Miracles

There was a solace in knowing that Annie could expect this work for the next hundred years, even if the work was apocalyptic at its most generous description. She worked carefully in her little black book, writing the names of those that made pacts with the Dark Lords, taking the information of the dark Minions that convinced them to give up all of their goodness, their altruism, and their compassion for a miracle.

A miracle. That’s what Annie thought she was getting when she agreed to a hundred years of servitude in exchange for $20,000. How short-sighted she had been. How desperate.

Of course, desperation was what the Dark World fed on, and there was plenty enough in this world for a proper feast.

Would she have taken a different path had she known she was contributing to the destruction of humanity? Perhaps, perhaps not. Though the nature of her work sat ill with her, she couldn’t say that they treated her miserably. In fact, there was a sense of comradery among the Dark Lords and their employees that she had longed for back in her old life. A life that seemed so far away now, as she thought on it. A life that ended up so differently than her wildest imagination could have ever conjured up, all colored by that one fateful night….

* * *

Annie quietly packed what she could fit in her backpack as she nervously eyed the door. It didn’t thrill her to face whatever eviction crew the landlord would bring, and she really didn’t have many belongings to leave behind, anyway. There were enough clothes in her bag for two weeks if she planned carefully.

Unfortunately, there was not enough money in her bank account to procure any shelter for the night. She started shaking at the thought of spending a frosty night on the street. Where would she even go? She had been in dire straits with money plenty of times, but she never teetered on the brink of homeless. Her mother had always been there to help her escape that particular threat.

Her conversation with her mother played on a loop in her memory.

“You’re on your own this time, Anne. I can’t keep pulling you out of a hole that you insist on jumping into.”

Annie heard voices in the hallway, walking toward her door. No doubt they were the property manager and the marshals that would assist with the eviction. She grabbed her bag and walked into the bedroom toward the window. Before she could cross the room, she stopped and looked on her bed. Her little black book with all of her struggles, all of her dreams, and all of her miseries sat on the covers. She wasn’t exactly sure why she grabbed it, other than to hold on to one little piece of her memories of this place—the security and warmth that she had traded in her carelessness and compulsiveness. She put the book in her bookbag, popped out her screen, and hoisted herself through the window onto the fire escape. She pulled her black hoodie over her head as she crept down the stairs, hoping nobody would recognize her.

She made the last flight and jumped down to the ground. The gravel under her feet crunched as she made a beeline for the park. The city was more crowded than she liked, more packed with people pushing past her, ignoring any semblance of personal space.

Oddly, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed.

She turned to look behind her, but nobody seemed too interested in her. She turned her eyes back to the sidewalk in front of her, pulling her hoodie down a little more to cover her face. She hoped she could avoid anybody that she knew. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody going on their way to a warm bed in a nice apartment.

She crossed the street into the park and sat her bag down on a bench. She took a seat next to it - feeling the gravity of her situation that was weighing down on her. She pulled her knees to her chest and cried.

“Why did I do this to myself?” she whispered to the surrounding emptiness through her tears. “Why am I like this? What’s wrong with me?”

“Poor girl, all alone and out of ideas,” a smooth voice whispered from the darkness behind her.

Annie jumped to her feet, spinning around to see who spoke to her.

There was nobody behind her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, though. You can change your fate. I can help you.”

The voice came from the direction in which she was looking, but she still saw nobody.

“Who are you,” she asked into the darkness. “What do you want?”

“To help you escape your current situation.”

The voice now came from behind her. She turned to see a shadowed figure resembling an eel with red glowing eyes.

Annie was too frightened to move. She had never seen anything like this in her entire life, and she found she was too paralyzed by her fear to scream or run.

“What are you,” she asked in a shaking voice - barely moving lest the creature strike out at her.

“Don’t be frightened, poor girl, I’m here to help you.”

Despite the assurance, Annie found the strength to take a step back. She looked around the park for something like a projector light or anything that would explain what she was seeing.

There was nothing. She was completely alone aside from this thing.

“Please just let me leave; please don’t hurt me,” she said through trembling lips.

“I’m nothing more than smoke and shadows, girl; it’s not in my nature to hurt anything. You are free to go if you wish, but what will you be going toward?”

The words caught Annie off guard. What would she be going toward? A night of sleepless fear on the streets? Shivering and shaking all night as the temperatures dropped even lower?

