Coffee Pot {MAP}

[Opal (DELETED 5248)]

She’d been sat in the Moonlight Lotus Café, down in Wickbridge it wasn’t that much after one in the afternoon. She had been browsing the Crownet. Her handle, when she spoke was usually ‘ScottishBitch’ but you know, not everyone approved of it. She didn’t mind – she actually quite liked it. Through her usual browsing that she usually did about this time – everyone she roomed with was sleeping, vampires and all. Fiona was out, hunting like she normally did. God, Opal loved that woman. She smiled lazily at the screen. Tapping away through the human crownet, how naïve some of these people were – unbeknownst to them was the secrets of the city. The vampires, the zombies – the ferals to. This place was just full of craziness.

Through her browsing, Opal found a topic – something that caught her interest. It was an ad, she read it over and over and laughed, the palms of her hands pressed against the wood of the computer desk before she scooted forward the wheels of the desk chair brought her forward as she began to email this person. This M. Parker.

• • RE: People of Harper Rock
    To: map87@gmail.com
    From: ScottishChik@path.co.uk
    
    Hi there,
    My name is Opal. I saw your ad on the Crownet. You said you wanted to speak to people from different walks of life. I’m not sure what you want from that, but here goes. I am a medium. (not the fake, conning kind.) I mean, it was a gift I was born with at birth – I am Scottish, I do not come from Canada. I’m addicted to Tattoos, and I know a few secrets about this place. I know it’s not a lot to base off, but I’m not entirely sure what you are after. If you want to meet up, I know this great little coffee place just outside of Wickbridge.
    
    Faithfully,
    Opal Marsh.

She clicked send and pushed back in her chair. She turned off the monitor and turned her phone on loud, she would be able to get the email notication through that little cellular device as she paid the fellow at the counter and walked out into the daylight. The warm sun kissed her skin. For Novemeber, it was quite warm. She basked briefly as she began to make her way over to the small Coffee Shop. She did love a Mocha every now and again – it was an indulgence.

It was better than Vampire Blood, something she had currently grown obsessed with and needed to get out of the habit of stealing. It was going to get her in the hospital at this point, she knew it as she pushed open the door to a small shop that was called. ‘Coffee Pot’ It made her chuckle – she was a regular as she began to order her drink. Extra cream. (like a cat) as she waited for a reply to her email. She was in no rush. She had all day.

[MAP (DELETED 5421)]

He took a deep breath of the cool November air and held it in for a moment, cherishing it before exhaling slowly. It was a beautiful day. He was glad to be out even if t was just for a fifteen minute break. Because it was such a beautiful day, many were coming to pick up their pizzas instead of having it delivere d to their homes. Almost every one who came in was in a good mood. It chalked it up to the weather; it had to be the weather. It amazed him how weather could influence one's mood. He's seen it in his own self time after time. When he was hot, he was a bit irritable, didn't wan't to be bothered with other people. When it was cold, he desired to be close to people, even if it meant just going into a coffee shop to sit for a bit. But when the weather was just right, he felt like he could breath. He felt that the world around him was alright and there was unlimited potential right at his finger tips.

Mikey leaned back, his palms on the concrete step supporting his body weight. He sighed softly. His shift was practically over. Or at least, he had decided it was over. Everyone was out and about, but business was rather slow despite people coming to pick up their pizzas. He actually had to work in the kitchen for a little. Mr. G didn't want to send him back to his "home" packing; the older gentleman knew this was the blonde's only generating income and was willing to give the young man has much hours as he could. And he was grateful to the man for that. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to spend the rest of his day. The evening was approaching; the nightlife was itching to be revive, but that wasn't Mikey's scene. It couldn't imagine it ever being his scene.
His eyes began to drift closed when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. The sensation sent chills up his spine...and basically almost scared his skin right off his body. Shifting, he reached back to slip the smart phone out of his pocket; a look of surprise painted across his face. Who could possibly texting him? He figured it was his mother. He paused. When was the last time he checked in with his folks anyway? But when he focused on the screen, Mikey found himself to be in a bit of shock.
An email. Re: People of Harper Rock.

