… an oval wall of white light, which doesn’t hurt the eye. She continues talking.
“I’ll contact you about two weeks from now. It will be through any reflective surface. But don’t worry; I will give advance warning so you don’t get a sudden heart attack seeing me suddenly in the mirror. Oh, before I forgot,” And she turned her head sideways to look at me “The name’s Annan. Yours?”
“Ward. Herbert Ward” I respond in the same voice that I heard get used in one of those James Bond films, getting a need to get back at her in some way. The girl winces.
Well, I am glad to see HER getting uncomfortable.
She said “That is SO not cool. Later, Mr. Ward.” And she steps through the wall of light, and it disappears.
I am left alone in the forest behind my home.
"6 jobs from hell"
Moderator: LadyTevar
"6 jobs from hell"
Last edited by kilopi505 on 2013-04-10 02:55am, edited 4 times in total.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Chapter 2
Moments after that strange confrontation, I clear my mind of all other thoughts and go back into the house.
The house is a small, rectangular, one story log cabin 120 sq. meters in size with only 2 bedrooms, a kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom. Originally built a year before the war of 1812, it has gone through renovations a few times, the last one done by me after my stint in Vietnam to keep the house standing and keep it up to date somehow with the modern world.
I go into the cooking and dining area, open the refrigerator, and take out a can of Coors. I then pull the tab off and drink from it, sitting down in one of the chairs and look out the windows, contemplating my next move.
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It is 3 hours after the FUBAR with the kid. By now, the reasons for the FUBAR in the back of the house are here, cooking the dinner at the stove and regaling me with their stories of the day, while there I was, letting their words go in one ear and out the next, thinking of a way to ask for the reason as to why did they piss off some Irish deity.
The one minding the pot is Regina Ward. She is my elder granddaughter, 19 years old, has black, shoulder length hair, and a little bit of fat…not that it detracts anything from her physically. Her place of residence is in Hazard, where my son and his wife moved to after being married 20 years ago. She is a graduate of Human Services from HCTC down there in Hazard, and was employed with a local NGO.
The one taking drinks from the refrigerator is Annie Walker. She is my younger granddaughter, has long, brunette hair, and is a very beautiful girl, telling me stories about the many boys that are trying to ask her to a date in her high school. Her place of residence is at Louisville, where my daughter’s husband lives. She is currently 16 years old and is a 10th grade student at Louisville Collegiate School.
My mind is suddenly pulled back to the present when I hear Regina telling me about some freaky event in the convenience store in Buckhorn where she and Annie are currently working at part time.
“And then when I was about to open the cash register, the machine suddenly refused to open. The customer I was talking to refused to leave without the change and receipt. And the other people in line started complaining. I called the manager to ask for help in making the clunky machine work, but it just won’t open.”
“What happened next, Regina?” Regina looks back to me and said.
“Well, in the end, almost all the customers left the shopping carts full of goods on their own and left irritated, while the manager closed the store and gave the one I was going to give the change to the same amount of money from his own pocket. And there I was standing there embarrassed for all the trouble I caused.”
“Regina, that is not your fault,” Annie said while pouring milk into 3 mugs. “The manager said it could happen to anyone. It’s just bad luck.”
“But that is the point,” and Regina started waving one of her arms in a lecturing mode “If only one unlucky thing happened to us, I’ll take it as just bad luck. But one bad thing happening after the other, for 6 consecutive months? That’s not bad luck. Someone cursed us. Someone really, really good at this kind of thing cursed us, and what’s worse, we don’t know who to even make amends to!” Regina wails in the end, by now completely turning her back on the stove.
“Regina, just curious, but what sort of things happened to you and Annie? All I know is that you have a series of unrelenting bad events that are steadily going worse happening to you kids. And Regina, please look at the pot, not at me.”
The two girls look at each other, and starts telling me one story after another. At first I was thinking ‘that’s hilarious’. Then as time went on, as the stew was poured into bowls, and as the stew and the drinks are finished, I slowly get more and more horrified by the unfortunate crap hitting them once a day. By the time the girls finished washing the dishes and sat down at the table, I am thinking that compared to them, my time in Vietnam is just being stuck in rush hour.
I mean… at least the ones trying to kill me are humans.
They had electrical appliances suddenly deciding to electrocute them, random birds falling from the sky (The Hazard Herald reported that one 2 months ago, Annie told me), cargo falling FROM FedEx planes flying overhead (LCS was asking very pointed questions at FedEx for that one, besides the usual government agencies raising hell every time something that flies messes up), brakes failing every time they drive a car themselves no matter how often they go to a mechanic (Regina called 911 for help at those times. May God bless the LMPD)
And those are only the more lethal ones. I must not forget to mention the irritating and demoralizing ones, like how Annie’s grades at school are steadily going down because of test papers getting lost in transit or in freaky accidents (I never thought that a teacher will say to their student that their test paper was ripped to pieces by a dog, since it usually is the other way around. The only difference from the cliché is it was a rabid and starving dog infected with rabies, and was causing havoc on LCS property until the dogcatcher caught it).
Or how traffic jams suddenly appear when Annie is on the way to school, no matter how early she gets out of home (She finally resorted to using a bicycle to travel all the way to school. Less mechanical malfunctions to worry about)
Or how Regina was fired from her job by the local NGO because thousands of dollars of equipment keep getting broken when she touches it, a reason that I keep finding to be ridiculous.
Is that even a justifiable reason for firing someone?
And the worst event, the one that really sealed the deal for my children and made them send Annie and Regina here, was when they are together celebrating something I have no idea about at a family restaurant in Louisville. Suddenly a bar brawl happened in the restaurant.
How in God’s name can a bar brawl happen in a freaking FAMILY RESTAURANT?
And I may never have been in a bar brawl, but how on Earth can several drunk brawlers mistake the girls for the ones that punched them, and proceed to give them, according to Annie’s friend since the girls are knocked out, ‘an almighty KO punch that belongs more to Manny Pacquiao than to a drunk patron‘. In fact, there is just no other explanation, from the witnesses, the girls, and even the drunks themselves, for how the girls got in the line of fire, and in THAT kind of fire, so suddenly other than bad luck.
After that last story, the cabin is silent for some time. I look at the girls. Both of them look pretty traumatized by their experiences.
I am really tempted to just stop here, but I want them to at least remember why the curse started, so that when they learn about the cause, they could try to find another way of appeasing the Irish kid since right now, I am not very sure if I can finish the deal in one piece. So I go on.
“Regina, you think someone cursed you girls. Tell me, since you are the only one in the family dabbling with those Neo-pagans, what have you two done to get this hypothetical someone to curse you?”
Regina looked thoughtful for a while, then was about to shrug when she stopped in the middle of the action, eyes looking at the bottle of milk on the table. Her face went blank for a while, and then she looks at Annie, who looked on curiously.
When Annie saw this, her face suddenly fills with suspicion and asks Regina.
“Dear cousin, do you have something we, or more importantly, I, should know about?”
Regina winces and said “I think I have some ideas.” My world stops for a moment at the word ‘ideas’.
If I remember correctly from my grade school years, adding an ‘s’ to a noun that doesn’t have one in the singular form indicates that the plural form is being used. Combine that with the word ‘some’ and that means...more than one.
“Kid, what the HELL are you doing in that religion of yours?!” I shout at Regina. Annie just sits there glaring at her older cousin. I continue shouting “And how the hell did you get that many people angry at you?”
Regina winces again and said “I...don’t know. For some reason I just rub some people the wrong way. Unfortunately, these people in the movement I am rubbing the wrong way...are some of the more knowledgeable and older ones, not to mention dangerous.”
“Dangerous.” Annie deadpan. “Dangerous as in those Thugee cults you see in the movies?”
“No, not that kind of dangerous. These people are dangerous because they are the real deal. They have…power. Even other neo-pagans who have their own...connection…with who and what we worship are wary of them.”
Silence...
Annie is the first to do something. She leaves the table, makes a ‘follow me gesture’ to Regina, and says goodnight to me. Regina follows after her cousin, also saying a goodnight, and closed the door to their room.
I was left alone on the table, looking at the door of their room.
I sigh.
Great. They are screwed. I am screwed. Even if I manage to appease the Irish goddess, it looks like there is a possible waiting line of other people waiting for their own chance to make my granddaughters’ day lousy.
Hmm....
Next time I see the Irish girl, maybe I could add something to the contract?
Moments after that strange confrontation, I clear my mind of all other thoughts and go back into the house.
The house is a small, rectangular, one story log cabin 120 sq. meters in size with only 2 bedrooms, a kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom. Originally built a year before the war of 1812, it has gone through renovations a few times, the last one done by me after my stint in Vietnam to keep the house standing and keep it up to date somehow with the modern world.
I go into the cooking and dining area, open the refrigerator, and take out a can of Coors. I then pull the tab off and drink from it, sitting down in one of the chairs and look out the windows, contemplating my next move.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is 3 hours after the FUBAR with the kid. By now, the reasons for the FUBAR in the back of the house are here, cooking the dinner at the stove and regaling me with their stories of the day, while there I was, letting their words go in one ear and out the next, thinking of a way to ask for the reason as to why did they piss off some Irish deity.
The one minding the pot is Regina Ward. She is my elder granddaughter, 19 years old, has black, shoulder length hair, and a little bit of fat…not that it detracts anything from her physically. Her place of residence is in Hazard, where my son and his wife moved to after being married 20 years ago. She is a graduate of Human Services from HCTC down there in Hazard, and was employed with a local NGO.
The one taking drinks from the refrigerator is Annie Walker. She is my younger granddaughter, has long, brunette hair, and is a very beautiful girl, telling me stories about the many boys that are trying to ask her to a date in her high school. Her place of residence is at Louisville, where my daughter’s husband lives. She is currently 16 years old and is a 10th grade student at Louisville Collegiate School.
My mind is suddenly pulled back to the present when I hear Regina telling me about some freaky event in the convenience store in Buckhorn where she and Annie are currently working at part time.
“And then when I was about to open the cash register, the machine suddenly refused to open. The customer I was talking to refused to leave without the change and receipt. And the other people in line started complaining. I called the manager to ask for help in making the clunky machine work, but it just won’t open.”
“What happened next, Regina?” Regina looks back to me and said.
“Well, in the end, almost all the customers left the shopping carts full of goods on their own and left irritated, while the manager closed the store and gave the one I was going to give the change to the same amount of money from his own pocket. And there I was standing there embarrassed for all the trouble I caused.”
“Regina, that is not your fault,” Annie said while pouring milk into 3 mugs. “The manager said it could happen to anyone. It’s just bad luck.”
“But that is the point,” and Regina started waving one of her arms in a lecturing mode “If only one unlucky thing happened to us, I’ll take it as just bad luck. But one bad thing happening after the other, for 6 consecutive months? That’s not bad luck. Someone cursed us. Someone really, really good at this kind of thing cursed us, and what’s worse, we don’t know who to even make amends to!” Regina wails in the end, by now completely turning her back on the stove.
“Regina, just curious, but what sort of things happened to you and Annie? All I know is that you have a series of unrelenting bad events that are steadily going worse happening to you kids. And Regina, please look at the pot, not at me.”
The two girls look at each other, and starts telling me one story after another. At first I was thinking ‘that’s hilarious’. Then as time went on, as the stew was poured into bowls, and as the stew and the drinks are finished, I slowly get more and more horrified by the unfortunate crap hitting them once a day. By the time the girls finished washing the dishes and sat down at the table, I am thinking that compared to them, my time in Vietnam is just being stuck in rush hour.
I mean… at least the ones trying to kill me are humans.
They had electrical appliances suddenly deciding to electrocute them, random birds falling from the sky (The Hazard Herald reported that one 2 months ago, Annie told me), cargo falling FROM FedEx planes flying overhead (LCS was asking very pointed questions at FedEx for that one, besides the usual government agencies raising hell every time something that flies messes up), brakes failing every time they drive a car themselves no matter how often they go to a mechanic (Regina called 911 for help at those times. May God bless the LMPD)
And those are only the more lethal ones. I must not forget to mention the irritating and demoralizing ones, like how Annie’s grades at school are steadily going down because of test papers getting lost in transit or in freaky accidents (I never thought that a teacher will say to their student that their test paper was ripped to pieces by a dog, since it usually is the other way around. The only difference from the cliché is it was a rabid and starving dog infected with rabies, and was causing havoc on LCS property until the dogcatcher caught it).
Or how traffic jams suddenly appear when Annie is on the way to school, no matter how early she gets out of home (She finally resorted to using a bicycle to travel all the way to school. Less mechanical malfunctions to worry about)
Or how Regina was fired from her job by the local NGO because thousands of dollars of equipment keep getting broken when she touches it, a reason that I keep finding to be ridiculous.
Is that even a justifiable reason for firing someone?
And the worst event, the one that really sealed the deal for my children and made them send Annie and Regina here, was when they are together celebrating something I have no idea about at a family restaurant in Louisville. Suddenly a bar brawl happened in the restaurant.
How in God’s name can a bar brawl happen in a freaking FAMILY RESTAURANT?
And I may never have been in a bar brawl, but how on Earth can several drunk brawlers mistake the girls for the ones that punched them, and proceed to give them, according to Annie’s friend since the girls are knocked out, ‘an almighty KO punch that belongs more to Manny Pacquiao than to a drunk patron‘. In fact, there is just no other explanation, from the witnesses, the girls, and even the drunks themselves, for how the girls got in the line of fire, and in THAT kind of fire, so suddenly other than bad luck.
After that last story, the cabin is silent for some time. I look at the girls. Both of them look pretty traumatized by their experiences.
I am really tempted to just stop here, but I want them to at least remember why the curse started, so that when they learn about the cause, they could try to find another way of appeasing the Irish kid since right now, I am not very sure if I can finish the deal in one piece. So I go on.
“Regina, you think someone cursed you girls. Tell me, since you are the only one in the family dabbling with those Neo-pagans, what have you two done to get this hypothetical someone to curse you?”
Regina looked thoughtful for a while, then was about to shrug when she stopped in the middle of the action, eyes looking at the bottle of milk on the table. Her face went blank for a while, and then she looks at Annie, who looked on curiously.
When Annie saw this, her face suddenly fills with suspicion and asks Regina.
“Dear cousin, do you have something we, or more importantly, I, should know about?”
Regina winces and said “I think I have some ideas.” My world stops for a moment at the word ‘ideas’.
If I remember correctly from my grade school years, adding an ‘s’ to a noun that doesn’t have one in the singular form indicates that the plural form is being used. Combine that with the word ‘some’ and that means...more than one.
“Kid, what the HELL are you doing in that religion of yours?!” I shout at Regina. Annie just sits there glaring at her older cousin. I continue shouting “And how the hell did you get that many people angry at you?”
Regina winces again and said “I...don’t know. For some reason I just rub some people the wrong way. Unfortunately, these people in the movement I am rubbing the wrong way...are some of the more knowledgeable and older ones, not to mention dangerous.”
“Dangerous.” Annie deadpan. “Dangerous as in those Thugee cults you see in the movies?”
“No, not that kind of dangerous. These people are dangerous because they are the real deal. They have…power. Even other neo-pagans who have their own...connection…with who and what we worship are wary of them.”
Silence...
