Friday, November 21, 2008

A Genie-ous Friendship (Friday Fiction)

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by Patty Wysong @ her blog Patterings click here to read and share more great fiction!

Author's note: I just had fun with this. I hope to expand it more someday, but this idea has been rolling around in my head for quite some time and I just had to get it out of there. Angela is a fiesty character that definitely has more in her life than she's prepared to deal with and Mathrak, well, just go ahead and read the story already! ^_^

I glared at him from across the cluttered office. It was bad enough that I was working late again. Bad enough that I hated what I did. Even worse that I had to have this conversation in the first place. How dare he? After all that I'd been through on his account you'd think he could at least leave well enough alone! “Matt.” I began, in as reasonable a voice as I could. “I understand you don't agree with pretty much everything I do, however, I am a grown woman and I have a life of my own.” I frowned. “Correction, I had a life before you came along.”

“Angela-” Matt began.

“Don't!” I held up a hand. “Just don't. I don't want to hear it.”


“No buts.” I shrugged into my new jacket. The soft faux fur hood provided an instant halo of warmth around my head as I zippered it up. “You know, I had a very own vice. I didn't do anything else, I stuck to the list of the total you took that away. I had a job. I was good at it. But you had to take that away too. Now I'm stuck here doing...doing...I don't even know what I'm doing!” I slammed the desk drawer and turned to look at the mirror hanging on the side of the filing cabinet. “I'm in the middle of the dessert, I haven't even seen a mountain or a tree or an anything in weeks, months, maybe even years!”

“Which would only be your own fault. You know you love working with the artifacts.” Matt murmured. “And I know you only dislike the paperwork.”

“Dislike the paperwork?” I repeated, incredulously. “Let's try, I hate the paperwork. I hate it, Matt. Do you just always overlook the first half of everything I say, or does it never occur to you to really listen when I'm trying to say something.”

“Such as?”

My jaw dropped open and I turned to stare at him in shock. “I don't believe fact. I can't believe you just-”

“Because you don't make sense.” Matt yawned, stepping fully inside the office instead of hovering in the doorway. “You usually don't make sense, particularly when you're ranting and raving about like you are now.”

“Oh, so now I'm ranting and raving.”

He shrugged. “At least some variation of it. You didn't need a 'vice' as you put it. And smoking is bad for you.” He shuddered. “And your so-called occupation was extremely hazardous to your health, I could not allow it, mistress.”

“Mistress? We're getting formal again?” I snapped. My reflection stared back at me and I paused long enough to tug out a few wisps here and there. The museum curator's nephew had invited me to dinner and I hadn't dared to turn down the invitation, but now, I was beginning to feel a little insecure. “My occupation was fine, Matt. I was the only, note, only lady bounty hunter in this entire region. I got paid to shoot things and drag them home. Nothing easier!”

I moved away from the mirror, heading for the door. Matt quickly inserted himself in my path, his smooth gliding a dead giveaway. I winced. “Feet!” I hissed. “For goodness sakes! Haven't I told you a thousand times, don't do that in public!”

My stubborn-hearted genie obediently formulated his feet into existence, clutching the doorway for support until he could balance properly. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry?” I repeated. “Mathrak, do you know what my problem is?”

“Yes.” He smiled cheerfully. “You actually said my name, you must be listening to me.” The impish grin grew wider. “Your problem is easy, because you never take time for yourself, so you're always grumpy. If you took a night off...instead of going out to some silly dinner-”

“Silly? This is my job! A significant chunk of this glorious job that you claim I love so much, depends on this whole dinner thing. You're the one that told me that!” I suppressed the flow of words beginning to break free from my head. I didn't have the energy to argue with him tonight. He always twisted the argument around so he would win and tonight I was in the mood to agree with him to end any debate of any sort.

“Angela.” His velvety voice reached out, pleadingly.

“Can't hear you.” I tried to push past him.


“La de dah de dah.”


