Jeffrey N. Baker

“Next,” I called out.

The line shuffled along, each person with a package under their arm and their face buried in a smartphone. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But I missed interacting with the customer. Everyone had such interesting stories about where they were sending their package. These days the most I could muster would be a grunt and a swipe of their card.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I gave the man a broad smile, hoping this one would be different.

“Yeah.” He clacked away at a text message.

“What can I do for you today?” I plastered on my best smile that started quickly began to slip into a sneer.

“Yeah… just… uh… need to send this here.” He plopped the package in front of me and tapped the shipping label without looking up from his phone.

I resisted the urge to slap the black brick from his hand and send him home crying. Instead, I gave my postal shirt a quick tug and began to process his package.

Ugh, of course.

“I’m sorry, sir. But there isn’t enough postage here for this sized package.”

“Uh huh.”

“Sir. Excuse me, sir. Hello? You need more stamps for me to send this.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

My fists crumpled the edges of the manila envelope. Everything in me wanted to toss it across the room and make him fetch it like a dog. Instead I pushed it back across the counter until it bumped into his belly. “More postage,” I said.

“What?” he snapped his head up. “Oh, sorry. Yeah I’ll get that. Sorry.”

I bet you are.

“Next.”

An elderly woman approached, her tiny fingers wringing around bony knuckles. Internally I sighed with relief. For once I may have a normal conversation with someone. An ordinary interaction with another human being.

“Yes ma’am, how may I help you today?”

“I have a package waiting for me.” Her voice barely broke over the sounds of phones dinging and chirping.

“Wonderful. Something from your grandchildren?” I beamed an actual smile toward her.

“No. From my husband.”

My smiled turned to a grin. “I imagine it’s a wonderful gift then. It arrived today?” I turned to my computer, ready to take her information.

“No.” She lowered her head.

“Don’t worry. Not a problem. When should it have arrived then?”

“1954.”

My fingers paused over the keys of my keyboard. “That may be a challenge. Um, I’m not entirely certain we may still have it.” I wasn’t entirely certain this branch was open that long ago. I spread my hands out on the counter. I hadn’t noticed before, how lost she looked behind her glassy eyes. I looked into the crow to see if perhaps she’d become separated from a caretaker. Again I was met with nothing but the tops of people’s heads. “Ma’am.” I leaned down to see if I could catch her down turned gaze.  “Ma’am I don’t believe we would have kept something for that long.”

“Please, please you must have it. He said it would be here.” Her voice broke.

“I’m sure he did. But it’s been a long time. A very long time. Perhaps if you’d be so kind…”

“No!” Her hand slapped the table. That gathered the crowds attention. Several phones popped up, ready to record a crazy lady at the post office. “It’s here. It has to be here!”

“Yes, yes. I’ll go check. Just one moment.” I raised my hands to placate her and went back into the receiving area. What was I doing, giving this old woman hope? I ran my hand through my hair, wondering how long I should stand in the back and pretend to look for her package.

Glenn, one of our sorters passed me. I don’t know what caused me to speak out. Curiosity maybe? I took a hold of his arm to get his attention. “Glenn, do we have an area of stuff we’ve kept for a few years?”

“Yeah, if it’s large enough or slated to be delivered on a certain date we’ll hold onto things.”

“But, for decades.”

He whistled. “That’s a tall order, that one. Couldn’t hurt to check though.” He pointed toward the back between two racks of packages. “Head back there and through the door behind those racks. You may find what you’re looking for there.”

“Thanks.”

To this day I’m not sure why I tried looking for it. I didn’t even know her name or where it was going to or coming from. But my feet pulled me forward. A naked bulb greeted me as I entered the room. It’s crackling sound as it popped into life sound like a taunt. I ran my hand over dust covered boxes. Pulling out my reading glasses I tried my best to read the faded words in the dim light. I was close to giving up, when a brown paper covered object tied down with string caught my eye. It stood propped against the brick wall, looking nearly 5 feet tall but only several inches thick. It called to me somewhere in my gut, telling me to check it.

I lifted it off the wall, feeling its heft. I wrapped my hand around the edges of the item and pulled. My hand slipped, tearing the paper and snapping the string. The bulky item thudded back to the floor, Fearing I’d broken it, I leaned it against the wall and prepared to go get Glenn for help.

A flash of light caught my eye. Curiosity gripped me, urging me to remove more of the paper.

I obliged.

Before me stood a full length mirror; it’s golden frame intricately carved with vines and flowers. The beauty of its craftsmanship stole my breath away. But when I looked into the mirror my body froze.

In the reflection was a meadow of the greenest green. Pockets of wild flowers rolled along the tall grass. In the distance, atop a hill rested a lone willow tree. A couple sat below the tree, eating a picnic. And I felt their happiness. Their joy. Pure and boundless. It seeped into my very bones, pushing away the endless lines of sad people with their faces buried into their smartphones. Gone were the grunts of patrons and half heard remarks.

I was happy.

The woman by the tree looked toward me, and deep down I knew her. Knew that even though I could see her by the tree, she now waited at my counter. Waited for me to return this wonderful memory to her.

Tearing myself away from the images, I did my best to re-wrap the mirror. Catching Glenn, I had him haul it to the front of the store. The look on the woman’s face recalled my time in front of the mirror. She thanked me and thanked me, tears welling up in her eyes.

