The Third Eye of Muriel
In the sales department of the wholesaler TechnoCom, tucked away in a cramped basement, the atmosphere always reminded one of a shared kitchen in a shabby old block of flats. Gossip hung in the air thicker than the scent of instant coffee and the noisy portable heaters that coughed along all day. The work itself was nothing special: cold-calling clients, filling out delivery slips, endless tea breaks. People entertained themselves as best they could just to keep from dying of boredom.
The main entertainerand, by part-time assignment, the scourge of the departmentwas Muriel Perkins. Approaching fifty, with hair dyed a vibrant red and curled into hundreds of tiny ringlets, she rattled with plastic bangles, earrings, and brooches so much she sounded like Christmas come early any time she moved.
Muriel was certain life had treated her unfairly: husband gone, her son still living at home and sponging off her, and a mid-level managers salary that didnt buy much. But a year ago, after visiting an obscure healer in some remote village, Muriel discovered her purpose. She claimed to have opened a channel.
I see everything now, girls, she liked to whisper conspiratorially, sweeping her bracelets up her arm. My energys changed, you know. That old dear told me: Muriel, youre a conduit. I look right through people now, like an X-ray.
At first, everyone saw her spiritual act as harmless eccentricity. Shed tell Linda, the eternally dieting accountant, Linda, dear, your livers not right. I see it. Linda just shrugged her off: My livers getting along just fine, Muriel. But that didnt satisfy Muriel. She craved an audience, applause, whispers, and gasps.
That particular morning, Muriel was even more mysterious than usual. She shrugged out of her padded coat, straightened a colossal spider brooch, and sat at her desk, staring hard at Susan, the stern head of sales.
Susan had run the department for ten years. Unflappable and no-nonsense, people generally didnt mess with her.
What are you gawping at, Muriel? Susan asked, eyes still on her spreadsheet. Lining up new clients?
I must say it, Sue. I see something. Youll have to forgive me. Muriel drew herself up as if reciting poetry.
What do you see? Susan met her glinting eyes.
I see an accident, Sue, on the motorway. Your carits a Vauxhall, isnt it?totaled. And blood, lots of blood. Be careful this weekend if youre going anywhere.
A hush fell. Only the old fridge hummed from the corner. Susan slid her keyboard aside and regarded Muriel with a look that made the redhead shrink a little.
Listen, you two-bit oracle, Susans voice was low and steady, but carried a warning, You so much as say one more thing about my family or my car, and Ill send all your energy out the window. Got it? Get back to work.
Muriel pursed her lips and buried herself in meaningless paperwork. That lasted ten minutes, after which she targeted Alice.
Alice Harper, or just Allie, had only recently joined the team. Young, 23, with a cherubic face and constantly ruffled blonde hair, she was seven months pregnant. She waddled about carefully and glowed with quiet happiness, always chatting softly to her bump. Her husband was a lorry driver; she was counting the days till he got home so they could go to hospital together. Everyone in the department was kind to her, putting extra biscuits near her.
Spotting Susan as she slipped out for a cigarette, Muriel pounced.
Allie, darling, she cooed. I was just thinking about you. Come here, have a sit down.
Alice hesitated, but couldnt refuse an older woman.
Yes, Mrs Perkins?
Now, dont be afraid, Muriel took Alices hand and closed her eyes dramatically. Oh… The light around you… its pink, beautiful. But theres a dark mark inside it. A black vortex, Allie. Around your baby.
Alice snapped her hand away as if burned. Her cheeks turned scarlet.
What are you saying? Why would you say such a thing?
Im just telling the truth, love. When are you due? I see a hard labour. Very hard. The doctors wont save the baby. You must prepare, dear. Wear a cross, say a special prayer.
This was more than a silly game now. It was cruel. Tears welled in Alices eyes; she held her bump protectively and stammered, How could you… youre horrible!
Im not horrible; Im honest, Muriel sniffed.
Who asked you, you old cow?! snapped Linda, hurling a folder at her desk. Are you trying to give the girl a heart attack?
I just wanted to warn her, thats all, Muriel huffed, dodging responsibility. She ought to have sorted it earlier, you know. Had an abortion while she could. Now its too late. All in Gods hands.
That was the final straw. Alice, crying quietly up till now, suddenly straightened. Tears glittered but her eyes were fierce as she looked Muriel squarely in the face.
What are you staring at? Muriel muttered.
You know, Mrs Perkins, Alice said with a trembling but furious voice, I think Ive developed some powers myself lately.
The silence was thick enough to slice. Even the kettle seemed to stop whistling.
What? Muriel squawked.
Like you. A third eye, Alice tapped her brow. It happens with pregnant women, you know. We see a lot. And now, when I look at you, I see very clearly
What do you see? Muriels voice broke.
