Scarlett

“Psst. Hey, you. Wake up. Wake up!”

The man opened his eyes and gasped. There, by his window, staring dead at him, was a tall girl with dark skin wearing a red cloak. She had long, curly hair, and she held a black, wooden staff with a jagged red crystal at the tip of it.

He furrowed his brow. “Are…are you Scarlett? The one they call the Medicine Mage?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, though I must say I find that title a bit…misleading at times.”

The man looked at her staff. “Is it true then? That people who you touch with your staff get healed by the power of the Creator?”

Scarlett shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

The man shifted in his bed. Something didn’t feel quite right. But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He was so sick, he couldn’t get out of bed. No doctor, no medicine, and no prayers from his faithful congregation had helped him. Maybe the Creator would heal him through this mysterious prophet.

But the girl just stood there by his bedroom window, twisting her staff around, and tapping its crystal against the wall, as if searching for something. At one point, the stone shimmered, and Scarlett shook her head. “Of course, I’m right,” she muttered. “Even the house knows the truth. It’s heard the proof.”

The man cleared his throat. “I’m ready when you are. And I have a lot of faith.”

Scarlett turned to him. “Faith for what?”

“To be healed.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she was preventing herself from smiling. “Oh do you now?”

“Yes…that helps doesn’t it?”

“It would in most circumstances, but your circumstance is different.”

“But with your staff, with God, you can heal me, right?”

Scarlett held up her staff to the one beam of sunlight that had managed to break through the storm clouds outside. She twisted it back and forth, so that spots of scarlet light that reflected off its crystal danced onto the walls and floor. “Arguably, I could.”

“Then why don’t you?”

She smirked. “You know, as much as it pains me to say it, I get that question a lot. And I mean a lot.” She twirled her staff as of it were only as light as a twig. “And I usually give the same answer; why didn’t you remain faithful to your spouse, hmm? Is it really that hard?” She banged the bottom of her staff on the wooden floor, and the crystal gave off a dim, eerie light that slowly became brighter and brighter.

The man’s eyes became as wide as saucers. “That’s a lie! I would never—”

“Oh, let me guess.” She tapped her chin. “You’d never betray your beautiful loving wife? You have five beautiful, loving children, and, furthermore, you’re a pastor? A Christian? You’d never disgrace God by committing adultery?”

Beads of sweat ran down the man’s face.

Scarlett giggled. “Don’t be so surprised. I heard everything you said to your friends and wife whenever they brought up concerns about your…private therapy sessions with your female ‘church members.’ And let’s not forget about your ‘mission trips’ you told your wife you had to go on to preach to the—what did you call those harlots? Oh yes, the ‘poor lost souls.’ Like you weren’t a lost soul yourself.” She tapped her staff against the wall behind her. “You’d be surprised just how much your voices echo from these walls once you know how to listen.”

The man’s mouth was wide open. He wanted to defend himself, but only gasps for air came out. Pressure wrapped around his stomach like a cobra, squeezing him, restricting the oxygen from coming into his lungs. He sat up, but the pressure didn’t leave him. It only increased, little by little. “W-what’s happening?”

Scarlett pulled out a watch from her cloak and looked at the time. “You’re dying, that’s all. You’ve got about two minutes, I think.”

“What?!” He coughed into his shirt sleeve, and a metallic taste spread in his mouth. He stared at his sleeve. Spatters of blood stared right back at him. “No. No, no, no…” he looked at her. “Who are you? A demon? The Angel of Death?”

Scarlett tilted her head. “You still got time to repent, you know. I suggest using your last breaths for that instead of wasting it on questions. I can only kill you, not condemn you to hell. That’s God’s task.”

“I-I don’t w-want to…” He wheezed and coughed.

“Die? You and every other fornicator on this planet.”

“B-but my kids...my wife…”

“Will do so much better without you. Believe me. I know.” She shrugged. “But hey, they’ll still love you in heaven…if you repent that is.”

“I’m—sorry…” he croaked. “Please…m-mercy.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Have you repented yet or not? I ain’t waiting all day. I’ve got other adulterous idiots to deal with, not to mention a few murderers on the side.”

The man’s face became a slight shade of purple, and he slumped into his large pillows. He gasped and coughed and wheezed, unable to get a single word out.

Scarlett looked at her watch again. “Times up. Hope you made your peace. Well, actually, I don’t, but whatever.” With that, she lifted her staff as high as she could manage and smashed the bottom of it against the ground.

A blinding red light enveloped the whole room, the man let out a weak cry, and then…the light vanished. All was quiet.

Scarlett looked at the bottom of her staff. “Aw, man. More marks. I really got to get this refurbished.” She looked up and her eyes met the lifeless eyes of the would-be pastor, the supposed loving husband and father. “’Bout time.” She looked at her watch again. “If I hurry, I can get to my next appointment.”