Dark Fiction

by David Kempf

  “Very funny, very witty and very ironic, I think.”

  “No. You deserved an A. Let us watch your excellent film and get ready for some vengeance against the mediocre.”

  “Fine,” Christopher said as he put the knife and the axe back on the wall. David smiled and turned on a 16mm projector.

  “Why film instead of video?” David asked.

  “I love the look of film and I like the novel; it’s a dying art form,” Christopher said.

  “Grand.”

  “Do you really like my film or are you making fun?” asked Christopher.

  “Christopher, of course I like your film. You didn’t think that I had an ax to grind? Did you?” David snickered.

  Christopher’s short horror film was about a young boy who has had everyone in his family die. He is adopted by foster parents who are neither abusive nor loving. He despises that his mom and dad, grandparents and brothers are all gone. One night he goes to the boardwalk by himself. Then he spots an animated genie machine. For less than a dollar, one can make a wish and place it in the genie’s head. The young boy wishes that no one would ever have to die again.

  “What do you think?” Christopher asked.

  “Fucking brilliant, lad, I really mean that,” David answered. He grimaced at Christopher and then couldn’t contain his urge to laugh out loud. He seemed to appreciate the concept. The premise grew on David.

  “I love it,” said David.

  “Thank you,” answered Christopher.

  “Do you know why?”

  “I think so, David. You love the irony.”

  “Precisely, that’s right!”

  The two companions watched the end of Christopher’s movie. All hell broke loose as the boy made his wish. The genie granted eternal life. The undead rose up and began to devour the living and one another. The boy ran away while being pursued by zombies that looked like vampires but were not quite as elegant. They soon began rotting away and had the appearance of all out walking corpses. The film was short and action packed. There was never a dull or unfettering moment. Christopher smiled at David and he smiled right back.

  “Can you believe that I didn’t get a better grade?” Christopher asked.

  “Yes,” said David, to Christopher’s surprise.

  “What?”

  “You know that I’ve lived a long life so far.”

  “Yes, of course. What’s your point?” Christopher asked.

  “I’ve worked with many, many different professors during diverse periods of the world’s history.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lynch is the worst and most ignorant, lazy colleague that I’ve ever had the misfortune of working with. Hanging is too good for him.”

  “Agreed, sir, we are in agreement,” said Christopher.

  “When I think of people like you who could be instructing young minds instead of that….”

  “Fool?”

  “Yes!”

  Mentor and protégé had come to an obvious understanding, seeing as they could practically speak out loud what the other was thinking. It was as close to a clairvoyant moment as ever had been. Christopher’s love of horror and creature feature films could only be equaled by his desire to write. David saw this immediately. He had been fascinated to watch technology change over the years and to see people move from reading to watching. This was one horror film that was worth viewing. Just like ordinary mortals were aware, he knew those films were certainly a rare treat.

  “I’m so glad that you enjoy this, David.”

  “Indeed, I do. It’s very apocalyptic. There is a great sense of doom and gloom that I thoroughly enjoy about it. That’s what makes a great atmospheric fright film. The morbid sense of despair and hopelessness is essential.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s obviously low budget but hell, as long as it frightens and entertains, I’m not sure why the idiot gave you that grade.”

  “Like you said he’s a….”

  “Fool.”

  “Yes,” Christopher agreed.

  The sense of doom within the film grew, especially towards the end of it. The boy was pursued by the entire legion of undead creatures. The dead things in this particular epic were young Chris’s neighbors and friends. It does appear that the brave young hero gets away at the end. Then the ending came.

  “Christopher, this ending is simply delightful,” said David.

  “Thanks.”

  The boy’s foster parents are smiling because they knew he was like them, one of the few survivors. Then he slowly begins to change into one of the creatures. Snarling and fierce, he eats them.

  “Wonderful,” said David.

  “It’s an acquired taste. My movie is for people who like their horror very strong and their films vision uncompromising.”

  “The masters would never accept someone who compromises; that would be seen as being shiftless. I would not accept anyone like that either.”

  “So they are big movie buffs as well?” Christopher asked.

  “One would assume so but they are not.”

  “Why?”

  “There is something about writing that is not there with films. Movies sort of hypnotize people but writing gets inside people’s minds. Some authors have compared it to having extra sensory perception,” explained David.

  “I can see the mind reading comparison, sure.”

  “I don’t need to read yours. Go to the professor soon and bring the crystal with you, hidden in your pocket,” David instructed.

  “It will be done,” replied Christopher with a smile.

  It was a beautiful morning at Donnis. The sun was shining and Christopher was sitting down watching the beautiful co-eds walk by. He was in a fine mood. The early morning classes were over. Now he had to wait for the 10 a.m. classes to end. Lynch was typically too hung over to ever make anything earlier than that. That was, unless, he had been up the entire previous night drinking. Christopher would wait for him in his office.