I see you, Mrs Perkinswell, youll live to ninety at least. Probably more. Dont worry, youll have a long, long life.
Thats… good, Muriel forced a smile, thrown for a loop.
Yes, said Alice, rubbing her bump. But about your son, about JamieI see something else, and its worse than your black vortex.
Muriel paled, then sprang from her seat.
You! What are you playing at? Shut up!
No, you always told me to speak the truth, not to be afraid, Alice took a step closer. I see, Mrs Perkins, that Jamieyour one and onlywill die. Not because of illness or accident. Simply… something foolish. Young, too. You wont have grandchildren, no legacy. Youll be all alone in your old age. Sorrythats just what I see.
The explosion was monumental. Muriel shrieked so loudly even those in neighbouring offices must have heard. Her spider brooch hopped up and down with each convulsion.
You vile little thing! she bawled, forgetting her clairvoyant dignity. How dare you say that! Are you cursing my Jamie? Ill!
She lunged for Alice, fists clenched, but Susan, just back from her smoke, caught her arm.
Stop! Both of you! Susan snapped, her voice rattling the glass walls.
Susan! Sue! Did you hear what she said?! wailed Muriel, mascara streaked from angry tears. She cursed him! She said… oh, my poor heart! And shes having a baby, how can she say that about someone elses child?
And you? Susan said firmly, turning to Alice, who was pale but defiant.
What about me? Alices chin trembled, but she held her ground. Did you not hear her prophesy my babys death? What did she expect, that Id just thank her for cursing my child?
Thats different! shrieked Muriel. I was talking about fate! And sheabout my boy!
Whats the difference? Linda butted in. Youre both talking about someones child. Your Jamies precious, but Alices babys fair game?
Linda, enough, Susan warned, but her voice lacked conviction. The situation was impossible.
By now, most of the team had gathered. Even the usually aloof lads were peeking over their monitors. Some were smirking, some gave Alice disapproving looks.
Well, she shouldnt have said that, muttered Fiona, a skinny, sarcastic admin who always backed up Muriel. Muriels no angel, but a pregnant woman ought to be kinder. Poor Jamie
Serves her right, verging on slander, grunted Victor, the elderly IT guy who had no time for Muriel. And she always had something nasty to say about other peoples kids, or have you forgotten?
Oh, pipe down, Victor, you dont know what youre talking about, Fiona snapped.
I do know, Victor said stubbornly. One fool started it, another tried to go tit for tat. Not much to choose between them now.
Says you, you old buzzard, Muriel screeched, ready to attack Victor next.
Quiet! Susan thundered. Everyonework! Muriel, go and sort yourself out. Alice, sit down, have some water.
No, Susan, thats not enough, Muriel whined, dabbing her face with a tissue. She must apologise! Take back what she said! Shes punched a hole in my aura! Ill be worrying about Jamie day and night now!
Muriel, another word and youll be explaining yourself to the MD, Susan said tiredly. You started all this with your so-called second sight.
Oh, so Im the villain? All in league against me now! Muriel huffed. Youre all just jealous! I have the gift!
Gift, my foot, Victor snorted.
Alice sat, clutching her glass of water, still shaken. Linda came over.
Ali, you all right? Want us to call someone? Or go home?
No, please, Alice whispered. I dont know what came over me. It was like someone else said it. Its terrible
Whats so terrible? Linda asked, genuinely puzzled. She foresaw your babys death, you foresaw her Jamies. Fairs fair. She got what was coming to her, in my opinion.
But Jamie… its not his fault his mums such a cow, Alice shook her head miserably. I feel awful.
Oh, hell live, Linda shrugged. He hasnt worked in years, does nothing but sponge off her. Maybe your prophecy will be hell starve when she finally stops feeding him. Dont worry.
Linda, how can you joke? Alice protested sadly.
Would you rather cry? Shes lucky you didnt say hed drink himself to death and turn up under a bridge. Your version was almost polite.
Muriel returned to the office, cleaned up and looking put-upon. She sat at her desk, ostentatiously turned away from everyone, and picked up the phone.
Jamie, darling, its Mum, she crooned loudly so all could hear. Are you all right, love? Are you eating? Promise me you wont go out today. Ill transfer you some money for pizza, just dont leave the house!
The department giggled.
Mrs Perkins, why not buy him a flak jacket too? someone called. Cant be too careful, can you?
Oh, go to hell, you sadist! Muriel snapped.
Susan saw that no one was going to get any work done. She called Alice into the little glass cubicle.
Sit down. Tell me what happenedeverything.
Alice, stammering and red, explained it allabortion, dark vortex, dying child, and her own lashing out.
I know I was stupid, Susan. I just how could she say that about my baby? I just snapped. I didnt even think about Jamie.
