No Mere Mortal

“The eclipse has come and gone, and I for one am so grateful.”

“And why is that?”

“People like me are often affected by celestial occurrences. This one was intense.”

“How so?”

“It started about a week ago; low energy and high anxiety battling for dominance. Have you ever wanted nothing more than to sleep, but couldn’t turn your thoughts off long enough to nod off? When I would finally pass out from sheer exhaustion, the vivid apocalyptic dreams would infiltrate like a jolt of frantic energy, causing me to awaken abruptly with no chance of falling back to sleep. It was rather debilitating to say the least.” 

“So, you’re professing the eclipse was responsible for your feelings?”

“Yes, haven’t you been listening?” 

A good therapist would have found a way to connect; understand, but Trisha Marsh was entirely too opinionated and judgemental for her chosen profession. She happened into her position at the clinic due to her father’s generous donation; certainly not due to her compassion or stellar reputation. She toyed with the pen in her right hand, failing to take even one pertinent note as her own thoughts wandered out of the room and into the bar she’d be patronizing with her friends after work. Her inner monologue reminded her of the steady stream of Malibu Rum Bay Breezes just waiting to be consumed. She’d karaoke with her friends after the third drink and with a little luck, not be going home alone. 

“It would be prudent to avoid the bar tonight.” 

“Excuse me?” Trisha’s tone was defensive and intimidating. 

“I feel as though something terrible will happen if you keep your plans for this evening. I’m simply trying to keep you from harm.”

“Oh, is that so? Are you claiming to be psychic now? How do you know I have plans to go to a bar later? Did I unintentionally say something aloud?” 

“Ms. Marsh, I’m not claiming anything. I am attempting to tell you who I am, and what exactly my purpose is while on this Earth. However, I  feel as though you and I are not effectively communicating today. Please, consider heeding the warning I have received. You didn’t have to say anything for me to receive the message and relay it to you.”

“Lady, you’re crazy.”

“So they tell me.”

“They aren’t wrong. I see here, you were working in the hospital when one of the doctors overheard you talking to yourself; something about calling on your Angel for divine guidance? Are you even remotely aware of the insanity?” 

“Honestly, no. I do not believe there is an iota of insanity in asking my patron saint for guidance, as I have always answered directly to the Archangel Raphael. A child in my care was experiencing a rash of unrelated symptoms and her doctors could not definitively diagnose her condition. She was declining, rapidly and unnecessarily, so I prayed to Raphael, asking that he guide her doctors to the answers they needed to save her. You see, it was not her time to leave.”

“What world do you live in?”

“Apparently one that chastises people for praying; sentencing them to mandatory psych evaluations. How sad for you to not see the injustice in being punished for having faith.” 

“Now I have a prediction for you. Play nice or I’ll have you committed.” 

“I have anticipated that possibility and accept your decision one way or the other. You see, I believe I will be sent to where I can do the most good. If you decide to commit me, it would ultimately benefit someone else. I do, however, find it mildly amusing that you think your decision is an actual choice you get to make for me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not. People like me are destined; we are assigned to help others. Your decision is just a catalyst; the vehicle that will get me to where I must go. I was about to explain the role of the eclipse in the grand scheme of destiny before you declared me certifiable.”

A long silence hung between them as Tricia searched for her next move. She was indeed curious but not invested enough to show her full hand. This session was supposed to be cut and dried, by the book, so to speak. She placed herself on autopilot, figuring she’d listen to the diluted rants of a young woman, clearly either on drugs or suffering from an undocumented bump on the head. She would recommend the obligatory six outpatient follow-up sessions and head out early, readying herself for a night out with the girls. Damn this woman seated across from her for being so unbalanced, she was actually interesting. Finally, she spoke, failing to choose her words wisely; “Are you a witch?” 

The young woman's eyes widened, and a loud burst of laughter escaped involuntarily. “Honestly, do you hear yourself? Short answer is no, but even if I were, would I not be within my rights to worship as I choose? Witches are not condemned by God or any higher power, for the most part, they hold a deep connection to Mother Earth and like myself are often destined to be healers and Universal messengers, so although I do not claim to practice witchcraft, being called a witch is not the insult you think it is.”

“You seem to know a lot about them for someone who says she isn’t one.”

“I know a lot about many things, like the purpose of celestial events such as the recent eclipse, but my knowledge falls on deaf ears, so why should I waste my breath answering any more of your pointless questions? Just make your decision already and let’s be done with this; sound good?” 

“Fine, but first tell me about the eclipse. The very least I can do before recommending commitment is to listen to your explanation. So, regale me with your infinite wisdom, won’t you?” Trisha Marsh would have been embarrassed by giving in to her curiosity so willingly, but no one was watching, and it seemed a waste of energy to care enough to feel anything but satisfaction in hearing her patient out before ending the session. 

