Damned Fiction

by David Kempf

  “You are consistently willing to go to a dark place as a sacrifice for your art.”

  Listening, Satan grinned. All of the artists in the room knew Satan’s subtle powers. He made them feel like it was the first time they dressed up for Halloween or the first time they had an orgasm with the best lover they would ever have. Like the first time they saw a midnight movie. He preyed on those who didn’t pray often. The ones who would gain the world to lose their souls. It seemed like a fair enough deal.

  “I’ve been to many dark places,” said the famous professor.

  “I know you have,” Jonathan said.

  “Dark places ultimately lead to dark fiction.”

  “Yes, they surely do.”

  “I’m proud of my work,” David said.

  “Yes and you damn well should be,” said Jonathan Maberry.

  “Sacrifice and brutal honesty is what is required to be a great writer,” David said.

  “I think of writing as a business, not following the rabbit hole into the abyss like you do, sir.”

  “I understand,” David said, thinking I have the courage that you lack.

  “However, you have a point, artistic integrity is everything.”

  The bestsellers looked into each other’s eyes and it was far from goddamn romantic. They were trying to be divine and see each other’s secrets.

  “The world is a vampire, like the song says,” said David. It wasn’t as clever as he hoped it would be.

  “Sure is,” said Jonathan Maberry.

  “I love you guys,” Satan said.

  “Thanks,” Jessica Harper said.

  “You’re welcome,” the Devil said. And then Satan did his best Sith impersonation and shot lightening from his fingers and burned poor Jonathan and Jessica alive.

  “Good God!” David said.

  I’m sorry my friends, thought Satan with Satisfaction. Your contracts are up. You will live on in books and film.

  David looked at Satan. Had he thought he heard Satan thinking aloud? David wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, not in his own office.

  “Let’s let our next guests in for a new meeting,” Satan said.

  “Oh God,” David murmured.

  “No, not God, Jon Donnis,” said the young man entering David’s office.

  “Masters of Horror U.K. is quite the website,” Satan said.

  “Thanks,” Jon answered. “I’m also proud of my work as a skeptic of psychic phenomenon, to be honest.”

  “I’m happy that have you have chosen to come to see me….”

  “Thanks, lord of darkness; I’m proud to be here….”

  “You were meant to be here, Jon. Now how did you come to have the last name that also happens to be the name of this great university?”

  “I don’t know, A distant relative perhaps.”

  “I see. You’ve come all the way from England so what do you want from me?” Satan asked.

  “I want you to offer me the profits of the fruit of my labor….” The young man paused. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he could really go through with this deal with the devil. “I want you to make me the most famous editor and skeptic on the planet.”

  “I can do that but you know the cost…”

  “Certainly”

  Satan rubbed his hands in pleasure. “Looks like I am about to seal the deal with another atheist. Are you ready to give yourself to me for fame and fortune?”

  “I think so….”

  “Excellent.”

  “Eternal damnation for a little bit of fame,” Satan said. Jon did not like his mocking smart tone. He was an ambitious young man who worked very hard at his writing. He even had one of his hacks interview Jonathan Maberry for his website. He looked out for other writers. Jon once had a website dedicated entirely to having new writers show off their work to an audience on the worldwide web. He was a good man who deserved a chance.

  “You know what I want,” Jon said. “What is this terrible burning smell?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Satan said.

  “I want what I want…”

  Satan smiled. “Never mind that. You want to be the envy of all the people you envy…”

  “If you really are all that then you shouldn’t have to steal quotes from Ira Levin.”

  “You’re funny,” Satan said. “I’m a genuine talent and as long as were discussing Levin, I am not a Stepford husband. I am the first being that ever thought for himself.”

  “Good heavens, no!”

  “Jon, I’m growing tired of you. Just sign your name in blood and get the hell out of here.”

  Jon did just that. He signed his name, put it on David’s desk and quickly left the office.

  “You know,” said Satan, “if you share your office with me, you can score points for the competition.”

  “I need to use my office sometimes,” David said.

  “Really?” Satan asked him.

  “I have work to do.”

  “Who do you want to fuck?”

  The professor did not feel insulted by this comment. He had a fold out sofa in his office and many of his colleagues wondered why. David would lie and say that he was typing and writing deep into the night both novels and articles for scholarly literary journals. The other professors were jealous but they were not stupid. They knew what he was really up to. David could never be optimistic. He would never be the hero of his own story and he already sold his soul to the Devil before he even met him. “I’m not offended,” David said, “but you know I’m not here to be your slave…”

  “So say you.”

  David paused. He felt too afraid to speak up against his new dark master.

  “You don’t want to lose this great opportunity, professor.”

  David cringed.

  “You’re not young and free anymore. That time has passed.”

  “I want to collaborate with you.”

  “A very expensive proposition, but one with potential for amazing success.”

  “Yes but I still have work to do.”

  Satan briefly touched David’s hand with his own.

  “I have work to do now and so do you. I have more of my fallen angels outside waiting to make the darkest deal of their lives.”

