Desserted World

Contingency

  For days on end Atlas pondered that mysterious and haunting encounter. He had never felt such malice in all his centuries. All he could do now was refrain from casting such a spell again, and hope these beings, whatever they were, remained imprisoned. Perhaps they would find the company they might need in each other... Perhaps they would forgive whoever they believed had wronged them so... Perhaps they would forget. 

He hoped. 

It had been about two weeks of this, and Atlas was growing weary of his own dread, but there was no one he could talk to. What was he to tell them? He played the scenarios over in his mind... 

~"Leilah, I have something to tell you..." "Atlas, forget it... I will never go out with you... Horace is my lover... I... I need him, Atlas... His blue eyes... His DASHING personality... His man-" "His manly eyelashes, Leilah, I know- But that isn't it. I promise. Leilah... I am an all powerful wizard, I come from another world!" "... You're crazy. Get out." "No! You have to believe me!" "Atlas, I always thought you were a freak, but this is just... BEYOND insane."~ 

Yeah, no. 

~ "HORACE! You should REALLY show me some more respect, because I am a wizard, and if I so desired, I could turn you inside out and seduce Leilah!!!" "Hah! You think Leilah would want you after you commit such a heinous crime?!" "I admit it may not be realistic but-" "Atlas, you know what your problem is? You're impulsive. Maybe if you were not so impulsive, you would not be in this mess."~

Head voice Horace was correct, and Atlas cursed him for it. 

He hardly did anything but think on his time off, laying in his second-hand couch bed, eating pop tarts, playing Tetris, and thinking. Today was not one of those days, he had to work in half an hour, but his motivation was gone. It was a boring job already, and now on top of being bored, he had to be worried. Leilah and Horace were nice enough, but where one went, the other followed, and he was usually stuck on his own. That pocket world was a last minute contingency plan, one of many he had created out of boredom. Boredom was a close friend of his by now. He visited these worlds in his dreams, and minded them as if they were pets, but he never thought he would have to turn any of them into a prison. 

He donned his apron, dress pants, and collared shirt. He took his dark brown hair in his hands, and messily braided it together in a short, thick fishtail that barely came down to his shoulder blades. Grabbing his bag and slipping on his sneakers, he left his apartment, and strolled down the street.

Another Monday. 

In walked Leilah and Horace, a few minutes late. He couldn't help but wonder what had made them late- maybe they had been sitting in Horace's car together- he drove her to work quite often... Maybe they were sitting together, just staring... Staring into each other's young, dewey, love filled eyes. Maybe she was at his place- Maybe she had stayed the night... Maybe she had spent the night admiring his manly eyelashes, as he...

Well... 

That wasn't any of his business, now, was it? 

"Hey you two lovers!" He could not believe he just uttered those words. Horace grunted inquisitively, and Leilah simply looked perplexed. "Hey Atlas, you been here a while?" "Naw, don't worry- I wasn't waiting too long, I'm actually kind of used to you guys being late- But you know, I'd probably be late too if I was in your shoes, Horace-" 

Awkward.

"Huh-" Leilah seemed to blurt out, "Well, anyway, I guess we should get this show on the road."

Their boss Phil was in today, Phil was a short man with a moustache, because of course he was. He had to be. His name was Phil. Phil did not do much baking, Phil handled the finances. Phil had an assistant named Opal, and Opal was Phil's wife. Opal was a tall woman, with bleach blonde hair and half moon glasses. Opal often smelled like bar soap and thyme. Opal took it upon herself to pace through the small building, to and fro, ensuring that nobody had time to relax. She was the boss everyone feared, and Phil was the boss everyone liked... Unless he was standing right behind you, of course... Inches from the back of your head... Examining you. They had one single child, whose name was Alfred, and Alfred hated baking. Despite this, Alfred worked weekends, hiding in his headphones, black curls hanging over his blue-green eyes, taking orders from no one. Horace thought Alfred was a spoiled brat, and Leilah was indifferent. Atlas sympathized with Alfred, because he too often felt he ought to be somewhere other than where he was. 

Alfred walked in, saying nothing. He got to work helping Atlas with the first bake. Kaiser rolls, and sesame egg buns. Baguettes, croissants, and danishes. 

Same old, same old. 

Atlas mopped, and then swept that day, which was incredibly counterintuitive, and earned him some judgemental looks from Horace. But Atlas was determined to be the bigger person, and so he took to imagining violently mopping Horace's face, which quelled his burning rage.