Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey
After pushing my best friends shoulder, shouting her name and even playing loud music, she still snores like I’m not here. Time to bring out the big cards then. Filling a glass with water, I walk back to her and slowly drop a little bit on her face. I chuckle as she coughs like I just attempted to drown her or something, letting out a tiny scream and rolling off the side of her single bed, pulling the red sheets off with her.
“Karma, have you lost your god damn mind?!” she shouts, huffing and puffing as she sits up, wiping her face.
“You told me to do it! Remember?” I say, reminding her of what she asked me yesterday. “ ‘If I don’t wake up for the job interview, you have full permission to pour ice cold water over my face to get my lazy ass up,’ ” I mimic her voice as she still glares at me.
“Did you even try to wake me up the normal way?” she asks as she stands up, picking up her bedsheets as she does.
“Nope, but I have coffee,” I say, knowing that will distract her into forgiving me. I’m pretty sure my bestie, Mads, has been addicted to coffee since I’ve known her. We met in school when we were both eight years old. Mads grins, running past me to the cup of coffee in the travel mug on her counter. She sighs as she takes a long sip and then goes to grab a towel.
“Why is this job interview so feckin’ important?” I ask her, sitting on her messy bed as she towel dries her hair.
“Unlike some people, we don’t all live rent free in our parents’ house and have no job, Karma,” she sarcastically states, though I know she doesn’t mean it in a nasty way. I do have a job, not one that she could ever find out about though. I couldn’t even imagine telling Mads I’m a goddess of karma and get paid in pure gold to deliver karma to the world. I also don’t think she would believe me if I said I hide my box of gold at the end of a rainbow, as rainbows are the safest bank storage in the magical world. Don’t even get me started on how protective our family leprechaun is. My mum went all literal by naming me what my family’s job is. My brothers all have normal names, but oh no, mum and dad had to choose Karma for me. I’m named after my great ancestor, the original karma goddess.
“I will get a job, you know, when I run out of money,” I say, which will be never because being a karma god is a job I will have to do until I die. The higher gods make sure we are well paid though, better than any human job could pay us, to make sure we would never leave our work. I know there have been gods and goddesses who have left—or tried to—only to find themselves thrown into the gods’ correctional facility. I shudder. That place is worse than any nightmare a god of dreams could give you.
“You are so lucky,” she says with a longing sigh, disappearing into her wardrobe to get dressed. Mads doesn’t have family, and her foster parents let her runaway to Dublin at fifteen, and they never looked for her. She kept in contact with me though, only as I wouldn’t let her just disappear on me. Decent friends are hard to come by and even better if they don’t ask too many questions like her. Mads has worked a million jobs to keep her tiny studio flat and food on her table, and I admire her for it. I really hope she gets the job today; I know there isn’t much food in her fridge, and she won’t let me help her out with money. I push my curly, waist-length red hair behind my ear as I stand up and go to the mirror as I wait for her. I glance down at my black leather leggings and black vest top that shows a little bit of my stomach off.
“You still look like a sexy Irish Barbie doll, don’t worry,” Mads jokes, and I turn to grin at her, seeing her smart work uniform that suits her curves, long blonde hair which she has pulled up into a bun. We are both Irish, though somehow Mads has a stronger accent than I do, and her