Hello again, thanks for stopping by. Admittedly, I wanted to write this yesterday, but then the Charlie Hebdo massacre happened and I wasn’t able to retreat to my fantasy world. I’m not a writer of satire, and I don’t think that I have ever created something that has offended anyone, but as a creative person I am utterly shocked that others were killed for what they created. Sometimes we forget that being able to blog what we want is a freedom way too few people enjoy. We might not like other’s opinions, but being able to state it without being thrown to prison or even murdered is something we should cherish. Neil Gaiman has explained this all too well on his blog.
But don’t let this somber opening get you down. We shall all raise our pens/keyboards and continue expressing ourselves! As promised, here is the next part of “We don’t talk anymore” (I think I don’t like the title anymore). Fitch gets a gender! You are introduced to even more crazy characters! What more do you need to know?!
We Don’t Talk Anymore – Part III
I didn’t get the opportunity for more brooding as it knocked on my door. “Come in…” I hoped it was the janitor who hadn’t been told that his brooms had been moved.
It wasn’t. It was a gnome. And even more oddly, it was a female one.
“High there.” She giggled. “I’m Eliza, the secretary of this unit – and everything else you want me to be.” She winked and pouted her mouth in an odd way.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Fitch. Won’t be here for long, just solving that not-talking-dead issue.” I wasn’t interested in gnomes in any way, but I had to be friendly – they could be pretty nasty when they didn’t like you.
“Fitch, huh?” She came closer. “Shame they put you in this room. One can barely see your handsome face.” Her hand stretched out towards my knee. “Are you and Arch-Elf, by any chance?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Arch-Elves were an urban legend, and unlike vegetarian zombies nobody had ever actually seen one. According to the legends, Arch-Elves were beautiful and powerful, but what attracted most of their believers was the saying that they were sex-machines. Admittedly, there had been in a time in my life when I had tried to find one myself, but I’d rather not revert to that state ever again.
Eliza blinked with her large, heavily painted eyes in an effort to look sexy, but all it did was to make me wonder whether she had some kind of mental disease. I coughed. “Sorry, not an Arch-Elf. But—“
“Really? That’s a shame. But I don’t mind.” Eliza’s smile became even wider as the palm of her hand descended on my knee. It wasn’t cold, but I still didn’t like it.
“You know, I should really get to work, this whole issue—“
“Has been going on for quite a while now.” Eliza’s hand started to move towards my torso. “Surely it can wait for an hour longer?” She winked.
I was about to panic, but luckily for me, that moment the door flew open with a loud BANG, and in came a tall, blonde woman in a flowing dress over a pair of jeans.
“Get your filthy hand off Mr. Fitch this second! I told you to copy that file two hours ago and you still haven’t done anything!”
Gnomes had been known to humanity as eagerly working creatures living under ground. Only after the mass recruiting had begun did the world realize that fairytales like to – embellish things. The truth was that gnomes were just as lazy as everybody else, and some of them even more so.
Eliza drew back her hand from my leg – very slowly. “I was just saying hello to Fitch here.” She pouted.
“It’s still ‘Mr. Fitch’ to you. Manners, Eliza, manners!”
“It’s okay, you can all say Fitch.” I hated my first name, even more than my last one, and I preferred if people used the latter.
“You see?” rang Eliza’s triumphant voice and her chin went up into the air.
The woman closed her eyes for a second, then looked at me. Suddenly I noticed the air around me changing. Or was it in me? Colors blurred, sparkled, then faded. A flash of light, and everything returned back to normal. My stomach was revolting and I was glad that I was already sitting down. “What was your name again?” I managed to say.
“Saraid Hopkins. I’m sorry our secretary bothered you.” She clapped her hands and Eliza obediently shuffled out of the room – after giving me a final wink and patting my knee.
“Nice to meet the local seer…” I still wasn’t feeling well and closed my eyes.
“You should have eaten breakfast, Mr. Fitch. Gives you the energy to make it through the day.” There were many reasons to dislike seers. One of them was that they always gave you advice you hadn’t asked for, just because they knew so much about you.
“Was that really necessary?” I groaned. “Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know instead of invading my privacy?” I opened my eyes and saw sparkles of light rather than Hopkins.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fitch, but after all these years on the force I’ve found that this is by far the fastest and easiest way to get to know each other.”
“Get to know? I don’t know anything about you!” My anger drove the nausea away and I finally managed to sit up straight again.
“Sorry. What I meant was: the fastest and easiest way to find out whether you are a traitor. Congratulations, Mr. Fitch: you are not.” And with that she turned around. “Do Eliza a favor and don’t lead her on. We’ve had enough drama here recently…” And with that she was gone.
I wanted to scream. Why on earth did so many beings on this world have a crush on me? And why were it never the ones that I had a crush on?
(to be continued – definitely!)