Damned Fiction

by David Kempf

  Dr. Glover was right. I did fear dread and despair. How could I not? It was quite a tale that I had to tell. I had many miles before I could sleep and they would be miles of darkness. My boy was missing and I missed him. I knew if he died before he got a chance to get baptized…

  “They’re looking for your son.”

  “Dr. Glover, I am more than aware of that.”

  “If you would just behave yourself, I could maybe get them to remove the jacket…”

  “No thank you.”

  Dr. Glover looked puzzled.

  How did I get here?

  It’s a long story.

  You see, every child is bad in most ways. The babies, even the ones I’ve seen baptized with my own eyes do terrible things. The moms and dads almost look like they are going to have heart attacks and strokes. The babies are looking for pacifiers, have close calls to falling off of things, they put every damned terrible thing they can find in their mouths. Now these are the saved babies, not the damned who are going to hell. Imagine the secret evils of the unbaptized newborns and children and…. adults.

  What?

  I sound intolerant?

  Fuck off. One either believes or one does not.

  Deep down inside, we all know that children are evil. The apple is rotten to the core and it never falls very far from the tree. It’s easy enough to say. I postponed my boy’s baptism so that I could see something.

  My wife you ask?

  Bitch!

  She’s a total sadistic bitch. She wasn’t always. All of the time we were dating; she gave an Oscar worthy performance as a decent human being. Not money grubbing hypocritical asshole. You see she was the consummate actress until the day I gave up my freedom and humanity. The “I do” day at the sacrificial altar. At least the Mayans had an honest altar of human sacrifice. One’s heart was snatched out, beating in front of you and you dropped dead. That’s honesty. Marriage now that is torture.

  I soon learned more about the nature of her evil. She made more money than I did. I know that doesn’t matter to two people who love another. Isn’t that right? Nope. Wrong. She didn’t love me; she loved money and constantly reminding me that we were economically unequally yoked. Just one more thing about my darling wife, one more dreadful thing you should know. She would hit me, scratch me and cut me on a regular basis. She said she didn’t care about me fucking another woman, and threatened frequently that she would get a boyfriend.

  But she never did. Why? Because she loved me, despite being disturbed and obsessed with money? No. She did not wish for me to take half of her pile of cash. The domestic violence would remain a secret so I would not appear to be a weak man who could not control his wife.

  Please don’t tell me I should have gotten divorced. Everyone knows divorce is a sin.

  “When you’re ready to talk, I’m here,” she said.

  I was silent.

  “I won’t go into therapy with you but…”

  No.

  She would not go into therapy. I would be humiliated beyond belief, hiding my scratches, Oh God, they were terrible. I had to cover my arms with long sleeved shirts in July to cover them up. Then she stopped hitting me, scratching me, biting me….

  Why?

  My injuries were many but I still continued to sleep with her, as sick of a thing as it was to do. My lust controlled me, got the best of me. I was still interested in fucking this stupid woman. There was another reason as well. I had hope deep down in my heart that she would become a better person if she became a mother.

  Sure.

  “You need to make more money now. Stop being such a loser. If you made more money….”

  Money….

  “You’re a father now. You need to go ahead and step up to the plate. Damien needs a real father… sorry I scratched you…”

  I wasn’t sure if my old lady was pure evil or a bitch. The one way to find out was to have an arbitrary judge working on my behalf. One who has not been distorted by Christ into a Christian through baptism might be able to help. You see our real nature is evil, so surely it knows how to spot evil.

  One thing I did know for sure. My wife would give to the poor, attend church every week and give up chocolate for Lent. Still, she was a total fucking bitch! Obviously something was wrong here. She told me repeatedly that she was baptized, or that she would not have not been able to practice the faith. I asked her over and over again to see her baptismal certificate with my own eyes.

  “You know I’ve been baptized.”

  I shook my head.

  “When are we going to get Damien baptized!?” she demanded.

  Soon I told her. Then I smiled.

  “Good.”

  I took several terrible beatings when my darling wife expressed her serious regret over naming our son Damien. The kids would refer to him as a little anti-Christ or some other nonsense, she said. I told her that was stupid. She grew very angry and said she would be changing her will so that all of the money went to Damien and I would quote unquote not see one red cent of it.

  What?

  Did I kill her then?

  Hell no.

  The baby was always being walked by me; she was always dumping Damien off on either me or her poor parents. My wife was terrible. This was no joke but I would ultimately have the last laugh.

  I walked with Damien through the park and gradually saw his clairvoyant powers….

  He would stare at those who would do evil. Then he would often blink twice at them. Sometimes they were arrested for drunk driving or were caught by their wives for cheating on them. These people in the park were not so innocent.

  “Son, you see because you’re still evil,” I said.

  He said nothing.

  “If you see an evil person, just blink your eyes. Please don’t wink, just simply blink instead.”

  There was silence.

  “Son, you have to listen to me now. Your mother’s heart will cease if you deem her evil. She will be in a goddamn coffin!”

  Again he said nothing.

  “There will be no lady of the house; people will think you’re father a madman and you will grow up without a mother!”

