Justin's Reviews > Gunmetal Magic

Gunmetal Magic by Ilona Andrews
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Aug 19, 12


Lately I'm finding myself jarred from my slumber in the dead of night, stricken by a lion's share of guilt. Breathing heavily and covered in sweat I struggle to return to sleep, but my attempts more often than not end in futility. My misgivings don't spawn from the nefarious deeds of my past, plentiful as they may be, the wronging of a former lover, or any other similar transgressions. My pain stems purely from pleasure . . . the pleasure I receive from my job.

For a time I woke in laughter every morning, an uncontrollable cackling in knowing that once again I would receive the joy of another eight hours of my illustrious duty. My days were velvet caviar, my nights an electric blend of the silkiest champagne. My pockets were lined to the brim bi-weekly, each payment more staggering than the last. My inherited office-chair served as a gleaming throne at the peak of my own corrupt Olympus. I was more than a Sales Clerk. More than a king. I reigned as a god in opulent abandon over my sweet vulnerable kingdom. However, I allowed this wildfire of debauchery to consume me for too long. I woke one morning to the realization that I'd been undeservingly living the good life, while so many others were going without. While I lumbered over what I could do to obtain penance for my wicked life of extravagance, my heart grew heavy, my nights devoid of sleep.I had no right to ever accept such pharaonic payment in exchange for the shamefully fulfilling work that was my charge. I knew that a long road of sacrifice and self punishment would be my only chance for redemption.

Following the first merciless barrage of sleepless nights I arrived at my castle of gluttony, immediately dragging my desk from it's lavish air conditioned halls into the sun scarred reaches of the parking lot. This would serve as my lair of absolution. I would lash my back bloody and catalogue my sins in crimson on the asphalt. I would rain stolen office supplies onto the heads of the homeless becoming one with these hallowed dregs of society. These plays at atonement would serve as the initial steps on my journey. Through this baptism of fire, sleep would one day return to me and my former sins would be reduced to ashes in a divine wind.
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