Annie is the first to do something. She leaves the table, makes a ‘follow me gesture’ to Regina, and says goodnight to me. Regina follows after her cousin, also saying a goodnight, and closed the door to their room.
I was left alone on the table, looking at the door of their room.
I sigh.
Great. They are screwed. I am screwed. Even if I manage to appease the Irish goddess, it looks like there is a possible waiting line of other people waiting for their own chance to make my granddaughters’ day lousy.
Hmm....
Next time I see the Irish girl, maybe I could add something to the contract?
Last edited by kilopi505 on 2013-04-10 02:53am, edited 3 times in total.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Chapter 3
It is the morning of April 2, 2007. The sun is shining brightly, the air is so clean and cool, the food in front of me looks as delicious as usual when my granddaughters are the ones who made them, and the only thing spoiling this wonderful morning are my two granddaughters.
The two normally talkative girls are silent today. Looking at their faces, I see that they are deep in their own worlds. They are barely looking at each other or at me for that matter. And they have not touched their own food yet.
While I understand that they are...depressed with their current situation, I have no intention of letting breakfast and our collective morale (in that order) be ruined by this depressing silence.
“The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, breakfast is in front of us, and we are all still alive. So girls, stop being such a downer on this day and eat! You girls all have time to be depressed later, if you really want to continue doing so.”
The girls look up at me with incredulous looks on their faces, then at each other, and they went back to their plates. They start eating, showing more life in them than a while before.
‘Nice job Herbert.’
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After breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleaned and put away, I just sat there with the by now mildly warm cup of milk in front of me, watching the girls make some last minute preparations, like Annie looking for her cellphone, or Regina applying baby powder of her face and neck. I feel better now, seeing my two cute granddaughters having more life in them than before breakfast.
After finishing their preparations, the girls hugged me and then said their goodbyes. When they were about to go out the door, I quickly ask them to stop because I am going to tell them something.
“Girls, I just got some errands that might cause me to be away from home starting from today, so please don’t be surprised when if you went home I am not here. Ok girls, stay safe.” I finish, and then I empty my glass of milk in a few gulps.
Regina didn’t let it go at that. She asks me suspiciously “What errands? And what kind of errands might get you to stay away from home?”
I look at her, thinks for a moment for an imaginary job, and then I thought it is better to use both truth and lies.
“Well, I got invited by some friends from way back in Vietnam to a hunt in Alaska. It is going to be a reunion of our unit, whoever is still alive, from Saigon. So, here I am going to the nearest gym to get myself up to a better physical state. Then I also got to buy a new gun.”
Annie is the one who asks this time. “What’s wrong with the Winchester? You know, the one you just fired at the shooting range a week ago?” She points and looks up at one of the two rifles that are mounted above the door.
Like Annie said, one of the guns is a Winchester Model 1894 that I bought in ’72, after I had left the army. The other one is the family heirloom, nicknamed ‘Annie’, a constantly, lovingly and almost religiously maintained Kentucky Rifle that has been in the family ever since my great-great grandfather commissioned its making a few months before joining the militia and going off with Jackson’s army in the War of 1812.Since then, the gun has been used constantly in every military and violent action that my ancestors participated in as a sniper rifle all the way until the Civil War.From then on, it has onlybeen on display above the door.
Annie looks back at me and waits for my answer.
“Well, you see we are going Grizzly bear hunting. As much as I would like to, you don’t bring a small caliber gun to that kind of hunt. So…I have to buy a bigger and more powerful rifle.”
Annie frowns at me and then said “Well, if that is what you old guys really want, then I can’t stop you. But I still protest the unreasonable killing of animals that has not attacked a human, not to mention you are 58 years old. See you later grandpa.” She then turns around and stop. Curious about what made her stop, I looked over her shoulder and see something I don’t see every day.
Regina is kneeling on the ground laughing, only managing to keep it silent by covering her mouth with one hand. One moment she would seem to be finished laughing, then the next moment another bout of laughing started. But when she looked in our direction, she gave up trying to conceal her laughs and just laughed out loud. I and Annie look at each other, both clueless on what Regina thinks is so funny. Then we approach her.
“Reg, what’s so funny?” Annie asks. By now, Regina’s laughs are starting to die out. A moment later, she got it under control. She then answers “When grandpa said he is going to go training, something funny came into mind. I imagined him wearing Rocky Balboa’s clothes, with the theme song playing out loudly in the background while he is doing his training stuff.”
I thought about what Regina said.
There I am, dressed in a white sweater and jogging pants with ‘Eye of the Tiger’ playing in the background, jogging in the streets and up the mountains shadow boxing all the way, hitting a punching bag as fast and as hard as I can, then me holding a training rifle I borrowed from the ROTC and practicing my bayonet drill. Then all of a sudden the sirens of an ambulance intruded into the scene, and then the image of orderlies carrying my limp body into the ambulance and sped off into the distance, with the same song still playing in the background came to me.
Both I and Annie snicker at that, for different reasons I am certain. Then I remind the girls that they have a job, and ought to go there before they become tardy for work. The girls took one look at their watches, yip, and quickly run to their bikes in the garage, mounting them and then took off down the road with both girls waving back at me.
I stand in the same position watching the bikes go along the road towards the convenience store at the interstate road.
When they moved out of view behind the hills, I turned back to the house and walks in, checking to see if there are any chores left to do before I buy my new gun. Seeing that everything has already been finished yesterday, I take my wallet and locked up the house.
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I step down from the bus and look at the street signs, trying to findmy bearings and occasionally looking at the piece of paper where the address of the gun shop I was referred to, by my nearest neighbor is written.Finally, I found the street sign which says ‘Lexington Street.’
I quickly give up on finding the place by myself since I am already lost the first moment I got here in Versailles so I look around for people to ask. Seeing a clean shaven young man in a business suit, I approach him and asked if he knows the address on the paper.
The man apologizes, saying that he is only here in Versailles for business purposes, and is not familiar with the city. Saying it is alright, I move away from the man, looking for another person to ask when somebody asks me if I was lost.
Looking at the speaker, I see it is an Indian girl dressed in one of those Indian looking things.Forcing down the impolite urge to ask what is an Indian doing all the way up here in Kentucky, I answer back, that yes I am lost. Then I show her the address of the gun store. She looks at it, then gives it back and said “Please follow me sir. The store is just a short walk away.” And I follow.
For the next few minutes, we talk about various everyday topics while she is leading me to the store. I learn that the name of the Indian girl is Ratri and she is here straight from India on a business trip.
Ratri is a young, beautiful girl with long black hair and light brown skin that just seems to shine naturally. She is dressed in one of them famous Indian dresses and is also bedecked in more gold jewelry (a nose plug, earrings, a ring on each finger except for the thumbs, bracelet on each arm and two necklaces) than I know Mary, my deceased wife, ever possessed in all our years together (just our wedding rings and the engagement ring). Which made me think about the sensibility of wearing all those gold accessories while one is walking in the middle of a city (albeit a small one). Thankfully, nobody else on the sidewalk is looking at the both of us.
Then Ratri asks me why I need to buy a gun. I tell her that my granddaughters have some problems pestering them and that I could wave those problems away by doing some jobs for this crazy Irish chick which I was warned could unfortunately end in violence, so I kind of needed the right guns for the job. She nods, blink, and stop walking, turning to me with an incredulous expression and surprises me with her next words.
“I’m sorry, but did you just make a contract with Annan, Mr. Ward? Oh no…that is very bad, sir.”
I blink, and then stop walking. When did I tell her Annan’s name? And now that I think about it…the pedestrians are not ignoring us out of being polite to strangers. It’s more like they seem to be unaware of our very existence.
Suspicions aroused and getting ready for a fight, I am about to ask her how does she know the Irish girl’s name when Ratri snaps her fingers, and everything around us turns as dark as the night…for a moment.
It is the morning of April 2, 2007. The sun is shining brightly, the air is so clean and cool, the food in front of me looks as delicious as usual when my granddaughters are the ones who made them, and the only thing spoiling this wonderful morning are my two granddaughters.
The two normally talkative girls are silent today. Looking at their faces, I see that they are deep in their own worlds. They are barely looking at each other or at me for that matter. And they have not touched their own food yet.
While I understand that they are...depressed with their current situation, I have no intention of letting breakfast and our collective morale (in that order) be ruined by this depressing silence.
“The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, breakfast is in front of us, and we are all still alive. So girls, stop being such a downer on this day and eat! You girls all have time to be depressed later, if you really want to continue doing so.”
The girls look up at me with incredulous looks on their faces, then at each other, and they went back to their plates. They start eating, showing more life in them than a while before.
‘Nice job Herbert.’
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleaned and put away, I just sat there with the by now mildly warm cup of milk in front of me, watching the girls make some last minute preparations, like Annie looking for her cellphone, or Regina applying baby powder of her face and neck. I feel better now, seeing my two cute granddaughters having more life in them than before breakfast.
After finishing their preparations, the girls hugged me and then said their goodbyes. When they were about to go out the door, I quickly ask them to stop because I am going to tell them something.
“Girls, I just got some errands that might cause me to be away from home starting from today, so please don’t be surprised when if you went home I am not here. Ok girls, stay safe.” I finish, and then I empty my glass of milk in a few gulps.
Regina didn’t let it go at that. She asks me suspiciously “What errands? And what kind of errands might get you to stay away from home?”
I look at her, thinks for a moment for an imaginary job, and then I thought it is better to use both truth and lies.
“Well, I got invited by some friends from way back in Vietnam to a hunt in Alaska. It is going to be a reunion of our unit, whoever is still alive, from Saigon. So, here I am going to the nearest gym to get myself up to a better physical state. Then I also got to buy a new gun.”
Annie is the one who asks this time. “What’s wrong with the Winchester? You know, the one you just fired at the shooting range a week ago?” She points and looks up at one of the two rifles that are mounted above the door.
Like Annie said, one of the guns is a Winchester Model 1894 that I bought in ’72, after I had left the army. The other one is the family heirloom, nicknamed ‘Annie’, a constantly, lovingly and almost religiously maintained Kentucky Rifle that has been in the family ever since my great-great grandfather commissioned its making a few months before joining the militia and going off with Jackson’s army in the War of 1812.Since then, the gun has been used constantly in every military and violent action that my ancestors participated in as a sniper rifle all the way until the Civil War.From then on, it has onlybeen on display above the door.
Annie looks back at me and waits for my answer.
“Well, you see we are going Grizzly bear hunting. As much as I would like to, you don’t bring a small caliber gun to that kind of hunt. So…I have to buy a bigger and more powerful rifle.”
Annie frowns at me and then said “Well, if that is what you old guys really want, then I can’t stop you. But I still protest the unreasonable killing of animals that has not attacked a human, not to mention you are 58 years old. See you later grandpa.” She then turns around and stop. Curious about what made her stop, I looked over her shoulder and see something I don’t see every day.
Regina is kneeling on the ground laughing, only managing to keep it silent by covering her mouth with one hand. One moment she would seem to be finished laughing, then the next moment another bout of laughing started. But when she looked in our direction, she gave up trying to conceal her laughs and just laughed out loud. I and Annie look at each other, both clueless on what Regina thinks is so funny. Then we approach her.
“Reg, what’s so funny?” Annie asks. By now, Regina’s laughs are starting to die out. A moment later, she got it under control. She then answers “When grandpa said he is going to go training, something funny came into mind. I imagined him wearing Rocky Balboa’s clothes, with the theme song playing out loudly in the background while he is doing his training stuff.”
I thought about what Regina said.
There I am, dressed in a white sweater and jogging pants with ‘Eye of the Tiger’ playing in the background, jogging in the streets and up the mountains shadow boxing all the way, hitting a punching bag as fast and as hard as I can, then me holding a training rifle I borrowed from the ROTC and practicing my bayonet drill. Then all of a sudden the sirens of an ambulance intruded into the scene, and then the image of orderlies carrying my limp body into the ambulance and sped off into the distance, with the same song still playing in the background came to me.
Both I and Annie snicker at that, for different reasons I am certain. Then I remind the girls that they have a job, and ought to go there before they become tardy for work. The girls took one look at their watches, yip, and quickly run to their bikes in the garage, mounting them and then took off down the road with both girls waving back at me.
I stand in the same position watching the bikes go along the road towards the convenience store at the interstate road.
When they moved out of view behind the hills, I turned back to the house and walks in, checking to see if there are any chores left to do before I buy my new gun. Seeing that everything has already been finished yesterday, I take my wallet and locked up the house.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I step down from the bus and look at the street signs, trying to findmy bearings and occasionally looking at the piece of paper where the address of the gun shop I was referred to, by my nearest neighbor is written.Finally, I found the street sign which says ‘Lexington Street.’
I quickly give up on finding the place by myself since I am already lost the first moment I got here in Versailles so I look around for people to ask. Seeing a clean shaven young man in a business suit, I approach him and asked if he knows the address on the paper.
The man apologizes, saying that he is only here in Versailles for business purposes, and is not familiar with the city. Saying it is alright, I move away from the man, looking for another person to ask when somebody asks me if I was lost.
Looking at the speaker, I see it is an Indian girl dressed in one of those Indian looking things.Forcing down the impolite urge to ask what is an Indian doing all the way up here in Kentucky, I answer back, that yes I am lost. Then I show her the address of the gun store. She looks at it, then gives it back and said “Please follow me sir. The store is just a short walk away.” And I follow.
For the next few minutes, we talk about various everyday topics while she is leading me to the store. I learn that the name of the Indian girl is Ratri and she is here straight from India on a business trip.
Ratri is a young, beautiful girl with long black hair and light brown skin that just seems to shine naturally. She is dressed in one of them famous Indian dresses and is also bedecked in more gold jewelry (a nose plug, earrings, a ring on each finger except for the thumbs, bracelet on each arm and two necklaces) than I know Mary, my deceased wife, ever possessed in all our years together (just our wedding rings and the engagement ring). Which made me think about the sensibility of wearing all those gold accessories while one is walking in the middle of a city (albeit a small one). Thankfully, nobody else on the sidewalk is looking at the both of us.
Then Ratri asks me why I need to buy a gun. I tell her that my granddaughters have some problems pestering them and that I could wave those problems away by doing some jobs for this crazy Irish chick which I was warned could unfortunately end in violence, so I kind of needed the right guns for the job. She nods, blink, and stop walking, turning to me with an incredulous expression and surprises me with her next words.
“I’m sorry, but did you just make a contract with Annan, Mr. Ward? Oh no…that is very bad, sir.”
I blink, and then stop walking. When did I tell her Annan’s name? And now that I think about it…the pedestrians are not ignoring us out of being polite to strangers. It’s more like they seem to be unaware of our very existence.
Suspicions aroused and getting ready for a fight, I am about to ask her how does she know the Irish girl’s name when Ratri snaps her fingers, and everything around us turns as dark as the night…for a moment.
Last edited by kilopi505 on 2013-04-10 02:51am, edited 4 times in total.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Chapter 4
The darkness lifts and I see that I am back home, in front of the house.
I blink once.
Twice.
At that moment I think I must have been disoriented, saying these next words from out of nowhere.
“Ratri, you owe me a hundred dollars for what you just did.”
Ratri blinks, and then has an expression on her face that just plainly says ‘What’?
I continue talking.
