Blessed by Fire

by P W Hillard

  “Hello dear, here for an interview?” She asked.

  “Yes, I’m Charlie Sutton, its scheduled for two,” replied Charlie

  “Ok well, you’re a little early. Eager to leave a good impression.” The woman winked at Charlie. “I’ll let your interviewer know you’re here. Please take a seat,” she said gesturing to a set of large white leather chairs. Charlie could have sworn they weren’t there when she came in. “My names Nikki. I’ll be back in a moment if you need anything.” Nikki stood up and walked down the corridor. Charlie could see she was wearing trainers with her suit. Her heart dropped. That was hardly professional.

  Charlie looked frustratingly at her watch. It was now twenty minutes past two. Her overall impression of the company was getting worse by the minute. She browsed through Instagram idly as she waited. She scrolled through the stream of celebrities advertising weight loss products and of models promoting poorly planned festivals. All so vapid she thought. Charlie let out an audible tut. Never a day worked between any of these people.

  “Ready to go?” Said Nikki. Charlie nearly dropped her phone she was so startled. Was she there a minute ago? “Room eighteen, just down the hall and to the right.”

  “Right, ok, thanks.” Charlie grabbed her handbag, slipped her phone into it and stood up. “Any advice?” she asked Nikki.

  “Try not to be too judgmental of how we do things.” Nikki replied, waving at Charlie as she walked off down the corridor.

  “Room eighteen. Room eighteen,” Charlie repeated it to herself, so she didn’t forget. She counted the doors off as she walked past them. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. She gripped the handle, opened the door and stepped through. Charlie suddenly felt like she was falling for a brief second, that sharp sickness of a drop. She stumbled slightly and righted herself. She looked around in disbelief. Charlie was stood in another identical corridor. She turned around to go back the way she came and bashed her nose on a very solid wall, dropping her handbag in shock “What the hell?” she muttered rubbing her nose. Ahead of her was another door like the one she had come through. It was labelled “One”. To her right was a large set of fire doors. To the left the corridor continued onwards. There was no door at the other end, so Charlie pushed open the fire doors and stepped through into another identical corridor. On the floor in front of her sat her bag. “What the fuck is going on?” She turned to investigate her original corridor. Her bag was also sat there, perfectly mirrored. She tried the door marked “One” in her panic. Locked. Same with the next door labelled “Two”. She scooped up her bag and began to run as best she could in her heels. When she reached the end, she leant against the end wall. Charlie heaved against it hoping it was in some way fake. “Ok, very funny, you can come out now!” she shouted, hoping it was a cruel YouTube prank. There was no answer, so she tried the doors nearest her. Seventeen. Locked. She gripped the handle for eighteen and turned it. The door creaked open. The room beyond was pitch black. The light from the corridor seemed to stop at the threshold. Charlie tested the ground beyond with some trepidation. It felt solid enough. She stepped through. She stood still for a second. The blackness seemed to envelop her, a thick shroud of inexistence. The room felt strangely warm, like she was wrapped in a thick blanket. Then, the blackness became searing unbearable light. Charlie closed her eyes, they still burnt. She screamed.

  When she opened her eyes, she was sat in an office chair behind a desk. She was in a reception. A young woman in a black skirt suit and light pink blouse was stood before her. She carried a large black handbag over one shoulder. The woman had her blonde hair in a ponytail. Bottled, thought Charlie, and her contouring wasn’t very good either.

  “Hi,” She said “I’ve got an interview at this address for a ThemisCorp? It’s not on the sign outside?”

  Charlie’s mouth moved on its own. She couldn’t keep herself from letting out a loud sigh. This was the fifth time today alone. “They really need to correct that address, happens all the time” why was she saying this? “You want 275A. Really annoying.” She could feel the annoyance at having to repeat herself. She felt anger towards ThemisCorp for not correcting it. “Go out the main doors. Take a left, then a left again past this building.” Her gaze was caught by the computer screen in front of her. The image had begun to flicker and distort. The screen went totally black except for large white letters. They read “JUDGEMENT”. Everything went white again.

  When her version came back she was laying in an ally way next to some ripped rubbish bags. She tried to move but her side screamed in pain. She could feel blood soaking into her thick mottled coat. It felt like her stiches had split. She adjusted herself on the sleeping bag she lay on. Charlie pulled her coat closed to try and keep out the cold. A woman in a black skirt suit walked past, trying to gingerly step past spilt rubbish. She paid Charlie no attention. Charlie pulled out a day-old newspaper from under her sleeping bag and began pulling out pages from the centre to stuff into her coat. The headline on the front page read “JUDGMENT”. Then the white returned.

  Charlie was sat in a tiny bedsit. It was cold, but she knew she couldn’t afford to put on the heating. She had spent her last on getting the most recent pictures taken. She clicked the button to upload them to Instagram. It was draining, constantly trying to promote herself all day every day. The few advertising deals she had paid so little she had almost considered stopping, but her entire life for the past few years had been about presenting herself in a particular way. How could she change all that? She typed into the text box. “#JUDGEMENT” it read.