"****," he muttered in disbelief, quickly entering the code to unlock his phone in order to get into his mail app. Slowly, he rose to his feet; eyes focused on the contents of the email. Surprise, surprise. A bite. He hadn't expected anyone to get back to him. Taking a leap of faith, he had put up an ad on an online forum. Over a period of time, he had seen numerous people put up wanted ads and he figured, why not. It wasn't like he was going to meet anyone on his own anyway. His life was menotanous. If he wasn't at work at the parlor, he was in his car delivering pizzas. If he wasn't doing any of those two things, he was at the coffee shop, doing research and enjoying several cups of his favorite/most needed beverage. But if he wasn't there, he was back at "home", the motel room he had been living in since the moment the soles of his feet made contact with the land of Harper Rock. To him, his schedule left little to no opportunity to meet people. Untrue, most would say.

Mikey couldn't explain why he put the message out, perhaps out of habit. He needed to experience life through others. His life left much to be desired at times. His fingers missed punching at the keys of his laptop, eager to send out someone's story to the world wide web, hoping it would be a story people wanted to read. He had been so focused on getting settle, he hadn't wrote much, except for the artice for the Harper Rock Sun. Come to think of it, he hadn't received his money yet for that.

He shook his head as he opened the door to the parlor with one hand, while the other held onto his phone, scrolling up and down in order to reread the email once again. Opal Marsh. It was a name that flowed well together, a name..a strong name, a name an author would probably use for a character. The blonde shook his head once more, needing to focus. He had to admit, she had him curious. He couldn't remember if he ever ran across a true medium before. His mouth twisted up to the side as he paused in his steps. She said she knew things, secrets about the city they lived in. A grin began to form. He could get plenty of stories from this encounter. He was sure of it.

His fingers worked to respond to the email quickly.

• • RE: People of Harper Rock
    To: ScottishChik@path.co.uk
    From: map87@gmail.com
    
    Hello,
    
    Thank you for responding to my ad. I really appreciate it. I'm eager to talk to you. Sitting down for coffee sounds great. Where do you want me to meet you?
    
    M. Parker

Simple. Straight to the point, that's how he liked to respond to emails. Tucking his phone into his back pocket, he untied the straps of the apron from his waist before he pulled the strap from around his neck. "Hey, Mr. G," he called, "I'm heading out. Something's come up. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to jog out the door, heading toward the other side of the street where his car sat patiently for its driver.

[Opal (DELETED 5248)]

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she was handing over the money for her mocha. She loved the damn thing, there was a new seasonal one, gingerbread mocha, she was feeling adventurous and decided to give that one a shot – of course she asked the barista to give her extra cream. She was childish like that, always loving the moustache you would get from the cream. She was silly like that. Once she grabbed the little steaming white mug from the countertop she began to make her way to a free table, which was near the window. Setting the cup down she pushed herself into a stool and began to fish out that elusive cellular device of hers before reading over the email. Over and over she read it, before she began to tap out another reply.

• • RE RE: People of Harper Rock
    To: map87@gmail.com
    From: ScottishChik@path.co.uk
    
    I’m glad I interested you. Do you know the Coffee Pot on the corner of Wickbridge, it’s near a bank – actually it’s adjacent to it. I’m sitting in the café right now, I’m the one with the long blonde hair. Some tattoos, you’ll see me when you get it. I’m not hard to miss.
    
    Faithfully,
    Opal Marsh

She hit send and pulled the mug into her hands again, warming the tips of her hands against the china as the cream began to melt, and run down the sides of the cup. She found herself giggling like an immature child and grabbed the wooden stirrer she had grabbed before making her way to her seat and began to scoop at the cream, grabbing a little at the end of her stick and putting it into her mouth, and she repeated this over and over until the cream was gone and she was left with a creamy mocha. She pushed the stirrer to the side and lifted the mug to her lips and began to take a small sip, then another. The warmth was attractive it burnt her tongue but she didn’t matter.

It felt almost Christmassy, as she began to watch people walk by the café, some had shopping bags in their hands, some had children. She liked to do this, stare at people – watching other people live out their lives. In this moment, she felt normal. She felt like another average joe person, forgetting the voices of the dead that often plagued her, or the fact that she could focus chi, and use it – as well as feed on vampires.

