Song-spiration Saturday — It’s My Job

Posted on by Teagan Riordain Geneviene
Ruins Door Chair Stairs Peter H Pixabay
Peter H at Pixabay

Saturday, December 7, 2024

Hello, all.  I hope you’ve had a great week.  I’m dusting off another song-inspired short story.  This one is from 2023.

The cheerfulness of the song is not like my story — except in the twisting way my brain works.  It rather amused me.  Call it dark humor.  Besides, I couldn’t resist a little Jimmy Buffett on a dull cloudy day.

It’s My Job

By Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

A metal security door hung open, hinges squeaking in the evening breeze.  Although that was not unusual.  The house next door had stood empty of renters for six months.

Hip-high weeds hid most of it from the street.  A sidewalk made a narrow passage through foxtails, prickly desert sage, and other things I couldn’t name.

I hesitated, wondering what hungry animal might slither or crawl boldly enough to come onto that secluded sidewalk.  However, I kept getting a whiff of a strange odor.  Then I’d heard a noise.  A shadow had flitted past the kitchen window, which faced my home.

The two houses were so close together that if something went wrong in the empty one, my own house could be harmed as well.  I had never met the owner, and had no phone number, but it would simply be wrong of me to ignore a problem.

Another noxious whiff met my nose.  It smelled at once like ammonia and burned plastic.

What does a gas leak smell like? came my worried thought.  Rotten eggs?  But then, what do rotten eggs smell like?

Bracing myself, I went up the even narrower walkway to the front door.  I raised my fist to knock, even though the place must be empty.  Before my knuckles hit the peeling paint, wind gusted and the door opened.

The odor was overwhelming.  Reflexively my hand covered my mouth and nose.  Stains covered the floors and splashed the walls.  Some were quite dark, and the coppery stench of blood mixed with the other odors.

“People have died here,” I murmured my realization, and then my intuition added another suspicion.  “And more than once.  Maybe several different times.”

The rustle of dead leaves on the floor caused me to look from the empty living room through to the kitchen.  Moonlight silhouetted a tall dark form.

Image collage by Teagan Geneviene
Image collage by Teagan Geneviene

Despite the foul odors, I breathed in sharply.  With the light from the window behind him, I could see through the figure.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said in a papery voice.  “At least not so soon.”

“Why are you here?  Who are you?” I asked on a harsh gulp of air.

“It’s my job,” he rasped as I took a step backward.  “Don’t worry.  This meeting doesn’t have to be… official.  Life hasn’t driven you to me…  Not yet.”

The wan light revealed a spotty trail of moisture on the floor.  It led to the back door.  A slumped shape prevented it closing.  Resting on the floor, I saw a lifeless hand, still holding a gun.

I told my legs to turn and run.  I told my throat to scream.  Neither obeyed my command.

“Do you, do you know him?” I heard my quivering voice ask about the corpse.

His face turned to where I pointed.  He gave a slight shake of his head.

“It’s my job,” the shadowy presence repeated.  “When they end their lives, whether fast or slow, by bullet, knife, or needle.  It’s my job.”

angel of death as a businessman
by Teagan via Night Cafe

“How can you stand it?  How could anyone, no matter what kind of creature you are?” I voiced my shock.

“Because, in my contract there’s a clause,” he started, but looked aside.  “This one is not my appointment,” he remarked.  “But the other one is.”

He moved, bending over another lifeless form that I had failed to notice.  A hypodermic needle lay beside that one.

“It’s my job to be different from the rest.  I’ve got no right to feel upset.  Although of late, sometimes I let myself forget… until the lights go on and the stage is set,” he explained as his wings abruptly spread as if to indicate the room and then folded onto his back.  “Then, the song hits home and I feel their sweat, their fear, their determination to end it all… and that’s enough reason for me.”

Though he had no eyes that I could see, I felt the intent gaze.

“It’s a tough break for you — whether craving or curiosity brought you here today, there’s no one here to satisfy it… no one living that is.”

He tilted his head consideringly.  Chills streamed down my back as his eyeless gaze bore into my soul.

“Will I see you again?  Soon or late?  You never had anyone to love, anyone to care…  Or will you be able to keep it together?” he asked me, but he bent over the body, not looking my way.  “In his hopeless heart, this one here was a lot like you.”

