Life Goes Full Circle

I’ve held many interesting jobs throughout history, and it’s hard to pick just a single one to write about.

My earliest life is being one of Cleopatra’s Virgins. Virgin? Ha, that was a joke title. The people of Alexandria look at us like we were the symbol of purity. We were seen as beautiful as a white lotus on the banks of the Nile. In reality, we were sluts. Not just any sluts, we were high-end escorts for the Greek Army and political dignitaries. Cleo was a bitter, nasty woman who often got jealous of us. She would have girls executed if any of us caught the eye of high-end officials that she had a fancy to. That is how I met my end. It was a high-ranking general named Maxocronus, or Cronus for short.

Fast forward to the Revolution. I was a lonely poor innkeeper. Whoa is me, I’m such a tiny and frail lady. I could never do anything to oppose our father, the King. Don’t mind the antique figurine on the desk, that in no way leads to a secret war room behind me. Oh, those books on the shelf? Just boring romance novels. They in no way contain documents used to guide the resistance. Washington? No, I have seen him. He’s definitely not in room 123. When I dropped dead at the fountain on that chilly August morning, the locals yell “Murder!”, but really my heart just got heavy from all the secrets from that little inn.

Shortly after, things take a bizarre turn when I find my soul in Haiti. A beautiful country with a rich culture. When I became an officer, I was thrilled to be doing my village proud. That night I went on patrol, not realizing it will be my last. A woman’s scream echoes through the square. I run to her aid to find a naked man eating a small boy. Blood dripped from his dried lips. The man was infected with the Juju of Voodou, meaning he was a zombie. The woman, I’m assuming it was the boy’s mother, was still screaming. She was punching the man in his back. He paid no attention to her. I unsheathe my machete and swung. I struck it in the shoulder, making him stop. He turned to me with his gray, lifeless eyes. Before I knew it, he was on top of me, sinking his teeth deep into my throat. Twenty-seven people died that night at the hands of that beast, including myself and a small boy who did nothing wrong. To this day, he wanders the island searching for his next meal.

I will now start my most famous job. The name is Big-Nose Kate. I’m better known as Doc Holliday’s “girlfriend”. Even though we weren’t legally married, we still had a small so-called ceremony in a church we were hiding out in. There were no priests around, just me and Doc with his mother’s ring. We were on our way to Arizona for his health. When word spread about the shootout behind the O.K. Corral, I got scared for his safety. Doc was all talk. He could never kill anybody. He couldn’t kill a spider in his boot. I grabbed my pistol hidden under the bed. Doc always wanted to make sure I was protected, so he got me a Colt pistol. I loaded it up the way he showed me. I got there at the same time as the others. Hiding behind a building, I focused on them. I made eye contact with Billy. He reached for his gun, but I was faster. Chaos erupted as my shot rang out. I ran back to our hotel room during the fight. Doc arrived just as soon as I did with Wyatt at toe. I explained to them both what happened, tears streaming down my face. They knew I was in big trouble. The three of us made a pact to never tell anyone. Doc took the gun that night. He rode off, coming back in the morning without it. None of us spoke about it again.

The 50s were not my best career. Life as a housewife just wasn’t for me. I never liked having to answer to my husband. A man who didn’t know his elbow from the bottle of booze he downs every day. The town drunkard they called him. The man kept demanding a baby. I demanded an abortion. It’s not fair ruining a child’s life with mine being completely destroyed by that animal. I wrote scary stories under a fake name in order to make ends meet. A psychic told me things will get better but in another life.

My last job wasn’t really a job, since it was my shortest life. I would die at seventeen in a house fire caused by a faulty lava lamp, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t have one. It was being a hippie sympathizer called A Neipah. I lost my fiance in the war, but Johnny, my dearest friend, was by my side through it all. My two best friends were going through their own problems being in a mixed relationship. During this time, mixing was not allowed. They say it was the Summer Of Love, but I didn’t see a lot of that going around. We went to Woodstock to see a man die. The cop that arrived didn’t care. Just another dirty hippie, according to him. Johnny heard about a safe place out west called “A Sanctuary” town. Here I will help other lost, weary travelers find their way. We were heading out there in the morning if it wasn’t for that lava lamp.