  David unable to control his curiosity, opened the office door a crack, and peaked outside at the two men apparently waiting for Satan.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “Movie composer Alan Howarth and special effects artist John Dods. They are clients of mine. B movie actor George Stover will be here shortly.”

  “Oh, they are amazing talents. You do have work to do.”

  “Yes they are and you have some work to do yourself, now.”

  “Oh?” he asked.

  “The Devil’s work is not always exciting, professor.”

  David shook his head at Satan in contempt.

  Satan handed David a broom and a dustpan. “Go clean up Jessica and Jonathan. Get to work with that.

  Satan opened the office door and smiled at John Dods and Alan Howarth. George Stover stood behind the other two men.

  “What fresh hell is this?” Satan asked his clients, grinning.

  NOW IT IS TIME FOR SOME SEX…

  (And some violence)

  ***

  FLOGGED

  By Sarah Nolan

  Lilith here and my reputation precedes me. I’ve been around a long time, actually since the very beginning. I was Adam’s first wife but not the one who got all the attention that would be his second wife Eve. Yes, she fucked up. The whole Garden of Eden thing, she talked him into taking a bite out of that apple. What I do now is no secret. I watch human history evolve or rather devolve, there haven’t been any noticeable improvements. I could tell you about the invention of the wheel, the Crusades, Stalin, Jack the Ripper or J.F.K.’s affairs but why bother. I would instead like to tell you a little story about the future. I don’t need a time machine or anything. I do have visions now an
d then. I would love to share one or two with you. Let’s start with something that happened not too long ago:

  ***

  “I can’t believe you fucked up again,” said the father of Daniel Cain. He just got his third DUI and his parents were sick to death of his alcoholic stupidity. “I could understand if you were twenty years old but you’re almost fifty now. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry, I have a disease.”

  “That’s a load of shit. You know, your mother and I always bail you out but I don’t want to do that anymore. She would do anything to keep you out of jail but I wouldn’t mind seeing you go there to be honest.”

  “Dad, I really am sorry.”

  “Heard it all before, son…”

  Daniel went out and got himself a lawyer. She said the only thing that he could do for his third offense was plead guilty and present himself to the judge as a changed man. He actually did just that. He did a wonderful job of joining A.A., getting sober, becoming responsible and turning his life around.

  ***

  Her Honor gazed at the faded tarot cards. She didn’t believe they actually had any powers but she was superstitious and always began her mornings before going to court with her favorite rituals. Then she looked at the withered card with a female judge. It read JUSTICE above the old woman’s picture. She hated that card because it was old and ugly. It was how she felt about herself whenever reality set in.

  She usually began her mornings lip-synching the words to the late Whitney Houston’s song The Greatest Love of All.

  Now it was time to put on her wig. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world she had gone completely bald. The dirty blonde hair didn’t match the wrinkled old face no matter how much makeup she put on. In the old days, when she was pretty makeup was real war paint. She would go out and hunt for a husband (of which she had many).

  The once beautiful woman gazed into the mirror as she did early every day.

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the prettiest judge of all?”

  The mirror, of course, did not reply.

  This made her laugh.

  “Oh come. Who is the pretty one here?” she pushed.

  It’s not you.

  Where the hell did this voice come from?

  Was it inside her head?

  Was it some evil entity that remained invisible?

  Her Honor wisely chose to ignore it. No one wants a crazy judge with voices her head to decide their fate. She was already a failed wife and mother. Although many people hated her, she kept her position as a judge even though she suspected the patriarchy assigned her as the “token woman.”

  She was not going to succumb to madness and fail at sanity.

  No way.

  The stinking gavel.

  Why the hell did she use it to pleasure herself?

  She had lots of dildos and vibrators in which to choose. It was a huge selection. . Her Honor had quite the collection. She was a connoisseur. She giggled when she thought of how many people she sentenced would love to tell her to go fuck herself.

  Every night she would bring the gavel home after work and one of the morning rituals was washing it. She needed to wash away the shame. If men only knew the gross things women did in private.

  Her Honor would use her fingers, her imagination and her gavel to get off. She enjoyed inserting it in her vagina and anus. Then she would call out her own name when she had an orgasm.

  The lucky men who came home with her got the opportunity to spank her with her own gavel, which was something her male lovers always enjoyed. Especially the ones she had sent to jail once upon a time.

  She thought the things people said behind her back were often cruel and unfair. Judge Lady Macbeth was a popular one. The judge could take it though. She was a tough woman. She often saw her male colleagues as weak.

  Her Honor did not want them to see her the same way. Gallows was a push over, especially for pretty young women with DUI problems. Hawthorne was too old to be on the bench anymore. Surely, Judge Thorn was the biggest prick in the whole county and McCarthy was a flat out drunk who sentenced people during blackouts.

  She was mad at herself for constantly fantasizing about being gang raped by the other judged who, of course, were all men. Here cums the judge.

  I’m not the villain here. She thought.

  And she was right. It’s not like she was Mary, Queen of Scots or Rhea of the Coos from Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series.

  Her honor was quickly getting into a very bad mood. All of these thoughts in her head and she couldn’t get rid of them even with all of her medication.