  The evil child was silent. Mocking me almost or close to it…

  “Don’t make me scream My God what have I done….”

  The baby said nothing.

  “I will bury her alive…”

  Silence from the little one.

  “I will cut off her head with a fucking saw!”

  Nothing, no noise at all…

  “I love you kid. You know despite the reverse domestic violence and the knowledge that her family hates her; she would still get custody of you. Is that what you want, son?”

  There was no reply.

  “This is the time to speak up, kiddo!”

  Nothing from him.

  “I will cut off her head with a fucking saw!”

  No noise, not a sound. The baby was deadly silent.

  “If you remain silent as the grave, that’s where Mama will end up.”

  Not a peep.

  “Why don’t take him out for a walk?” she asked me. I was startled by her. It was not a surprise; it was more like a shock. I hoped to God she was not listening to what I was saying.

  “He likes to walk…”

  “Yes, dear,” I said without irony.

  So we walked around the neighborhood and that’s when it dawned on me. Even an evil child like this is seen as being innocent. Pure, sweet and innocent is how folks see babies. A child who still stinks of original sin is nevertheless seen as pure. When that bitch Eve gave that fucking fool the apple…

  “What a cute baby,” said a woman behind me.

  “Oh, thank you,” I said unenthusiastically.

  When I walked by myself in the park, especially as it got closer to being dark, women would get nervous. They were always afraid of getting raped. Who can blame them? The world is full of evil men. But when I was pushing the damned baby stroller, the perception was that I
was harmless. I was just dear old Dad with a cute little kid.

  “He looks like you,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I answered her.

  It occurred to me, the best way to rape a woman who be to push a damn baby stroller in front of you. Then you could knock her over the head with a bottle and have your sweet lusty way with her. I would never do that, of course, because I am not a monster.

  What?

  Murder?

  Oh, fuck yes. I could pull out a gun or a knife right now and do some business. It would be so easy. If I didn’t know that I had a soul and would be held to account someday, I might just try it to prove a point.

  It was time now to return to my “beloved.”

  “How was your walk, honey?”

  “Good.”

  Damien blinked twice at his mother.

  I never intended to become obsessed with sin and death. My terrible wife was the reason I knew our son could see evil people. This little one himself was stained with original sin. He had never been to church for the ceremony.

  “You know,” she said, “we never got Damien baptized.”

  “I know.”

  “Let’s make an appointment.” She pushed the point further.

  “Yes, of course, darling.”

  “Don’t make me scratch you…”

  “What?”

  “Don’t make me nag you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why do you keep staring at Damien?” my wife asked.

  His eyes caught my immediate, undivided attention. I think it was his eyes. They looked at the sinful and abusive mother that gave birth to it. He was really looking at her now. Just when I thought I was mistaken and it was some type of delusion, I was proven wrong.

  From a clear, cloudless sky came a crash of thunder and lightning.

  Natural occurrences?

  Perhaps … but I believe it was God!

  Something sinister was happening here, this was not innocent. I’m not a fool, a madman or some imbecile. I am a deeply hurt man with a very mean wife. She’s the sort of wife that comes from Satan but not as kind as him. Was she ever even baptized? The sweet waters of baptism erase sin and they say Noah’s Ark is a symbolic tale of the sacred ritual.

  What?

  No. I am sane and a price must be paid for every sin. Either here on earth, in purgatory or in the fires of Hell, a price must be paid. My wife does not need to be rescued or saved in any way. If she is evil, then death is the only fair penalty for it. True goodness is as merciless as pure evil. Sometimes a drowning man is meant to drown in his own wickedness. There is no mercy for the morally weak. Physically abusing your husband makes you spiritually sick.

  “Damien needs to be baptized.”

  “What?”

  “Damien needs to be baptized.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Those eyes were staring at this sinful woman and blinking.

  “I think as soon as possible,” she said.

  Those eyes were looking into the darkness of her soul now.

  “As soon as possible,” she repeated.

  Those eyes were looking at this sinful woman and blinking.

  “As soon as possible,” she repeated.

  Those eyes were looking at her and blinking over and over again.

  What?

  Yes, something happened next, you bet your ass….

  “Damien,” she said, frowning.

  I broke out in a sweat. “What about him?”

  “He’s….”

  “Yes…?”

  “Damien is winking or blinking or something…”

  The message was well received.

  “He’s blinking at you. Life is fair, my dear. There is a God. Thank God, he’s fucking blinking at you…”

  “I don’t understand…”

  It was funny. I reached for the frying pan.

  She got to it first and hit me over the head.

  It was obvious my wife had gone mad by what she said next. “Are you insane? I just saw you grab that. What were you going to do? Kill me with a frying pan because the baby’s eyes blinked…”

  No.

  I was having an out of body and mind experience.

  The awful looking creature, the baby appeared in my mind. The darkness, the hate, the fear… The killing would be a good thing. He was all red, like a devil but he was real. My mind was lucid. I was as sane as I ever was. It was sort of like having your senses turned up a notch or two.

  I seem to remember my wife screaming but I wasn’t sure.