Susan sighed and cracked open the tiny window before lighting a cigarette.
You were daft, thats true. But shes twice the fool. Do you realise what youve started? Shell be telling this story foreverhow you cursed her son. Shell make you the villain, and everyone else? Theyll just remember you cursed a child, not what she said to you. Thats how it goes when people have kids of their own.
But she started it! Alice cried.
And you responded in kind, mud and all. Shouldve told her to get lost, or just walked away. You played her gameand shes been at this for years, youre an amateur. No wonder youre shaken.
Alice broke down, burying her face in her hands.
There, now, Susan patted her shoulder. Youre only hurting yourself. Go home, get some rest. Tell them your blood pressure shot up. Ill cover for you.
Alice was grabbing her coat when Muriel pounced in the corridor.
Leaving, are you? Feeling guilty? Muriel hissed, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. So you should. You and your prophecies. My Jamie will liveI’ll get him a new cross. But your oddball will come to no good. Ill see to it, so you know not to curse other peoples children.
Mrs Perkins, get away. Alices voice was shaky but clear. You need help.
No, youll need help! Muriel wagged her finger. Youll see!
Alice emerged into the wintry air, gulping down a great lungful. She felt dreadful, battered by shame despite knowing she shouldnt be. Susans warning echoed: people would remember Alices words, not Muriels.
The next day, the department was electric with tension. The lines were drawn. Team Muriel, led by Fiona and two glum older colleagues, clustered around her, muttering loudly and glancing meaningfully at Alice.
I went to church yesterday, lit a candle for Jamie, Muriel broadcast. Told the vicar everything. He said its a terrible sin to wish death on the living, especially from a woman with child. Her baby wont survivemark my words.
Yes, Mrs Perkins, Fiona nodded eagerly. Shes just young, doesnt know her own tongue is her worst enemy. You should forgive her.
Forgive? Muriel shrieked. I cant sleep! Im calling Jamie every hourhes started shouting at me! But I cant help it!
Linda, passing by, couldnt resist: Muriel, perhaps tone down the melodrama? Forgotten what you said to people yourself? Youve got gifted amnesia, have you?
Didnt ask you, Linda! You always take her side because youre just as heartless!
Alice kept her head down, answering calls in a steady, calm voice, though her hands shook. By midday, she felt dizzy, her stomach knotted. She rang her husband, but he was somewhere near Leeds, on the road. Summoning her courage, she approached Susan.
Susan, I think I need an ambulance. I dont feel right.
One look at Alices chalky face and Susan sprang up.
Linda! Call an ambulanceAlice needs help! she barked.
Panic erupted. Water was rushed over, windows flung open. Only Muriel stayed put, watching Alice wheeled off with a faintly smug expression.
Linda caught her look.
Why are you smiling? Got what you wanted? Satisfied now?
Me? Muriel squealed, panic flickering in her eyes. I didnt do anything! Just told it as I see.
Oh, shut up! Susan barked. Everyone, keep quiet! Linda, are they coming?
Theyre on their way.
Paramedics arrived fifteen minutes later. Preliminary diagnosis: threatened miscarriage brought on by severe stress. Alice, in tears and clutching her bump, was carried out.
With the door closed, a heavy pall settled. Everyone drifted to their desks, but no work happened. Susan locked herself away.
Muriel sat, white as a sheet, realising things had gone horribly wrong. Her predictions had ceased to be office banter; theyd nearly caused real tragedy. She started to open her mouth with something like I warned her about hard labour, but the looks shot her way made her choke it back.
Even Fiona, her staunchest supporter, now eyed her warily.
Mrs Perkins, she whispered, what if something really does happen because of you? Because of what you said?
Hows it my fault if shes so hysterical? Pregnant women are all insane! She panicked herself. And anyway, I was right! I saw the black vortex! Its playing out now! Besides, she cursed JamieGods taking her down!
Youre something else, one of the blokes muttered, normally silent Ed from Logistics. Remember God, do you, now? But when you told people to get abortions, where was God?
Oh, be quiet, Ed, Muriel flapped a weak hand.
By evening came news from Linda, speaking to Alices husband: Alice was in hospital, heavy bleeding, but the baby had been savedat least for the time being.
That news made the division in the office final. Next morning Muriel arrived with red eyes, as if shed not slept. She tried to look sorry, but it was obvious her remorse was only about her gift backfiring.
I didnt mean for this, she whined. I just wanted to help, warn her. How was I supposed to know she was so weak? Youre all hounding me now. Im human, you know.
Youre not human, Muriel, Linda replied evenly. Youre poison. Always have been. Remember how you predicted the account managers affair, and she nearly jumped out a window? Told Vitaly hed break his leg, and he really did slip over the week after? What are you playing at?
