Michael and Stephanie

Soo.. this is one of the few short stories i've actually finished. And... it's about love. I wrote it for someone very special to me, and to this day even though its almost a whole year later, is just as special still. Looking back, it's a tad embarassing, although I aim for fairly humourous. I think I hit that goal too. But i'll stop rambling. Enjoy.

(New note! I actually wrote this using actual Norse Elder Futhark Runes in some places, unfortunately they don't show up unless you download the font from here: http://paganwiccan.about.com/library/fonts/blfont_futhark.htm. I dont expect anyone to do that.)

Michael and Stephanie

The girl didn't so much fall, as appeared. One second there was sidewalk, the next, the sidewalk was covered with a confused young woman.
"Ouch." She said softly, followed by; "Shit." She tried to stand up, and found that she'd rather hurt her ankle. She whimpered, and looked around, and only then did she notice Michael Edmond, who happened to see the whole thing occur. A look of surprise and shock sat lightly on his face. Michael decided, it'd be appropriate to say something. It wasn't everyday a girl in a skirt and business petticoat, complete with a belted Longsword and shield strapped to her back dropped onto the sidewalk infront of you. At least, not around here.
"Er, are you all right? Where did you fall from?" He checked his surroundings again; he was standing on Corydon, and the tallest building around was the apartment block across the street. This should have unnerved Michael, but the human mind has a way of blocking out things that could not have possibly happened. The girl tested her leg experimentally, cried out in either shock or pain, mostly likely both, and tumbled back to the ground again.
"Not really." she said softly. Her head was a mane of wavy auburn hair, and her eyes were grey pools of moonlight, and her fair skin almost seemed to glow in the miasma of streetlamps and storelights. Michael suddenly remembered he was very nervous around women.
"I, um.. l-l-let me give you a hand..." He reached down, and the girl took his hand, and Michael helped her up. They looked at each other for a second, then almost simultaneously blushed and decided there was something -very- interesting about the sidewalk. She busied herself with checking... oh dear, so the sword was there after all, Michael thought, that and her shield. He hoped this wasn't attracting attention.
"I.. I think I may have hit my head." She said eventually, looking around. "I'm not really sure where I am.." Michael bit his lip.
"This is, er, Corydon. Off Osbourne?" He added when he saw no recognition in her face. "Well, what's your name?" He asked. She was silent for a minute, then tears rimmed her eyes.
"I don't know!" She said, on the verge of sobbing. Michael looked around nervously, and a sign across the street caught his eye. Stephanie's hair salon. It'd do, he supposed. He was getting a little worried.
"Well, let's call you Stephanie for now." He said, trying his best to sound comforting, which to any outside party listening, only come off as awkward and agitated. She looked at him for a moment, then spoke again.
"You're being really kind, but I mean, im sure you have places to be..." Michael grinned morbidly inside. Not in the least... He'd just left a very unfortunate meeting with his boss, Basil Flintworth. And the problem with Basil Flintworth, was that he had a Problem with Michael Edmond. The capitalization of the P is essential for the understanding of Michael's woes.
And, thusly, Basil Flintworth went far out of his way to make every day to make sure his Problem with Michael Edmond surfaced in as many forms as possible, including tedious tasks, miss-informative memoes, and idle threats of incompetence and demotion.
"Into every life rain must poor, my dear Michael. And you're this close to a monsoon." Basil Flintworth had said to him earlier that night, accompanied by the appropriate thumb and fore-finger gesture. The man smiled maliciously, his angular features twisting with the wicked grin. He strode out of the room, and into his office, his secretary giving him an acknowledging look as he passed.
"Marilyn," He began in his nasalous voice, "send a memo to the Edmond lad for me. I'm having a bit of a Problem with him, i'm afraid." Marilyn sighed.
"So you've mentioned, sir." And then pulled out her memo pad. Michael was left alone in the boardroom, with his failed project pitch, and many, many worries.
At this rate, it won't even matter if you show up for work, you charmer, you. Said Michael's inner monologue snidley. It had a point, he figured.
"I, um... well, let's get something to eat." He said. "I mean," he said hastily after, "if you don't mind, I totally understand if you do-" the girl, Stephanie, put a finger to his lips, and smiled for the first time since she, well... fell into his life.
"That, would be fantastic." She said softly.
Michael came home in a far better mood than he left. His heart was ringing, and his stomach was swimming with butterflies, which he hoped were simply due to excitement, as the food had been a little questionable. Something about the girl was almost... otherworldly. He shook off his tie, and his suit, and much to his relaxation, loafed around his apartment in his boxers and undershirt for the rest of the evening. A failed attempt at watching re-runs of stand up comedy lead him to deciding to head to bed.
In his room, he paused at the mirror beside his desser and sighed. A slightly rotund stomach stared back at him. He sighed, Just another problem. He unfolded onto his bed, deciding that his room really rather needed a good cleaning, and thoght about his evening. You've got to have family or something... he had said to her.
"I do, I know..." She said, sipping her coffee gently. "I just can't really remember... I have.. 7 sisters. And Father.. I remember, we live with him. He's a damn pain, alot of the time..." She winced, and Michael, whose mouth was half-full of pizza, quickly reached across to gently hold her shoulder and was about to ask if she was okay, when he realized what he was doing. Then he blushed heavily, removed his arm and spent the next minute contemplating apologizing. He ended up just going through with plan A.
"Are 'ou 'lrigh'?" He said through a slice of hawaiian. She looked at him, and smiled her breath-taking smile.
"I'm alright Michael. It just hurts.. when I try to remember anything." she said with a sigh. The waitress came and refilled her coffee. She didn't notice the thick, worn longsword hanging from her hip, nor the heavy steel sheild over her shoulder. He was beginning to think no-one could. Which was, he supposed, a releif. But he figured, it'd be impolite to not ask.
"So.. you don't remember what you do? Like, for work?" He asked curtly, between peices of pizza. She shook her head. "I just thought maybe... with the, you know, sword and all... you were an actress maybe?" She looked at him blankly, and then, looked at the sword as if she hadn't even realized it had been there.
"Oh... I... I don't know.. I work for my father, all my sisters do. I.. might have been an actress. My father.. I think a Director. That sounds right." She said contemplatively. "But actress... I doubt that.." She blushed. "I'm hardly pretty enough for that..." Michael blushed, and swallowed his bite of pizza.
"No way, you totally are. I think so anyway." Stephanie looked surprised, then blushed a deeper shade of crimson.
"That's very sweet of you." She said, staring at her lap. They passed the rest of the meal as best the could... Michael told her about how he wanted to be a writer someday, and of Basil Flintworth's Problem with Michael Edmond, and how it merited all the capital letters. And also how his hobbies included "Middle Age of England" where he was a Magelord fighting the viking hordes, only realizing halfway through his sentence that this was usually the part where his date sighed, asked for a check, and gave him a fake phone number. He apologized, but Stephanie giggled and told him he was fine, and that the whole thing wasn't so distant to her as he would think.
The waitress brought the check, and Michael, asked where Stephanie was staying.
"I probably sound like a broken record... but I don't know.." She said with a nervous titter.
"There's a hotel just round the corner here, it's a great place. Brother stayed there when he was in town." He added. "Are you um, okay for money?" The girl paused, and opened her purse. Michael swore he saw the room get lighter as she did so.
"Money isn't a problem." She said with a laugh. Michael gave her his phone number, wished her good night, and headed home.
Michael drifted off to sleep while wading through his memories, and began snoring loudly. And night faded into day.
m