  The baby was in my mind, nightmarish, surreal and reading my thoughts, he was hypnotizing me. It was almost out of body but not quite. Then his teeth, he was all blood, terrible flesh craving teeth, the head of the abominable baby! Then I was out of my body. I guess I was inside of his evil baby body. I grabbed the kitchen knife and slit my wife’s throat before she could scream at me one final time.

  Then I was back in my body and out of Damien’s control.

  “Look what you did… your mama is merely a memory now.”

  She was dead and her soul was finally released to Hell where I would imagine it always belonged to begin with.

  “Now, what are we supposed to do with Mother’s body?”

  No reply, of course silence from my son.

  “Good for you. If you were an adult, you could cause great harm by speaking to me. You should invoke the right to remain silent…”

  Deplorable child, my damned son…

  “How can so many parents nurture and raised damned children?”

  No baby talk.

  “So what now, kid?”

  The baby did not answer but I had an idea. I had become obsessed earlier in the day with the splendid scars she left on my arm. She scratched me that bitch, and now she was in the scorching arms of Old Scratch and suffering beyond all description.

  I was obsessed with my scars. They were so bright red and cut deep from her long nails, they damned near looked like tiny pink vaginas. Her womb would never provide sinister life again.

  “Do you have any ideas about what to do, Damien, any at all?”

  No answer from one damned baby.

  “Something horrible has happened and they will blame me. I can’t explain that my son is secretly a monster like from some 70’s horror flick.”

  No answer.

  “The freezer is the answer. We’ll freeze her. She can no longer breast feed but that doesn’t mean Mama cannot provide good nourishment for her offspring.”

  No answer.

  “You know God damned well what I mean, don’t you?”

  Silence….

  He never spoke to me ever; he was trying to make me crazy, this evil baby…

  I would hear no screams of hunger.

  God would use this damned child to find other evildoers if it be His will…

  “Once she is frozen, I will cut up her corpse into tiny baby sized chunks, for you, dear Damien!”

  The child smiled. At least I remember it that way.

  Not the wicked, evil smile of a devil child but one of sheer innocence. My God, how this evil baby could con folks!

  “I know I’m sane, Damien. I know your powers are strong and you could convince me otherwise. Tomorrow, your mother should be frozen enough for me to cut her into little pieces. You can have whole milk from the local market to drink. You can have it while you are eating mother’s meat. Consider yourself lucky, most children, even unbaptized ones only get mother’s milk. Mother’s meat is probably something different altogether. I must confess, I’m very curious and hopeful about tomorrow’s nourishment!”

  Baby silence, no reply from my little one.

  But when I tried to feed him at breakfast, he refused to eat. “Oh, come, on breakfast is important, Damien,” I wheedled.

  He would not eat. The first bite seemed to make him sick. I was frustrated because I was mourning my wife and had been cutting her up with a chainsaw all night long. It was terrible. Damien’s mother had free will and s
he chose evil. The baby was innocent. He had no choice but to choose darkness. For God’s sake, he was born into original sin. If such a thing does not exist, my faith is invented, manipulative, mind-controlling madness.

  At last though, he took another small bite. That is way I remember it, at least.

  Mother’s meat….

  The boy was all teeth…

  I was not a bloody murderer…

  I was a meat providing nurturer…

  The baby was there.

  He did it.

  “Thanks for eating, son, I was getting worried. I give you permission to eat all of her. Yes. All of her… has to be eaten…. The terrible pain we have endured. We must share our secret, her death, with no one, son. You will never see father again if we are caught.”

  The baby ate another spoonful of meat and smiled.

  “That’s a good, boy, Damien.”

  He burped. Good appetite.

  “Your mother loved you.”

  Big burp!

  “Someday I will have you baptized, Damien. This will all see like a bad dream. Right now I need you to have her nurture you and get rid of the evidence. For God’s sake, you’re all bloody teeth, your head!”

  There was a big smile and another big bite of mom.

  “We’re not on Death Row, the end of the world is not neigh and we haven’t been caught yet, son! There is a lifetime to save your soul and a finite number of meals to rid us of guilt. You need to eat the flesh and drink your milk.”

  The baby was ravenous. A natural born carnivore, like many boys, my boy was. His eyes looked dead but he devoured the meat with every juicy spoon I fed him.

  “Once we’re off the hook, we’ll see if anyone else needs to leave this life to be judged. If the neighbors are righteous, our work will be done. Then original sin will be washed away from you by the purifying waters of baptism…”

  I reported my wife missing. I had to answer questions. The one officer kept looking at my arm, the scratches…

  It was nothing I told him, just an incident with one of the brushes in the yard.

  And Damien needed his nails trimmed, he bit and scratched his father from time to time.

  In time, the police bought it, and simply went away.

  Meanwhile, my little chap ate and ate aplenty! He had a real taste for this experience. It was almost when the last of his mommy was gone from the fridge that I realized how beautiful she once was. Granted, women often pretend to be someone else prior to marriage and in most cases even the engagement period. She was lovely; her black hair, her alluring thin body and breasts that were just the right size to be highly erotic, the perfect woman for me.