My Kind of Magic | ONC2025

Chapter 2 - Wompy

Back in the four walls of my tiny cottage, I took in the woven rug, the comfy seating group, the colourful print of Van Gogh's sunflower field above it, and my little jungle of potted plants by the window. This sight always cheered me up, and it didn't fail its purpose today. Not until it hit home that I would have to find a new place if I didn't get a new job fast. The rent of this tiny kingdom was quite reasonable, but how big was the chance I'd be hired by someone soon? In my late twenties, I had become a dinosaur.

I made myself a cup of black tea and went to the bathroom to soak my hurting body. Except for a few bruises, I had gotten off lightly. How could I have been so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't see Brian's warning sign?

Half an hour later, I snuggled up in my pyjamas and with a blanket and my laptop in my favourite armchair. Cynthia had forwarded the email as promised, together with a cute picture of a penguin, saying how sorry she was to see me go and an invitation to a girls' night the following week. I accepted, cheered up by her concern.

Then I opened the mail of Mindful Media. It was interesting, to say the least, and I had to read it thrice to be sure it wasn't a hoax. It seemed they were expanding and looking for experienced editors. What really got me was the phrase "do you enjoy working in a small team where human skills are valued above AI shortcuts?"

Yes, I do, very much so. This sounded almost too good to be true. Before I even thought of making dinner, I crafted my application letter to my best ability and pressed send with a sense of accomplishment. Perhaps this day wasn't as bad as it had started.

I had awoken early, sweaty and with the memory of a weird dream sending icy shivers down my spine. Must have been one of these nightmares that kept me on my toes since my early teens. The shrink my mum had sent me to had insisted they would disappear if I didn't give them too much thought. For years, I had tried to ignore them. But the dreams kept returning, often during the full moon. I seldom could remember them, but they left me exhausted and vulnerable.

Perhaps this one had been a foreshadowing of my dismissal? Another shiver. I placed my laptop on the coffee table. "Time for dinner and a movie. I'll continue my job hunt tomorrow." Gee, stop talking to yourself, that's weird and—

"This sounds like a reasonable plan."
The raspy voice from above—again—catapulted me out of my chair as if it were on fire. I tripped over the coffee table and hit my shin. My desperate attempt to avoid pushing the laptop to the floor had me pirouetting around and crash-landing on my bum beside the sofa. At least the computer was safe, balancing on the edge of the table.

"Ouch, this must have hurt."

It did, quite a lot. But I had other worries than my growing collection of bruises. From my position, I could see a beast hanging from the ceiling light, swinging lightly back and forth. My visitor was the size of a small kitten and showed me two rows of sharp teeth in an upside-down, feral grin. But there the similarities with a cat ended. Two rounded ears were turned in my direction and wide sapphire eyes fixed on me. The body of the intruder was covered in a silvery, iridescent fur, as much of it as wasn't hidden by the black, leathery wings wrapped around it.

"Who are you and who gave you the permission to invade my flat?" I scrambled to my feet and placed my hands on my hips.

"Come on, Mariana-Alyssa, we have been over that before. You know exactly who I am."

I had a bad feeling of déjà vu about this conversation, and the fact the beast knew my full given name didn't help. "No, I don't—you don't exist, remember?" The words had hardly left my mouth when I knew I had already lost the argument. Didn't the psychiatrist warn me to never talk to my imaginary friends? Right, if I ignored the beast, it might disappear. But as much as I tried, my gaze kept wandering back to my visitor.