  Someone’s head was going to be on a silver plate today for her enjoyment. Not literally but she wanted to share her fear and pain with someone else today. Perhaps with some poor schmuck scared shitless and afraid to go to jail.

  ***

  Lilith again. Yes, I am giving you, my dear ones, an inside view of the lives of other mortals like yourself. Think of me as one of the ghosts showing Scrooge around in A Christmas Carol. The difference here is that I am not seeking to help anyone achieve redemption. So back to our friend Daniel:

  ***

  His day in court finally came. A judge named Cybil Lessman actually knew his sponsor well and Daniel brought him to court as a character witness. On the same day he was brought before Lessman, another recovering alcoholic Greg DeVito who just happened to be a lawyer was working another case at the same time. Greg also spoke up on behalf of the troubled multiple offender.

  Several friends from A.A. also spoke up on his behalf. He went to rehab and for a very long time to avoid any jail time. He was genuinely sorry for what he had done. Daniel also knew he was far from being a victim.

  There was a problem though. He was smart and Her Honor hated smart men. She had married far too many of them. Daniel also had a pretty lawyer, young and attractive. This was unacceptable to Her Honor’s malicious and narcissistic personality.

  “I think this woman is ill. She thinks she is the prettiest woman on the planet and she hates Jews like me,” Daniel’s lawyer whispered in his ear.

  Daniel was fortunate that Lessman liked the lawyer from AA. A pretty young woman who actually was hired to defend him. This was unacceptable.

  Her Honor loved to sit high above everyone else and pretend she was a goddess worthy of worship.

  She decided to try and be charming.

  “Wow, you’re friends are so tall. Is there a height requirement to be your friend?”

  People pretended to laugh at her. Well, with her so to speak.

  And then she decided to be really cruel and play with his emotions. She loved the mental sufferings of the mere mortals whose fates she decided.

  “Hey, you are a writer, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could write a kids book about addiction.”

  Daniel jumped at this chance to grovel for no jail time.

  “I promise I will write it, your honor.”

  “Yes. That would be great. You know I am an expert on addiction.”

  Daniel nodded.

  When all of the evidence was revealed, she sentenced the alcoholic.

  “You’re a smart man, Daniel,” said the judge. “And believe me that can be a double edged sword. We don’t get too many published authors with master’s degrees. I find it interesting how you write about dystopian future societies where crime runs amok. You follow the program; follow the directions from your sponsor. You’ve done some real hard work. I like how you spent considerable time in a treatment facility. Still, this was your third offense and you should be punished for it.”

  Daniel was very nervous. His lawyer said the best they could hope for was a year’s house arrest which was very big in Deer County, Pennsylvania, the DUI racket capital of the United States. His lawyer looked more nervous than he did.

  “Like I said I want you to learn from your mistake but I don’t want all of you to throw awake all of that hard work and a year of so
briety. Therefore, ten months and one-week house arrest, the first week to spent in the county jail. This court is adjourned.”

  Daniel was speechless.

  And it was his lawyer that looked traumatized, not him. He knew that deep down inside, he deserved it for putting other people’s lives at risk when he got behind the wheel. They took him out in cuffs.

  Thought I was going to show you mercy. Kids book about addiction, huh?

  Boy, she enjoyed psychologically hurting people because her mind was such a mess. Lessman was her own worst enemy which ironically was like many addicts and alcoholics.

  The judge Cybil Lessman was trying not to let her mind drift. She had terrible thoughts sometimes. She deluded herself into thinking she was an attractive woman in her fifties but she wasn’t as pretty as she thought she was. She was crazy.

  She was in fact a very sick pup. Cybil stripped her way through law school, which originally was controversial in conservative circles. She was also married many times, which sometimes just made her feel like a whore. Daniel preferred to think of her as a hopeless romantic. Daniel’s lawyer Nora Rubenstein was a tough cookie. She was an Israeli who fought in the military in her youth. Sadly, the judge hated other women and that damaged his chances of getting a fair and lenient verdict. She was the only one in the county who ever sentenced anyone to death. That was beyond her powers and many wanted her ousted for that. She truly hated younger and prettier women and since she grew up in the middle of nowhere, she dreamed of being somebody someday. She also dreamed her alcoholic father would stop beating the shit out of her. That dream never came true. Worst of all her son Tobias had a serious problem with alcohol. He even got arrested for making terroristic threats against Donnis University when he was drunk.

  She would not be too lenient and her perverted thoughts and fantasies were beginning to take over. Cybil would be careful not to show it. First, she pictured him being gang raped in the shower, the schmuck who managed never to do time before. Then she thought about it and decided that would be like him serving life or getting the chair or something. It was too harsh, even for a sick fantasy. How would her colleagues feel if they knew Her Honor secretly masturbated to porn? She was always the dominant in her sexual fantasies. Well, except when she wasn’t. No. she was just giving him a slap on the wrist. No. She was spanking him. That gave her a cold-hearted sadistic feeling of delight. Her honor wanted to spank him or better yet flog him…