Michael woke, cleaned himself, and with the resigned sigh of those who hate their jobs, he headed off to work.
Basil Flintworth, was ready to greet him at the door. He'd had the special priveledge of arriving early to change all the clocks ahead 10 minutes,
"My dear, Michael, it appears you are late." He said, predatory eyes staring at him. Michael sighed, and looked at his watch, which read ten to eight.
"Sir, my watch says i've still got 10 minutes, so if you'd just let me in i'll get to work." He nervously pushed past Basil Flintworth, who made a loud condecsending noise with his tongue at him, and went on about the unreliability of personal timepeices, and the further unreliability of employees. It should be said at this point, that very few people use their full name at every interval, and Basil Flintworth was no exception. Most of the others at the Basil advertising firm called him Mr Flintworth, his mother called him Basil-leaf, his wife Gloria called him simply Basili and so, unfortunately, did his other wife Susan. His friend Rodney at the nightclub called him The Baz. But Michael's fear of his employer was so concentrated that he would always be known only, as Basil Flintworth to him.
Michael shut himself up in his office all day, receiving occasional obscure memoes from Marilyn, but none that he ever heeded. Basil Flintworth, however, busied himself with arranging these tasks. After one of these expeditions, he turned around and re-entered his office to find a rather familiar face sitting behind his desk. It was, after all, his. He was holding a shimmering golden coin in his hand, staring at it hard enough to melt it.
"Why, hello Basil." He said, greeting himself behind the desk.
"Good to see you too." Said Basil, without looking up. "I see you've been letting the Problem of ours get out of hand, again." He continued, taking his best schoolteacher voice, while chewing a pencil absentmindedly. Basil suddenly looked rather uncomfortable.
"Nonsense. I have everything well under control Basil. Now, if you'd let me get back to work..." He said, shifting on his feet, watching himself at the desk, who in turn said;
"I don't know, Basil. I don't think you're taking this Problem seriously enough... do you want to end back in that place of which we don't speak?" Basil had a sudden image of platefuls of medication and long, white coats.
"Positively not, I assure you. Wheels are in motion, et cetera. You understand these things take time." He said hoarsely, watching himself shuffle more papers about his desk. Then, he stood up, and walked over to himself.
"Well, I just wanted to make sure you were on track Basil. You must not forget, we have a very large Problem with Michael Edmond. He'll see to it we end back up in there. And something needs to be done about it." He said. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he added; "Oh, and by the way- the Queen says she's free for tea on sunday." Basil's eyes suddenly burned with a fire, and he locked his hands around his throat.
"I told you to stay away from her you bastard!" He spat, digging his thumbs in. At this point, Marylin opened the door, to the sight of one man, Basil, with his hands around his own throat.
"I brought you the... oh. Sir?" Basil suddenly stopped, looked around quickly, then looked sheepish.
"Was just.. practicing, er. Pilates." He muttered, walking back to his desk. He gave Marilyn the glare one gives a subordinate whom is wished and expeditious departure.
"I'll let you get back to it then" She said hastily, and shut the door. Basil Flintworth sat back down at his desk, and took out a freah page of notes. At the top of which he wrote; Things to do:, beneath which, he jotted; Resolve the Problem with Michael. He tapped the pencil to his mouth, then repeated the last line a second time. Then a third. And many more thereafter.
m

