<u>Chapter 1: Oh what a miserable life.</u>


    ‘I wish I was reading.’ His mind raced as he checked out the final customer. Unloaded boxes still littered the aisle leading to the storeroom. The dull buzzing of the fluorescent lights practically brought him to tears as he began closing the dollar store. Holding back unshed tears, he puts on a brave face, if the managers caught him crying, he might get fired; he can’t afford to lose his job over something like that.


    It''s only been two months since Victor Vance Vogal graduated from school in his tiny rural town. As an avid reader and movie lover, he spent most of his time at the library consuming all they had. As he closed the store and finally locked the doors he glanced at the clock, 9:04. Once he walked outside, he started biting on the side of his mouth. Starting his long trek home, he finally let the tears fall. “I’ll never get to go to the library on this schedule.”


    He shook his head. “I had nearly perfect grades and got partial scholarships to six schools and I couldn’t even get loans to go for the cheapest one.” He mumbled to himself as he looked up at the sky staring at the moon bright in the sky. He’d never had money to do anything he wanted. His mother only gave him clothing for his birthday, for Christmas, he’d be lucky to get new shoes. “Life is so unfair. I did everything I was told and yet I still can''t get ahead.”


    Victor was known to talk out his ideas for the sole reason other than his lack of friends to listen to them. He spent most of his time in books and movies because those were the only relationships he could have time for. Victor believed that his life was all his fault but in reality, the blame for his life landed firmly on his parents. His father worked in the factory that closed when Victor was two years old. He committed suicide only a year later working at the very same dollar store he works at now. The note he left at home before hanging himself said ‘I just can’t take it anymore. I love you both and I’m sorry.’ He even had life insurance on himself, but it didn’t even cover the funeral cost which sent them deep into debt.


    His mother was a model woman of the town, though he wouldn''t remember this. Religious and devout, prim and proper Valencia Vogal was once the picture of a traditional housewife. After Victor’s father committed suicide, his mother spiraled out of control. Now he would be lucky if she didn’t have a needle up her arm when he came home. If Victor didn’t buy his own food, he would starve since she’d steal his money for drugs. She had grown fat, and lazy, doing nothing but smoking around the house. Victor knew she’d probably be dead soon the question was would she starve him on her way out?


    “Tomorrow is another day…” Victor sobbed. “Tomorrow is another day.” He tried to comfort himself but tomorrow he would wake up and once more have to go to work. Victor had worked 84 hours last week earning only his usual minimum wage. He wanted to stop by the gas station, but he decided not to so that he could save his meager earnings instead, he avoided it for yet another week. If he was sleeping, he wouldn''t feel the hunger anyway. As he walked, he could feel just the slightest twinge of hope. “If I can survive working like this for three or four years and nothing goes wrong…” A smile crossed his face, however brief that hope kept him going. His smile quickly faded. He sighed “Just 80 hours a week for the next 176 weeks.”


    His body ached from having to move around heavy packages and his feet felt as though they would break with the blisters that had formed. He rounded the corner and wiped his face on his shirt. He walked up to the two-floor run-down home. The steps creaking beneath his aching feet. He looked at the empty driveway, still feeling strange about the missing car she sold three weeks ago.  That run-down clunker was reliable for almost ten years and now it was gone all for drugs. He opened the screen door and unlocked the main door behind it. He heaved a heavy sigh and placed his bag near the door to relieve the pain in his back before heading upstairs.


    “Eh! Is that you Victor?” A woman’s voice shouted over the sound of reality television.


    “Yes, I’m going to bed.” Victor lied as easily as he breathed.


    “You make any money?” She refused to get up, puffing smoke into the room.


    Victor hated the smell of the smoke. “I spent it on food.”


    “How do you work 16 hours and spend it all on food?” She groaned from the living room as he started up the stairs.


    “I take my lunch at the grill across from the store, and with taxes, I don’t make much.” They had this discussion every night. He knew exactly how to end this discussion.


    “FUCK taxes!” She shouted.


    Victor wasn’t nearly as stupid as her. He knew she would immediately drop it. She hated getting her Medicaid, and disability and hated the government so much that if he complained about it she’d never even consider continuing the conversation. Making his way upstairs he entered his room and locked it behind him. He didn’t want his mom sneaking into his room to steal from him again. He sighed and collapsed on his bed.  Kicking off his shoes he glances over at his nightstand and looks longingly at the few books he actually owned. He desperately wanted to read and escape his miserable life, but sleep took him.


    The next morning he opened his eyes. “I’m still alive. Damn.” He walked down to the bathroom and showered before changing. He glanced at his books again. “Someday I will have time and energy to read again.” He trudged on his way to work trying to decide which would be worse work or death. He ultimately decided work was definitely not as bad as death but even worse would be getting hurt. If he got hurt that would truly ruin his life and make it unsalvageable.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    That day was cloudy, though Victor wouldn''t see much of it since he worked from the moment he arrived until they closed. His approach to the store had a random thought pop into his head. ‘Why can’t I have a chair at the cash register?’ He shook his head, getting ready to stop at the gas station and grab a drink and a snack for lunch. He waited in line for almost 15 minutes before the old fat guy at the cash register rang him up.