“Well, you see the fare from here to Louisville is around a hundred dollars by bus. And” I looked at my wristwatch “The next bus coming to Buckhorn and going to northern Kentucky is around an hour from now. So…you getting us here in front of my house without any guns bought is a hundred dollars and two hours of precious time wasted.”
Ratri blushes at her mistake and then takes a wallet from one of her pockets, counting off some bills from some other country, and then hands them over to me.
“Umm…sorry about that Mr. Ward. Here, this is the Indian equivalent of one and a half hundred dollars. All you have to do is go to a money changer to have it converted to dollars.”
“Thanks Ratri. Now…you were saying?” I steer the conversation back to what she was talking about a while ago.
“Well…I am here to apologize for the actions of my friend. Right now me and another one of our little club of goddesses are trying our best to calm her down. But it’s very challenging to do so when the botched…’prayer’…your grand daughters made while deeply inebriated is the latest inspiration of many in the supernatural world and the mortal afterlives who just won’t stop making jokes referring to it.”
‘I swear from this moment on, those girls are never getting any alcohol ever again, not on my watch’
Making that promise to myself, I miss parts of what Ratri said next so when she pauses for a breath, I interrupt and invite her to continue the conversation inside my house.
She accepts my invitation and goes after me inside the house.
After I show her to the dining table, I went to the refrigerator and take a bottle of milk to offer to her as a guest. After she accepts it, I sit down at the table and continue the conversation from where she last stopped.
“So Ratri, I appreciate your sincerity and I thank you for your effort in trying to calm down Annan and lifting off her curse from my granddaughters.”
"Actually..." Ratri slowly says, like she is bringing bad news.
“I’m sorry Mr. Ward, but all I could do for now is lessen the severity of the curse. If I break it now, Annan could just curse your granddaughters again, and maybe make it nastier this time around. We just have to wait until she calms down and is in a mood to forgive before we can ask her to take away the curse.”
Well, that is one thing off my chest.
Then I remember the other people that my granddaughter supposedly pissed off. I talk about my other concern just as the Indian girl was about to say something.
“Umm…Ratri, can you also do something about another problem that concerns my granddaughters?” At her curious and patient look, I explain that some neo-pagans are very angry with Regina for some reason she doesn’t know. Ratri is momentarily lost in thought, then she drinks the rest of the milk in the bottle. After finishing it, she puts it down on the table and then started to speak.
“Mr. Ward, I am not sure how to deal with that one. You have to understand that in the supernatural world, not everybody knows everyone else even after all this time. And the neo-pagan worshippers…they are…unusual. Some of them might worship gods I know, or acquainted with but many of them also either worship a mother goddess or nature in general, in which case I am not sure who to talk to since there are so many of us who can claim that title or jurisdiction, or they outright invent themselves new spirits to worship who either don’t exist, or who are just newcomers in my world.
Realistically, all I could advise is that your granddaughter must talk and reconcile with those who she had pissed off.”
“Dang…well, can you do anything so that anyone who is asked to curse them has to talk it out with you first?”
“Do you mean put them under my protection? Well…I am an old goddess who doesn’t have much of her powers anymore and is mostly unknown by mortals nowadays…Newcomers and younger gods either ignore the old, less known and relatively powerless ones or are disrespectful to those elders. But…alright, I will temporarily take them under my protection in case someone else does try to curse them. But if you want really solid protection, it could also be done by more Christian activities such as praying.”
I raise my eyebrows at this, not expecting a pagan Indian goddess to recommend praying to God. Ratri explains further upon seeing my surprise.
“Well, your YHWH, Allah or just plain God is someone us other gods don’t really like to talk about, especially not after the things that were pulled off against the Egyptians during the Exodus. But that one is content to let us coexist with it, ever since the eldest of us gods woke up and that being is in front of them smiling and welcoming them into existence.”
I blink. And then blink once more.
‘Well…that answers that question of whether God is real’
“Now, if there are no other concerns about your granddaughters Mr. Ward, I want to ask one question before I proceed about YOUR trouble now."
This day seems to be one full of meaningful blinks.
“What trouble? Hold on...you go first Ratri.”
"How did you catch Annan in the first place? She said she was hidden with magic when all of a sudden you kicked her from behind and demanded a reason for stalking your granddaughters."
"If by hiding you mean crouching behind some bushes. I didn't see anything magical at that point in time."
Ratri looks at me with surprise.
"Really? Well how did you come behind her?"
"Would you believe that I was chasing a handkerchief blown by a very strong wind?"
"...just dried from the clothesline?"
"Yes."
Ratri groaned.
"That happened to someone I know...but down the hill?"
"Every time I was about to pick it up, dust blows in my eyes and the next thing I knew it was further down the path."
"The path...that is in the opposite direction from where Annan is hiding."
"When I finally got the handkerchief I was already at the down the hill and on the other side of it, away from the pathway. So rather than circle all the way around the hill again, I climbed up."
"Circling around is harder than climbing up?" she asks, incredulously.
"The hillside is a gently sloped one." I defend my point of view.
I will not admit that I climbed up because I suddenly felt like it.
No I won't.
"And when you found her, why did you kick her and ask if she is stalking your granddaughters? She could just be spying on your house."
"I...honestly, when I saw her I just knew that she is stalking them. And before I knew it, I had already kicked her and then challenged her."
Looking back at those moments...it was like something compelled me to do those actions. And that is what led the kid to rant at me while holding me by the collar.
And then I felt a compulsion to just listen to her, instead of trying to fight my way out of her grip.
"Is there anything else?" I ask, wanting to get back to my 'trouble.'
“None. Going back to you, you said you made a contract with Annan to make her lift her curse from your granddaughters. As a result, despite the fact that me and my friend are trying to lift the curse on your granddaughters, you are still required to finish that contract with Annan whether the curse gets lifted or not.”
Oh.
That really sucks.
“Umm…can I get it cancel-”Ratri immediately interrupts me.
“Trying to break a contract is a pretty bad idea Mr. Ward. You see, when we supernatural beings make a promise, an oath or a contract, we and the other party are bound to do as we have promised. If not…well…bad things happen.”
“Bad things?” I ask with a curious tone.
“Bad things you don’t want to know and I don’t want to remember. Even the Bible says something to that kind of effect.”
Even God said it is bad to break a promise?
I now quickly think back to the moment me and Annan made our promise, trying to find a loophole somewhere.
“How about if I did not actually say I would do it? Annan and me didn’t say we have a contract. She just asked me if I can fight, I said yes, and she said good, she has some jobs for…me…” I slowly stop speaking upon seeing the Indian girl’s sad face.
“Mr. Ward, that counts as an implicit agreement, which still validates that as a contract”
I feel very dismayed by this turn of events. Luckily, Ratri is still not finished explaining.
“Don’t worry Mr. Ward. There is a way we could use to solve the problem with the contract. All you have to do is think like a lawyer and be technical about fulfilling the contract, which is alright because ever since the turn of the 19th century, most of the contracts in the world are being interpreted that way. But there is a condition. The other party has to agree that the contract is still being fulfilled despite the different interpretation by one of the parties.”
“So all I have to do is get Annan to agree to a different interpretation of the contract?” I feel a big, fat ray of hope beaming down on me from above at this point. “Well…how do I contact her? I don’t want to get in the middle of a fight just to get her debts paid.”
“Well…first off you have to tell me what is it you want to interpret in a different way, and then I will tell it to her.”
“All I want is to do a fixed number of favors and debts for Annan, and that they must not be in any way dangerous to me or bring me trouble after all this is over.”
Ratri nods. Suddenly the sound of a ringing phone interrupts us.
I look at my wall phone located beside my bedroom’s door, but the ringing isn’t coming from that quarter. Nor did it come from my cell phone, which I had put in silent and vibrating mode. Motion from the edge of my vision had me turning to Ratri…holding a cell phone and about to answer the call.
Ratri notices my expression and asks “What is it?”
“You have a cell phone?”
She sighed and then replies “Just because I am an old goddess from before the Jews exile to Babylon doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with and use modern technology. It is the same thing with Annan and Daesun, my other friend.”
She answered her cell phone and talk in what I guess might be Indian. She listens for a few seconds, and then surprises me with an exclamation in Indian that feels to me like ‘What’. For the next few minutes, she is constantly wide-eyed and surprised at what she is hearing from her cell phone and keep looking at me from time to time.
When the phone call finished, Ratri looked at me a little sadly and tells me that she has some good news and some bad news. I ask her to go on with some trepidation.
“The good news Mr. Ward, is that Annan doesn’t care about me tinkering around with the curse she put on your granddaughters, provided that I don’t completely break it. She said she is the one who will break it, as her part of the contract.”
My hopeful feelings…started melting like ice cream when I heard the word ‘contract’.
“Which leads me to the bad news. She wants you to do your part of the contract, and worse: You are definitely going to get into a fight wherever she is going to pay her debts, of which she said will be 6 favors all in all.”
I am silent for a few seconds. Then I say what is on my mind.
“Well…better prepare my last will then. I doubt I can still move or fight like I used to back in Vietnam, never mind the fact that it will be 6 different situations I had to fight through.” And then I chuckle in a morbid fashion.
“Don’t be too downhearted Mr. Ward. Annan said that she will ensure that you will not die on the job and nothing comes after it. And believe it or not, she is asking me and Daesun to help her with her sudden bout of insanity in paying off her debts and favors. So, me and Daesun are also going to help make sure that you do not die.”
I look up at heaven, in this case, the ceiling of my own home, wondering if that is supposed to reassure me, and then I close my eyes and sigh. I figure that I really have no other choice other than to put my life in the hands of divine intervention, preferably God.
I ask Ratri. “If I may ask, what are these measures that would let me live through what seems to be something as dangerous as my most violent encounters during the Vietnam War? Because while I am a healthy man, please don’t forget that I am already 58 years old, and while I am still a good shot, I have not pointed a gun at another human being since 1970.”
“The way Annan explained things to me over the phone, she is choosing people she owes debts to who are asking for favors that she is sure a human being could do for her. And the other thing is, Annan said that she will give you the necessary equipment and that all of us will have one of our own followers who are in the afterlife help you in the process.”
The Irish girl is the one to give me the weapons? And companions in hardship…well, as long as those companions can pull their own weight.
“Not to sound rude, but what is her idea of weapons? Because if it is a magical sword…”
“Oh Mr. Ward, that is very silly. Believe it or not, the supernatural world does keep up with current events, although it is more of watching CNN or reading the New York Times.”
“And what does that have to do with weapons?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Well, it means we know about guns and how effective they are, even though most gods and spirits prefer to do things the old fashioned way. Besides, you are lucky that you encountered our little club of goddesses instead of anyone else.”
“What is your club about and what is its relation to whatever I am going to be armed with?” I ask, bewildered by this…seemingly unrelated reason.
“Well…it is called the ’Modern Human Culture Appreciation club’. ” She admits with a sheepish expression.
I blink again, thought for a while, and then I nod.
It is impossible not to know of what I might need if you are someone who claims to study ‘Modern’ culture. I’m quite sure that includes war.
Ratri then said that she believes that she has nothing more to talk about concerning me and will be there beside Annan when she fetches me around 13 days from now. We stand up from the table and walk away from it.
As I am about to show her out the door she happens to look at the mounted guns above the doorway. She immediately stops to gaze in…wonder, I think.
I ask her what is she looking at the guns for. She looks down at me and then reply, while her hand is pointing at one of them, “I think I know the perfect gun we could use as your weapon.”
I look at where she is pointing, wondering what is she going to do with the Winchester...and then I notice she is not pointing at the Winchester in the first place.
She is pointing at ‘Annie’.
I look down at her, incredulous at her statement that I would use my family heirloom, not to mention an antique, well preserved muzzle loader as my gun. Seeing my expression, Ratri quickly explains.
“Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but there are several reasons why I think it is a good weapon for your use in the contract. One: While there are a lot of human made melee weapons that have become magical, or became supernaturally special due to several reasons, it is rare for any kind of GUN to achieve that, but here I am looking at a gun that is spiritually tied to your family and to the land itself and is the oldest yet still functional gun I have ever seen. A gun like this is quite easy to upgrade with magic, and the more special the gun is, the more magic that could be applied to it.”
“You are going to mess with my family heirloom?! What if you broke it or something?! And can you even put it back to normal once you mess with ‘Annie’?”
“You don’t have to worry about it breaking from magic. And it is easy to uninstall the magic one applies to any weapon, provided the one doing the uninstalling is the caster of the magic in the first place.”
Still not convinced, I ask her what is the other reason.
“The way I see it, you will not need a high rate of fire for the jobs. You will need more…penetrating power and damage with every shot you make. Besides, included in the magical spells I was thinking of putting on the Kentucky Rifle is one that will pretty much give you infinite, magical ammunition. All you have to do is pull back the cock of the gun and the gun is instantly reloaded.”
I look at ‘Annie’, then back at the Indian girl, thinking about what she is saying.
Do I need a normal M-16 or a magical Kentucky Rifle if I am gonnahave to get in a fight with some weird opponents?
The darkness lifts and I see that I am back home, in front of the house.
I blink once.
Twice.
At that moment I think I must have been disoriented, saying these next words from out of nowhere.
“Ratri, you owe me a hundred dollars for what you just did.”
Ratri blinks, and then has an expression on her face that just plainly says ‘What’?
I continue talking.
“Well, you see the fare from here to Louisville is around a hundred dollars by bus. And” I looked at my wristwatch “The next bus coming to Buckhorn and going to northern Kentucky is around an hour from now. So…you getting us here in front of my house without any guns bought is a hundred dollars and two hours of precious time wasted.”
Ratri blushes at her mistake and then takes a wallet from one of her pockets, counting off some bills from some other country, and then hands them over to me.
“Umm…sorry about that Mr. Ward. Here, this is the Indian equivalent of one and a half hundred dollars. All you have to do is go to a money changer to have it converted to dollars.”
“Thanks Ratri. Now…you were saying?” I steer the conversation back to what she was talking about a while ago.
“Well…I am here to apologize for the actions of my friend. Right now me and another one of our little club of goddesses are trying our best to calm her down. But it’s very challenging to do so when the botched…’prayer’…your grand daughters made while deeply inebriated is the latest inspiration of many in the supernatural world and the mortal afterlives who just won’t stop making jokes referring to it.”
‘I swear from this moment on, those girls are never getting any alcohol ever again, not on my watch’
Making that promise to myself, I miss parts of what Ratri said next so when she pauses for a breath, I interrupt and invite her to continue the conversation inside my house.
She accepts my invitation and goes after me inside the house.
After I show her to the dining table, I went to the refrigerator and take a bottle of milk to offer to her as a guest. After she accepts it, I sit down at the table and continue the conversation from where she last stopped.
“So Ratri, I appreciate your sincerity and I thank you for your effort in trying to calm down Annan and lifting off her curse from my granddaughters.”
"Actually..." Ratri slowly says, like she is bringing bad news.
“I’m sorry Mr. Ward, but all I could do for now is lessen the severity of the curse. If I break it now, Annan could just curse your granddaughters again, and maybe make it nastier this time around. We just have to wait until she calms down and is in a mood to forgive before we can ask her to take away the curse.”
Well, that is one thing off my chest.