Michael met Stephanie at the spot where she had asked him to. It was the tall, barren Ash tree in the park near his apartment. A raven cawed loudly as he approached. He had bought some chocolates, and was about to buy flowers when he thought that maybe flowers weren't the most appropriate thing for a girl who carried around a Longsword. He went to Canadian Tire and bought a whetstone instead. He arrived at the tree, to find Stephanie sitting up in it's brances staring at the starts. A few grunts, and he climbed up beside her. She looked at him, and blushed immediately.
"Hello Michael.. im glad you came.." He handed her the chocolates, which resulted in a quiet mumble of "you shouldn't have..." and he then took out the whetstone, at which she laughed, and pecked him on the cheek."You're adorable Michael."
"Well, I think you're adorable too." He replied, then regretted it as he felt heat flush his cheeks. He changed the topics."How's your leg?" She smiled and waved at it.
"It's doing fine.. I can walk again." They enjoyed the silence of the clear, star-blanketed autumn night sky together for a few moments, only interrupted occasionally by the Raven, who had hopped onto a closer branch.
"One hell of a weird bird." Said Michael, giving it a curious gaze.
"Ravens are really smart. My father has a pair of them, they come at his bidding." Stephanie said dreamily.
"No kidding? Are you starting to remember things? Your... name? Where you came from? I'm just worried about you, is all." He added, plaintively. Stephanie stared up at the moon again.
"I know me and my sisters... we were... couriers for father, but... I just can't remember what it was.. we live with him, mother left a while ago... her and dad don't agree on much... and alot of dad's friends and... I guess business people are always around.. it's a huge house, I remember. A bitch to clean." She said with a giggle. Michael gingerly put his arm around her shoulder, crimson flooding his cheeks. She smiled and pulled closer to him, and they sat together a while longer in the night.
"Caw." said the Raven, making them both look.
"If he says Nevermore, i'm going to wing the whetstone at him." He said with a faint smile. Stephanie laughed, and kissed him, thoroughly making Michael forget entirely about the Raven.
"That joke died back in the 1700's, jackass." Said Huginn the raven irritably, watching the pair sitting on the thick Ash bough, and then it flapped it's wings and soared off into the night.
m
That very same night, Basil Flintworth dreamt about his childhood. History, some people say, is the bitch of destiny. That is crudely true, although History is only really a script for destiny to play out through. This could possibly explain some of the bizzarre occurances in Basil Flintworth's childhood, and his chance meeting with something most people manage to go their lives without meeting. He dreamt, that he was eleven, usually a good year. His father had gone overseas to sign contracts on oil somewhere in Tripoli, and his mother was in Louisiana with her friends. He wondered what of importiance happened there in the summer. He, on the other hand, was staying home with Uncle Lyman. He spent most of his time wandering around his family's estate, which were rather large in size, wondering about what he would be doing if his parents were home. "Louisa," He began one day when his family's maid was helping him clean his room, "What does Uncle do?" She gave him the friendly look all housekeepers give their employers' children, and told him to go ask him himself.
Uncle Lyman was getting on in his years, but his hair was still the fiery red it had always been, trimmed into a sharp crew cut. He had, to Basil's recollection, always also been wearing some bright hawaiian overshirt with nothing underneath, and a pair of tattered-looking jeans. His eyes were permanently masked by the pair of cheap, yet near-opaque sunglasses that rested on his nose. And he always seemed to be grinning. Basil found his uncle sunbathing by the pool, a bottle of dry vodka in his hand. He was about to speak as he walked up, but his uncle spoke first.
"Heya sport. I've got a question for you." He said in his slick voice. He patted the concrete near his chair. Basil sat down obediently, and looked up athis uncle, who continued to grin. "Ever seen something like this kid?" He said, holding up a bright, shining golden coin. It almost seemed to shimmer and sing in the sunlight. "This is gold from the Rhine." Basil furrowed his brows. His parent's didn't send him to private school for nothing.
"Isn't that in Germany?" He said cautiously after a few seconds.
"You bet your baseball cards it is." Said his uncle.
"But I don't have any baseball cards..." Basil replied giving his uncle an odd look, who frowned for once.
"Don't be a wiseass, that dosen't matter." He paused. "What matters; is this is Rhine gold. And there's a damn lot of it, for you kid. But you have to do something for me." Basil was about to reply, when uncle Lyman brought his free hand right in front of his face, and traced a symbol in the air with his forefinger in the shape of an H. Hagalaz, said a voice at the back of his head. His uncle smiled.
"That's right. Hagalaz, it means change, and redirection. Of which, you will partake." Basil felt cloudy, distant. He also knew, his uncle was right. He traced another, this one in the shape of F. "That one, is Fehu. And it-" He said, grinning his grin, and flicking the golden coin to the boy, who caught it deftly. "means good tidings for you, kid." He looked the cloudy-eyed Basil over for a moment. "Fuck, this job's gonna take two of you." He snapped his fingers. Basil suddenly felt slightly crowded in his body... but he couldn't take his eyes of his uncle... but he wasn't really his uncle, was he? He then leaned forward, and whispered into Basil's ear. No-one knows why antagonists always feel the need to whisper at importiant parts that should rightfully be narrated, but it happens. "Edmond. You got that?" He said, after he'd pulled away, sunglasses hiding all expression from his eyes.
"Yes, Loki." Muttered young Basil, his palm clutched tightly around the golden coin, face blank and looking like the folk who've been brainwashed on infomercials.
Loki, for that was his name, scowled. "That's uncle Lyman to you, kid." He said, and snapped his fingers again, this time, vanishing.
The next day, Basil's parents came home, and he was ever so excited to tell them about uncle Lyman, who both his mother and father were positive didn't exist, and how he was actually a god in disguise, and how he'd given him a importiant mission to see to it that a man in the future was taken care of. Basil's parents gave each other a helpless look, and did what all respective parents and upstanding members of high-society would do in that situation. Took Basil to a psychiatrist, which was, unfortunately, only the beginning. His parents discovered they now, so to speak, had twins.
m

