As part of my struggle against apathy, I will be attempting to have a short story prepared for publication each Friday. Terrible or tremendous, I will reveal the heart of my creative spark for all to see.
Edgar was perched in his usual spot. He sat high above the sprawling mass of human ingenuity and overpopulation that was Manhattan. He swung his legs back and forth against the edge of the apartment building he called home, a nervous habit he found inescapible even while dangling, unsecured, several hundred feet from certain death. As he stabbed at his can of Ravioli with a fork, the thought did not escape him that he would look very similar to his conveniently packaged lunch should he fall.
Fate, ever pleased with herself, probably found the events she set into motion next quite clever. Edgar felt a bump against his back and a quick rush of wind as he plummeted towards the awaiting sidewalk. As his thoughts of looking like canned ravioli seemed to become a certain reality in a matter of seconds, he had just enough time to think of how most people would call this ironic. Of course, Edgar knew better. This wasn’t ironic at all. It was coincidenta-…
His last thought was cut short as he was caught up in a whirlwind relationship with the sidewalk below. There were bits of raviloi scattered amongst the bits of Edgar, and all of the bits together made the doorman of the building, who just witnessed the laws of gravity being strictly enforced, add more of his own bits to the mess spread out before him.
Fate, peeking over the side of the building giggled over what she had wrought below. This, of course, would not do, thought Chaos, as he approached the edge of the building, walking up to peer over Fate’s shoulder. “Listen F. I appreciate your enthuisiasm, but this is not your job. This is my territory. You see, my name is Chaos. I create Chaos. What you have created below, is Chaos. Don’t you have something more…Fatey to do?” Fate glared up at Chaos, “Isn’t it the fate of all men to die? I am Fate. Edgar died. Just doing my job.”
At this, Chaos tapped his chin and scowled, “Yes, F. That is true. But I’ve reviewed the records set forth by your Superior. Edgar was not fated to become hamburger helper on the sidewalks of Manhattan. He was supposed to die 30 years from now rather unspectacularly from an anuerism.” Fate shrugged, “Edgar’s life made no difference to the world. He simply was. He exsisted as an anomally of creation. His living or dying had no effect on the future of this world. I grow weary of the exsistance of these pointless wastes of flesh. It is a mockery of life.”
Chaos grinned, “But F, that’s not your decision. You have taken a man’s life before his time, violated the sanctity of your exsistance, and tread upon my territory. Every action has an effect somewhere.” Just then, Edgar, much to his own and Fate’s surprise, appeared next to the two battling principalities.
“Fate, I’d like you to meet your replacement.”, bellowed Chaos. Nonchalantly, he plucked a gun from thin air, and shot Fate between the eyes. Her lifeless corpse fell to the ground and vanished. No sparkly lights of puff of smoke accompanied this. She was simply no more.
Chaos looked down at Edgar, his face a held the hint of a smile, and his eyes a dash of pity. “Edgar, your fate was stolen from you. He spoke to Edgar in a calm, even tone as he turned and walked away,”You are now an agent of Fate. Use your powers wisely, and never violate the sanctity of your mission. Your Supervisor will be in touch.” With that, Chaos vanished, and Edgar was left wondering about a lot of things. But mainly, where his Ravioli had gone off to.
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