Then I remember the other people that my granddaughter supposedly pissed off. I talk about my other concern just as the Indian girl was about to say something.
“Umm…Ratri, can you also do something about another problem that concerns my granddaughters?” At her curious and patient look, I explain that some neo-pagans are very angry with Regina for some reason she doesn’t know. Ratri is momentarily lost in thought, then she drinks the rest of the milk in the bottle. After finishing it, she puts it down on the table and then started to speak.
“Mr. Ward, I am not sure how to deal with that one. You have to understand that in the supernatural world, not everybody knows everyone else even after all this time. And the neo-pagan worshippers…they are…unusual. Some of them might worship gods I know, or acquainted with but many of them also either worship a mother goddess or nature in general, in which case I am not sure who to talk to since there are so many of us who can claim that title or jurisdiction, or they outright invent themselves new spirits to worship who either don’t exist, or who are just newcomers in my world.
Realistically, all I could advise is that your granddaughter must talk and reconcile with those who she had pissed off.”
“Dang…well, can you do anything so that anyone who is asked to curse them has to talk it out with you first?”
“Do you mean put them under my protection? Well…I am an old goddess who doesn’t have much of her powers anymore and is mostly unknown by mortals nowadays…Newcomers and younger gods either ignore the old, less known and relatively powerless ones or are disrespectful to those elders. But…alright, I will temporarily take them under my protection in case someone else does try to curse them. But if you want really solid protection, it could also be done by more Christian activities such as praying.”
I raise my eyebrows at this, not expecting a pagan Indian goddess to recommend praying to God. Ratri explains further upon seeing my surprise.
“Well, your YHWH, Allah or just plain God is someone us other gods don’t really like to talk about, especially not after the things that were pulled off against the Egyptians during the Exodus. But that one is content to let us coexist with it, ever since the eldest of us gods woke up and that being is in front of them smiling and welcoming them into existence.”
I blink. And then blink once more.
‘Well…that answers that question of whether God is real’
“Now, if there are no other concerns about your granddaughters Mr. Ward, I want to ask one question before I proceed about YOUR trouble now."
This day seems to be one full of meaningful blinks.
“What trouble? Hold on...you go first Ratri.”
"How did you catch Annan in the first place? She said she was hidden with magic when all of a sudden you kicked her from behind and demanded a reason for stalking your granddaughters."
"If by hiding you mean crouching behind some bushes. I didn't see anything magical at that point in time."
Ratri looks at me with surprise.
"Really? Well how did you come behind her?"
"Would you believe that I was chasing a handkerchief blown by a very strong wind?"
"...just dried from the clothesline?"
"Yes."
Ratri groaned.
"That happened to someone I know...but down the hill?"
"Every time I was about to pick it up, dust blows in my eyes and the next thing I knew it was further down the path."
"The path...that is in the opposite direction from where Annan is hiding."
"When I finally got the handkerchief I was already at the down the hill and on the other side of it, away from the pathway. So rather than circle all the way around the hill again, I climbed up."
"Circling around is harder than climbing up?" she asks, incredulously.
"The hillside is a gently sloped one." I defend my point of view.
I will not admit that I climbed up because I suddenly felt like it.
No I won't.
"And when you found her, why did you kick her and ask if she is stalking your granddaughters? She could just be spying on your house."
"I...honestly, when I saw her I just knew that she is stalking them. And before I knew it, I had already kicked her and then challenged her."
Looking back at those moments...it was like something compelled me to do those actions. And that is what led the kid to rant at me while holding me by the collar.
And then I felt a compulsion to just listen to her, instead of trying to fight my way out of her grip.
"Is there anything else?" I ask, wanting to get back to my 'trouble.'
“None. Going back to you, you said you made a contract with Annan to make her lift her curse from your granddaughters. As a result, despite the fact that me and my friend are trying to lift the curse on your granddaughters, you are still required to finish that contract with Annan whether the curse gets lifted or not.”
Oh.
That really sucks.
“Umm…can I get it cancel-”Ratri immediately interrupts me.
“Trying to break a contract is a pretty bad idea Mr. Ward. You see, when we supernatural beings make a promise, an oath or a contract, we and the other party are bound to do as we have promised. If not…well…bad things happen.”
“Bad things?” I ask with a curious tone.
“Bad things you don’t want to know and I don’t want to remember. Even the Bible says something to that kind of effect.”
Even God said it is bad to break a promise?
I now quickly think back to the moment me and Annan made our promise, trying to find a loophole somewhere.
“How about if I did not actually say I would do it? Annan and me didn’t say we have a contract. She just asked me if I can fight, I said yes, and she said good, she has some jobs for…me…” I slowly stop speaking upon seeing the Indian girl’s sad face.
“Mr. Ward, that counts as an implicit agreement, which still validates that as a contract”
I feel very dismayed by this turn of events. Luckily, Ratri is still not finished explaining.
“Don’t worry Mr. Ward. There is a way we could use to solve the problem with the contract. All you have to do is think like a lawyer and be technical about fulfilling the contract, which is alright because ever since the turn of the 19th century, most of the contracts in the world are being interpreted that way. But there is a condition. The other party has to agree that the contract is still being fulfilled despite the different interpretation by one of the parties.”
“So all I have to do is get Annan to agree to a different interpretation of the contract?” I feel a big, fat ray of hope beaming down on me from above at this point. “Well…how do I contact her? I don’t want to get in the middle of a fight just to get her debts paid.”
“Well…first off you have to tell me what is it you want to interpret in a different way, and then I will tell it to her.”
“All I want is to do a fixed number of favors and debts for Annan, and that they must not be in any way dangerous to me or bring me trouble after all this is over.”
Ratri nods. Suddenly the sound of a ringing phone interrupts us.
I look at my wall phone located beside my bedroom’s door, but the ringing isn’t coming from that quarter. Nor did it come from my cell phone, which I had put in silent and vibrating mode. Motion from the edge of my vision had me turning to Ratri…holding a cell phone and about to answer the call.
Ratri notices my expression and asks “What is it?”
“You have a cell phone?”
She sighed and then replies “Just because I am an old goddess from before the Jews exile to Babylon doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with and use modern technology. It is the same thing with Annan and Daesun, my other friend.”
She answered her cell phone and talk in what I guess might be Indian. She listens for a few seconds, and then surprises me with an exclamation in Indian that feels to me like ‘What’. For the next few minutes, she is constantly wide-eyed and surprised at what she is hearing from her cell phone and keep looking at me from time to time.
When the phone call finished, Ratri looked at me a little sadly and tells me that she has some good news and some bad news. I ask her to go on with some trepidation.
“The good news Mr. Ward, is that Annan doesn’t care about me tinkering around with the curse she put on your granddaughters, provided that I don’t completely break it. She said she is the one who will break it, as her part of the contract.”
My hopeful feelings…started melting like ice cream when I heard the word ‘contract’.
“Which leads me to the bad news. She wants you to do your part of the contract, and worse: You are definitely going to get into a fight wherever she is going to pay her debts, of which she said will be 6 favors all in all.”
I am silent for a few seconds. Then I say what is on my mind.
“Well…better prepare my last will then. I doubt I can still move or fight like I used to back in Vietnam, never mind the fact that it will be 6 different situations I had to fight through.” And then I chuckle in a morbid fashion.
“Don’t be too downhearted Mr. Ward. Annan said that she will ensure that you will not die on the job and nothing comes after it. And believe it or not, she is asking me and Daesun to help her with her sudden bout of insanity in paying off her debts and favors. So, me and Daesun are also going to help make sure that you do not die.”
I look up at heaven, in this case, the ceiling of my own home, wondering if that is supposed to reassure me, and then I close my eyes and sigh. I figure that I really have no other choice other than to put my life in the hands of divine intervention, preferably God.
I ask Ratri. “If I may ask, what are these measures that would let me live through what seems to be something as dangerous as my most violent encounters during the Vietnam War? Because while I am a healthy man, please don’t forget that I am already 58 years old, and while I am still a good shot, I have not pointed a gun at another human being since 1970.”
“The way Annan explained things to me over the phone, she is choosing people she owes debts to who are asking for favors that she is sure a human being could do for her. And the other thing is, Annan said that she will give you the necessary equipment and that all of us will have one of our own followers who are in the afterlife help you in the process.”
The Irish girl is the one to give me the weapons? And companions in hardship…well, as long as those companions can pull their own weight.
“Not to sound rude, but what is her idea of weapons? Because if it is a magical sword…”
“Oh Mr. Ward, that is very silly. Believe it or not, the supernatural world does keep up with current events, although it is more of watching CNN or reading the New York Times.”
“And what does that have to do with weapons?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Well, it means we know about guns and how effective they are, even though most gods and spirits prefer to do things the old fashioned way. Besides, you are lucky that you encountered our little club of goddesses instead of anyone else.”
“What is your club about and what is its relation to whatever I am going to be armed with?” I ask, bewildered by this…seemingly unrelated reason.
“Well…it is called the ’Modern Human Culture Appreciation club’. ” She admits with a sheepish expression.
I blink again, thought for a while, and then I nod.
It is impossible not to know of what I might need if you are someone who claims to study ‘Modern’ culture. I’m quite sure that includes war.
Ratri then said that she believes that she has nothing more to talk about concerning me and will be there beside Annan when she fetches me around 13 days from now. We stand up from the table and walk away from it.
As I am about to show her out the door she happens to look at the mounted guns above the doorway. She immediately stops to gaze in…wonder, I think.
I ask her what is she looking at the guns for. She looks down at me and then reply, while her hand is pointing at one of them, “I think I know the perfect gun we could use as your weapon.”
I look at where she is pointing, wondering what is she going to do with the Winchester...and then I notice she is not pointing at the Winchester in the first place.
She is pointing at ‘Annie’.
I look down at her, incredulous at her statement that I would use my family heirloom, not to mention an antique, well preserved muzzle loader as my gun. Seeing my expression, Ratri quickly explains.
“Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but there are several reasons why I think it is a good weapon for your use in the contract. One: While there are a lot of human made melee weapons that have become magical, or became supernaturally special due to several reasons, it is rare for any kind of GUN to achieve that, but here I am looking at a gun that is spiritually tied to your family and to the land itself and is the oldest yet still functional gun I have ever seen. A gun like this is quite easy to upgrade with magic, and the more special the gun is, the more magic that could be applied to it.”
“You are going to mess with my family heirloom?! What if you broke it or something?! And can you even put it back to normal once you mess with ‘Annie’?”
“You don’t have to worry about it breaking from magic. And it is easy to uninstall the magic one applies to any weapon, provided the one doing the uninstalling is the caster of the magic in the first place.”
Still not convinced, I ask her what is the other reason.
“The way I see it, you will not need a high rate of fire for the jobs. You will need more…penetrating power and damage with every shot you make. Besides, included in the magical spells I was thinking of putting on the Kentucky Rifle is one that will pretty much give you infinite, magical ammunition. All you have to do is pull back the cock of the gun and the gun is instantly reloaded.”
I look at ‘Annie’, then back at the Indian girl, thinking about what she is saying.
Do I need a normal M-16 or a magical Kentucky Rifle if I am gonnahave to get in a fight with some weird opponents?
Last edited by kilopi505 on 2013-04-10 02:47am, edited 3 times in total.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
comments on the story anyone? I would appreciate it.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Definitely intrigued.
I really like it so far, but I've got a couple of thoughts for you.
My first comment would be that Herbert seems to be a bit too blase about the whole 'supernatural' aspect of this. The story is quite fast moving, but you haven't really shown the reaction most people from the present day would display on meeting a damn goddess face to face. His personal moments of 'what the ****' just happened there, and his immediate reaction. Unless he's the most self controlled and ice cold character ever, I'd expect someone shortly after an encounter like that to slump down and be pretty much in a daze for a good hour or so. People freak out, they get nervous, the get surprised. Or get drunk. I half expected that when you said he had a beer at the start of chapter two actually. People over-react and do things they regret. Don't be afraid to show that people can be idiots. Unless this is somewhat of a self portrait. In which case.....no offence intended I'm talking objectively.
Similarly the 'pagan' thing with his grand-daughters seemed to come a bit too out of the blue as well. It's almost like you've missed out a section where he's describing them and mentions it.
Just a couple of thoughts. Take them as you will.
Jpdt19
I really like it so far, but I've got a couple of thoughts for you.
My first comment would be that Herbert seems to be a bit too blase about the whole 'supernatural' aspect of this. The story is quite fast moving, but you haven't really shown the reaction most people from the present day would display on meeting a damn goddess face to face. His personal moments of 'what the ****' just happened there, and his immediate reaction. Unless he's the most self controlled and ice cold character ever, I'd expect someone shortly after an encounter like that to slump down and be pretty much in a daze for a good hour or so. People freak out, they get nervous, the get surprised. Or get drunk. I half expected that when you said he had a beer at the start of chapter two actually. People over-react and do things they regret. Don't be afraid to show that people can be idiots. Unless this is somewhat of a self portrait. In which case.....no offence intended I'm talking objectively.
Similarly the 'pagan' thing with his grand-daughters seemed to come a bit too out of the blue as well. It's almost like you've missed out a section where he's describing them and mentions it.
Just a couple of thoughts. Take them as you will.
Jpdt19
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Considering most Vets I know, pagan goddesses talking to them would be filed under "weird, but no one shooting at me" section.
I like this story, you have gotten the Appalachian mix of politeness and stubborness perfectly.
Please continue.
I like this story, you have gotten the Appalachian mix of politeness and stubborness perfectly.
Please continue.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Re: "6 jobs from hell"
I'm digging it so far. Write more.
I never would have thought I would wholeheartedly agree with Coffee... - fgalkin x2
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Re: "6 jobs from hell"
LadyTevar wrote:Considering most Vets I know, pagan goddesses talking to them would be filed under "weird, but no one shooting at me" section.
I like this story, you have gotten the Appalachian mix of politeness and stubborness perfectly.
WOW.
I mean...I don't even know the difference between the way someone from Kentucky speaks to the way someone from L.A. speaks...to even the way someone from Canada speaks because............
I am NOT even an American.
I was worried I am not getting the dialogue right.
I have a problem now...how do I write the way an Irish guy speaks? Especially...someone from Chu Chullains time? (Pre-Roman Britain times)
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Personally, I am worried I am not getting the personalities of anyone right. In real life...I am quite oblivious and naive so...I keep getting people pissed off at me unconsciously.jpdt19 wrote:Definitely intrigued.
I really like it so far, but I've got a couple of thoughts for you.
My first comment would be that Herbert seems to be a bit too blase about the whole 'supernatural' aspect of this. The story is quite fast moving, but you haven't really shown the reaction most people from the present day would display on meeting a damn goddess face to face. His personal moments of 'what the ****' just happened there, and his immediate reaction. Unless he's the most self controlled and ice cold character ever, I'd expect someone shortly after an encounter like that to slump down and be pretty much in a daze for a good hour or so. People freak out, they get nervous, the get surprised. Or get drunk. I half expected that when you said he had a beer at the start of chapter two actually. People over-react and do things they regret. Don't be afraid to show that people can be idiots. Unless this is somewhat of a self portrait. In which case.....no offence intended I'm talking objectively.
Similarly the 'pagan' thing with his grand-daughters seemed to come a bit too out of the blue as well. It's almost like you've missed out a section where he's describing them and mentions it.