Michael was in love. He came home practically singing, and feeling totally inebriated, which was curious, he hadn't touched any alcohol all day. But, of course! He was in love!
"I'M IN LOVE!" He shouted to the Winnipeg nightlife as he reached his apartment building's walk.
"You'll be goddamn in a wheelchair if you don't shut up!" Said a voice from a window up high, which sobered Michael fairly well, as he was particularly allergic to being hit.
"Sorry..." He mumbled, fumbling with his keys. He collapsed on his bed a few minutes later, and fell asleep almost immediately, and dreamt of his and Stephanie's romantic honeymoon in the Dominican, her in one of those smashing sarongs with the coconut tops. Their beautiful home in Vancouver. Their equally beautiful but not property-value equal children.The next day, nothing could ruin his good mood. Not the spilt coffee on his shirt at break, the tumble down the small set of 5 stairs at the lounge infront of all his co-workers, and not even Basil Flintworth's constant belittlings could peirce Michael's cheerful resolve, because he was in love.
"Michael, there's another presentation Mr. Flintworth would like you to sit in on." Said Marylin on the phone, later in the afternoon. "Said he might be able to save your career." She said morosely. "He really has a Problem with you, and I don't know why. But im on your side, dear." She said, and hung up. Michael smiled to himself, put his jacket on, and headed down the hall to the board room.
m
Basil Flintworth was upset with himself. Quite literally.
"Didn't I say we need to do something? I'm not going back there Basil, im not." He said, pacing back and forth infront of himself, who sat in the chair looking meekly at his feet.
"S' a complicated process-" he muttered, but was cut off.
"Shut the fuck up, Basil. You've been messing around for too long, and it's going to get us both put away. I'm taking over." He quickly grabbed a stapler of his desk, and, his own eyes widening in fear, neatly clocked himself over the head with it. "There. That's done with." He dragged his body into the closet into the corner which had his spare suits in it. Then, with a predatory look in his eyes, he cracked his knuckles and headed down the hall to resolve a rather big Problem.
m

