Mel Goes To Hell

The Big South Window

Mel had finished the funny story with the aliens, demons, zombies and other strange characters. She’d started something on vampires, not her usual taste, but it was terribly compelling, so she was reading it at lunch. She’s just reached the point where one vampire told another that he was wearing too many clothes and Mel was feeling unusually warm, when she heard a voice.

“Mel?” Lili’s head popped over the partition.

No, Callie. I want to know what Callie does with…Mel tried to cool her blushing cheeks as she looked up at Lili, reluctantly putting her phone down. “Yes?”

“We’ve decided to move your desk. You’ll be in with the rest of the team. Won’t that be fun?”

I won’t be reading the rest of this story at work, then, Mel thought but didn’t say. Callie will have to wait ‘til I’m on the train home.

“Sure.” Mel summoned a smile. “I’ll ask the IT guys to switch my computer over and start moving my things.”

Mel had to shift a surprising number of cabinets to reach the desk – they appeared to be nesting beneath and around it. After translocating the stacks of files that had migrated to the desk during its vacancy and removing the choking layer of dust, Mel looked for the computer. She saw the monitor, mouse and keyboard, but nothing else.

With a sigh, brushing the dust bunnies from her breasts, Mel trudged back to her old desk beside the fire escape. There was no response from IT. She headed across the office to the cubicles where they holed up, insulated by boxes of computer hardware beside the frozen core of the office computer servers, blinking behind the glass that made up one wall.

All the desks were empty bar one. “Yes?” the man seated at it asked, his eyebrows raised. His eyes were on his screen and not on her.

“I’m Mel. They’re shifting me to the dusty desk by the big south window and I need your help setting up the computer.”

He turned slowly to face her, taking her in with an extended glance.

Mel wished she’d worn something with a longer skirt.

“Nice to meet you, Mel. I’m Nybbas. You should be fine setting it up all by yourself. I’ve heard you’re good,” he said. “If you need a little more authority with the printers and the like, I’d be happy to help. I’ll stop by and see how you’re doing later on today.” He gave her a pointed look and returned to his own computer in what was clearly a dismissal.

Mel sighed and returned to her computer conundrum. It had to be here somewhere.

She followed the monitor and keyboard cables to a hole in the desk surface, then tracked them to a tiny dusty shelf in the deepest, darkest corner beneath the desk. Swearing under her breath, Mel dropped to her knees and crawled under the desk. The dust bunnies under there used growth hormones, she was certain of it.

She brushed them aside, hoping they didn’t use spiders as sentries, and tried to pull the whole unit out into the light where she could see it. She was surprised to find she held a laptop sitting on a big box.

She could hear someone calling her name from behind her and she carefully backed up and out from under the desk. She was still on her hands and knees when he spoke again.

“Oh, no worries, it looks like you’re doing just fine. You don’t need my help.” Nybbas’ feet moved away from her. “Give me a shout when you want me.” He walked away.

By the time Mel had managed to get to her feet, clutching the dusty laptop, she was alone. She looked down and realised that Nybbas had caught an eyeful of lace that no one should have seen. At least she’d been wearing stockings today. She smoothed her dress down over her hips and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

She finished setting up the computer with the promised lack of problems, before she left for the day. As she crossed the road, she realised that the big south window was entirely transparent from both directions. Both the whole street and the admiring guy in the office over the road had seen a clear view of her stockings and more whilst she was under the desk. Not to mention Nybbas from IT.

Entirely uncomfortable, with a storm brewing in her head to match the clouds above, Mel boarded a train and mentally dared anyone to even approach her with a briefcase today. No one did, so when she left the train at her station, she chose to walk home instead of taking the bus. Nothing like exercise to release pent-up frustration.

She lengthened her stride as she saw the dark clouds, hoping to make it home before the rain hit. Thunder boomed above her, adding to her discomfort in the high humidity that reminded her of Singapore.

An actinic flash of lightning touched the tarmac of the street, not fifteen metres from her. Mel looked warily at the street and the nearby trees before quickening her pace. Walking home in an electrical storm was not the safest thing to do.

Another flash jumped between two clouds above her head. She looked up to see the clouds actually roiling – something she didn’t think real clouds did. In fact, if she looked closely, this storm appeared to have eyes – two of them, glaring angrily down at her.

She shook herself. Storms only had one eye and that was calm, not angry. She must be imagining such things – two angry eyes in a storm. Preposterous!

A streak of lightning touched the road, now only ten metres from her feet. She took a deep breath, inhaling sharp ozone from the discharge. Her heels tapped frantically on the pavement as she hurried for home.

Idly, she wondered if there was a better way to relieve anger than her misguided walk. Though she was not the type to hurl thunderbolts at unsuspecting humans, today she felt she could do with a little target practice, at least if her target was an empty road. It might help her to relieve a little steam after the stressful day.

She bumped into a man she’d seen before, but never come so close to on the footpath.

“Hello.” He beamed at her.

“Hi,” Mel replied, flustered. “I’m sorry…”

“Beautiful weather, don’t you think?” he asked. “I’m Jimmy. What’s your name?”

“Mel,” she replied.

“Ah, beautiful like you, Belle,” he said with a broad smile. He held out a full-blown red rose, thorns and all. “For you.”

She took the flower from the strange man, whose name she’d already forgotten, thanking him. Both walked on in opposing directions.

Perhaps hurling thunderbolts might be a better release than going for a walk, but she didn’t feel the need to direct any today. Maybe another day, Mel decided.

She turned into her street as the skies opened up, showering her with warm rain. She kept walking, not caring as the precipitation soaked her, for she was already soaked in sweat from the sweltering heat of the day. Any other wetness was an improvement.

She placed the rose in a pint glass of water when she stepped inside, dripping across the tiles. Maybe she could look into learning to throw lightning from on high next week. She was sure some new situation at work would inspire her.