It's only five hours left until I can go home. It's not that I dislike my job; it's just that currently it's not very interesting. I'm a maintenance engineer in a fairly large production company. I can't tell you which company or even what we make, but suffice to say, it's the first job I've ever had to pass a security clearance for. Still, the daily routine is just that – a routine – and some days pass more slowly than others. I think I've pushed my luck today on the internet, so I need to amuse myself in some other way. Telling you about my interesting day the other day may pass the time and since I will be typing, I will look busy. Two birds with one stone, eh?
About two months ago, something strange happened. When the alarm went off on that dull and dreary January morning, it was a serious struggle to drag myself out of bed. Not because I hadn't slept for long enough, but more because I knew I would be facing more of the same and frankly, I was bored. Six months into a new job and I was bored out of my mind. I could do the job with my eyes closed – did sometimes – but I couldn't persuade my boss to give me any more responsibility. Lately, I'd taken to sneaking behind his back to do things I knew I could manage and only tell him about them later. So far it hadn't backfired, but it was a thin line to walk.
Stumbling downstairs, still half asleep, I automatically turned on the TV and the laptop and put my porridge in the microwave. I filled the kettle while the porridge was doing its thing, and got coffee, sugar and milk in the mug without spilling any. Microwave binged, porridge extracted and placed on the floor by the laptop. Kettle clicked, water added to mug, mug placed beside porridge.
Paying half a mind to BBC News, I hauled the laptop onto the couch where I prepared for the morning struggle between my behind and the pile of clean laundry to be put away. Except this morning it appeared remarkably easy. I looked around and my mouth dropped open.
'Huh?' Was this really my living room? There was a clear floor, no clutter, no drying clothes, no folded clothes, no piles of books and papers – all usually waiting to be found a home. Instead there was a note in the middle of the floor; I must have walked right over it on my way down. I rubbed my eyes, in the manner
of a small child, and looked again. Checked that I was wearing my glasses and looked again. I sat down, carefully, very carefully.
'Dear Miss C [the note said],
I hope you find your new arrangements to your satisfaction. I will return
tonight to continue through the rest of the house, if you so choose. Merely
write 'yes' on the back of this sheet of paper if you would like me to proceed.
Yours faithfully,
Seamus P. O'Leary.
I hope you find your new arrangements to your satisfaction. I will return
tonight to continue through the rest of the house, if you so choose. Merely
write 'yes' on the back of this sheet of paper if you would like me to proceed.
Yours faithfully,
Seamus P. O'Leary.
I didn't know any O'Leary's and I wasn't sure I liked the idea of a strange man wandering all over my house without my knowledge or consent, but then, having a tidy room, a single room that was tidy, was a big deal in my life. I admitted to myself I'd let things slip and the place could be a lot tidier than it was, but the task seemed so enormous, I couldn't bring myself to even start. But this was amazing; I had so much more space!
Looking back, I really should have been more suspicious, but the idea of someone coming in and sorting out my house for free and not expecting any input from me was such a relief, I didn't like to think too closely on the details. The next morning I woke to find my kitchen had been polished to a brilliant shine while I
slept, my breakfast things laid out waiting for me, the sink resembling a mirror. The third morning, it was the bathroom; the fourth morning, the dining room; the fifth morning, my bedroom. I felt very uncomfortable about someone being in my bedroom while I slept, but the room was such a haven of peace afterwards, I couldn't bring myself to complain. It was easy to keep the place tidy once the initial clear out had occurred and I was taking pride in the house again, for the first time in a long time. 'Long may it last' was my main thought at the time.
'Good morning,' he said, 'Sit down and make yourself comfortable.'
'Um, thanks, seeing as how this is my home and you're the visitor?' I was put out and I didn't mind letting him know. 'Good morning. Who are you?'
'Well I'm the one that did the spot of cleaning for you a few weeks back. I take it you liked my work? The place is looking grand.'
'Yes, I really appreciated that, thank you. But really, who are you?'