Just a couple of thoughts. Take them as you will.
Jpdt19
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
LadyTevar wrote:Considering most Vets I know, pagan goddesses talking to them would be filed under "weird, but no one shooting at me" section.
I like this story, you have gotten the Appalachian mix of politeness and stubborness perfectly.
Yup most of us would be pretty blaise about it, granted that might be all the meds we take talking.
"There are very few problems that cannot be solved by the suitable application of photon torpedoes
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Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Don't render long passages in misspelled English as a way of showing that the speaker has an accent. Trust me, it never works.
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Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Well, Herbert explicitly stated right at the beginning that this isn't his first encounter with the supernatural, so I'll give him a pass on that one. She isn't, after all, attacking him, unlike whatever was in that Cambodian temple.jpdt19 wrote:
My first comment would be that Herbert seems to be a bit too blase about the whole 'supernatural' aspect of this. The story is quite fast moving, but you haven't really shown the reaction most people from the present day would display on meeting a damn goddess face to face.
Jpdt19
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Guys, just asking. Is this scene too much for the story and can be detrimental if I actually include it here?
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“ Ratri, look here at this guy. I asked those spirits and gods who I talked to that I want to see those memories, and it was awesome. Last time I saw someone fight like that was Oscar at Cath Gabhra”
I don’t know who Oscar is, or where Cath Gabhra is, but I saw the Indian goddess become really curious, looking at me in a new light. I shrugged, not really knowing where the Irish girl is going with this. Annan continued talking.
“You should have seen him in action. He took down a 4 meter tall, six armed asura with elemental blades in four moves, although it is the grenade he smashed into the asuras mouth that did the killing. And he did not keep his distance from the zombies. When he did not have time to change his magazines once he ran out of bullets, he bayoneted and smashed heads until he had space to reload. Never seen such skill with the bayonet ever since the United Irishmen rebellion. And with speed that impressed the spear masters watching along with me in that bar. He also did a number on that naga with his improvised rosary knuckles, which are made of plastic. Never heard anything scream that loudly in centuries, nor did my fellow viewers. And all of this is done while he shouting passages from the Christian Bible and prayers over and over again the whole night, the prayer echoing all around the place and making anything hostile in that temple experience a very painful migraine”
And that is what bugs me. What she is describing, what I remember is definitely Medal of Honor or DSC stuff, I think, but aside from that temple…I never fought anyone else like that, before or after. In the end, I only got a Vietnam Service Medal and a Purple Heart (the injuries I got to qualify for that one came from the prison temple and that sniper that shot at me when I was approaching a South Vietnamese unit the next day) from all those months in Vietnam. Where did that fighting ability of mine in that temple come from?
For the next 5 minutes I stood there, slowly getting more and more embarrassed by the minute as the Irish girl is telling more and more examples of what I did that night, with Ratri looking back at me from time to time with an expression that says ‘What on Earth?!’
I…did not have the heart to interrupt the Irish girl since I see that she is enjoying telling the story, and I did want to see if I remember things right. The most memorable part of that night is the terror, not the fight.
I had been separated from my platoon when we pursued the fleeing VC, and my compass is broken. I was thinking I am behind enemy lines and I only had half of my original ammo remaining. Lost for 3 hours I then stumbled upon a fence of barbed wire with a crumbling temple beyond it. I thought I had some shelter, instead I went into a literal hell.
After that...more terror than I had ever felt before and even up to now. And then I suddenly went into action.
I do remember most of what I did next but I still don’t believe I am capable of doing that.
I never imagined that I would rip pages from the Bible and slap them into the face of one six armed demon, nor did I imagine doing an uppercut at its balls it with a Catholic rosary as a knuckle as my next step and then smashing its teeth in with a grenade and pulling the pin out and slowly walked away to my gun as it blew up behind me.
Nor did I ever imagine shouting Psalm 23 and ‘Our Lord’s prayer’ over and over and over again the whole night, as I shoot zombies full of lead, bayonet giant snakes through the eyes and their jaw, smash jaws, and hit balls of magic with my rifle like it was a game of baseball and hitting them all the time (granted, those balls are as big as basketballs).
As I was wondering earlier, where did that fighting ability and other actions come from? Especially doing something so sacrilegious to something holy to my faith? (Or fellow worshippers in faith for the case of the rosary)
Anyways, I think I had been embarrassed enough so I politely asked Annan if she was finished talking about the past, because I want to talk about the specific things I will be doing for her as part of our contract.
“Oh. Sorry, I had gone too far off our topic. It’s just it was such an amazing topic to talk about while waiting for our destination, and really. The stuff you did, it is something heroes from many pantheons would be hard pressed to do”
“It is not me Annan. It is the US army teaching me how to fight and giving me the equipment to do so. The credit goes to them, really”
“They teach you to shout like a Norse berserker crossed with an Islamic jihadist during the whole fight? Or use holy objects as weapons even when they are not meant to be used as one? Like the Bible bludgeons?” Annan teased.
“You know what I mean kid” I glowered at her.
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comments?
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“ Ratri, look here at this guy. I asked those spirits and gods who I talked to that I want to see those memories, and it was awesome. Last time I saw someone fight like that was Oscar at Cath Gabhra”
I don’t know who Oscar is, or where Cath Gabhra is, but I saw the Indian goddess become really curious, looking at me in a new light. I shrugged, not really knowing where the Irish girl is going with this. Annan continued talking.
“You should have seen him in action. He took down a 4 meter tall, six armed asura with elemental blades in four moves, although it is the grenade he smashed into the asuras mouth that did the killing. And he did not keep his distance from the zombies. When he did not have time to change his magazines once he ran out of bullets, he bayoneted and smashed heads until he had space to reload. Never seen such skill with the bayonet ever since the United Irishmen rebellion. And with speed that impressed the spear masters watching along with me in that bar. He also did a number on that naga with his improvised rosary knuckles, which are made of plastic. Never heard anything scream that loudly in centuries, nor did my fellow viewers. And all of this is done while he shouting passages from the Christian Bible and prayers over and over again the whole night, the prayer echoing all around the place and making anything hostile in that temple experience a very painful migraine”
And that is what bugs me. What she is describing, what I remember is definitely Medal of Honor or DSC stuff, I think, but aside from that temple…I never fought anyone else like that, before or after. In the end, I only got a Vietnam Service Medal and a Purple Heart (the injuries I got to qualify for that one came from the prison temple and that sniper that shot at me when I was approaching a South Vietnamese unit the next day) from all those months in Vietnam. Where did that fighting ability of mine in that temple come from?
For the next 5 minutes I stood there, slowly getting more and more embarrassed by the minute as the Irish girl is telling more and more examples of what I did that night, with Ratri looking back at me from time to time with an expression that says ‘What on Earth?!’
I…did not have the heart to interrupt the Irish girl since I see that she is enjoying telling the story, and I did want to see if I remember things right. The most memorable part of that night is the terror, not the fight.
I had been separated from my platoon when we pursued the fleeing VC, and my compass is broken. I was thinking I am behind enemy lines and I only had half of my original ammo remaining. Lost for 3 hours I then stumbled upon a fence of barbed wire with a crumbling temple beyond it. I thought I had some shelter, instead I went into a literal hell.
After that...more terror than I had ever felt before and even up to now. And then I suddenly went into action.
I do remember most of what I did next but I still don’t believe I am capable of doing that.
I never imagined that I would rip pages from the Bible and slap them into the face of one six armed demon, nor did I imagine doing an uppercut at its balls it with a Catholic rosary as a knuckle as my next step and then smashing its teeth in with a grenade and pulling the pin out and slowly walked away to my gun as it blew up behind me.
Nor did I ever imagine shouting Psalm 23 and ‘Our Lord’s prayer’ over and over and over again the whole night, as I shoot zombies full of lead, bayonet giant snakes through the eyes and their jaw, smash jaws, and hit balls of magic with my rifle like it was a game of baseball and hitting them all the time (granted, those balls are as big as basketballs).
As I was wondering earlier, where did that fighting ability and other actions come from? Especially doing something so sacrilegious to something holy to my faith? (Or fellow worshippers in faith for the case of the rosary)
Anyways, I think I had been embarrassed enough so I politely asked Annan if she was finished talking about the past, because I want to talk about the specific things I will be doing for her as part of our contract.
“Oh. Sorry, I had gone too far off our topic. It’s just it was such an amazing topic to talk about while waiting for our destination, and really. The stuff you did, it is something heroes from many pantheons would be hard pressed to do”
“It is not me Annan. It is the US army teaching me how to fight and giving me the equipment to do so. The credit goes to them, really”
“They teach you to shout like a Norse berserker crossed with an Islamic jihadist during the whole fight? Or use holy objects as weapons even when they are not meant to be used as one? Like the Bible bludgeons?” Annan teased.
“You know what I mean kid” I glowered at her.
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comments?
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
That chapter was hilarious do keep it up.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
That is NOT a chapter Dwelf. That is just one scene from the next chapter. I'm just wondering if it is not too out of this world.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Sorry thats my tendancy to treat individual post with story as chapters it was jaring to start with but it does kinda fit into the story just where it is. Since it throws you out then adds in the details to connect the dots I just ended up assuming it was meant to be there. I don't really know what feel your going for so it's hard to say if it's too much. I liked it so I'd say keep it but if you were not aiming for some laughs and setup you might not want to keep it. Sure his reaction to being attacked by supernatural creatures is strange but since you show he knows that it seems more like an indication of more supernatural involvement to come.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Chapter 5
Today is the morning of April 14, the day when the Irish girl and Ratri will fetch me for this…adventure.
I am excited, I hate to admit. I mean…when was the last time I ever went out of Kentucky? Let me see…
It was when Mary was still alive, and we went to see the sights and sounds of New York City. Unfortunately, the date happened to be September 11, 2001, so…pretty bad memory all in all. It was even the reason why Mary died, according to the doctor, inhaling all that nasty stuff in the dust cloud and giving her breathing complications.
‘At least Mary died in her sleep, thank you God. No more hacking coughs and breathing problems for my dear wife to worry about up there in heaven’
Anyways, yeah, it is the first time in quite a while, and even the fact that I am going into certain danger is just adding to the thrill that I am feeling.
“Grandpa, have you packed away everything you might need for your hunting trip?” Regina calls out to me from outside the home. I turn away from the calendar towards the table to see if I had gathered everything I might need for a trip in order.
‘Hmm…the SKS with a bayonet is looking good…all 20 clips are fully loaded…two 640rd. boxes of 7.62 by 39 bullets…my M7 bayonet I had from Vietnam and it’s sheathe…there’s the lighter…a SureFireflashlight and a box of batteries from the same company…5 cans of sardines…a 1 liter water bottle…2 DBDU and 2 M81 BDU, all military surplus…two changes of underwear…two pairs of socks…a poncho…a snorkel parka… a Gore-Tex bivouac sack and finally…’
I stop my thoughts and look up at the mounts above the door
‘the replica of ‘Annie’ that Ratri made up while I lent it to her. Check’
Good.
Seeing that I have all I could need for an extended adventure besides what those goddesses would provide me, and that everything at home seems to be in order, I quickly pack everything else except the SKS into the backpack, carry the backpack and the rifle on my shoulders and then walk out of the door.
Annie and Regina were both there waiting for me to come out, dressed in quite pretty clothes. It just so happens that both Regina and Annie are also going out this same day to Louisville, to visit Annie’s parents. Regina also said that she plans to visit her coven at the same time to fix her ties with those she had pissed off.
“Well girls, are you both sure you got everything you need for your trip to Louisville? No cell phones or wallets forgotten?”
“Yes grandpa.” Both girls chorus like little angels with smiling faces.
“Good. And don’t forget to lock the house up, alright? Be careful on your way to Louisville girls. And finally, say hello to Fiona and Arnold for me.”
“Same goes for you too grandpa. Are you sure YOU have everything you might need?” Regina asks me.
“Not to mention are you ok carrying all those things over a long, long way over to Alaska?” Annie asks like the good girl that Fiona is bragging to me about.
I waved her concern away. “Well, 2 weeks ago I was also thinking the same thing. But when I worked out in the gym at Hazard, it turned out I can still do as much physical activity as a 30 year old man. When I get back, I will tell you the story about that. I assure you, it is funny. Well then, bye girls. See you soon.” I smiled and waved at them walking down the road towards town. I look back at my granddaughters upon hearing them yell ‘goodbye and good luck.’
I sincerely hope this is not the last time I ever saw them.
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It was an hour already after I took leave of my granddaughters. When I had reached State Highway 1387, I followed it down to Buckhorn Dam and then left the road at the point where the highway went on top of the dam towards the east. I instead went south, making my way through the forest and keeping sight of Buckhorn Lake until I reached a rocky river bank that is within sight of Buckhorn Lake State Resort.
I sit down on one of the larger stones, leaning on my new SKS and wait.
An hour had passed (I knew this because I had a watch on my wrist that says it is 10 in the morning already) before anything happened.
Of all things to announce her coming, the Irish girl chooses the ringing of a telephone. And the strangeness of her announcement does not stop there. The sound is coming from the WATER.
I look at the water surface and I saw rainbow colored light coming out from under the water. As I watch, it slowly grew until it was around 3 meters in diameter. And then the water in the area of the circle of light parts apart like…like that old Cecil B. DeMille movie ‘The Ten Commandments”. When the water parted completely from the circle, there came the sound of an operating elevator. The figures of both Annan and Ratri slowly comes up from this elevator made of rainbow colored light.
I see that for them, this is quite the formal…make that very formal occasion. I feel a little bit embarrassed that I am only dressed in a military surplus M81 BDU and combat boots.
Annan is dressed in a costume Regina once showed me as an introduction to her neo-pagan religion. Regina’s costume is two long white rectangular pieces of linen sewn together, a sleeveless dress basically, with a belt that is not made from leather but is woven together and a cloak with fringes and bright borders. But Regina’s dress is a pale imitation of what Annan is wearing today.
Annan is wearing a shining gold colored sleeveless dress with black circular patterns that looks like plants, particularly vines, and her cloak is…well, if I remember correctly, I think the colors are of the modern Irish flag, if you ignore the golden colored fringes, the borders and spirals. But the colors are not simply printed like those sold in department stores, they are dyed into the cloth itself, and the colors are…sublime is the only word to describe it. And the patterns are… are making me see scenes of a distant past in my mind, people clothed in animal skins dancing and worshipping stones which look like Stonehenge with the same spiral patterns on them.
I soon snap out of the hallucination (or is it?) in a few seconds.
She is also wearing a strange golden necklace. If it is a necklace, I think it was the thickest one I have ever seen…actually, I think it looks more like a ring than a necklace with its design. The only difference is in its size and that it is more like a C-shaped piece of metal. And the vine patterns are also present on the necklace. And she is still wearing those sandals of hers that looks like it is made of woven rope.
Ratri on the other hand, is wearing a sari (I asked Annie what is that famous Indian dress called. She told me it was a sari). And…oh my…that is…interesting.
She is wearing a sari that is as black as night, filled with silver spots that I think must represent the stars since it does look like the night time sky every time I look up at the stars.