Placing a translucent hand on the motionless chest, he summoned from it a small orb of light.  Shadowy wings spread.  He cast a sidelong glance at me, as if reminding me of the question he asked.  Then he was gone.

♣  ♣  ♣

The end

♣  ♣  ♣

Understanding the issues concerning suicide and mental health is an important way to take part in suicide prevention, help others in crisis, and change the conversation around suicide.  988 Lifeline

This holiday season, be mindful that not everything can be seen from the outside, and that not everyone’s life is like yours.  Remember to be kind.  Wishing all of you a wonderful weekend.  

♣  ♣  ♣

 Oops, I can’t forget the obligatory shameless self-promotion.  There’s no dark humor in Lulu’s stories, and there’s a sleigh-full of fun.

Hullaba Christmas: Lulu and the Snatched Santa

Hullaba Christmas cover

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E-book:  relinks.me/B0D33MN3NJ

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Hullaba Lulu: a Diesel-Punk Adventure

Kindle:  relinks.me/B08JKP1RS4

Paperback:  relinks.me/B08JDYXPZM

♣ ♣ ♣

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

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54 thoughts on “Song-spiration Saturday — It’s My Job”

  2. Pingback: It’s not Only the Lonely – Teagan's Books

  4. A powerful story, Teagan, and the ending gave me goosebumps. So many are alone with not a single soul to turn to and it’s heartbreaking. When my son was 14 (15 years ago), his friend took his own life. It was a shock to my son but also to everyone who knew him because he came from a lovely, Catholic family and there were no signs. He was a very nice young man. Anyway, your writing is evocative, and though the holidays should be joyful, they aren’t joyful for everyone. Everyone has a story. Thank you for adding the suicide hot line. xo

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    1. Hi, Lauren. I appreciate your kind words, and the story you just shared.
      This story is not meant to be about loneliness. A few times, my own “stuff” and experience has made it startlingly clear to me that we can’t always see the pain or fear of another — it simply isn’t visible. (With my C-PTSD disabilities… well, you’ve heard of fight or flight? With some of us, the next option is “freeze”, and that’s where I’m usually stuck, in freeze mode. Unable to move forward or retreat, never showing that on my face — and never intentionally so. When I’m feeling that panic attack so strongly that I feel it should be as loud and clear as a giant gong sounding, it’s unseen by those around me.) Hence my reminder to everyone, including myself, that when we look at the cashier in the grocery store, or the postman driving past, or the neighbor a few housed down, even though they might be surrounded by family or friends, unless we know them very well, we don’t know how different their life might be from our own, especially at this time of year when being different is an even greater challenge. Wishing you a lovely week. Hugs.

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  6. I see the message’s image, Teagan. Powerful.

    I know too, many who left their orb of light for this man.

    How can we help them all?

    Now, I have Elanor Rigby running through my head.

    HUGS!

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    1. I haven’t thought about that song in awhile, Resa. I still love the Beatles. Actually I was playing with my self-prescribed YouTube karoke the other night, and sang Oh Darling. It was fun. Thanks for reading and commenting.
      Congratulations on your film interview post. I enjoyed it. Hugs winging back to you.

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      1. Ahh, Oh Darling is an A+ song! How fab that you can sing it! I can….. sing it, too. … sort of. I have an issue with staying in key.
        Thanks about the film interview!
        Big Screen Hugs!

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  7. You’ve created a visceral atmosphere Teagan. It’s very true; so many people put on a cheerful face when they are suffering underneath. We could all be more patient and kind with everyone. (K)

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  8. Teagan – you have a profound way of writing a story that challenges, comforts and reminds us what it is to be human. December can be a very lonely and difficult month with the dark night and cold wind. Thank you for being a compassionate writer. Sending many hugs on the wing to you and the Scoobies.

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    1. You are so kind, Rebecca — thank you. That’s true about December. People can be lonely even if they’re never alone. Meanwhile some of us can be truly alone, yet not lonely. The things that make life different for many, sometimes even when they’re seen, just aren’t thought about by the majority of the people around them.
      I ramble. Hugs winging back to you and yours. ❤

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    1. (Scratches head…) That title is familiar. I’ll have to look into it. Oh, I just thought, Sören and Belafonte must like Jimmy Buffet, considering the parrot-heads. 😀 Many thanks about the story. I should edit the post to include my reply to Hyperion about the story. I hope everyone is doing well up in your neck of the woods. Hugs.

