Chapter 1 — There are many Guys in this world
Debra was technically a prophet, perhaps, but she thought of herself as being more akin to a bird. Humans have three cones in their eyes, allowing them to see three wavelengths of light, and all of their color combinations. Birds, however, have four cones, allowing them to see one additional wavelength of life—ultraviolet—and all the other combinations of colors that come with it. Debra was like a bird. She could see a few more colors. Except the colors she saw were the world of Yetzirah, the spiritual plane that rests above Asiyah, the material realm of human bodies.
She never had any trouble distinguishing Yetzirah from Asiyah. Everything in Yetzirah was overlaid on top of Asiyah in, indeed, colors which only existed in Yetzirah. In Asiyah, there were humans and dogs and trees and everything else you know of in the world. In Asiyah, there were malakhim and sheydim. Perhaps you know these words. Perhaps you know them as angels and demons. Perhaps you are imagining fire and brimstone and horrors beyond your belief, but this was not Debra’s experience. For she could only see Yetzirah, the closest spiritual plane to Asiyah, and so she mostly only saw the smallest and lowest of spiritual beings: Ishim, se’irim, and mazzikim. As Debra liked to translate them: Little guys, goat guys, and bird guys.
In one of her few encounters with a higher rank of malakh, descending to Yetzirah to speak with her, it had been explained to Debra that the human mind cannot comprehend the true form of malakhim, because the world of Yetzirah should not have been visible to any human mind. So the ways that Debra saw malakhim was simply her mind trying to make sense of something she could never make sense of. Prophets of old perceived flaming chariots covered in eyes—but the confused seraph explaining this to little Debra, at age 5, appeared to her as Barney the Dinosaur, but on fire.
Yes, for Debra was blessed with her sight for as long as she could remember. It was a divine blessing that bewildered malakh and sheyd alike. Everyone knew that she was a prophet, but for what purpose, that was yet to be seen. Malakhim were meant to deliver messages to prophets, but the Divine One sent no messages to deliver, and so all the little ishim didn’t know what to do. Eventually, everyone in Yetzirah knew the little prophet, and decided to keep her apprised of their work when they saw her, in order to fulfill their mitzvot to give her some kind of message. Debra, in the meantime, waiting for her destiny, simply carried out her normal day to day life. And so she went to school, and received no divine commands, and so she finished high school, and received no divine commands, and so she went to community college, and received no divine commands, and so she came to work at a plant nursery, waiting for her Book of Debra to begin. This is not the Book of Debra and her prophecies of divine justice. This is the story of Debra, working at a plant nursery.
“I’m making the zebrinas grow, Debra,” said an ish.
"Thanks, little guy!" said Debra cheerfully.
“I’m making the spider plants wilt!” said another ish.
"Thanks, little guy." Said Debra, in a monotone. She arose from her desk and took to attend to the spider plants to see why they were wilting. Having manifestations of the impetus to grow speak to her made Debra pretty good at her job. Ishim only had one purpose to their single-minded existence, and they only concerned themselves with that purpose. Every plant had an ish who encouraged it to grow. Every wave had an ish who encouraged it to crash. Every love had an ish who encouraged it to blossom. Debra saw the ishim of plants as little yeztirah-white balls of smoke wearing wide brimmed hats and gardening gloves.
The issue with the spider plants was that the holes drilled in their pots weren't large enough for the water to drain from the soil. So Debra would need to change them to pots with better drainage. As she reached up on her toes to bring the spider plants down from the hooks, a little bell rang as someone came into the nursery.
"Debra, how are you? '' said a sing-song tenor, stretching out each syllable for emphasis. It was a se'ir. He was covered in short wiry dark yetzirah-grey fur over his whole body. His legs were digitigrade and ended in finely pedicured hooves. His torso was toned with visible abs and pecs which seemed to sparkle through his fur, which thinned around the middle of his belly and chest. His arms, likewise, were strong, and he had the hands of a human. His head, however, was one hundred percent goat. Not an anthropomorphized human-like goat head, just the head of a regular goat from the petting zoo.
"Oh, hi Ezra" said Debra. "Here for a plant? You know I'd prefer you find your snacks at the grocery store than eating my babies."
"Oh Debra, no, I would never eat your babies. Please. I'm not a bat-Lilith." Said Ezra. "I'm here to invite you to a party" he dragged out the word party in a sing-song tone.
"I have work tomorrow–"
"We're gonna dance in the woods all night tonight at midnight and there will be music and hot guys and sexy lilim and–”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I have work tomorrow.” said Debra in a flat monotone. Ezra pouted as much as a goat could pout.
“Oh, you’re no fun anymore” he whined, “remember when you were in college and you’d dance with us in abandoned buildings all night long?”
“And I got terrible grades and barely passed my classes?” finished Debra. “Listen if you’re ever having a party on a Thursday night, hit me up, but I can’t just party in the middle of my work week anymore, okay?”
“What about Friday night?” said Ezra, with a devilish grin, his big black eyes leering.
“You know I can’t party with sheydim on a Friday night. Obviously.”
“You’re still going to shul every week? She’s never gonna call you, y’know. You might as well just enjoy the blessing. You get to come to the hottest parties in Yetzirah or Asiyah. You know you want to. C’mon Debra, come play with us” said Ezra, stretching out the final words, his playful tone dipping into slightly sinister, reminding Debra that the English translation of se’ir was not actually goat guy but goat demon.
“Noach wasn’t called until he was super old. A prophet is a prophet. I’d rather stay in her good graces, you know, just in case. Thursday nights, okay? That’s my free evening.” said Debra.
“Noach was the worst prophet,” said Ezra, dejected. “Fine, enjoy your plants, Debra.” and with that, Ezra tore off a leaf from a spider plant, slurped it up like a strand of spaghetti, and left.
“HEY–” Debra called out after him, but it was too late, and he was gone.
“Hey Debra? I’m making the spider plant experience pain, just so you know” said a little ish, cheerful as always.
“Thanks little guy” said a dejected Debra, her face in her palms.
“I’m encouraging the leaf to grow back.” said another Ish, as he gave the plant a hug.
Thanks for reading chapter one! I'll post these as I write them. This series is just for funsies. Let me know what you think in the comments!
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