Michael sat, uncomfortably, by the window, watching Basil Flintworth delicately point out how he was to prove his detergent was similiar in exactly every way to the other one, but ultimately superior. Michael realized, as he did sometimes, that his job was incredibly moronic. The other assortment of interns and clerks watched with a bored and sluggish intrest. If any had been paying attention, they might have noticed the odd, and keen edge to their bosses' voice, and the sparkle behind his eyes that was rarely there. Which made it all the more shocking when Basil, mid-sentence, bellowed and threw himself across the table, grabbing Michael by the collar, who shreiked in terror. His boss hoisted him up, standing ontop of the boardroom table. Most of the others in the room had scarpered, hearing that mr Flintworth had had it in for Edmond for months now, and assumed this was office warfare at it's peak. Across the street, a man in a rather gaudy hawaiian shirt, and a young girl watched the events in the boardroom from a rooftop.
"Cigar?" Said the man, offering a tin case down to the girl. The light glinted painfully off his shades.
"Ugh. Those are disgusting." Said Stephanie. They stood in silence for a minute more. Basil had a chair now, and Michael was just barely keeping out of his reach. "I love him you know." She said again, quietly. Her hair cascaded around her head in the wind. Loki took another drag from his cigar.
"Well, that's a good thing isn't it? You know you can't stay down here forever. You really ought to tell your father when you go for walks Brun, he worries." He paused. "Besides, why? He's no Volsung." He said with a grin.
"Because he's sweet, and thoughtful, and kind. That's why." She looked at him icily. "Why did -you- do this? Why him?" Loki stared quietly at the window; Michael had just ducked a thrown fire extinguisher.
"Hey, im just doing my job. Ragnarok is the big battle, remember? The fates said your boy was someone we needed. And that mr. Flintworth over there," He flicked a hand in the diection of the fuming madman in the suit, "has more roles to play. It's all about something bigger, sweetcheeks." Stephanie glared icily at Loki.
"Don't call me that." She spat. Loki cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, silently.
"He's just lucky he met you." He said, breaking the silence, or relative silence with the shouting and smashing of glass carrying across the street. "You should hope he fights back, otherwise he's not gonna make the list." Luckily, Michael did just that, he covered his eyes with one arm, and swung with the other, connecting on Basil Flintworth's nose. They stood in silence for a few minutes more, then there was a loud smashing sound, and a cry of surprise. "You're up kid." Said Loki, and he vanished. Stephanie looked very sad, and headed for the stairwell.
m

