Damned Fiction

by David Kempf

“Mankind claims to want order but they secretly crave chaos,” Arioch said. “They want to be drunk and high and get into orgies and kill those who don’t respect them or give them what they secretly wish for.”

  “Men are scum,” Satan said. “You are I both know that men will sell their souls to wreak vengeance against anyone who insults their pride. There has never been anything more evil than pride since the Garden of Eden, throughout all eternity.”

  The Devil made fun of Arioch, but the idea of having to swallow his own pride was beyond sickening to him. It almost wasn’t worth it to get rid of the Jinn.

  Satan would rather be frozen for all eternity in demonic ice than endure the fall of his own pride. “I don’t know where humanity is going,” Satan said. “They could be getting their act together for all I know, though that seems highly unlikely. I think they’re driving themselves straight to Hell.”

  “We’d like to believe you,” said Arioch, “but you’ve always had a problem with honesty. We think that’s the real problem. Honesty. Humanity is not capable of really being honest, and neither are you. You’re not called the Prince of Lies for nothing. You’re both outlaws, you and Mankind. You’re frightened and frightful by nature. You’re terrified of the darkness within yourself. Anyone would think you’d be used to that by now! The idea that both men and supernatural evil will have to answer for their own wickedness is the most terrifying idea of all.

  “And it should be.”

  Humans, Arioch knew, were so much more important than they could ever believe. “We made the mistake of underestimating the simple brilliance of Christopher Wisdom. That young man cost us big time.”

  “Fucking writers,” Satan said. “Only writers had more pride than I myself. You know, I like Job. After all, God Himself picked me for the position of tormenting and tempting him. The one thing that bothers me about it is that there are some extraordinarily good people in the world. That pisses me off. There are good folks who can never be damned by him or the Jinn.”

  “Yeah, we hate people like that,” said Arioch. “They only wish and pray for good things. Selfless assholes.”

  Satan nodded. “That’s a sure-fire ticket out of the kingdom of darkness. No eternal damnation for them. Say, do you remember Rocky Horror?”

  “The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Sure. Why?”

  “Do you have a favorite line?”

  “‘Well, you got caught with flat, well how about that?’” Arioch responded promptly.

  The Devil laughed. “That might be the second-best line.”

  “Well then, what was the best line, smart guy?” Arioch asked.

  “‘Say goodbye to all of this and hello to oblivion.’”

  Arioch growled. “You’re mocking us. We don’t like it. We could stop this deal in its tracks right now, you prick.”

  “You won’t,” Satan said, but immediately he regretted his arrogance. The game had to be played a certain way. He wanted to feast on the souls of Henry David Wells and Christopher Wisdom. Disrespecting and insulting his Jinn adversary was not the way to go about it. Still, he let it stand.

  In that moment, however, he had an idea. The Devil would come to man.

  The Devil would come to Donnis University.

  “So who will write your book?” Arioch demanded.

  “I have a short list of folks.”

  “Including Dr. Henry David Wells?” Arioch asked.

  “Why? Are you jealous?”

  “Yes, Scratcho, I am.”

  High tension flowed between them. A feeling of doom, gloom and serious resentment crackled like an invisible force…

  A force to be reckoned with.

  “I can see why. He was responsible for your downfall,” Satan said, controlling his fury about the nickname.

  “Christopher was responsible; Wells was just lucky enough to be along for the ride,” said Arioch. “You should make Christopher write your damned book.”

  “I can’t,” Satan answered. “Christopher is no longer a writer.”

  “What? That was his dream, we thought.”

  “That dream is over….”

  “What is he now?”

  “A monk.”

  Arioch grimaced in the dark. “Come again?”

  “He’s a monk.”

  “You must be joking. Man, if that’s the case, we’re glad we’re going to fucking die tonight.”

  “That makes two of us,” Satan said.

  “What are men without wishes?” Arioch asked.

  “What are men without the Devil?”

  “Afraid and alone.”

  “Not if they’re monks.”

  Arioch sighed. “Men are such cockroaches,” he said.

  The two “boys” smiled at one another among the plastic graves of the fake graveyard.

  “Why do you want Wells to write this book of yours?”

  “Retribution for what he did to you.”

  “Does… does that mean you still love us?” Arioch asked.

  “As much as I can love anyone, I suppose I do.”

  Arioch grinned in the darkness. “Well then,” he said. “We’re ready,” he said.

  “Not so fast. We have one or two more things to discuss first.”

  The Devil had nightmares. He never received much sympathy from the average man because humans blamed all their self-absorption and short comings on him. The masters had nothing on Satan. He was vicious, but deep down inside he feared humans and the good part of the human soul.

  He would, he decided, come to Donnis and he would come with a price on his head. He could be resisted, he knew; his cheap parlor tricks were not as compelling or complex as his huge ego might suggest.

  But I can control it. I know what I want.

  The Devil and Séance Manor’s ocean view—more precisely, the Devil and the deep blue sea—were all legend and myth, not truth. The truth was, Satan was a coward and always had been. He could barely admit this to himself. Free will was nothing more than a first-class ticket straight into the heart of Hell.

