Writing Prompt: You are blessed with super powers that you use to save the world almost every week. However, being a super human does not pay the bills. Describe what life is like for a super human blue-collar worker.
“Move Andy!” I yelled, sticking my head out of my forklift. Didn’t he see I needed to get under them? “Sorry sorry!” he said as he moved aside, probably swearing at me under his breath. New people were always the worst. A few more trips and we had successfully unloaded the truck. “Sorry about earlier, you coming to lunch with us?” Andy was nice, but god was he an idiot. “No, thanks, I brought my own,” it was a lie, but he’d get the hint after some time, he wasn’t my type and plus, I wasn’t really the friend making type either. “Ok, that’s cool, next time!” he left with a wave and I heard the heavy boots of my coworkers file out of the warehouse. Carefully I got out of the forklift. Last night had been especially taxing on my head and laying down to sleep had been nearly impossible as my migraine decided to stab me repeatedly in the temples anytime I was found horizontal. Even little movements triggered it. Coffee was a thing I liked, maybe that would help, though I decided to make a mental note to refill my painkiller prescription. I made it to the small kitchen, headed for the coffee.
“Hi Alex!” It was overly loud and overly friendly and I wanted nothing to do with it, but Macy was here too with her sidekick, Heather. They worked in the HR department but somehow always ended up using our tiny kitchen. They said we had better coffee. I knew it was to look at the men as they went to lunch, their perverted private parade. Manual labour usually went hand in hand with good looking bodies. By the way, who names their kid Heather? Also, my name is Alexandra, Alex is reserved for my handful of sort-of friends and my father who never liked my full name but gave into mom’s choice because well, he watched my mother birth me and thought heck, she can name her whatever the fuck she wants. I didn’t say any of this though, “Hi Macy, Heather,” I nodded towards the other.
“Did you see the cover story today? Some guy was killed on 56th by that old apartment building, you know the one with the odd looking door? They came out with a photo of the suspect, it’s all over the internet. I don’t know how this stuff gets printed, I mean, look at the photo it’s totally messed with, and a girl her size is somehow able to kill THAT guy?!” She pushed the newspaper so close to my face there was no way my eyes could focus. I took it, worried for a split second, but sure I covered up well. It was blurry, a shaking on looker from their window with maximum zoom most likely. It was taken in the alley, the now very much dead guy was hovering above ground and was pinned against the brickwall by absolutely nothing, I stood below him, obviously all my attention was on him, it took so much effort the heavier an object was. I wore my red outfit yesterday and I hadn’t yet seen myself from this angle but I liked what I saw, if anything, my butt looked good. I quickly wondered if Chase had seen this yet, he probably had, it made me smile.
“Funny right? That’s what I’m saying I mean come on! Heather what do you think? Either way, this man is dead and that’s like super messed up, It’s not like it’s a great neighbourhood, guy was probably into drugs or something.”
I rolled my eyes and poured myself a cup of coffee. Not sure how long ago the pot had been made but also not caring. My head was going to explode if I didn’t do something. I leaned into the counter after a long sip and closed my eyes, my back to the women who continued to hypothesize on the background of the dead guy. I let the coffee run through my body and I exhaled, like an addict getting their fix. He hadn’t been into drugs Macy, he had been into much worse… that sick twisted son of a bitch.
I left the women while they spoke animatedly on the subject and made my way back down the oddly quiet warehouse aisle. The workers were gone, it was my favourite part of the day. My forklift was my safe place, and in a few steps I climbed in. I went to look for the key but quickly noticed a flower by the foot pedal, and a note attached to it.
490 Kingswood St / Royal Jewelers / 2 hostages / be there at 3
I have pain killers.
PS: Wear the black one, it’s my favourite.
I downed my coffee, sure it burned something on its way down, and made my way to the change room to grab my duffle bag.
Pain killers and Chase, only a few of my favourite things.
This is part of the Writing Prompt Series Announced in this post.