  When Charlie opened her eyes, she was relieved to see she was herself again. She was sat in front of a desk. She was in someone’s office. Across from her was a tall older woman. She had short blonde hair and like Nikki was wearing an all-white suit. There was a large set of bronze scales to one side of her desk.

  “Are you alright Miss Sutton? You seem to have spaced out a little bit there?” The woman asked in a thick Greek accent. In front of her was a name plate that read “Dike Astraea”

  “What? Sorry? I’m not sur- “stuttered Charlie.

  “I’ll repeat the question then. Name a time you worked well in team in a target driven environment.” Dike said, holding a pen expectedly.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s going on here?” asked Charlie.

  Dike wrote something down “We’ll move on then. What’s your biggest weakness?” she asked.

  “Look I don’t know what’s going on, but please just let me leave,” Charlie begged.

  “Not that one either? Ok, next question. Did you ever consider stopping when you ran over that little girl?” Dike tapped the pen impatiently as she spoke.

  “How do you know? What? What is this?” Charlie was breaking into tears as she spoke.

  “Ok well, don’t worry, next up is the tour, I do hope you enjoy it!” Dike stood up and motioned to the door.

  Charlie felt an overwhelming urge to stand up and walk out the door. She stepped across the threshold and found herself standing on a large open plan office area. Rows of desks lined the office, each with several people sat in a row staring at computers and wearing headsets. They looked like slaves on a rowing ship. Several of the people were crying, others were staring directly ahead, with cold dead stares.

  “Oh, hello dear!” Charlie had expected to see Nikki, but instead there was a young woman about Charlies age. She was wearing a suit the same style as the others, but it was black with a white tie. She was flanked by two other women each identical to her. “I’m Lachesis, but every just calls me Lacey, these are my sisters.” The other women nodded. “Now come dear let’s take the tour!”

  “I’m sorry,” sobbed Charlie “I just want to go home.”

  “Nonsense! Getting the tour is a good sign! Never known someone get the tour and not get the job!” Aren’t that right sisters?” The other two women nodded in response to Lacey. “Now come along.” She put an arm around Charlie and pulled her forward. “This is the call floor.
This is where out agents make decisions that for some customers could be life and death! This is what you’ll be doing if you get the job!” As they walked past one of the phone operators slumped onto his desk. “Oh, I hope that gentleman’s alright” said Lacey as they walked past. Someone else had walked over and was lifting the man from his seat. “We do have an err… high turnover here”

  “I don’t understand. I thought this was for loss adjusting. What’s going on here?” asked Charlie through the tears.

  “Loss adjusting? Is that what they’re calling it now?” Lacey laughed. “I suppose you could call it that. We used to do this all ourselves, me and my sisters. We worked for our cousins, you’ve met Dike yes? Her mother named this company you know? Anyway, we couldn’t do it ourselves anymore, too many clients you see. Right that’s the call floor. Not a long tour I’m afraid.” They were stood in front of an office door. “Right through you go dear, final interviews in there.” Lacey opened the door and pushed Charlie through with a shove.

  Charlie was sat on a bike. It was bright pink and had tassels on the handlebars. She rang the bell excitedly. It was a Peppa Pig one and she had begged her father for it. She set off along the pavement, wobbling as she went, her stabilisers stopping her from falling over. Her helmet sat uncomfortably on her head. Across the street, her friend Sandy was waving. She looked left, then right and then started to pedal across. She didn’t see the slight tatty Ford KA come careening around the corner too quickly. Charlie felt the impact. She could feel her ribs shatter, shredding her lungs. She felt her legs turn to fragments, held together by the twisted metal of her bike. The crunch of her spine as she hit the ground head first. Charlie tried to scream in pain but couldn’t breathe to do it. She watched through blood stained vision as the car stopped, waited a moment, and then begin to drive away. She could hear Sandy screaming as she closed her eyes and felt the same warm blackness from earlier.

  “Congratulations!” Dike was sitting on the edge of one of the desks on the call floor. Charlie was sat in a chair facing a computer screen. “You got the job! Immediate start. Let’s get you going”. Dike picked up a headset and placed it Charlies head. She sat motionless completely numb. “It’s on the job training sadly! You’ll pick it up though. You’re good at judging people. Not so good as sticking around to be judged for your own mistakes though. Never mind! Here comes your first call.”

  There was a loud beeping tone in Charlies ear. A faint voice came through the headset. “Hello? Where am I? What’s happening?” It was almost a whisper.

  “He-Hello,” stuttered Charlie. The computer screen had brought up a whole host of information. It had a name, John Austin, forty-eight from Swansea. “Is that John?” Asked Charlie.

  “Yes, yes that’s me! Where am I? I can’t see anything? I remember falling, then I was here.” John was frantic. The screen stated “Fell from a second-floor balcony. Potentially fatal.” John had started to cry “Please, I’ve never done anything to anyone!” The computer screen updated again. It read. “Stole three Mars bars aged six. Cheated on maths exam aged sixteen. Refused his brother a kidney aged thirty-five.” Underneath in bold black text was the word judgement. Then two icons. One of a solid thread. The other one featured a thread that had been cut.

  “Well?” asked Dike? “What do you think? Yes or No?”

  The full Horrorscopes collection, by P.W Hillard, can be found on Amazon.