  The anticipation for Lynch’s arrival was wonderful. The whole idea of personal revenge used to seem sort of primitive to him. Not now. This was high caliber justice, so to speak. Christopher would not have to ‘get’ the professor. The man would be ‘getting’ himself.

  The good professor arrived in his office to find a smiling Christopher sitting on top of his desk. He looked truly puzzled at seeing his former student. Christopher opened up the desk drawer to pull out a bottle of vodka. He smiled at Lynch again.

  “Are you willing to share your lunch with me?” Christopher asked.

  “No,” said a stern-faced Lynch.

  “Too bad, or is this bottle leftovers from breakfast?”

  “Please get out of my office, Chris,” Lynch said.

  “Christopher.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Christopher and I come bearing gifts for you.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the corrupting power of The Jinn.”

  “What?” the professor asked.

  “Here,” Christopher said.

  Professor Lynch was stunned to see the shiny object Christopher had taken out of his pocket. He looked almost as if he were going to faint, just like in some old classic movie he hadn’t seen. Christopher hated how this fool did not keep up with current movies or technology. In addition to that, he had no knowledge of film theory or of the great history of the cinema. Christopher truly despised this man.

  “Are you giving me this?” Lynch asked.

  “No. I’m just allowing you to see it.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess because you are the most worthless professor in the history of education!” Christopher said.

  “What?”

  “You, sir, are worthless. You are never there as an academic advisor because you’re such a damn stupid drunk. I guess you’re too busy either hitting on young girls or being plastered to know one damn thing about film. I have never, ever me
t someone so useless in my entire life. I also would bet my life that you gave me a bad grade because you feel inferior to me and the other fine students who marched through here with more talent than you will ever have! Please correct me if I am wrong!”

  “You know….Christopher….” the professor started.

  “Yes. I’m all ears, Professor.”

  “You’re right. I am a lucky chump.” Lynch could not take his eyes off the ruby prize as he answered Christopher’s brutal accusations. “I am essentially a loser. I have no talent. Someone awesome like you deserved a better grade. I did not deserve this wonderful position. Someone creative like you or Henry does. Not me. You’re right.”

  “What do you wish?” Christopher asked.

  “You want to know what I want more than anything else in the world, Christopher.”

  “Yes.”

  “To be drunk is all I want.”

  “I think that wish has already come true, Professor.”

  “No.”

  “What then, Lynch?”

  “I don’t mean being an ordinary alcoholic. I mean I never…ever….”

  “I know, Lynch. You never want to be sober again.”

  “Not even for five minutes, Chris.”

  “Fine, we can talk.”

  “Good,” said Lynch.

  “Do it.”

  “How, Chris?” Lynch asked.

  “Will it. Will it and it will be done.”

  The moment of truth had finally come to the good professor who had been divorced four times. His drinking and cheating had cost him every meaningful relationship with some women who were ten times too good for him. Just like this job…he somehow managed to land great women as well. This entire life of grace, he did not deserve. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to forget that he was undeserving and untalented. Drinking – heavy, black out drinking – worked magic on insecure, pitiful men like him. It was time to be truly selfish…to deny anyone else a sober conversation with him again. He was a selfish prick. It was time to commit to it.

  “Yes…”

  He fell down backwards. It was like he became instantly sloshed out of his mind. Like he had gone through two bottles of whiskey in about two seconds….and loved it. He crawled back up on his two feet like the first Homo sapiens to evolve might have done. Then he smiled an eerie, creepy smile at the one who had made his dreams come true. He looked down at his desk but found that Christopher had already reclaimed the prize. Nonetheless, he had never seen the professor looking so damn happy. It was the true sign of an addict who had reached the darkest point of no return.

  “Thank you, Christopher.”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for counting me among the damned…..”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “I just tempted you. You got yourself with your own damn selfish nature. If you weren’t such a worthless piece of crap, this could never have happened to you. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes…..”

  “Do you?” Christopher asked.

  “Ha…ha…..ha…”

  “You’re laughing at me?” Christopher was stunned.

  “Oh…devils in hell…yes!”

  “What?”

  “You’re a fucking hypocrite. Do you know that, Christopher?”

  “I am not….” Christopher started.

  “Oh, my little corpse eater, I beg to differ…”

  “Go to hell!” Christopher screamed.

  “Sorry, I think I’m already there…or am I? I could be in heaven. Damnation, grace? I don’t know anymore.”

  “That’s because you’re drunk…stinking drunk.”

  “Yes, it’s…..glorious….”

  “Glad you’re finally happy,” said Christopher solemnly.

  “I am.”

  “Why is that?” Christopher asked.

  “I’m in good company…I mean I should be the one who writes novels. How many great alcoholics are writers?”

  “Professor, I think you mean to say that a lot of great writers are alcoholics.”

