Complete Cessation of Hostilities

Catherine felt like cold sludge was pounding through her veins. Not the most comfortable of sensations to say the least.

“In a completely unexpected turn of events, we are witnessing what appears to be a complete cessation of hostilities. ISIL forces have pulled back to their bases in Tikrit, while Iraqi forces are bringing in aid to civilians throughout the region.”

Indulging in such human practices was something she didn’t often do. Needless to say, Catherine was drunk. Perks of working as a bartender.

Free booze.

It was supremely difficult for her to fulfill her duties while drunk. But it had been a long night.

It had been a very long night.

After copious amounts of alcohol, Catherine slept for a long time, and dreamt for most of that time. She had wandered through the haze of time, moving between the veils of past, present, and future.

The future presented itself to her like the strained tones of an old flute drifting throughout the recesses of her mind. A host of voices calling from somewhere far away: “The blind given sight. The beggar given wealth. She will drag her feeble frame towards the light of a distant land.”

Not exactly comforting.

The past wove itself into her nightmares like a friend on the brink of death, refusing to give up or let themselves be beaten. Scenes that brought images to the forefront of her mind. A little girl lying in a pool of her parents blood, a man kneeling over her grinned: “Need a hand?”

The girl trembled, but the women inside called out, “Why help me? You’re the one that put me here in the first place!”

Her insides roiled. But still her sleep persisted. Too much liquor always set Catherine on edge.

“Look. I just want to go home and you coming in here and making me push you out a window is not good for my image.”

His image? He’s fucking Satan! What image?

“Interfering with you pointless little plan is not why I came here. Call me Ripley cause believe it or not, not everything I do is because of you. I don’t wake up and think ‘Oh. How am I gonna piss off Catherine today?’ I have my own life and I’m just trying to live it. If there are actually people dying outside of your Plan well then, sister, you’ve got a much bigger problem to worry about than me.”

You have your own life? What irony, Catherine thought. Death and Satan, sitting around chatting about life.

And yet, he was remarkably good at bringing up valid points.

If the disturbances in The Plan weren’t his fault, whose were they?

What did he mean?

What did it all mean?

When the veils of sleep at last were lifted, the blanket of existentialism and self doubt remained. The beautiful light of dawn only served to further increase her confusion as the concept of a hangover made itself fully known to her.