This is the story of my life. Literally. I wake up in the morning and each day is a new beginning. I find myself in a different bed, in a different room. The books on the bookshelves have different titles. That cup of tea I left on my desk last night? It's now a cold cup of coffee.
One day, I hear my husband singing in the shower. The next day, there is nothing but silence. He doesn't exist anymore. Sometimes, I remember his name, but he's no longer the man I married. He could end up as a relative, my best friend, the antagonist who makes my life a living hell. My darling cat is now the huge yellow labrador retriever sprawled across my bed. At least the dog doesn't snore.
My best friend used to live next door. Her house is empty now. I get a phone call; she's moved to an apartment downtown. Last week, she worked at a coffee shop, but now she spends her days at the office. What exactly does she do? I have no idea, and frankly, I'm not sure she does, either. Hell, what happened to her spouse? They're as elusive as mine...or at least, the one I'm pretty sure I had, at one point in time.
They say that your fate is written in the stars. I'm not sure if I've ever seen any in the sky, come to think about it. The moon's always full, the leaves swirl in a constant wind around my feet. Time really has no meaning, I guess, though I'm pretty sure I'm here. I exist, just in this really weird dimension that keeps changing, as if at someone's whim. If a God, or Goddess, or some sort of Cosmic Force keeps being this fickle, maybe I can file a complaint somewhere.
Just as I settle into my new existence, I hear the telltale clatter of keys. Panicked, I see, in my mind's eye, yet another wave of change. I feel it in my bones, the very essence of my strange existence.
"Not again!"
Skeins are pulled apart, fate betrays me once again, and the letters on the page rearrange themselves. Sentences once
there are erased, whole paragraphs and chapters edited and deleted. Who
was doing this?! Who was reshaping time and space? Who even had this sort of power?
The Author. Of course.
And my surroundings began to change yet again.
A mercenary works for anyone, as long as they have coin to pay for your work. You have to leave your morals and conscience at the door. Survival didn't care about the arbitrary laws of Man. After all, a 'murder' becomes a' mercy killing' under the right context. A 'moral stain' becomes a 'necessary evil' when your own head is on the line. No one cares about your righteousness after the axe severs your neck. Survival of the fittest, and all those cliches. In my world, you did what you had to, if you wanted to see another sunrise. If you had a problem with that, then you go your way, and I'll go mine, and we won't have a problem. So this gig was just like any other. A paid patron who needed a job done. So what if the guy was Undead? There were fates worse than Death, and believe me, in those cases, Death was a blessing. Quick and quiet, no complication and no scandal. That's how I like it. Unfortunately, this time, there was one catch. The ...
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