[MAP (DELETED 5421)]

He was sitting comfortably in the driver seat when Opal's response finally made it's way to him. He hadn't wanted to go anywhere without knowing exactly where he was going. Yes, he had been in the city for a little bit, six months now, but he still didn't know his way around like the back of his hand yet. He drummed his hand along the steering wheel while he unlocked his phone to once again check his email. Coffee Pot? A grin formed on his face instantly; luckily for him, he knew exactly where the coffee place. It was a good ten, no more than fifteen, minutes away from the parlor. He'd gone there after he got the jump almost three months ago. The coffee was good and the atmosphere was relaxing enough that he could get some work done. It'd been a while since he stepped foot in there; it'd been awhile since he even put much out on the internet.

Sticking his key into the ignition, he revved up his car. Mikey smoothed his hair from his face, and began to journey over to the coffee shop. His mind raced a mile a minute. Opal was the first and so far, the only one to answer to his ad. Excitement coursed through his body; he almost bounced in his seat. He couldn't tell if he should be skeptical of her revelation of her being a medium. It wasn't as if the young man had met a whole lot of mediums to date. But he's watched plenty of television featuring mediums, especially ghost based shows. At times, he was convinced surely they had the gift of seeing and speaking to the dead. Other times, he wondered if it was a gimmick. Even now as he took the time to drive to the coffee spot, he wondered if the woman was just joshing him.

He didn't have a way to prove otherwise either. Unless she brought up his grandmother, seeing as she was the only one dead from his family that he personally had time with. And he only saw her on holidays at that. Other than that, there was no way to prove. As always, he was taking a leap of faith and this time, he hoped, he would win out.

Coffee Pot came into view toward his left , causing him to make an immediate left. A few honks were blown in his general vicinity but Mikey didn't particularly care. He pulled into the first parking spot his eyes caught, slamming on his brakes then putting his car in park. And then....

He sat there.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he closed his eyes. "Okay," he murmured, "You gotta be prepared for the fact this could be just another crazy girl wanting to get her name out there in the internet. If this turns out to be a bust, stop the meeting immediately and walk away." He sighed and let go of the steering wheel and slumped back into the cushion of his seat. No need to waste time if she wasn't worth the time; if her story didn't pan out. Unlocking the door, Mikey stepped out and closed the door then immediately opened the door into his back seat. There, waiting so patiently for him, was his rusty brown messenger back. He unzipped it and peeked inside, making sure he had all he needed: his wallet, his lined paper pad, and his pencil case. Satisfied, he yanked it out of the car and slung it over his shoulders then closed the door.

Hurried feet carried him to the entrance of Coffee Pot, nostrils met with the pleasant smell of grounded coffee beans. He took a deep breath and walked inside, quickly scanning the crowd. Blonde hair, long. Lots of tattoos. He repeated the description in a low whisper until he finally caught sight of a woman meeting the description. He bypassed the line of people standing in wait for their coffees until he finally stood beside the table she sat.

Mikey cleared his throat, "Opal? Opal Marsh?"

He held up his cell phone. "You responded to my ad?"

[Opal (DELETED 5248)]

Opal sat there, staring out the window. She heard the bell jingle as another customer came strolling in, heading straight to the counter. This place was so cheap and cheerful there were so many people that came in. The coffee, was of a better quality than the main brands such as Starbucks. It was just something about this place that drew you in straight from the start as she heard the bell jingle again, another customer. She set down her mug and pulled back her sleeve revealing a silver wrist watch. She read the time, little over half past one in the afternoon. It could be lunch breaks for those normal people around these parts.

Who didn’t like a coffee on their lunch break? It usually gave them a buzz to finish the job, to get those last few hours of the job out of the way before going to their families or empty apartment. How she envied normal people. To not know about the shadows – the monsters that lurked in the dark.

You crave it, darling.

That subconscious voice chided in Opal’s mind. Speaking to her – the being always nagged at her head. Chiming in when least expected, or wanted. She didn’t know the name of the spirit that haunted her, or why it hung around and didn’t move on but sometimes – it felt like it knew her. She did crave the darkness. She had a purpose in this darkness. Much more than doing a nine to five job like the regular joes.

She heard shuffling beside her as she turned her head to find herself looking at a man, he was tall. He mentioned her name then. His tone was curious, and she was allured at once. She stood up and nodded at the cellular device in his hand. She outstretched her own bony hands for him to shake, kiss – whatever formality he chose.

“I am Opal Marsh yes, please take a seat. Would you like a coffee or anything. I can go order.”

She said twisting her body to point towards the counter.