Actually, if I didn’t know better…I feel like I AM looking at the night sky through the sari and yet I still know that I am looking at a cloth, which makes it obvious I am looking at something with magic here.
But that is not what is interesting with what she is wearing. What is interesting is she is not wearing anything else under the sari.
Yeah, you can see the outline of her nipples through the clothing (I am not sure either how I can see it through black colored fabric. Maybe it is because the fabric is a little too thin) and it is obvious that she has no panties either, looking at the way the sari sticks closely to her thighs. But contrary to expectations, I don’t feel my hormones acting up. I actually feel like I am looking at something as sublime as…the night sky. It is like Ratri is the night personified.
Aside from the sari, she is also wearing a big, heavy looking necklace made of gold that is long enough to rest between her breasts and a golden waist chain, and she is bare footed. Compared to when I first met her, she is dressed much more simply but is more beautiful for doing so.
‘I wish Mary wore something like that during the honeymoon. That would make the event more… special than it already is. Hehehe’
Then the moment of sublimity is broken by the sound an elevator makes when it stops at a floor.
Well, it is time for business.
I smiled and stand up from the stone I was sitting on.
“Hello Ratri, kid. What took you so long?” Annan’s eyebrow twitches while Ratri looks away and hid her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to stifle her giggle. Annan turns to Ratri with a betrayed expression to which Ratri answered by saying “It’s really funny!”
“Actually, I am also not comfortable with the lights Mr. Ward. Here, another pair of sunglasses for you. The ride will take about 15 minutes, give or take a few seconds” and she hands me a pair of sunglasses by reaching into her sari…like what you see if you put your hand in the water. Ignoring the weirdness, I quickly but politely take the pair of sunglasses from her hand, put them on, and everything is all right with my eyesight. Annan just looked away and sighs. Then she turns to me “Just making sure we had everything in order. So, are you ready for the adventure of your life?” She changes her tone at the start of the second sentence, from being exasperated to being excited.
“What adventure?” I said while navigating my way through the rocky riverside towards their magical elevator. “This is just a job in exchange for getting my granddaughters miserable luck washed away. Not really too different as the time when I was drafted to fight in Vietnam. After this, I am going to go back to my normal life and live normally until the day I die.”
“Normal? Well…Mr. Ward, once someone deals with the supernatural, one can never go back to a normal life. It is inevitable that weird shit will happen again at least once in a human’s life once they have been touched by the supernatural. Tell me, dealing with me is the second time in your life you are in contact with the supernatural, right?”
“Do you know something about my past, Annan?” I asked curiously as I step down onto the magical elevator after wading through ankle deep water.
“Well, you would not believe who has known about you before, and you will not believe how thankful they are for you taking out a whole temple of their problems” Annan said as she snaps her fingers and the elevator started going to…somewhere.
We slowly descend while above us, the sky is closed up by the water, and then slowly became the same rainbow colored light as the elevator I am in, as well as the sides of the elevator. I really don’t want to describe it since my eyes are hurting from the sheer brightness of the colors.
A few seconds pass and I can’t take it anymore.
“Ratri, just how long are we going to be traveling on this elevator? The light is…to be frank, it hurts my eyes.” I turn to her, finding her wearing…sunglasses?
“Thanks Ratri. So, Annan, what do you know about Cambodia?” I ask, curious about how she knew about that cursed temple.
“I asked around the folks in Indochina about you and I got this story, with the locals talking about it while having drinks, about an American soldier who in the heat of a night time battle with the Vietcong got lost in the Cambodian jungle and stumbled upon a Buddhist temple that had been the source of so many headaches for every supernatural being in Indochina for…since the fall of Rome.”
“I have been wondering all these years” I ask, finally knowing that I can get answers about that episode of my life “what the hell is that place for? It is a temple, and yet it is full of walking stinking corpses and reptile like monsters and…human shaped monsters. Isn’t a temple, supposed to be…you know…holy, at least to someone?”
“You should ask Ratri. She is part of the Indian pantheon, and the younger generation of her pantheon are the ones who are originally supposed to be responsible for the place.” I look at Ratri, who is listening in surprise by this sudden turn in the conversation.
Flustered, Ratri answers “Well, like she said, it was the younger gods who really know that place, but the story I got is that the temple you stumbled upon is originally a Hindu temple, but it was converted into a prison for…believe it or not, extremists from the supernatural communities of Indochina and India between 10 BC and 10 AD in an agreement between the two groups.”
“Extremists? As in…suicide bombing types of extremists?”
“More like the Ku Klux Klan, Nazis and Jack the Ripper types,persons even the Asuras think are crazy or too nasty to tolerate, and that is something that tells you how crazy the imprisoned people are. It was well guarded, but eventually, around the start of the Middle Ages, there was a prison riot, the imprisoned crazies got out, but were contained and quarantined in a roughly 3 square kilometer area by roughly every ancestral spirit, boddhisatva and god in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Burma. The political fallout…was bad, since it was supposed to be us Indians who are responsible for security. Even Buddhist deities from Indochina who are supposed to not feel any desire for the world are asking questions like it was a US Senate committee because the inhabitants of the village around the temple were all turned into those zombies you killed. It was not until the 1400’s that the Indochinese supernatural community are on speaking terms again with us Indians.”
“So basically you are saying I stumbled upon the Indian pantheon’s Guantanamo bay slash Alcatraz, except it was one that was taken over by the prisoners in a prison outbreak…and I killed them all? Uhh…how am I still alive? No…let me take it step by step. How did I get there in the first place and why is there a Vietcong encampment near it if it is quarantined by gods AND spirits?” I was at this point bewildered by these questions about my past.
“Well, the rules used for getting the locals to stay away from the area is that some of the Cambodian and Vietnamese ancestor spirits guarding the area would haunt, spook and even slightly hurt anyone who gets within 500 meters of the 3 square kilometer quarantine zone. If you are not near enough, they don’t do anything. The VC encampment is 1 kilometer away from the quarantine area so they didn’t get bothered, and the encampment is there because the village that is near the prison asked, no begged for the presence of the VC, thinking that it might scare away the ghosts. It did not work, many VC guerrillas got sent back to North Vietnam gibbering in terror because of…overzealousness on the part of the Cambodian spirits, which the Vietnamese complained about of course. In the end, the Vietcong started turning away everyone from the area and turned into the mortal security force guarding the area. As a result, the guards at the temple relaxed their anti-mortal security around two months before you stumbled upon the temple prison.”
“So, I got in there because of a lapse in security? Damn. Next question: I understand how I could kill zombies, you see it in the movies all the time, but I don’t understand how I managed to kill demons and crazy gods.”
“That’s easy.” Annan answers me. Looking at her, she asks me “The spirits and gods guarding the temple lent you a helping hand because it was a chance to finally kill everything inside for once and for all without any risk on their part, but I was told by those who are there that it was not much really, aside from instantly making new ammunition and grenades on your person, putting a lot of magic into every bullet you shot and grenade you threw, and into your gun and bayonet so it would not break while you are fighting in melee and giving you a temporary ESP to counter any attacks from where you could not see them coming from. Oh, and putting that rosary you used as a knuckle into your hands and those Bibles you used as a bludgeon.”
That’s all? At the time when I was fighting in that temple, I was convinced God, or at least somebody is helping me and controlling my body. Now that she is telling me that…that is all those spirits and gods helped me with…then that means…
“Ratri, look here at this guy. I asked those spirits and gods who I talked to that I want to see those memories, and it was awesome. The last time I saw someone fight like that was Oscar at Cath Gabhra.”
I don’t know who Oscar is, or where Cath Gabhra is, but I saw the Indian goddess become really curious, looking at me in a new light. I shrug, not really knowing where the Irish girl is going with this. Annan continued talking.
“You should have seen him in action. He took down a 4 meter tall, six armed asura with elemental blades in four moves, although it is the grenade he smashed into the asura’s mouth that did the killing. And he did not keep his distance from the zombies. When he did not have time to change his magazines once he ran out of bullets, he bayoneted and smashed heads until he had space to reload. I have never seen such skill with the bayonet ever since the United Irishmen rebellion. And with a speed that impressed the spear masters watching along with me in that bar. He also did a number on that naga with his improvised rosary knuckles, which are made of plastic. Never heard anything scream that loudly in centuries, nor did my fellow viewers. And all of this is done while he shouting passages from the Christian Bible and prayers over and over again the whole night, the prayer echoing all around the place and making anything hostile in that temple experience a very painful migraine.”
And that is what bugs me. What she is describing, what I remember is definitely Medal of Honor or DSC stuff, I think, but aside from that temple…I never fought anyone else like that, before or after. In the end, I only got a Vietnam Service Medal and a Purple Heart (the injuries I got to qualify for that one came from the prison temple and that sniper that shot at me when I was approaching a South Vietnamese unit the next day) from all those months in Vietnam. Where did that fighting ability of mine in that temple come from?
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For the next 5 minutes I stand there, slowly getting more and more embarrassed by the minute as the Irish girl is telling more and more examples of what I did that night, with Ratri looking back at me from time to time with an expression that says ‘What on Earth?!’
I just did not have the heart to interrupt the Irish girl since I see that she is enjoying telling the story, and I did want to see if I remember things right. The most memorable part of that night is the terror, not the fight.
I had been separated from my platoon when we pursued the fleeing VC, and my compass is broken. I thought I am behind enemy lines and I only had half of my original ammo remaining. Lost for 3 hours I then stumbled upon a fence of barbed wire with a crumbling temple beyond it. I thought I had some shelter, instead I went into a literal hell.
After that...more terror than I had ever felt before and even up to now. And then I suddenly went into action.
I do remember most of what I did next but I still don’t believe I am capable of doing that.
I never imagined that I would rip pages from the Bible and slap them into the face of one six armed demon, nor did I imagine doing an uppercut at its balls it with a Catholic rosary as a knuckle as my next step and then smashing its teeth in with a grenade and pulling the pin out and slowly walked away to my gun as it blew up behind me.
Nor did I ever imagined shouting Psalm 23 and ‘Our Lord’s prayer’ over and over and over again the whole night, as I shoot zombies full of lead, bayonet giant snakes through the eyes and their jaw, smash jaws, and hit balls of magic with my rifle like it was a game of baseball and hitting them all the time (granted, those balls are as big as basketballs).
As I was wondering earlier, where did that fighting ability and other actions come from? Especially doing something so sacrilegious to something holy to my faith? (Or fellow worshippers in faith for the case of the rosary)
Anyways, I think I feel embarrassed enough so I politely ask Annan if she is finished talking about the past, because I want to talk about the specific things I will be doing for her as part of our contract.
“Oh. Sorry, I have gone too far off our topic. It’s just it was such an amazing topic to talk about while waiting for our destination, and really. The stuff you did, it is something heroes from many pantheons would be hard pressed to do.”
“It is not me Annan. It is the US army teaching me how to fight and giving me the equipment to do so. The credit goes to them, really.”
“They teach you to shout like a Norse berserker crossed with an Islamic jihadist during the whole fight? Or use holy objects as weapons even when they are not meant to be used as one?” Annan teases me.
“You know what I mean kid.” I glower at her.
“Alright, alright. Back on topic. This is how it is going to work. I am going to repay my debts and owed favors to 6 particular people. I will repay it in the form of doing a favor for them in return. Your job is to go along with me and fight alongside me if and only if we got into a battle.”
“Ok. I get it. How about these…companions that Ratri talked about?”
“Well, they are other humans who also happened to be my, Ratri’s and Daesun’s worshippers when they are alive who will be going along with us on this trip. Don’t worry about them not pulling their weight because I assure you all of them have been veterans of wars when they are alive.”
“All of them war vets when they are still alive…that doesn’t mean killed in action does it? Because that does not really tell me that they are really good at fighting.”
“Trust me, except for one, all of them died fighting hard.”
“Well…if that is the case…can we even have a conversation? I know Ratri is an Indian, therefore her worshipper is an Indian. And where did Daesun come from? At least I am sure your man can speak English.”
“I’ll just have some magic that will translate languages up and running.”
I nod in approval. Let me see…what else did I forget to touch upon…weapons! Equipment!
“Ratri, what happened to ‘Annie’, my family heirloom?” I turn to the goddess on my other side.
“Me, Annan and Daesun upgraded ‘Annie’ with lots of magical spells. And now, I can assure you that ‘Annie’ will be a gun that you can take with you to World War 3 and win.”
I raise my eyebrows at that boast. “I do hope nothing you did to ‘Annie’ is permanent if you can make that boast. And World War 3 will be fought with more powerful weapons than a magical muzzle loading rifle.”
“Like I said 2 weeks ago, any magic can be quickly unmade by the one who made it. And even if it is not the one who cast the magic, it is just a matter of time and effort before you can uninstall any kind of magic.”
“Good. How about equipment? I brought a lot of outdoor gear in anticipation of a long mission without the comforts of civilization.”
Ratri looked at Annan upon me asking that question. I look towards the Irish girl for the answers, who is giving me a confused look.
She answers “You mean you did not bring that backpack and that rifle to keep up appearances to your granddaughters? And can you give Ratri that rifle? And the ammo too. One of your companions will need that after we are done giving it magic.”
I absentmindedly give the SKS to Ratri, a little concerned that it seems like the organizer of this job has not considered everything about this job she is organizing.
“I was thinking of using the SKS and the ammunition I bought as a backup weapon in case I need it. But I really do think I need my clothing, canned food and outdoors equipment for your mission, and if these companions of yours really are veterans worth their salt, they will also bring their own outdoor gear.”
Annan blinks. And then she asks me what part of ‘used to be alive’ did I not get. The explanation I got after that seems to indicate that a better description of my companions would be souls who had the concept of ‘solid’ applied to them. A lot harder to send them back to their respective afterlives that way. So there is no need to bring food and shelter when you could sleep on the ground.
“But I am still alive. I need the food and shelter you know?” I interject.
Ratri also had her own stuff to say. “Annie, you did not say that is the plan. Me and Daesun resurrected our guys. And I am sure Lieu Hanh also fully resurrected her soldiers.”
The Irish girl looked at both of us, openmouthed, and then facepalms.
Confidence…slowly…dropping to zero.
Today is the morning of April 14, the day when the Irish girl and Ratri will fetch me for this…adventure.
I am excited, I hate to admit. I mean…when was the last time I ever went out of Kentucky? Let me see…
It was when Mary was still alive, and we went to see the sights and sounds of New York City. Unfortunately, the date happened to be September 11, 2001, so…pretty bad memory all in all. It was even the reason why Mary died, according to the doctor, inhaling all that nasty stuff in the dust cloud and giving her breathing complications.
‘At least Mary died in her sleep, thank you God. No more hacking coughs and breathing problems for my dear wife to worry about up there in heaven’
Anyways, yeah, it is the first time in quite a while, and even the fact that I am going into certain danger is just adding to the thrill that I am feeling.
“Grandpa, have you packed away everything you might need for your hunting trip?” Regina calls out to me from outside the home. I turn away from the calendar towards the table to see if I had gathered everything I might need for a trip in order.