Michael sat up. My god... he was lucky. They did say that only 50% of heavy falls are lethal... he wondered what Stephanie would have to say when he told her.
"She'd say 50% isn't a very big amount, Michael." Stephanie said gloomily, appearing beside him. He looked at her, confused. Then looked down.
"Oh." Said Michael. He looked up again, at her. "What now? How come I can see you Steph?"
"My name's Brunhilde, actually..." She said quietly, looking down. Wings unfolded from her back, and she pulled the sword out of her belt. Dawning understanding filled Michael's eyes. "I told you I was a courier." She said with a giggle.
"7 sisters, the part with your father and the Ravens..." He trailed off. "I supposed I wouldn't have beleived even if I -had- guessed." He looked at her sadly. "Well, I guess you have to be off then, um, Brunhilde.. i'll get onto whatever it is ghosts do.." The Valkyrie took a step forward, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
"Don't be a silly. Im a Valkyrie, I remember it all. I take the spirits of the slain to our home, Valhalla, to feast and do battle for eternity." She blushed. "I'd like it if you'd be there... I don't really want to do this anymore, my sisters were always better at it anyways..." she said softly, and hugged him. Michael blushed, and fumbled for words. " You remember now... im glad. But Brun-" But the Valkyrie cut him off, saying; "I honestly like Stephanie better." Michael thought about how bland, dreary, and just... awful his life had been three days ago, before this girl had literally fallen into his life.
"I love you Stephanie." he said quietly, and they kissed again. "Um, about that eternal battle thing..."
"Oh, well there's Xbox and a tennis court." She said. Michael took her hand.
"Well, that's alright then." And Stephanie lead Michael to her home. Her father, Odin, said at the feasting table that night that he was very happy that his daughter had finally found a nice man to settle down with, and if only he could find one for the other seven now! Which was met by an embarassed sigh from Stephanie and her sisters.
"I'll have to take you on the Great Hunt with me one night lad. A rifle? You haven't truly hunted the mighty stag until you've used an army of wargs and spirit warriors. Only way." Said odin, grinning. Michael politely said that was very kind of him, but he wasn't much for killing animals. He could show him how to play Fable and improve on his topspin sometime, on the other hand, which Odin sounded actually rather pleased with.

m

"You have the right to remain silent." Said one of the police officers holding his cuffed arms. Basil Flintworth was muttering incoherently, giggling to himself every now and then. "I wish you'd bloody use it..." The officer grumbled. His partner picked up where he left off.
"Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law." Basil Flintworth stopped dead in his tracks, and cleared his throat.
"I had A Problem with that man." He said clearly. One of the police officers circled his forefinger around his head, giving his partner a helpless look. The other officer nodded grimly, and they all went off to see the men in the white coats.

m

Later that night, Michael and Stephanie sat outside beneath another Ash tree, watching the stars again.
"I never thought i'd like being dead. I figured i'd be all misty and stuff like that, being a ghost." He said, vacantly, his arm cuddling Stephanie close to him.
"You're still solid enough for everything i'd like." She said slyly, giving Michael a kiss and making him blush a deep crimson. He said nothing back, but held her even closer.
"I love you Steph." He said softly, but the only reply was a light snore. He smiled to himself and wrapped his fingers around the sleeping Valkyrie's. Not soon after, he was asleep too, but happier than he'd ever been.