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  10. Sometimes I feel so down, I feel like that guy with the wings is sitting across the kitchen table having coffee with me. But then I remember all the joy still in my life and I give him a cookie and send him on his way. I was lucky this past week to go to a mammogram and a cancer check-up, and what was so lucky about it (besides having clear tests) was how cheerful and kind everybody was. Nobody was crabby or impatient, everybody was friendly, everybody nodded and smiled at each other, and when one lady came out of the doctor’s office grinning and announced, “All clear! Seventeen years!” Everybody grinned back and said, “Congratulations!” And thanks for the Buffett song — I loved it!

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    1. Yay! Marian, that is wonderful news about your clear tests. Thanks for sharing that uplifting moment at the doctor’s office too. I wish people were able to always celebrate one another like that.
      I love what you said about giving Death “a cookie and send him on his way” — that’s fabulous!
      In my reply to Hyperion I tell more about the origin of the story. My take on it this year had a different slant than when I wrote it. But then it wasn’t near the holidays… so a different mindset. Thanks for reading and commenting. Big hugs.

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  12. I really like how your story supports the suicide prevention message at the end. I have wavered back and forth over the issue of our right to live and our right to die. Regardless of any human rights or legal determinations, we unalive ourselves in a thousand ways everyday. There are always consequences and none are good for those left behind.

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    1. Hi, Daniel. I like your phrase “we unalive ourselves.” I definitely support the right to die, but I’ll resist jumping up onto my soapbox. I really don’t even think of that as suicide. My thoughts in re-posting this story were about the opposite of mindfulness, lack of empathy, and classism that runs rampant today.
      LOL, although when I wrote it in 2023, from the song, the idea popped into my head about Death just doing a job, one that nobody else would want. The Rolling Stones sang “Sympathy for the Devil.” I guess I was having a moment of sympathy for the angel of death. 😎. Thanks for reading and commenting. Hugs.

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      1. My pleasure Teagan. I agree. I don’t see death as an evil enemy, but as a best friend who never abandons us. While being escorted off the planet isn’t our first goal in life, eventually we all find our moment when it’s time to transition to whatever awaits us. I always say, not being afraid of death allows us to live without fear and in not fearing life or death, we can accomplish great things or nothing if we choose. Satan, which means Accuser, is here to remind us to make good choices or join him in the Dance of the Valkyries.

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        2. This is why I love Terry Pratchett’s DEATH character: It’s his job to collect dead souls. Where they go after he collects them is up to them. Unless they’re cruel to animals. Then they go to A Bad Place.

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          2. Ah! I still haven’t read those books. Decades ago I wrote a short story (eventually posted here many years ago) with Death personified as a man. It was a Valentine’s story. LOL Anyhow, when a friend’s husband read it, he told me about a Pratchett story with Death filling in for Santa Claus. I really need to read more of his stuff.

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  13. The Jimmy Buffett song was new to me, so I listened to it before reading your story. What a direction you went from being inspired by the song! As olganm said in their comments, it’s a chilling story. With a powerful message. As is your note after the story. Truly, we can’t assume we know the depths of what people are thinking or going through. We should act with kindness. I hope you have a lovely weekend, Teagan 🌞

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    1. Thanks very much, Dave. I probably should start including the lyrics to the songs. I don’t believe this one is very well known, except to “Parot Heads.” I happened to hear it once and was struck by the message in the lyrics. Originally that was my whimsical take in writing the story (Death’s job being like that of the accountant or the streetsweeper). However, with the holidays, when I re-read it, I decided to bring out the other take on it. Hugs.

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  15. A very good story, Teagan. I think I was holding my breath as it came to an end. I took a nice deep breath with the ads for your books. This was really good. I love your descriptive ability. I was in that room. I was hearing that conversation, more like an eavesdropper than a reader. Thanks for waking me up today!

    I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

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  19. A very chilling story, Tegan, and beautifully written. Thanks for adding the information about suicide. This is a difficult time of the year for many people. There is always help available, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Big hugs to you and the Scoobies.

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    1. Thanks very much, Edward. I appreciate your feedback. We live in an age where kindness has become an object of disdain. A high-level executive boss once said that my kindness to others was stupidity. I’ve been a louder proponent of kindness ever since. Have a wonderful weekend. Hugs.

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