As the door closed behind them I turned back to the line, with the boundless joy still in my heart.

“Next.”

#30DaysofFlash

**Disclaimer: This may be offensive to some readers, as it will come across as blasphemous to certain religions. This is not a commentary, but rather a work of fiction, aimed at playing with different religious mythos’. Thank you**

My bullet proof vest pinched beneath my rented tuxedo. Hooking a finger into my collar I gave it quick tug, trying to alleviate the feeling of being strangled. I knew I didn’t fit in with the other guests. They knew it, too. It’s hard to blend in when you’re at least a decade-and-a-half older than everyone, with a crooked nose from too many breaks, and numerous white scars scattered across your neck and head.

I scanned the crowd, catching their stares before pretending to be looking somewhere else. Most probably assumed I was some type of security. A few looked disgusted by my presence between their sips of champagne. Oh, I’m sorry. Is the old-man an eye-sore to your spotless religious ceremony?

The massive, golden three barred cross that hung on the wall behind the head table kept drawing my attention. My heart still ached for my younger days. How many benedictions had I given over the years in front of a similar cross? How many mouths had I fed wafers of bread, or set a golden cup to lips to sip the blood of Christ? How many had I unwittingly delivered to the arms of Barachiel?

A young waiter lifted a golden gong and struck it three times with a small mallet. The idle chattered among the crowd ceased. As if mind controlled they all slid to their seats around white linen covered tables and turned their attention to the front of the room. I took the opportunity to slink behind a large column in the back.

Barachiel had arrived.

He strode into the room from a side door, clad in an expensive black suit that matched his short cropped hair. He beamed a white smile at them as he took his place at he head table. Seven gold chalices, each with a thing blade set next to it, had been lined up in front of him, each gleaming in the soft orange light of the room. I knew that to the people in the room they would see him as a handsome man of an indistinguishable age. All sharp features and a towering presence — despite his average height — that would make the most hardened of criminals weep at his feet.

But my Sight showed me the real being behind the illusion. He stood closer to eight feet, a naked form of solid muscle that could have been chiseled from marble. Two pairs of white feathered wings protruded from his back. One set stretched outward to a twenty foot wing span, while the others remained folded in front of him, covering his feet. His very form glowed white, making me feel as if I was staring into the sun.

He lifted his hands in front of him and smiled. To they poor people in that room they would see a benevolent leader, but for me, I saw the wolf-hungry eyes of an Angel staring at a flock. Six more of his brothers flowed into the room, taking their place in front of a chalice. Their combined angelic presence set a palpable vibration through the room.

I moved deeper into the shadows cast by the column, fighting the instant urge to praise them. Many in the crowd began to weep silently.

“My brothers and sisters,” Barachiel’s hypnotic voice filled the room. “You have all proven yourself to be the most faithful to our Lord. For that you have been chosen by the Most High to participate in a Holy Communion few have seen. You are all Christ’s children, and such, His blood flows through your veins. Such a blessing must be shared, just as Christ shared it with His disciples. Come forth my brothers and sisters. For you are the chosen of His children.” Barachiel motioned to the table in front of him in a wide arc.

Seven lines quickly formed in front of the main table. One by one the flock ran a blade across their palm and squeezed their blood into a chalice.

My rage frothed. This is what I had done to my congregation. Sent them to the arms of this Angel who bastardized our ancient rituals for his own gain. When I had discovered the truth, Barachiel had only laughed at me. Telling me that it was we humans who had twisted the Holy Communion, that without human blood they could not fight against the Dark Prince and his demons.

His words did nothing to ease my doubts. No, I could not accept that. We were not the Lord’s playthings. We could not be so easily drained and tossed aside by these… these vampires.

One of Barachiel’s brothers lifted his chalice high in a salute and said, “Aeternum esse Dei servos suos.” As he brought it to his lips I stepped out from my hiding place, drawing upon the power of Angels, stealing their presence to fuel my own power.

“Verum Lumen!” I shouted, pushing the force of my humanity outward. An unseen force smashed through the tables, chairs, and crowds of people. Blood filled chalices flew from the table, splattering the seven with their contents. On the wall the three bared cross split in two. All seven beings’ illusion was shattered, showing the people who they truly were. The crowd dropped to their knees and shielded their eyes. Barachiel’s brothers lifted their wings to cover themselves against my power, while their leader’s eyes burned with rage against me.

“You turn your might against me? An act against the Most High himself, blasphemer!” Baracheil seethed. “Kill him!” The brothers recovered themselves, lifting themselves up into the air. From the light of their presence they each drew forth a firey blade, set to cut me down.

My old bones ached from my show of force. Already my knees begged me to sit down. This was no job for someone like me. I shrugged off the pain. From my waistband I pulled out my pistol, and from beneath my coat jacket I retrieved my short sword. Angelic and Demonic scriptures a like had been worked into the blade. With a word I put more humanity into the markings, powering its demonic nature.

“So Piotr,” Barachiel chuckled. “You have sided with the enemy. You aim to fight for the Strong Man.”

“No.” My voiced sounded rough to my ears. “I fight for Humanity.”

#30DaysofFlash