II just see things! Not my fault!
So whos at fault? asked Susan, emerging from her office. Just spoke to Alices husband. Hes furious, talking about taking you to court for threats and grievous harm. All of us are witnesses, remember that.
Muriel turned so pale her red curls looked like a cartoon wig.
Court? You people mad? I only meant well
Youve been ruining peoples lives in the name of friendship, Susan cut her off. Pack your things. Head Office wants you gone by close of play. Youll get your final pay, but never come back. You can explain your powers to the police.
Muriel tried a last, teary tantrum, but nobody looked at her. Even Fiona pretended to be checking paperwork. For the first time ever, Muriel had no audience, no applause. Her gift was no longer entertaining, but potentially criminal.
She packed her things in silence, making no eye contact. Only as she left, Linda called after her, Muriel! You know, you really should get that checked out. I can see youre very sick. No one can save you now!
The door slammed behind Muriel. Someone tittered nervously; someone else let out a sigh. Susan glanced at Linda.
No need for that. Dont stoop to her level.
Im notjust saying what I see. My third eyes working too, you know.
Oh Linda, you sound like market stall rabble, scolded Fiona, but there was little conviction now, with the gossip ring-leader gone. She worked here fifteen years, and youre celebrating her downfall.
Well, go after her if you want, Linda shot back. Shell tell you all about your Tony and how youll go bald from worry. Want that?
Idiot, Fiona muttered and buried herself in work.
Susan stared out the window at the grey, snowy yard, thinking of Alice. Of how the girl nearly lost her baby because of all this nonsense. She wondered, at her own age and with a dodgy heart, why she was carrying a department like this. Turning around, she scanned the team.
All right then. Lets work. I want to hear nothing but phone calls and keyboards. Any sob stories or gossipoutside the office. Come to me only if its real work. Understood?
Understood, they replied, raggedly but determined.
Somehow, things got done. The phones rang with renewed vigour, as though the air had finally cleared. Even Fiona, after half an hours sulk, started calling clients like a woman possessed.
Near closing, Alices husband Nick phoned. Susan spoke to him for twenty minutes; everyone noticed how the tension left her face. At last, she reported:
Shes fine, theyre letting her out tomorrow. Babys safe, the dangers passed. Shell be at home, on strict bed rest. Nicks coming home for her. He says hello to everyone except… well, you know.
Thank God, breathed old Mrs Brown the cleaner, whod come in with her mop. All your wild talk had my heart racing. God bless the baby.
Later, with most gone, Linda lingered, idly flicking through some paperwork. Susan stopped by.
Why arent you off home?
Linda leaned back, looking worn. You know, I hated hertruly. It hurt, thinking about her. And now now I just feel sorry for her.
For Muriel? Susan was surprised.
Yeah. Shes an idiot, but thats all shes got, that stupid gift. No husband, her sons a waster. She only had this job. Now what? Whod hire a fifty-year-old like her? Nowhere. Theyll see her gone in a day.
Susan sighed, taking a seat. Dont pity people like Muriel, Linda. Theyre not unhappy because of lifes hardshipsthey make themselves unhappy. They only feel better by hurting others. She pitied herself plenty, believe me.
I know, I know, Linda shook her head. But stillits not right, is it? Makes me feel wrong, hating her.
Go home, Linda. Its a new day tomorrow.
The next day, Linda gathered Ed, Victor, and a few others. They all chipped in and bought a big cake. Off they went to visit Alice.
As for Muriel, people quickly stopped mentioning her. When the occasional visitor from another office asked after the redhead, the reply was always, with a meaningful look: She opened her third eyeand closed the door on the way out.A year slipped by. The office remembered Alices baby, a bright, healthy boy with a laugh that made even Victor grin on his rare visits. Most days, Alice sent in photos to cheer up her old teammates, her life now busy and loud and beautifully ordinary.
On one grey Friday, as light drizzle streaked the windows, Susan stood by the break room, drinking her tea. She noticed that the old chipped mug Muriel always used still sat at the back of the cupboard, dusty, its faded rose pattern almost vanished. She took it down, weighing it in her hands.
“You keeping that relic?” Linda asked, popping in for milk.
“No,” Susan smiled softly. “Time to toss it.”
She dropped the mug into the bin with a decisive clink. Around her, the laughter of the team floated, easy now, released from the old tensionjust people, no prophecies, no curses, no fearful hush. Only the steady rhythm of life going onbabies born, old feuds forgotten, even the worst wounds closing over, softening with time.
Outside, the spring rain washed the city clean, and inside, the echo of Muriels clattering jewelry was finally gone. In its place, something fragile and hopeful bloomed: the belief that fate belonged to no ones third eye at allthat, for better or worse, it was theirs to write, together.