‘Hmm…the SKS with a bayonet is looking good…all 20 clips are fully loaded…two 640rd. boxes of 7.62 by 39 bullets…my M7 bayonet I had from Vietnam and it’s sheathe…there’s the lighter…a SureFireflashlight and a box of batteries from the same company…5 cans of sardines…a 1 liter water bottle…2 DBDU and 2 M81 BDU, all military surplus…two changes of underwear…two pairs of socks…a poncho…a snorkel parka… a Gore-Tex bivouac sack and finally…’
I stop my thoughts and look up at the mounts above the door
‘the replica of ‘Annie’ that Ratri made up while I lent it to her. Check’
Good.
Seeing that I have all I could need for an extended adventure besides what those goddesses would provide me, and that everything at home seems to be in order, I quickly pack everything else except the SKS into the backpack, carry the backpack and the rifle on my shoulders and then walk out of the door.
Annie and Regina were both there waiting for me to come out, dressed in quite pretty clothes. It just so happens that both Regina and Annie are also going out this same day to Louisville, to visit Annie’s parents. Regina also said that she plans to visit her coven at the same time to fix her ties with those she had pissed off.
“Well girls, are you both sure you got everything you need for your trip to Louisville? No cell phones or wallets forgotten?”
“Yes grandpa.” Both girls chorus like little angels with smiling faces.
“Good. And don’t forget to lock the house up, alright? Be careful on your way to Louisville girls. And finally, say hello to Fiona and Arnold for me.”
“Same goes for you too grandpa. Are you sure YOU have everything you might need?” Regina asks me.
“Not to mention are you ok carrying all those things over a long, long way over to Alaska?” Annie asks like the good girl that Fiona is bragging to me about.
I waved her concern away. “Well, 2 weeks ago I was also thinking the same thing. But when I worked out in the gym at Hazard, it turned out I can still do as much physical activity as a 30 year old man. When I get back, I will tell you the story about that. I assure you, it is funny. Well then, bye girls. See you soon.” I smiled and waved at them walking down the road towards town. I look back at my granddaughters upon hearing them yell ‘goodbye and good luck.’
I sincerely hope this is not the last time I ever saw them.
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It was an hour already after I took leave of my granddaughters. When I had reached State Highway 1387, I followed it down to Buckhorn Dam and then left the road at the point where the highway went on top of the dam towards the east. I instead went south, making my way through the forest and keeping sight of Buckhorn Lake until I reached a rocky river bank that is within sight of Buckhorn Lake State Resort.
I sit down on one of the larger stones, leaning on my new SKS and wait.
An hour had passed (I knew this because I had a watch on my wrist that says it is 10 in the morning already) before anything happened.
Of all things to announce her coming, the Irish girl chooses the ringing of a telephone. And the strangeness of her announcement does not stop there. The sound is coming from the WATER.
I look at the water surface and I saw rainbow colored light coming out from under the water. As I watch, it slowly grew until it was around 3 meters in diameter. And then the water in the area of the circle of light parts apart like…like that old Cecil B. DeMille movie ‘The Ten Commandments”. When the water parted completely from the circle, there came the sound of an operating elevator. The figures of both Annan and Ratri slowly comes up from this elevator made of rainbow colored light.
I see that for them, this is quite the formal…make that very formal occasion. I feel a little bit embarrassed that I am only dressed in a military surplus M81 BDU and combat boots.
Annan is dressed in a costume Regina once showed me as an introduction to her neo-pagan religion. Regina’s costume is two long white rectangular pieces of linen sewn together, a sleeveless dress basically, with a belt that is not made from leather but is woven together and a cloak with fringes and bright borders. But Regina’s dress is a pale imitation of what Annan is wearing today.
Annan is wearing a shining gold colored sleeveless dress with black circular patterns that looks like plants, particularly vines, and her cloak is…well, if I remember correctly, I think the colors are of the modern Irish flag, if you ignore the golden colored fringes, the borders and spirals. But the colors are not simply printed like those sold in department stores, they are dyed into the cloth itself, and the colors are…sublime is the only word to describe it. And the patterns are… are making me see scenes of a distant past in my mind, people clothed in animal skins dancing and worshipping stones which look like Stonehenge with the same spiral patterns on them.
I soon snap out of the hallucination (or is it?) in a few seconds.
She is also wearing a strange golden necklace. If it is a necklace, I think it was the thickest one I have ever seen…actually, I think it looks more like a ring than a necklace with its design. The only difference is in its size and that it is more like a C-shaped piece of metal. And the vine patterns are also present on the necklace. And she is still wearing those sandals of hers that looks like it is made of woven rope.
Ratri on the other hand, is wearing a sari (I asked Annie what is that famous Indian dress called. She told me it was a sari). And…oh my…that is…interesting.
She is wearing a sari that is as black as night, filled with silver spots that I think must represent the stars since it does look like the night time sky every time I look up at the stars.
Actually, if I didn’t know better…I feel like I AM looking at the night sky through the sari and yet I still know that I am looking at a cloth, which makes it obvious I am looking at something with magic here.
But that is not what is interesting with what she is wearing. What is interesting is she is not wearing anything else under the sari.
Yeah, you can see the outline of her nipples through the clothing (I am not sure either how I can see it through black colored fabric. Maybe it is because the fabric is a little too thin) and it is obvious that she has no panties either, looking at the way the sari sticks closely to her thighs. But contrary to expectations, I don’t feel my hormones acting up. I actually feel like I am looking at something as sublime as…the night sky. It is like Ratri is the night personified.
Aside from the sari, she is also wearing a big, heavy looking necklace made of gold that is long enough to rest between her breasts and a golden waist chain, and she is bare footed. Compared to when I first met her, she is dressed much more simply but is more beautiful for doing so.
‘I wish Mary wore something like that during the honeymoon. That would make the event more… special than it already is. Hehehe’
Then the moment of sublimity is broken by the sound an elevator makes when it stops at a floor.
Well, it is time for business.
I smiled and stand up from the stone I was sitting on.
“Hello Ratri, kid. What took you so long?” Annan’s eyebrow twitches while Ratri looks away and hid her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to stifle her giggle. Annan turns to Ratri with a betrayed expression to which Ratri answered by saying “It’s really funny!”
“Actually, I am also not comfortable with the lights Mr. Ward. Here, another pair of sunglasses for you. The ride will take about 15 minutes, give or take a few seconds” and she hands me a pair of sunglasses by reaching into her sari…like what you see if you put your hand in the water. Ignoring the weirdness, I quickly but politely take the pair of sunglasses from her hand, put them on, and everything is all right with my eyesight. Annan just looked away and sighs. Then she turns to me “Just making sure we had everything in order. So, are you ready for the adventure of your life?” She changes her tone at the start of the second sentence, from being exasperated to being excited.
“What adventure?” I said while navigating my way through the rocky riverside towards their magical elevator. “This is just a job in exchange for getting my granddaughters miserable luck washed away. Not really too different as the time when I was drafted to fight in Vietnam. After this, I am going to go back to my normal life and live normally until the day I die.”
“Normal? Well…Mr. Ward, once someone deals with the supernatural, one can never go back to a normal life. It is inevitable that weird shit will happen again at least once in a human’s life once they have been touched by the supernatural. Tell me, dealing with me is the second time in your life you are in contact with the supernatural, right?”
“Do you know something about my past, Annan?” I asked curiously as I step down onto the magical elevator after wading through ankle deep water.
“Well, you would not believe who has known about you before, and you will not believe how thankful they are for you taking out a whole temple of their problems” Annan said as she snaps her fingers and the elevator started going to…somewhere.
We slowly descend while above us, the sky is closed up by the water, and then slowly became the same rainbow colored light as the elevator I am in, as well as the sides of the elevator. I really don’t want to describe it since my eyes are hurting from the sheer brightness of the colors.
A few seconds pass and I can’t take it anymore.
“Ratri, just how long are we going to be traveling on this elevator? The light is…to be frank, it hurts my eyes.” I turn to her, finding her wearing…sunglasses?
“Thanks Ratri. So, Annan, what do you know about Cambodia?” I ask, curious about how she knew about that cursed temple.
“I asked around the folks in Indochina about you and I got this story, with the locals talking about it while having drinks, about an American soldier who in the heat of a night time battle with the Vietcong got lost in the Cambodian jungle and stumbled upon a Buddhist temple that had been the source of so many headaches for every supernatural being in Indochina for…since the fall of Rome.”
“I have been wondering all these years” I ask, finally knowing that I can get answers about that episode of my life “what the hell is that place for? It is a temple, and yet it is full of walking stinking corpses and reptile like monsters and…human shaped monsters. Isn’t a temple, supposed to be…you know…holy, at least to someone?”
“You should ask Ratri. She is part of the Indian pantheon, and the younger generation of her pantheon are the ones who are originally supposed to be responsible for the place.” I look at Ratri, who is listening in surprise by this sudden turn in the conversation.
Flustered, Ratri answers “Well, like she said, it was the younger gods who really know that place, but the story I got is that the temple you stumbled upon is originally a Hindu temple, but it was converted into a prison for…believe it or not, extremists from the supernatural communities of Indochina and India between 10 BC and 10 AD in an agreement between the two groups.”
“Extremists? As in…suicide bombing types of extremists?”
“More like the Ku Klux Klan, Nazis and Jack the Ripper types,persons even the Asuras think are crazy or too nasty to tolerate, and that is something that tells you how crazy the imprisoned people are. It was well guarded, but eventually, around the start of the Middle Ages, there was a prison riot, the imprisoned crazies got out, but were contained and quarantined in a roughly 3 square kilometer area by roughly every ancestral spirit, boddhisatva and god in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Burma. The political fallout…was bad, since it was supposed to be us Indians who are responsible for security. Even Buddhist deities from Indochina who are supposed to not feel any desire for the world are asking questions like it was a US Senate committee because the inhabitants of the village around the temple were all turned into those zombies you killed. It was not until the 1400’s that the Indochinese supernatural community are on speaking terms again with us Indians.”
“So basically you are saying I stumbled upon the Indian pantheon’s Guantanamo bay slash Alcatraz, except it was one that was taken over by the prisoners in a prison outbreak…and I killed them all? Uhh…how am I still alive? No…let me take it step by step. How did I get there in the first place and why is there a Vietcong encampment near it if it is quarantined by gods AND spirits?” I was at this point bewildered by these questions about my past.
“Well, the rules used for getting the locals to stay away from the area is that some of the Cambodian and Vietnamese ancestor spirits guarding the area would haunt, spook and even slightly hurt anyone who gets within 500 meters of the 3 square kilometer quarantine zone. If you are not near enough, they don’t do anything. The VC encampment is 1 kilometer away from the quarantine area so they didn’t get bothered, and the encampment is there because the village that is near the prison asked, no begged for the presence of the VC, thinking that it might scare away the ghosts. It did not work, many VC guerrillas got sent back to North Vietnam gibbering in terror because of…overzealousness on the part of the Cambodian spirits, which the Vietnamese complained about of course. In the end, the Vietcong started turning away everyone from the area and turned into the mortal security force guarding the area. As a result, the guards at the temple relaxed their anti-mortal security around two months before you stumbled upon the temple prison.”
“So, I got in there because of a lapse in security? Damn. Next question: I understand how I could kill zombies, you see it in the movies all the time, but I don’t understand how I managed to kill demons and crazy gods.”
“That’s easy.” Annan answers me. Looking at her, she asks me “The spirits and gods guarding the temple lent you a helping hand because it was a chance to finally kill everything inside for once and for all without any risk on their part, but I was told by those who are there that it was not much really, aside from instantly making new ammunition and grenades on your person, putting a lot of magic into every bullet you shot and grenade you threw, and into your gun and bayonet so it would not break while you are fighting in melee and giving you a temporary ESP to counter any attacks from where you could not see them coming from. Oh, and putting that rosary you used as a knuckle into your hands and those Bibles you used as a bludgeon.”
That’s all? At the time when I was fighting in that temple, I was convinced God, or at least somebody is helping me and controlling my body. Now that she is telling me that…that is all those spirits and gods helped me with…then that means…
“Ratri, look here at this guy. I asked those spirits and gods who I talked to that I want to see those memories, and it was awesome. The last time I saw someone fight like that was Oscar at Cath Gabhra.”
I don’t know who Oscar is, or where Cath Gabhra is, but I saw the Indian goddess become really curious, looking at me in a new light. I shrug, not really knowing where the Irish girl is going with this. Annan continued talking.
“You should have seen him in action. He took down a 4 meter tall, six armed asura with elemental blades in four moves, although it is the grenade he smashed into the asura’s mouth that did the killing. And he did not keep his distance from the zombies. When he did not have time to change his magazines once he ran out of bullets, he bayoneted and smashed heads until he had space to reload. I have never seen such skill with the bayonet ever since the United Irishmen rebellion. And with a speed that impressed the spear masters watching along with me in that bar. He also did a number on that naga with his improvised rosary knuckles, which are made of plastic. Never heard anything scream that loudly in centuries, nor did my fellow viewers. And all of this is done while he shouting passages from the Christian Bible and prayers over and over again the whole night, the prayer echoing all around the place and making anything hostile in that temple experience a very painful migraine.”
And that is what bugs me. What she is describing, what I remember is definitely Medal of Honor or DSC stuff, I think, but aside from that temple…I never fought anyone else like that, before or after. In the end, I only got a Vietnam Service Medal and a Purple Heart (the injuries I got to qualify for that one came from the prison temple and that sniper that shot at me when I was approaching a South Vietnamese unit the next day) from all those months in Vietnam. Where did that fighting ability of mine in that temple come from?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For the next 5 minutes I stand there, slowly getting more and more embarrassed by the minute as the Irish girl is telling more and more examples of what I did that night, with Ratri looking back at me from time to time with an expression that says ‘What on Earth?!’
I just did not have the heart to interrupt the Irish girl since I see that she is enjoying telling the story, and I did want to see if I remember things right. The most memorable part of that night is the terror, not the fight.
I had been separated from my platoon when we pursued the fleeing VC, and my compass is broken. I thought I am behind enemy lines and I only had half of my original ammo remaining. Lost for 3 hours I then stumbled upon a fence of barbed wire with a crumbling temple beyond it. I thought I had some shelter, instead I went into a literal hell.
After that...more terror than I had ever felt before and even up to now. And then I suddenly went into action.
I do remember most of what I did next but I still don’t believe I am capable of doing that.
I never imagined that I would rip pages from the Bible and slap them into the face of one six armed demon, nor did I imagine doing an uppercut at its balls it with a Catholic rosary as a knuckle as my next step and then smashing its teeth in with a grenade and pulling the pin out and slowly walked away to my gun as it blew up behind me.
Nor did I ever imagined shouting Psalm 23 and ‘Our Lord’s prayer’ over and over and over again the whole night, as I shoot zombies full of lead, bayonet giant snakes through the eyes and their jaw, smash jaws, and hit balls of magic with my rifle like it was a game of baseball and hitting them all the time (granted, those balls are as big as basketballs).
As I was wondering earlier, where did that fighting ability and other actions come from? Especially doing something so sacrilegious to something holy to my faith? (Or fellow worshippers in faith for the case of the rosary)
Anyways, I think I feel embarrassed enough so I politely ask Annan if she is finished talking about the past, because I want to talk about the specific things I will be doing for her as part of our contract.
“Oh. Sorry, I have gone too far off our topic. It’s just it was such an amazing topic to talk about while waiting for our destination, and really. The stuff you did, it is something heroes from many pantheons would be hard pressed to do.”