This thing was offering her a way out, no matter how impossible all of this seemed.

Annie took a breath and tried to relax her body. “What are you offering?”

“A reprieve from your troubles. An answer to your immediate situation. What is it that you need?”

Annie scoffed. “I need a house and food and security. You really mean you can give me all of that?”

“No, not all. I can only offer you one miracle.”

Annie pressed her lips together, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Okay, okay; say I asked for money. Could you do that?”

“Yes, that would be acceptable.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are the conditions? I’m sure you want something from me.”

“We would expect you to give up the part of you that feels compassion and empathy. We would expect you to work for the Dark World—for my boss, Lord Mortimer, for a time determined by the amount of your desires.”

“This can’t be real,” she said. “You can’t be real.”

“Would it ease your mind to talk to another person?”

“Maybe?” she said weakly, taking a seat on the bench again and rubbing her temples.

“One moment,” the creature said, and disappeared.

Annie thought it might have been her imagination, but the air seemed to become colder and darker when the creature left. She wondered if it would even return, or if it knew she was a lost cause. Minutes passed by and she felt her desperation growing. She wanted to cry again—had she really just lost a miracle? If she had that money, she could go right back to her apartment and pay them for the entire year.

Just when she thought she might give up hope, there was a bright light of violet and indigo and the strong scent of sulfur in the air. She gasped as a man stepped through the light. He was tall and thin, with black hair and dark blue eyes. He wore a long black coat that looked out of place in the modern world and had an amused smile on his lips.

“So, you’re the one considering joining us in the Dark World,” he said in a strong Southern accent. “I’m sorry, my friend didn’t catch your name.”

“A-Annie.”

“Annie,” he said, tilting his head to the side, “So, you need money, is it, Annie?”

“I…I do,” she responded. Something about his voice was reassuring, almost comforting. “But who are you?”

“Forgive me my manners,” he said smoothly. “My name is Mortimer. I work in the Dark World creating and training the dark Minions to find humans to help.”

“In exchange for our empathy?” she asked.

Mortimer sat down on the bench next to her. “Absolutely. An unsightly burden on you, I assure you. You wouldn’t believe how little you’ll miss it once it’s gone.”

“I mean…would I have to live a life without any empathy.”

He shrugged one shoulder as he leaned back and stretched his arms along the back of the bench so that his right arm was behind her shoulders. “Depends on how much you wanted to ask for. If you want a few thousand, we could say a hundred years' debt and only some of your empathy. If you want millions, it’s going to be somewhere around 500 years debt and all of it.”

She thought about how much she would need to pay off her debt and still survive for the next year.

“What about something like $20,000?”

“The former.”

She looked at the ground and shook her head. “This doesn’t make sense. How would I serve you guys for a hundred years? What happens after that? Do I die?”

“No, no, you’ll stop aging the minute you make your pact,” Mortimer explained. “And then if in a hundred years you would like to go back to being human, you’ll get that empathy back intact and go on about your life as though the deal was only made yesterday.”

Annie’s lip trembled. Mortimer placed a hand carefully on her shoulder and she felt the urge to break down right there.

“If it helps - I made the same choice myself. After I finished my time, I had no interest in looking back. Humans are vile creatures. The Dark World is much more than humanity. You’ll have a family that will never let you down, Annie. And you’ll be safe from the cruelties of the human world.”

Annie nodded at the ground. “Okay,” she whispered. She looked back at him and cleared her throat. “I agree. $20,000 and I’ll do whatever you need me to for a hundred years.”

“Pleasure to hear it,” Mortimer said, extending his hand.

Annie held out her own trembling hand and shook his. She felt a jolt of electricity and a strange disorienting feeling of something being lifted from her. The sensation lasted for only seconds, and then she was back to normal, though feeling much lighter.

“Annie, newest member of the Dark World,” Mortimer said, standing up and giving her a quick bow, “Welcome home.”

***

And home it had become. Reflecting on her past, Annie really could find little that she missed. Though occasionally, she would flip through her little black book - before all of the names of pacts and Dark World business - back to when she was a different person. She would read her words that memorialized her humanity, that talked about her struggles with money, of her burdens, and her fears. Part of her would miss that person that wrote those things.

She couldn’t dwell, however. After all, she gave that person up for the promise of a miracle.