“Shut up, Matt.” I made one last attempt to push past him and inwardly sank as I felt the familiar invisible grip around my waist, levitating me upwards so my feet were off the floor and I could not reach anything. “Matt...” I began, warningly.

“I am not going to let you walk out of here in that kind of mood.” There was an exaggerated sigh. “And I know you're not just venting about the past because you like it.”

“Mathrak, if you don't-”

“Talk to me.” He said simply.

I stared at him. “You've got to be kidding me.”

The handsome head shook slowly with the gravest importance, his features shifting slowly to stone. “I cannot do that...mistress.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, then let's get back to the normal side where things are polite. Hi. I'm Angela. You can call me Angie.”

“I cannot put you down.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Because if I do, you will die.”

“What?” I gave an involuntary wriggle. “Matt?”

“There is a bead on your left shoulder.” He murmured.

My body reacted at once, stiffening into the posture to appear normal, yet with my limbs relaxed enough to move. “Red, green or blue?”

“Red.” His whisper seemed to carry the ache in his eyes.

I winced. “My rifle's in the corner behind the door, levitate it for me.”

Another deep sigh filled the office. “You know I can't do that.”

“Matt!” My right hand curled into a fist. “So let me get this straight, someone's aiming something at me, my shoulder, if we've got to be exact and I'm asking you to hand me my rifle so I can defend myself and you're refusing?”

His head tilted slightly sideways and I squinted to the side to see his head shake. “Mistress...Angie...please. Do not ask me to do that.”

“Of all the genies in the world.” I muttered. “Of every possible one out there, only I would get the only one with an actual conscience. An ordinary genie would offer to stand up an take care of that jerk, but you, you would stand here and tell me-”

“Because I refuse to give you the means to kill a potential danger, you would question my loyalty to you?” Indignance showed plainly on his face.

I squinted at him, feeling the familiar burn and itch beginning in my fingers. “Yes. I would.”

“Does thou shalt not kill carry any meaning whatsoever?” Golden fire shimmered at his fingertips. “They would not stand a chance against you and you know it as well as I do.”

“Ha ha. So I'm just supposed to float here while you mumble a bunch of words and they conveniently forget whatever it was they were supposed to do? Let me guess, tampering with someone's memory isn't against anything in your little rule book.”

The grip around my waist loosened and I tumbled into his arms. “My rule book...” He began, the golden fire shot from his hand and zigzagged outside the door. His mouth twitched. “I don't think you want to hear about my rule book.”

I opened my mouth and shut it. He was smiling. It was so unfair. Whenever he smiled like that, I already knew the argument had ended.

“You're going to be late for dinner.” He murmured in my ear. A loud crack, followed by a fizzle pop echoed in the empty floor. He laughed softly. “That's all taken care of. I am at your service.”

“My service?” I half-laughed. “I don't know. How about getting me to that dinner that's so important to my career?”

“And what would be your preferred means of travel?”

“I would say, surprise me.” I closed my eyes. “But, I think I can be picky tonight. I want to be fast and I want...”


“I want to feel the wind in my hair.”

“I think I can arrange that.” His feet nudged mine and I stepped onto his toes, opening my eyes. “Hold your breath.”

The room blurred into nothing and I found myself holding on tight, arms around his neck as we flew through the night. For one, nerve-wracking moment, I could not breath, then air flooded through my lungs in giant gulps. The cold night air tugged at my head, my hair streaming out beautifully in the moonlight, as we sped through the desert. “Thank you.” I heard myself say.

His mouth twitched. “You're welcome...Angie.”

Copyright 2008 S. Harricharan


Joanne Sher said...

I had fun READING this, dear Sawa! I love the voices of both characters, and the wonderful banter between them. You are just AMAZING at this, girlie! Love you, AND this!

Lynn Squire said...

This was very fun, reminded me of I Dream of Jeanie.

Patty Wysong said...

I love this Sawa! Do you have any spare genies laying around? I'll take one, if you do. LoL