  Hell would never freeze over long enough for foolish mankind to truly understand the exact nature of their folly. Nothing could stop them from eternal damnation. Was the heart of mankind wicked? Did men have hearts of darkness?

  What, when you came down to it, was it that damned men?

  They were just like the nameless monster in the Mary Shelley novel. Frankenstein. He had a heart that was full of pure evil hatred; but that heart was at the same time capable of the most profound love.

  That was mankind.

  They could not allow their hearts to let go of emotions.

  Hearts of hate…

  Hearts of love…

  Adam and Eve were dumb fucks, Satan mused. If they were alive today, they would probably be fundamentalist Christians or Islamic terrorists. Eyes needed to be opened so that the real nature of evil and the corruption of men could be comprehended by the masses.

  Things were worse than ever as far as the human soul was concerned.

  Were people good by nature?

  That was not a question easily answered.

  Were people evil by nature?

  A matter of dispute.

  Satan was a coward but he was full of confidence on the night Séance Manor would see the end of the Jinn and the beginning of what he thought would be his rule over mankind.

  The power of fear kept him alive and well. The worlds were full of the fearful, but if they knew how ugly and pathetic the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Fire, really was, they would simply laugh in his face.

  It was not something he could allow.

  The simple assumptions of the nature of right and wrong were the real reasons prideful sinners went to the deepest parts of the Devil’s domain. Men feared what was inside of themselves: their lust, hate and potential to do terrible things. Men needed to look before they leaped but they were too fucking stupid for all that. The shapes of their inner beings were wicked. Satan knew this and Arioch did not want to be thought
of as a fucking idiot during his last existing moments.

  So Arioch would choose his final words carefully. “They don’t really look entirely plastic.”

  “What?”

  “The graveyard.”

  Satan nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. Well, I thought you might have something more profound to say like, ‘To be or not to be.’”

  “I do have something up my sleeve.”

  “Oh, good. I was beginning to fear that you didn’t grasp the solemnity of the occasion.”

  “Well, I do. I have something to say,” Arioch said.

  “One final wish granted,” Satan said, grinning at the irony of it. “One before you disappear forever.”

  “I am the weaver of wishes and dreams…”

  “Who is the lucky soul who will receive your final granted wish?”

  “Wait a moment,” Arioch said.

  A young man whose very physical appearance revealed his virginity walked casually into the graveyard. He thought he was funny. He started whistle as he walked past it.

  “Him,” said Arioch.

  “Him?” Satan shook his head, honestly puzzled.

  “Yes.” Arioch read the young man’s mind; the sexually aroused mind of a pimple faced fourteen-year-old constantly sexually aroused virgin. An unfortunate soul.

  Satan said, “Well, what is he wishing for?”

  “Patience for a moment,” said Arioch.

  Arioch and Satan watched the young virgin, Ted, walk out of the graveyard and into the final and most famous room at Séance Manor. It was the main reason the place packed them in and sold so many tickets.

  The wizard room.

  A young actor with a wizard costume on, gazed at the amazing magic of a dollar store crystal ball.

  Ted gazed into the globe and made his wish. Then Arioch allowed him a glimpse of the terrifying power and majesty of the Jinn.

  “We grant every wish. We are the ones who grant wishes…”

  “Come on, come on—what did the little fool wish for?” Satan demanded.

  “He wants women to desire him,” said Arioch. “So he wished to be the most sexually desired thing on the planet.”

  Satan burst out laughing. “Very poor choice of words.”

  “Indeed it is,” Arioch said. “We would imagine that you will be more specific.”

  “You can count on it, old friend.”

  “You know everything on this planet that walks or crawls will want to fuck that kid,” Arioch said.

  “Did you ever trust me?” Satan asked.

  “Never,” Arioch answered.

  “I am the father of all lies.”

  “Not exactly,” Arioch said.

  “What am I, then?” Satan asked.

  “You’re more like the father of all exaggerations,” said Arioch.

  “Oh, I see.” He smiled at Arioch’s comment.

  The father of lies or exaggerations would be missing his old friend. The stories of the Jinn were almost as ancient as the stories of Old Scratch. He was someone who knew how to lie or mix lies with the truth. The actual truth of the matter was, he needed to lie because most people felt ridiculous for believing in him. Those that still did…

  He needed his reputation back and no one played by his rules anymore.

  The evil-doers thought that they could rule over other men as tyrants without any need for supernatural assistance. They could kill and torture and do unspeakable things but it was in the name of every man for himself, nothing to do with siding with fallen angels.

  In short, they didn’t need the Devil’s permission. Not anymore. He needed to be real to people once again. The old idea that convincing people he was a myth was beginning to fail him. However, he knew he still had one advantage. The subconscious… He would end all his feelings of being meaningless with a book. He would simply sneak into the nightmares of the average reader.

  The wish-granting Jinn simply had to go.

  Arioch and his carbon copy ilk were too much of a threat. This was especially true after that asshole Wells wrote his famous book about the Jinn. The bastard made people question reality; the Jinn were complicated enough in many ways for people to believe in them.