The young woman sighed and uncrossed her legs, settling better into her chair. “I am Reya, currently serving as one of the many apprentices to the Archangel Raphael, responsible for healing and protection. It is my legacy, my honor and I happen to take my appointment very seriously. There are many of us, each under the tutelage of our appointed Archangel. We are referred to as the “Siraide” which is loosely translated to eternal, or everlasting, as the line continues with each generation. Every celestial occurrence has a purpose, from eclipses to the smallest shooting star. This time, the eclipse was to reveal those who have not yet accepted their higher purpose, like yourself.” 

“Me?”

“Yes, does that surprise you?”

“Quite.”

“Imagine the Universe closing its eyes, giving pause to the present, then reopening them, revealing the future and shining new light on paths not yet taken by those destined to do so. The phenomenon is called, “atosaigh”. 

“And what does that mean?”

“To restart, or reboot. The eclipse is scheduled when there is an abundance of people who have failed to accept their destiny, as I mentioned. Its purpose is to serve as a tool in order change their perspective, thereby changing their current path which has led them away from the truest version of their present incarnation.”

Trisha hated to admit to her newfound investment into the story set before her, but she was somehow compelled to see it through, to have it all make sense, to relate on a personal level. Now, to ask the right questions. “Is this some sort of legend or myth? I mean, is it documented, you know, written down somewhere for the newbies to learn from?” 

“It is written; the Celts have meticulously recorded everything, preserving it for future generations, but I hardly call this a myth. However, skeptics such as yourself often do. The credibility of “myths and lore” may have been watered down over the years, but those of us with faith in God, our lineage and the words of those who have served their Angels before us know there is only strength in truth.” 

“If I were to confess, I may not be as skeptical as I was thirty minutes ago, how would I go about understanding my own connection with Raphael?” 

Again, a burst of laughter filled the room as the young woman took a bit of pride in correcting her very naive therapist. “Oh, you are not tethered to the strengths of Raphael; you truly make a terrible healer. You, Trisha Marsh are destined to follow your path with Michael, the Angel of justice. You may not have the propensity to heal with your compassion, but you do know right from wrong, and you should be advocating for those unjustly pronounced, such as myself.” 

Trisha lowered her eyes, feeling shockingly humble. “Yes, I agree that makes better sense. Listen, I was absolutely certain of my recommendation that you were to immediately be taken inpatient for at least the minimum of thirty days. However, even though you’d be accepting of that, I now realize that six more outpatient sessions with me would prove more effective.” 

“Effective for me, or you?”

“Great question; maybe for both of us.” 

“May I ask you something before we wrap this up?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Did you experience any physical, mental or emotional anomalies before or during the eclipse?”

Trisha hesitated, but decided to go all in. At this point in the session, she had nothing to lose and only insight to gain.“Now that you mention it, I must admit, my sleep schedule was disrupted and I uncharacteristically craved time to myself. I suppose that would explain the unwavering desire to socialize tonight, as the eclipse has come and gone.” 

“I understand your immediate need for a few hours of reckless abandon, but I must reiterate, choose another venue and stay away from that bar.”

“I’ll consider it.” Trisha closed her notebook and pulled three documents from the side drawer of her desk. “As soon as I sign these forms, you’re free to go. I will see you again next week.” 

“Thank you.” 

Trisha hadn’t been paying attention to the time and quickly realized she was supposed to meet her friends at the bar over thirty minutes ago. She contemplated forgoing a quick change of clothes at home and heading directly to the bar from her office. She knew her professional attire was less than beckoning, and her chances of companionship for the night lowered significantly, but somehow, that was no longer a priority. She found herself sitting in her parked car, still in the lot of her office building, going over the entire conversation with her last patient in her mind. Was there really something to this “atosaigh”. Was she truly destined to become a harbinger of justice? Now, a significant one hour late, Trisha finally set out to meet her friends. 

As she pulled her car into the lot across the street, Trisha noticed three police cars blocking her view of the bar entrance. She rushed from her vehicle, pushing her way through the crowd of onlookers until she spotted her friends huddled together near the corner under the glow of the streetlight. She screamed out their names as she sprinted toward them, embracing them in an attempt to calm their evident fear. “What happened?” she asked frantically.

The three women answered in unison, “There was a shooting in the bar!” 

“Are you all ok?” 

“Yes, we were in the restroom.” Her friend Anna informed her. “We heard the shots and hid in the stalls until a police officer came in and told us it was safe. I have never been so afraid in my life.” 

Trisha tightened her hold on Anna and reached out to comfort Marie and Kara as well. “You’re sure you are all ok?” 

Again, they assured her in unison, “Yes, we’re fine.”

“Oh, thank God!” Trisha exclaimed. 

An unfamiliar masculine voice sounded over her right shoulder, “You may want to thank Reya as well.” 

Trisha Marsh turned to face the most striking man she had ever seen. His dark hair hung in perfect waves just above his broad shoulders. His stunning blue eyes were only muted by his illuminating smile. She took a few seconds to catch her breath before asking meekly, “You know Reya?” 

“I do.” he began, as he extended his hand, “I’m Michael, it’s nice to finally meet you.”