    “That’ll be 3.89.” The man belted out. Victor put his debit card in and waited for it to beep. ‘Denied: Insufficient funds’ He stared down at the screen, and Victor’s blood pressure skyrocketed.


    “There’s no way.” He swiped his debit card again. Again it denied him. He should have almost a thousand dollars having lived like a hermit for two months eating only a small amount of food he was required to eat to simply not die about 10 dollars a day on food.


    “Kid if you don’t have any money get a job then come back.” The guy took the snack and drink behind his counter.


    ‘It’s gone…’ He thought to himself. “I’m going to kill her.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud.


    “We all have a crazy ex-kid. Not my problem.” The man stopped paying attention to him.


    “She took all my money…” He muttered to himself. He ran through what happened last night and he realized the aching on his back caused him to set down his bag near the door instead of in his room. His wallet was in there. She took it after he went to bed last night. She took all of his money. He sobbed as he began walking. “I’ve done everything I was ever told to do. I got good grades, stayed out of trouble and this is my reward, a thieving drug addict for a mother.” He angrily cursed himself before muttering under his breath. “She’ll be dead by the time I get home. She’ll go buy a grand worth of drugs and at least then she will be dead. She’ll overdose and be dead when I get back.” He mused with a grim expression “I couldn’t even save her if I wanted to. I’d lose my job if I walked back the mile to our house because I’d be late.”


    “This is maddening.” He declared to himself looking up to the sky as it started to rain. “Keep it coming, it''s not like my life could get any worse .” He put his backpack over his head to keep the water off of his head at least only for a car to drive by and splash him from a puddle. He thought to himself he could use the restroom and spend his 15-minute break wiping off some of the water and then work under the heater unboxing in the store room for an hour or two leaving the cash register unmanned. ‘Honestly, I don’t care if people steal from the store. The store can go to hell.’


    He knew the store was underpaying and overworking him. His manager was the only other employee who worked weekends and occasionally one more day so he would meet corporate minimum oversight rules. She was a ruthless slave driver, berating him for the state of the store despite it being physically impossible for him to improve it. Sometimes she would inspect his pockets and bag randomly to make sure he hadn’t stolen anything. She didn’t trust him or care about him and yet still would leave him alone in the store.


    He began crossing the street towards that little miserable store. That''s when he heard it. A truck slid toward him trying to stop in the rain, Victor dove forward just in time as it missed him by an inch. His hands and knees scraped across the sidewalk. The truck crashed into the center of the intersection hitting a police car driving through the intersection. ‘I’m so unlucky. he thought. Everything in my life just reeks of it.’ Nothing he could do would change his luck despite incredible effort.


    As water streamed down his face he cried sadly in the rain looking up at the store with every conviction to quit but without the resolve to ruin his life further. He stood up determined to go into the store. He clocked in and went to the bathroom to try and clean himself up. Hi, he tried his best to stop his bleeding hands and used paper towels to pad his knees. He sighed and looked straight in the mirror. “It’s another day.”


    He walked out still soaking wet. He started walking back to the store room only to see three people standing in line already to check out. He knew they would complain to his manager if he didn’t go to the front. He did his due diligence to be there and yet one of the women still gets extremely angry when blood from his hands ends up on a ball. He stands there, wordlessly as she chews him shouting she''ll get his manager when she comes in. He simply endured the abuse and after checking them out he walked to the back and finally started to feel a little better as the heat from the old HVAC unit warmed him.


    He began quietly unboxing the massive packages working at a snail’s pace. Feeling somewhat dry after the miserable experience of his day, he put his supply on a metal cart took it out to the front, and began stocking the shelves. He quickly dumped everything on the cart onto the shelves and ran to the front with another angry customer waiting on him. He checked them out and once again got an earful of how they would go to his manager for not being on the register.


    He walked to the back, grabbed some more boxes he stretched under the warmth of the HVAC unit above him, and began unpacking. That is when he heard it, a creak above “Roof must be leaking.” He shook his head and looked up. “I’ll just tell him I guess.” He kept unboxing before hearing more creaking and the HVAC unit popped loose. He turned his head in time to have one last thought, ‘Just my luck.’


    It happened so fast, he couldn’t process what happened. Victor looked around into the distance in every direction only seeing a white void infinite and unyielding in all directions, he looked around again and again before looking at his hands. He could see through himself. “Is this heaven?” He tried walking but even though he felt movement he had no point of reference to confirm he was even moving.


    “HELLO!” He shouted to the infinite white void. Silence followed, no echo, no replay. “I guess I died.” Victor pondered for a moment and shrugged. “Actually this might be better than my job.” He laid down and relaxed for the first time since he started working. “Man, this is so much better! I wonder if I can manifest reading material.” He tried to visualize a book in his hand and nothing came to him. “Ah drat. I wonder what I am supposed to do.”


    He paused and contemplated. “What if this is it? There’s nothing and no one else here.” He sighed and hoped it wasn’t true. “I feel like an endless white oblivion isn’t what I deserved but I guess it fits how unlucky I am.”


    “Indeed you are unlucky.” Before him, a pure white angel with wings stretching far into the white void appeared behind him. “That is why I''m here.” On his body a bright golden blade at his waist, and golden filigree throughout his body. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, my name is Reincarnation. To mortals, The Angel of Reincarnation, pleased to meet you Victor Vance Vogal. I am here to discuss your future.”