  They fuck with your mind, Satan thought. So do I, of course, but I live to manipulate pain, cowardice and ultimately despair. The Jinn play on people’s hopes and dreams but secretly pray when a human’s one wish was made, it’s worded incorrectly.

  Satan took a breath. “It’s time. I’m going to miss you, old friend,” he said, “but this must be done, and time has finally run out. The Jinn will now have to die forever.”

  “We hope people will believe in you again.”

  “Bullshit. You just want me to swallow my pride.”

  “The worst of the seven deadly sins. You should know, you’re the author and architect of them. Well, let’s get on with it,” Arioch said. “The vultures are circling. What is your wish?”

  “I wish that Arioch and the Jinn never existed at all.”

  To Satan’s confusion, Arioch smiled. The Devil wondered for a moment if swallowing his pride to ask the Jinn for a favor would work. He was beginning to become angry.

  “As you wish… Old Scratch,” Arioch said mockingly. “Nice to finally see some humility in you.” His smile grew broader and then Arioch disappeared forever. Along with him went the Jinn.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Satan said to the empty space in the darkness where Arioch had stood a moment before. Well now, he thought, and cracked his knuckles. The Devil would come to Donnis University and pay old Dr. Henry David Wells a little visit. He had plans to make before that could happen.

  But that could wait until tomorrow. It was getting late and Satan wanted to mourn the loss of his old friend in his own selfish and terrible way. With one final look around the tatty graveyard, he shook his head and disappeared.

  2

  Original Sin

  By Henry David Wells

  “It’s alive!”

  “What?” the woman in the park asked me.

  “Oh, the baby bird on that tree,” I said snidely.

  “Alright.”

  It was alive and full of sin. I didn’t mean the damned bird on the fucking tree either. What I wanted to tell that stupid woman was that the evil thing inside of the baby carriage I was pushing. The baby stroller contained a very severe form of evil inside of it and it was very much alive!

  “Well, have a nice day, sir.”

  “You do the same, madam,” I said.

  “Goodbye,” the old lady said.

  There was nothing good in this tiny package inside the God-forsaken stroller. This thing had tiny little helpless hands, wee feet that were months or even a year or more from being able to walk, a tiny little heartbeat. Surely, it could not survive on its own without its father’s help. It was small. It was a baby. It was human. And it was pure evil.

  Why was the baby evil?

  Well, hell, many reasons but the answer to that question was simple enough now.

  Why was the baby evil?

  Many reasons for an evil baby, there are plenty, more than could be named…

  Let’s get to the two most important ones here.

  What are they?

  Number one is simple enough, me, the father of this abomination is the reason it is an evil thing. I take full responsibility.

  Number two?

  Sure. Every baby that is not baptized is evil. It suffers from original sin. If the baby goes on without the sweet, saving waters of Christ and his church, it becomes more evil everyday it remains a babe who has not been sprinkled. It truly becomes an abomination after six months or so. I am not there yet. You see I will get my son baptized and son. First, he must kill the evildoers. You see that when this particular unbaptized kid strolls around town with Dad, he can perceive who the evildoers are. Simple as that you know.

  What?

  You think I’m insane? No. More than likely, you think that I’m fucking crazy, I’ll bet! You weren’t th
e one who suffers dark dreams about his child and its purpose.

  What?

  His mother, where is the baby’s mother? Fuck off….

  What?

  You want to know the baby’s name?

  Fuck off…

  What?

  You still want to know the baby’s name.

  Fine, I’ll tell ya. His name is Damien. Ha-ha a, right? Yeah. I knew he would be temporally damned for my fine purposes so I gave him an ironic name. So what!

  What?

  You still want to know where mom is. Do you?

  Fine…. She’s fucking dead. Are you happy now?

  How did she die?

  What?

  Fuck off…!

  Fine… I won’t say too much but let’s just say she was murdered…

  What?

  Who murdered her?

  Fine, I’ll say this. They never caught the killer but I’ve heard from one very reliable source it was a small assassin that got her!

  What?

  How did I get here?

  “I’m not insane,” I said.

  “Nobody said that you were,” said Dr. Glover.

  The music was so calm, I thought. They play that stupid music. At first it makes you feel better, relaxed, at ease. The padded cell becomes like a comfortable old shoe you know. I think that they try to get your guard down and then you’ll squeal! Then you can stay for good. I think it took me a long time until I changed my mind.

  “I know you want out,” Dr. Glover said.

  “No,” I answered.

  “What?” The irony is that this old man Glover, way past retirement age, always looked as incarcerated as the patients in this place. In a way, he belonged here. He looked like he was meant to be old his entire life.

  I told him that I was both happy and comfortable here. I was a happy man, workaholic and devoutly religious. Then the ugliness of it all was slowly revealed. Slowly but surely it all came to me. I knew that I was not insane but I wanted to you know, stay a while.

  “You’re feeling hopeless, aren’t you?”

  “No, I don’t despair…”

  “What?” Dr. Glover asked me.

  “Despair is a willful act of damnation and to be damned frightens me. Despair is the only way to be truly damned, you know.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” Dr. Glover said condescendingly.