A gust of wind, fueling the flames around the mirror, followed the woman into the room. Swaying from the left to the right, in an endless loop, their quest to become flaming statues continued.
The room was dark like the clothing the woman wore; she sat crossed legs on the floor and gently put a dripping knife down next to her.
Positioning both her hands in a form of meditation, the woman shut her eyes. “Hey, god,” she said. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” a voice filled the room. “I am.”
“I've done what you asked.” There was a pause as if she wanted recognition, “Can I ask you something now?”
“Go ahead as agreed.”
“What is one million years for you?”
“One second.”
“And one million rand?”
“One cent,” the voice had a bit of annoyance to it. “Can you get to the point, woman?”
“So god,” a form of nervousness betrayed her voice. One more question was allowed. “You know how humble I can be,” she continued. “So all I want to know is if you could maybe consider giving me one cent?”
“Finally!” said the voice, almost relieved. “Of course, I can.” A deformed figure came forth within the mirror, “Your sacrifice has been approved.” And with a grin he concluded, “Just hold on a second.”
. . .
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One Terrible Day (Short Stories)
Short StoryJason finds himself in the police station after his ex-girlfriend is run over by a bus. A man struggles to tell his date what he does for a living. A rich man can't seem to understand why women only date him for his money, so he asks Siri. These are...