'Eat up your porridge, or it will be getting cold, and you don't like cold porridge. I'm Seamus and I suppose I'm along the lines of a Guardian Angel. Not quite exact, but the analogy will do for now.' I sputtered, there's just no other word for it, I definitely sputtered. My mind whirling, I tried to piece together what I had heard and make sense of it. I was an Irish Catholic, I'd grown up with the idea of a Guardian Angel who looked
after me and gave me special care when I needed it, but to be confronted with someone (or something) that resemble a leprechaun claiming to be an angel was a bit much for anyone to take in, especially before coffee.
'Yes, I know it's a lot to take in.' At my look, he chuckled. 'Yes I can hear what you're thinking; I wouldn't be much good as an angel if I couldn't. Don't worry, you're not in trouble, I just need some help. And since you could possibly be perceived to owe me a debt after the difference I made to your life with the clean up, you've been chosen.'
OK this was going a bit too far now. What about work? What about my plans for the day? What about my life? It wasn't much of one, but it was mine and I kind of liked it. But a Guardian Angel? I picked up the phone to ring into work, only to find an automatic text on it from work. The site had been closed for the day;
only certain specifically named people were to go in. I looked at Seamus and held the phone up.
'I'm not an amateur, you know, I've done this before.' I'm sure you have, I thought, while finishing off my porridge. I was in work wear and wondered whether I should change.
'No need, 'said Seamus, 'Already taken care of.' Looking down I saw it was. I was now in a comfy pair of jeans, my black runners and a warm jumper. Better than my work clothes and probably suitable for whatever Seamus intended.
In the space of the next thirty minutes, I found myself in my trusty five year old Corsa, hurtling up the road to the neighbouring town, listening to a leprechaun deliver a plan worthy of a Navy Seal, or something. We were apparently on the trail of an errant soul, about to take its first steps onto the Road to Perdition. We were coordinating with other teams of what Seamus described as 'beings' although I was the only human involved. Basically, I was providing the illusion of a getaway car for the convenience of others. But the military speak coming from Seamus sounded like something off Ultimate Force or one of those type of military based show. I was itching to ask questions but apparently there was no time to explain anything and given the speed Seamus was speaking at, I was inclined to believe him.
After roughly fifteen minutes, although the journey would normally have taken more than thirty, we pulled into a small courtyard surrounded by pretty cottages. It was the kind of place one could imagine Beatrice Potter living. There was a tree in the middle of the courtyard and in its shade, a small child was playing. I turned to Seamus.
'So, where's the soul in danger then? What's due to happen?'
'Well that wee laddie there is about to try and kill some ants.'
'Yes? And?' That didn't seem worth all the trouble we'd gone to, or the back-up resources that Seamus apparently had in place, although I'd yet to see any sign of them.
'That's it. The child starts by killing ants, progresses onto bigger things and ends up losing his soul by committing multiple murders.'
'I'm sorry, what? You've gathered all those forces and troops and funny sounding equipment for a small child? You'll kill him of terror if nothing else. You should be ashamed of yourself, Seamus O'Leary.'
'Hold on now, isn't better for the child to be terrorised now and save his soul and others later? This small child will end up being one of the most hated and feared men in history if we don't do something now.'
'What about his parents? What about his teachers? What about those around him? Where are they? What about their responsibilities?' I was incensed. I was angry. I think for the first time in my life, I could say with pure truth that I was seeing red. I found my hands were shaking.
'Well what do you suggest then? We mollycoddle him and make sure he never gets the chance to do anything? Exactly how many resources do you think we have?' Seamus sounded indignant to say the least.
'Let me talk to him. If I could let him know that killing is bad, that what he's doing is wrong, maybe if he could talk to you or one of your colleagues.' I was growing desperate. For some reason, the fate of this boy had gripped me and I couldn't let Seamus carry out his dastardly plan to frighten him to death. I had
started to shake and my vision was starting to go fuzzy. A great roaring in my ears and swirls of colour suggested things were not right. Well they would if I had paid attention to them. As it was, I just knew I had to get to this child and save him.
