Story: Daily Interventions

This story was inspired by a prompt from readera and fills the "crocheting" and "knock over the water cup" squares of my March National Crafting Month Bingo Card. This story is 910 words, and is not set in any of my current worlds.

Daily Interventions

In some places, at some times, they’re revered as gods. Granters of favor and misfortune, and humanity can perceive them easily. In this universe, in this short piece of the loop of time, magic is exceedingly rare and those few humans who do possess some are disbelieved and shunned. So, their perception of supernatural beings such as Corbin and his companions is incredibly limited.
 

It makes walking among them easier in many ways. No one stops him from wandering about as he will, begging for his divine blessing, but it has its frustrations. Making people believe (and respect) his workings is a much harder sell.
 

But it’s ok. Today he’s roaming the aisles of a Joann Fabrics in Topsham, Maine, watching for moments of inspiration. He’d already scored a “trick” by literally tipping over the water cup of a young man taking a watercolor painting class. The lad believed he’d nudged it with his elbow and would give up the art as he now felt he was too clumsy to excel. Humanity in general believed Corbin (if they knew of him) to be a cruel being, full of such tricks. What they didn’t understand, and couldn’t see, was that the young man taking a watercolor class could have become a master of the art, and as a professor at a prestigious university, would have ruined the lives of countless others. Now, he’d more likely become a reporter or a stockbroker, and his ruthless streak wouldn’t cause as much harm in either of those endeavors. A little mischief now, less harm later. Good work, if you could get it, in Corbin’s opinion. And the chaos at the painting table had caused Corbin’s smirk to ratchet up three notches.
 

In the yarn aisle, Corbin spotted another opportunity. There was a person there, chewing their bottom lip raw, as they considered the myriad fiber offerings. Corbin saw them with a luminescent glow around them, rapidly shifting from light to dark shades of auburn and drawing his eye to look further down this individual’s possible paths. It was going to get dark, and in most paths they didn’t survive. Suicide, to escape a wretched future of abuse and societal alienation. Partner betrayal that led to a deadly domestic violence incident. And a few more, all bringing Corbin’s mood down significantly.
 

Seriously considering the stranger, Corbin glanced at the few paths that they could walk that would keep them on this plane of existence a while longer. They could decide to move across the country with a friend headed to California in about 8 months. Not a likely scenario, too expensive. Flipping through a few more long shot options, Corbin found a moment of hope. There’s what he’d been looking for, the reason this person deserved his intervention.
 

If granted a small, seemingly insignificant wish, to be good at just one creative thing they tried, this person had the potential to radically move forward the gender equality movement of America. In about 17.5 years from this current perceivable moment, Nadia Tyson (deadname Nathan), if able to survive, would enter local politics and start on a path that ended in revolutionary change.
 

The trouble Corbin always got into when he granted these wishes, was that not everyone would appreciate these changes. There was just no pleasing everybody. 
 

But Corbin was incredibly fond of the trans and non-binary movements. Eon after eon, and across cultures, tricksters were predominately perceived as male by humanity. He’d had a few aspects that were female, Eris in Greece, Laverna in Rome. And he adored the times when he was just an animal spirit, Raven or Coyote. But in the now of human experience, he was shoehorned into “he,” and there was a burning desire to be something new, something free.
 

Society wasn’t there yet, but Corbin was working on it, damn it!
 

“Hi, I see you’re angsting over which yarn to get. What has you stumped?” Corbin appeared as a dark-haired, dark eyed 20-something Joann’s employee, fiddling with his green apron.
 

“I need five or six skeins of this yarn to finish my crocheted blanket project, but we’re really low on cash. I can only afford, maybe, three skeins, and my zucchini said they wanted the money for a gaming tournament. Maybe I should give it to them instead,” Nadine lamented.
 

“Oh, easy fix! You missed the sign that these are Buy One Get One!” Corbin magicked the BOGO sign into existence and nudged the electronics of the store to agree with his perception of reality. Easy wish to grant, really, so he pushed the universe for a smidge more.
 

Corbin grabbed the six skeins of blue-into-green-into-purple yarn and as he passed them over, brushed against Nadines fingers and planted in them the skill of a master crafter.  
 

“Finish the blanket, and all the projects that come after,” Corbin whispered, and with the last of his interventions for the day firmed up the bits of intuition Nadine had already ignored that pointed towards their partner as an abuser. 
 

“Wow, thank you.” Nadine’s eyes were wide and confused for just a moment. Just because humans in the now couldn’t easily perceive the divine walking amongst them, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t feel a direct touch.
 

But the moment passed, and all of Nadine’s senses told them Corbin was just a young man, working his shift at JoAnn’s, who’d been surprisingly kid, but otherwise seemed completely normal.
 

“No problem. Thanks for shopping at JoAnns.”