[MAP (DELETED 5421)]

A sigh of relief escaped from him as the woman confirmed her identity. The hardest part was over. Sitting down and interviewing people wasn't as troublesome to him as most would assume. It was always the initial meeting that made him nervous and wary of the situation at hand. He tended to spend time alone outside of his research of others' livelihood. His own life was filled with the same ol' routine, rarely broken. So when it came time for an interview, butterflies fluttered around in his stomach and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Why? First impressions. First impressions were everything. They meant more than most wanted to admit. He didn't want sound like a fumbling fool nor did he want to come off as a douchey journalist. Since he wasn't the most social, he didn't want to come off awkward and inept either.

Her bony hands outstretched toward him and Mikey paused to stare at them. For the most part, she fit the look of a medium. Her ghastly appearance only made it seem like she was in touch more than not. It was rather frightening to think but more so, it made him very interested and eager to sit down with her. Often a moment, he snapped out of his thoughts and took one of her hands into his for a quick handshake, "Michael Parker." He used his free hand to pull a chair out for himself. "Oh no," he declined, "I'm good at the moment. I've had my fill of coffee for the day." A light smile tinted his lips as he shrugged the strap of his messenger back off his shoulders.

Mikey cleared his throat and began, "Okay. So..."

No, no. That's not he was suppose to start it. Taking a deep breath, he reached down and opened his bang to pull out his writing pad and his pencil case. His mouth twisted up to the left as he opened the contraption, eyeing his selection of pens. He picked his favorite one, a plain black pen with a fine tip.

"You answered my ad, which was great. You were actually the first one who responded today. I'm glad I'm getting a chance to meet with you," he finally spoke, " What made you respond to it? I mean, you seem pretty eager to tell your story and experiences. And I mean, I'm obviously eager to hear it as well. But brought you towards making this meeting possible?"

This was what he liked to call the pre-interview to the interview. He wanted to see how open she was going to be from the start. It would determine if he was going to be wasting his time or not. It also gave him time to get the rest of his thoughts settled, which was very important to him.

[Opal (DELETED 5248)]

They shook hands, the pleasantries were over. She had offered to go buy him a coffee. She smiled, and nodded her head when he said no. It was no big loss on her part. Meant she had more money to buy an extra mocha after this was over. She pushed the loose tendrils of golden hair behind her ears, crossed one leg over the other. She watched him with those ocean blue orbs of hers as he dropped his bag to the ground and began to look through it. She waited patiently her orbs looking as he went through the bag, her hair was annoying and getting in the way. She grabbed the elastic band that was around her wrist and pushed her hair up into a ponytail, every bit of it. Tied it together and let it drop then.

• ”Stupid hair.”

She said with a small laugh. The man that had introduced himself as Michael Parker pulled out a writing pad and a pencil case, he delved into the case and pulled out a pen, then looked at her soon after. She assumed he was ready and nodded her head. He asked her a few questions then, he wanted to know why she had responded to the ad, and she found herself leaning closer to Michael. Her back was straight. She canted her head to the side in thought.

• ”Your ad asked for the different individuals. I guess, because I have the ability to convene with the dead, and help people to move on with their loss I wanted to tell my story about that. Most people, who claim to be mediums, are often fakes. Mine, isn’t I’ve had it since I was a child. Though that doesn’t help you believe it’s true. What I’m trying to say is that I’m trying to restore faith.”

She paused, and waved her arm in the air, trying to make what she wanted to say with hand gestures.

• ”Faith in those who don’t believe in passed on loved ones, and how they still try to get their messages across.”

She hoped, that made sense.

[MAP (DELETED 5421)]

The young man shifted in the seat to get comfortable, slowly leaning back once the woman had leaned forward. He couldn't explain it but he always got nervous when women came close to him. He just couldn't figure out the appropriate body language he was suppose to have. If he did something, it got read wrong and often, he had a lot of explaining to do in the end. It made for awkward goodbyes and shattered relationships before they even started. Nevertheless, he listened to the woman's words, attempting to keep an open mind to her explanation.He nodded as he uncapped his pen. He dated the top of the paper as 11 November 2014. Skipping down a couple lines, he scribbled in the center of the line:

Purpose: To restore faith about passed on love ones and how they're still trying to communicate.