“It is not me Annan. It is the US army teaching me how to fight and giving me the equipment to do so. The credit goes to them, really.”
“They teach you to shout like a Norse berserker crossed with an Islamic jihadist during the whole fight? Or use holy objects as weapons even when they are not meant to be used as one?” Annan teases me.
“You know what I mean kid.” I glower at her.
“Alright, alright. Back on topic. This is how it is going to work. I am going to repay my debts and owed favors to 6 particular people. I will repay it in the form of doing a favor for them in return. Your job is to go along with me and fight alongside me if and only if we got into a battle.”
“Ok. I get it. How about these…companions that Ratri talked about?”
“Well, they are other humans who also happened to be my, Ratri’s and Daesun’s worshippers when they are alive who will be going along with us on this trip. Don’t worry about them not pulling their weight because I assure you all of them have been veterans of wars when they are alive.”
“All of them war vets when they are still alive…that doesn’t mean killed in action does it? Because that does not really tell me that they are really good at fighting.”
“Trust me, except for one, all of them died fighting hard.”
“Well…if that is the case…can we even have a conversation? I know Ratri is an Indian, therefore her worshipper is an Indian. And where did Daesun come from? At least I am sure your man can speak English.”
“I’ll just have some magic that will translate languages up and running.”
I nod in approval. Let me see…what else did I forget to touch upon…weapons! Equipment!
“Ratri, what happened to ‘Annie’, my family heirloom?” I turn to the goddess on my other side.
“Me, Annan and Daesun upgraded ‘Annie’ with lots of magical spells. And now, I can assure you that ‘Annie’ will be a gun that you can take with you to World War 3 and win.”
I raise my eyebrows at that boast. “I do hope nothing you did to ‘Annie’ is permanent if you can make that boast. And World War 3 will be fought with more powerful weapons than a magical muzzle loading rifle.”
“Like I said 2 weeks ago, any magic can be quickly unmade by the one who made it. And even if it is not the one who cast the magic, it is just a matter of time and effort before you can uninstall any kind of magic.”
“Good. How about equipment? I brought a lot of outdoor gear in anticipation of a long mission without the comforts of civilization.”
Ratri looked at Annan upon me asking that question. I look towards the Irish girl for the answers, who is giving me a confused look.
She answers “You mean you did not bring that backpack and that rifle to keep up appearances to your granddaughters? And can you give Ratri that rifle? And the ammo too. One of your companions will need that after we are done giving it magic.”
I absentmindedly give the SKS to Ratri, a little concerned that it seems like the organizer of this job has not considered everything about this job she is organizing.
“I was thinking of using the SKS and the ammunition I bought as a backup weapon in case I need it. But I really do think I need my clothing, canned food and outdoors equipment for your mission, and if these companions of yours really are veterans worth their salt, they will also bring their own outdoor gear.”
Annan blinks. And then she asks me what part of ‘used to be alive’ did I not get. The explanation I got after that seems to indicate that a better description of my companions would be souls who had the concept of ‘solid’ applied to them. A lot harder to send them back to their respective afterlives that way. So there is no need to bring food and shelter when you could sleep on the ground.
“But I am still alive. I need the food and shelter you know?” I interject.
Ratri also had her own stuff to say. “Annie, you did not say that is the plan. Me and Daesun resurrected our guys. And I am sure Lieu Hanh also fully resurrected her soldiers.”
The Irish girl looked at both of us, openmouthed, and then facepalms.
Confidence…slowly…dropping to zero.
Last edited by kilopi505 on 2013-04-08 12:05pm, edited 5 times in total.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
Double Post of Chapter 5 Deleted.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
So...comments?
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
"Knuckles" threw me, until I realized you meant in the Brass Knuckles sense. Wrapping a rosary around your fist wouldn't be called Knuckles in Appalachia, in fact I don't know of a precise name for it. A chain wrapped around your fist is a chain wrapped around your fist. A Brass Knuckle is a Brass Knuckle -- a chunk of metal slid over your fingers/hand. A roll of coins does something similar (for one or two punches til it bursts).
Otherwise, it is interesting that he beserker raged like that. The chanting of prayers and singing of hymns (or talking in tongues) when you're scared is normal for my religious/spiritual family members. We have stories about weird happenings that prayer overcame.
The bit about ripping pages out of the Bible made all my Baptist upbringing twitch and shout: You Don't Do That to the Word of God. Not sure how a Catholic would see it. It did make sense considering Hindu and Buddhist religions have a tradition of verses on paper being magic, so verses he'd believe in from the Bible would be potent weapons.
Otherwise, Great Job, please show me more.
Otherwise, it is interesting that he beserker raged like that. The chanting of prayers and singing of hymns (or talking in tongues) when you're scared is normal for my religious/spiritual family members. We have stories about weird happenings that prayer overcame.
The bit about ripping pages out of the Bible made all my Baptist upbringing twitch and shout: You Don't Do That to the Word of God. Not sure how a Catholic would see it. It did make sense considering Hindu and Buddhist religions have a tradition of verses on paper being magic, so verses he'd believe in from the Bible would be potent weapons.
Otherwise, Great Job, please show me more.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
I wrote the 'Bible ripping' idea because I KNOW it IS the Word of God. No matter how twitchy it is making me (I am a Catholic, and I also am twitching at my own idea), the scene is so awesome or remarkable that it has to be written somewhere.LadyTevar wrote:
Otherwise, it is interesting that he beserker raged like that. The chanting of prayers and singing of hymns (or talking in tongues) when you're scared is normal for my religious/spiritual family members. We have stories about weird happenings that prayer overcame.
The bit about ripping pages out of the Bible made all my Baptist upbringing twitch and shout: You Don't Do That to the Word of God. Not sure how a Catholic would see it. It did make sense considering Hindu and Buddhist religions have a tradition of verses on paper being magic, so verses he'd believe in from the Bible would be potent weapons.
And instory...even Herbert is wondering why he did that. He also thinks it is sacrilegious.
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
HELP! I nee some tips. How do I write a scene in where two former adversaries met each other again? This is the scene...but I am stuck on...what do these vets talk with each other about? Are there still grievances?
Tips please.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Snippet start)
No, my attention is pointed at two men who I am absolutely sure had a shared history with me: fighting in Vietnam.
One of them is dressed in an olive drab jungle fatigue (along with an M1 helmet, combat boots and LCE) with a patch on his right shoulder that I can still recognize after all these years. I mean, what other unit has a dragon shaped in the number 2? None other than the ROK 2nd marine brigade. And this Korean is laughing at me. Laughing.
Oh God, the humiliation.
How would you feel if someone who has the (justly earned) reputation of being bad-ass and is the nearest person you actually know to a real-life Rambo, is laughing at something you did?
Yeah…I am feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks, at which point the Korean guy laughed even harder.
And then I looked at the…other man…my embarrassment quickly turned into something else. I think the best expression is…what curse did Regina say at that time? Oh yeah…’What the fuck’?
I recognize him. I actually recognize that damn face! It’s one of those two Vietcong kids, the one who is aiming that AK at me when I got out of that temple in Cambodia! The one that told me, in English no less (how DID he know how to speak English?) to surrender with a slightly smirking face, just like now. Even now he is wearing the same floppy jungle hat, rubber sandals and green fatigues as those he wore at our first meeting.
But today…he looks older. Way older. I think the Vietnamese kid is now around…five or so years younger than me…wait. Didn’t Annan tell me everyone here died and Ratri told me that except for Annan’s guy, everyone else was raised back from the dead (which I keep ignoring because of…religious beliefs)?
I walked nearer to the VC kid, hearing the Korean’s laughter slowly stop. The important word here is slowly.
I stopped when I was around 6 feet away, at this point not noticing anything else other than the VC kid...the old Vietnamese man in front of me.
“So, how was your life after you let me get away from you guys?” I asked him in wonder and curiosity.
“Do you remember that girl beside me that night in Cambodia, American? Well, I fought hard to keep her alive from her adventurous character all the way until the end of the war, married her and went back to Hanoi, had 3 children while working as a soldier of the Vietnamese People’s Army until I retired as a Major General, I think you Americans call it, and lived a happy life until I died around three years ago”
“What happened?” I asked
“Freak accident. There I was walking beside my wife and buying some presents for our grandchild’s birthday when suddenly one of the wooden supports of the stall suddenly broke. I immediately pushed my wife out of the way but I got hit by the wood on my head in just the right way as to immediately kill me”
“That…sucks. Especially the part about dying when it is almost your grandchild’s birthday”
“It is just one day before his birthday. They held the birthday first, and then held my funeral after that. My wife is a very practical woman” He smiled proudly at his description of his wife. And then he asked me the same question I asked at first. “How is your life after you got away from me and Thien?”
“I got home, married the girl I was wooing, had a job, had two children, and lived happily until now”
(snippet end)
Tips please.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Snippet start)
No, my attention is pointed at two men who I am absolutely sure had a shared history with me: fighting in Vietnam.
One of them is dressed in an olive drab jungle fatigue (along with an M1 helmet, combat boots and LCE) with a patch on his right shoulder that I can still recognize after all these years. I mean, what other unit has a dragon shaped in the number 2? None other than the ROK 2nd marine brigade. And this Korean is laughing at me. Laughing.
Oh God, the humiliation.
How would you feel if someone who has the (justly earned) reputation of being bad-ass and is the nearest person you actually know to a real-life Rambo, is laughing at something you did?
Yeah…I am feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks, at which point the Korean guy laughed even harder.
And then I looked at the…other man…my embarrassment quickly turned into something else. I think the best expression is…what curse did Regina say at that time? Oh yeah…’What the fuck’?
I recognize him. I actually recognize that damn face! It’s one of those two Vietcong kids, the one who is aiming that AK at me when I got out of that temple in Cambodia! The one that told me, in English no less (how DID he know how to speak English?) to surrender with a slightly smirking face, just like now. Even now he is wearing the same floppy jungle hat, rubber sandals and green fatigues as those he wore at our first meeting.
But today…he looks older. Way older. I think the Vietnamese kid is now around…five or so years younger than me…wait. Didn’t Annan tell me everyone here died and Ratri told me that except for Annan’s guy, everyone else was raised back from the dead (which I keep ignoring because of…religious beliefs)?
I walked nearer to the VC kid, hearing the Korean’s laughter slowly stop. The important word here is slowly.
I stopped when I was around 6 feet away, at this point not noticing anything else other than the VC kid...the old Vietnamese man in front of me.
“So, how was your life after you let me get away from you guys?” I asked him in wonder and curiosity.
“Do you remember that girl beside me that night in Cambodia, American? Well, I fought hard to keep her alive from her adventurous character all the way until the end of the war, married her and went back to Hanoi, had 3 children while working as a soldier of the Vietnamese People’s Army until I retired as a Major General, I think you Americans call it, and lived a happy life until I died around three years ago”
“What happened?” I asked
“Freak accident. There I was walking beside my wife and buying some presents for our grandchild’s birthday when suddenly one of the wooden supports of the stall suddenly broke. I immediately pushed my wife out of the way but I got hit by the wood on my head in just the right way as to immediately kill me”
“That…sucks. Especially the part about dying when it is almost your grandchild’s birthday”
“It is just one day before his birthday. They held the birthday first, and then held my funeral after that. My wife is a very practical woman” He smiled proudly at his description of his wife. And then he asked me the same question I asked at first. “How is your life after you got away from me and Thien?”
“I got home, married the girl I was wooing, had a job, had two children, and lived happily until now”
(snippet end)
Re: \"6 jobs from hell\"
hmmm.
the birthday would have been cancelled, or integrated into the funeral (funerals are typically 3 days).
Stuff gets chopped and changed at the family\'s will, but it would be supremely disrespectful to move the patriarch\'s funeral (especially someone who would have been reasonably important in his community) for the sake of a small child.
It\'s not all bad - the family would congregate for the death anniversary each year (which is basically a big informal family meal / piss up), which would presumably mean he gets presents from a wider branch of the family. Birthdays aren\'t really a big deal here, but if aunty Kim is seeing you for the first time in 6 months AND it\'s your birthday the next day...
It\'d suck for that first year, but work out as a net benefit.
Vietnamese follow ancestor worship, so he would be worshipped for the first three years individually, with a shrine in the front room of his house, after that joining the family altar, burning of the funeral clothes and end of the mourning period (and presumably being free to act for his goddess).
This does vary from place to place, and it depends what other religion (if any) acts as a veneer on top of the ancestor worship. Just checked the name Lieu Hanh with some friends, apparently \' she\'s the queen of storage.\'
possibly the treasury of heaven. But I don\'t know anymore about her specific worship I\'m afraid.
the birthday would have been cancelled, or integrated into the funeral (funerals are typically 3 days).
Stuff gets chopped and changed at the family\'s will, but it would be supremely disrespectful to move the patriarch\'s funeral (especially someone who would have been reasonably important in his community) for the sake of a small child.
It\'s not all bad - the family would congregate for the death anniversary each year (which is basically a big informal family meal / piss up), which would presumably mean he gets presents from a wider branch of the family. Birthdays aren\'t really a big deal here, but if aunty Kim is seeing you for the first time in 6 months AND it\'s your birthday the next day...
It\'d suck for that first year, but work out as a net benefit.
Vietnamese follow ancestor worship, so he would be worshipped for the first three years individually, with a shrine in the front room of his house, after that joining the family altar, burning of the funeral clothes and end of the mourning period (and presumably being free to act for his goddess).
This does vary from place to place, and it depends what other religion (if any) acts as a veneer on top of the ancestor worship. Just checked the name Lieu Hanh with some friends, apparently \' she\'s the queen of storage.\'
possibly the treasury of heaven. But I don\'t know anymore about her specific worship I\'m afraid.
"Aid, trade, green technology and peace." - Hans Rosling.
"Welcome to SDN, where we can't see the forest because walking into trees repeatedly feels good, bro." - Mr Coffee
"Welcome to SDN, where we can't see the forest because walking into trees repeatedly feels good, bro." - Mr Coffee
Re: "6 jobs from hell"
THANKS!madd0ct0r wrote:hmmm.
the birthday would have been cancelled, or integrated into the funeral (funerals are typically 3 days).
Stuff gets chopped and changed at the family\'s will, but it would be supremely disrespectful to move the patriarch\'s funeral (especially someone who would have been reasonably important in his community) for the sake of a small child.
It\'s not all bad - the family would congregate for the death anniversary each year (which is basically a big informal family meal / piss up), which would presumably mean he gets presents from a wider branch of the family. Birthdays aren\'t really a big deal here, but if aunty Kim is seeing you for the first time in 6 months AND it\'s your birthday the next day...
It\'d suck for that first year, but work out as a net benefit.
Vietnamese follow ancestor worship, so he would be worshipped for the first three years individually, with a shrine in the front room of his house, after that joining the family altar, burning of the funeral clothes and end of the mourning period (and presumably being free to act for his goddess).
This does vary from place to place, and it depends what other religion (if any) acts as a veneer on top of the ancestor worship. Just checked the name Lieu Hanh with some friends, apparently \' she\'s the queen of storage.\'
possibly the treasury of heaven. But I don\'t know anymore about her specific worship I\'m afraid.
And Lieu Hanh IS gonna appear instory, you know?