'OK, ok, ok, calm down now girl, I want you to be taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out, slowly, slowly does it.' Seamus' voice washed over me and woke me from the blackness. 'I've yet to see someone react as strongly as you did.
Stay with me now, girl, relax, nothing's going to happen to you or the child.'
'Well, will she make it or won't she, Seamus, we need to know.' The new voice was deep, strident but curiously melodious. It was a voice made for command really.
'She'll make it, boss, no worries about that, but whether she'll want to do what we need after this is a bit touch and go. A bit stubborn this one.'
'The best ones always are, Seamus, a fact I remember pointing out to your recruiter as well, if I remember correctly.' The amusement in the voice was obvious and I felt Seamus suppress a chuckle as well.
'Hmm, well I don't know about that, but unless you want to reveal yourself in all your glory, either tamp it down, or leave. She's coming to now. '
A glimmer of pure white light hit my eyes as they opened and I blinked a few times to get used to light after darkness.
'Where... who... what...' The questions in my voice were obvious. Unfortunately, no one appeared willing or able to answer them. A strange man I assumed belonged to the strange voice strode towards the chair I was sitting in.
'Daithi is my name and I'm, well I'm your new boss, I suppose.' That voice was even better when it went with the body. Only a warning shake from Seamus warned me I should be responding.
'Oh, uh, em, hi?' It was a weak answer, I admit that, but hey, I was never good with men anyway. Not the full size ones, I was managing alright with Seamus. An elbow in the side reminded me he could read thoughts. Oops. But Daithi was talking.
'... huge long list of rules and regulations, plenty to remember, lots to be doing, but in short, that's it.' He looked at me as if expecting a response.
'Eh boss? Do you not remember your own recruitment? The poor girl wasn't listening to a word you just said and the fact that she's still upright is enough to be going on with. Why don't you wander off and leave me to deal with her? I'll bring her up to you in the morning.' Seamus, my protector? Huh, there was an interesting thought. He obviously has some say around here though, because Daithi was saying goodbye and I was being left alone with Seamus. I was tired, but I was also hungry, so Seamus had a three course meal appear
from somewhere. I would question details like this later, at my leisure, but at the time, I was so grateful for the food, for some normality, the thought didn't cross my mind. Seamus very frustratingly wouldn't answer any questions, despite everything from bullying attempts to downright begging, but would only say I was
to relax, enjoy the food, and then I would be brought home again.
I don't remember getting home that night, but I do remember waking up the next morning feeling as if I'd run 10mk the night before. I ached all over, the good ache of a job well done, and my head felt as clear as a bright spring morning. I stretched and looked at the clock, startled to find it was Saturday and didn't
have to get out of bed. Rolling over, I heard and felt the crinkle of paper beneath my pillow. A note from Seamus. So it hadn't been a dream after all.
'Dear O,
Doubtless you are now questioning your own sanity, don't worry, this is fairly normal. You have been recruited into the eternal war between Good and Evil. You are on the Good side, don't worry. I will be in touch on Monday about your duties and schedule for the next while. If I'm not, don't worry, go into work as usual and someone will contact you soon.
Your friend
Seamus P. O'Leary
P.S. Should you need to contact me, go to St Osmund's and light a candle to Our Lady. I'll know.
For now, I wait and see. Maybe they found someone better qualified or better equipped. But if they do come knocking again, it will be a fitter, more capable, more useable me they find. I'll make sure of it.That was two weeks ago now and despite numerous candles to Our Lady, I've yet to hear from Seamus - or from Daithi for that matter. If it wasn't for the two notes and the difference in my house, I'd be questioning my sanity roundabout now. But the notes exist, my house is still so tidy as to be a miracle so I'm thinking it was all real. But if I was recruited for the eternal war between Good and Evil, shouldn't I be doing something other than sat at a desk, shuffling paperwork and managing a team of capable individuals? I definitely
shouldn't be writing up what could be considered my memoirs during working hours...
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