"I have to admit, I was a little skeptical after I read your response to the ad," Mikey tapped the end of the pen against the surface of the pad; a nervous tick. " I mean, like you said yourself, they are plenty of fakes running around this place. Charging people to witness abilities they don't have. Ripping poor innocent people of their money and giving them false closure." He shook his head, chuckling light at his own mini rant. He didn't realize he had felt that way. Not that he had seen anyone personally be cheated out of loads of cash by a medium. But in this society, where everyone wanted to be one t.v. He had sat and watched plenty of shows. Clearing his throat, his body slouched a little in the chair.

His pen continued to tap against the paper, "Alright. Lets get started then."

"You said you've been communicating with the dead since you were a child. Can you remember the very first encounter you had as a child?"

[Opal (DELETED 5248)]

Can you remember the very first encounter you had as a child

Those words rang through Opal’s mind. Yes, she remembered it like it was yesterday. Each dead person that came up to her left its mark against her. One way or another. She nodded her head slowly. She focused her eyes on the mocha that was in front of her. Watching what was left of the cream circle, and swirl into the chocolate drink. She drew her eyes away to look at the male. Slowly trying to form the words she wanted to say. She hadn’t talked about it much; it wasn’t something he liked to talk about. She had put herself in this situation; she finally wanted to talk about it. So people understood her story.

• ”I was but a child, lad.”

She started, recollecting the story from the memory banks that were deep inside her mind – the ones she tried not to think about. It was about the time she was able to talk, and walk. Her father had been disapproving, but looked after her none the less. Her sister, and him blamed her for her mother’s death. Opal’s mother had died during childbirth. Her sister had teased her, and mocked her calling her such names as mother killer. It hurt Opal, to hear it from such an early age, but as she grew up she had grown accustomed to the name callings. She was numb to them, it had hardened her – helped her to grow into what she was today.

• ”I was seven, I was at my mother’s grave. She had died during childbirth, my childbirth to be exact. My father, sister – they both blamed me. I don’t blame them, I didn’t know her so I felt no loss, but they, they felt the loss. It was her birthday. I always place a rose on her grave on her birthday. My father stands at her stone and cries – my sister never visits her. I, just leave a flower. Say a prayer, and go back to my normal daily things. That day, I heard a voice. A male voice. He seemed so nice, he was looking for his wife. He wanted to tell her he was alright. I couldn’t see him though.”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking back at the mug. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the china, so much that her fingers were white from the pressure. Recalling old memories that hurt, were painful. She continued regardless.

• ”He told me he had died in a car accident. He wanted me to find his wife. Gave me an address, his voice kept me company as I went there, it wasn’t far. A few minutes away from the graveyard. She cried, and I didn’t understand. When I told her that was. She thanked me, hugged me and let me go back home. I had brought her comfort. I didn’t understand what I had done – but, when I was older, and it became more frequent. I did.”

Opal shrugged.

[MAP (DELETED 5421)]

His hand glided along the paper pad, jotting down her response word for word.

It almost seemed too fake to be real. Any time he interviewed someone, Mikey tried to place himself in their shoes. He tried to imagine how they were feeling, while trying to figure out how he would feel in such a situation. And that was his expertise. In his own way, he was acting; taking on roles he had no experience with because he never lived their life. Placing himself in those moments helped his writings to be a bit more personable, a bit more intimate. But with this, with this scenario, he couldn't get himself to fully wrap his head around the concept. Logically, he wanted an explanation for this phenomenon which had occurred in Opal's life at such a young age. He questioned whether it had happened as vividly as the young woman had described. After all, she began the story with the revelation she had been there visiting her dead mother. A mother she had hardly knew because she died in child birth.

He couldn't say he understood fully what it had been like to know her own family despised her. He figured, it had to do something to a person. Right? He could understand how her father may have felt. He remembered the look on his grandfather's face when his grandmother had died. There was such emptiness in his eyes that he couldn't explain. Mikey hadn't known love like his grandparents. Hell, he still didn't know love. But understood what it could do to a person when they lose and there was no chance of it ever returning to them.

"She believed you, right off the back?" The blond male questioned, arching his brow.

" I mean, here you are, a mere child, coming to her to speak with her about her dead husband. I would think she would be a bit more skeptical. But she believed you right off the back. "

He tapped his pen against the pad, head tilted to the right, as he stared at her.

"Do you see spirits of the dead now? Or do you just hear their voices like you did as a child?"