  “Right……”

  The mocking from this fiend who used to be the worst professor in the country was most difficult for Christopher to bear. He had already experienced a life of feeling inferior and superior to others at the same time. Now this was different. He was being accused by this fiend of being hypocritical. Perhaps he was. Nonetheless, he was a different thing now. If he were human, the professor thing would be scaring the living hell out of him right now. That wasn’t the case. He was a pathetic excuse for a man. Christopher had made a deal to survive the very end of the world. Lynch had made a wish to live in a drunken fantasy world forever. Although it was hard to deny that alcoholism was the man’s muse.

  “I think you’re going to lose everything, Lynch.”

  “Yes, I will lose my job and my friends. What will I gain? Everything...my God…I’ll finally be among the creative….”

  “What?”

  “Authors like Hunter Thompson, Dylan Thomas, Edgar Allen Poe, Truman Capote, William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce and…Ernest Hemingway were all drunks!”

  “So?”

  “You could live to be the last man on earth and you will never, ever be as good as these men. I will. I know the secret. I will forget film forever and become a great writer who is never, ever sober again!”

  “You have no talent,” said Christopher.

  “I have confidence…now. Great confidence and since I will never be sober again…I will never, ever lack it again.”

  “I see.”

  “No.”

  “No, I do,” insisted Christopher.

  “Trust me, Christopher. No one sees what I see now.”

  “Okay,” said Christopher.

  “Intoxication, sweet intoxication, like heaven it is.”

  “All right, I accept that.”

  “The world will never be the same again for me. I will live forever in a state of denial. The wonders of the ages come through me now.”

  “Goodbye, Lynch.”

  “Goodbye, Christopher and thank you….”

  “For what, sir, what are you thanking me for?”

  “For giving me what it finally takes to be an artist….”

  Christopher wanted to punch Lynch in the face just for being himself, but he could not do so. The man vanished. The thing that had been the worst professor and now was the ultimate pretentious drunk had simply…disappeared. This was among the more odd methods of revenge known to man. He could have died from some dreadful disease or been tortured in some terrible way. That was not Christopher Wisdom’s way nor was it the way of the masters. The man did it to himself. An odd sacrifice to be an artist was what he made. This was amazing. For the first time since he had ever spoken to the man years ago, Christopher had respect for Lynch.

  “Wishes are strange things,” said David.

  “Yes,” Christopher answered.

  “Look deep into the fire’s flames, my friend,” said David.

  “Yes.”

  “The flames may offer you, us…some serious advice for the future that is to come,” said David.

  The flames grew higher and higher but not too high. They were beautiful and unpredictable and of course, somewhat menacing. Just like humanity itself. No matter what other worlds and living things occupied the attention of those who granted wishes, humanity must have remained a fascinating case study. The beauty of the fires was how they connected with the precious jewel that allowed communication between men and the masters. David looked at his young apprentice and could not help but to smile. He was proud of him. The young man wrote great stories, accepted immortality and had recently, thanks to Lynch, begun to understand the true meaning of vengeance. Christopher Wisdom was a student to be most proud of.

  “Justice has been done,” said Christopher.

  “What?” David asked.

  “All I ever asked of him was to be an artist.”

  “Yes.”

 
; “You see, the alcohol was keeping him from being an artist in the past. Now it’s the only reason he is one.”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose I am learning, my mentor.”

  “Indeed, lad.”

  “I’m already willing to learn more,” Christopher said.

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “I’m sure you do, David.”

  “You see, humanity has always had the power to save or damn itself. Amazing, the good professor has made a choice where he is both at the same time. Amazing, really amazing this choice is for him,” said David.

  “Yes, amazing.”

  “I think you should actually admire him for this.”

  “In an odd way, I do,” admitted Christopher.

  “Excellent,” said David.

  “What’s next, David?”

  “Much.”

  “Our great adventure in the ice, you mean?” Christopher asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I did not forget, but this is not a fair bargain. I manipulated my enemy into justice. You are asking me to kill these terrifying things with you. It’s not fair,” Christopher said.

  “It’s also not fair that you and I should live forever; nor is it fair that we trick ordinary people like Nolan and Lynch,” replied David.

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Hope you have the travel bug. Do you?”

  “Oh, yes, I do,” said Christopher with a smile.

  Chapter 26

  It was much colder than Christopher expected it to be. His family had never traveled very much. It seemed that it was always a dream of parents to have their children see more in life than they had. If that was the case, then George and Madeline’s child had exceeded their greatest dreams and of course, their worst nightmare as well! This was one of the few times Christopher had even been on a plane. It was going to be something else for him to board a private yacht when he landed. The chill inside the plane was that of early morning flights. Christopher had become immortal and conquered death itself. So it seemed to him to be quite odd that he was still impressed not to be flying coach.

  “First class,” said Christopher.

  “Well, of course,” answered David.

  The dark journey that mentor and protégé were taking was quite an amazing adventure for Christopher. They weren’t two humans on a flight to assassinate those who came before them. They were more like two swift moving figures that had to clean up a mess or take out the trash. Shape shifting, instant healing powers and nightmarish stealth were all remarkable gifts due to a life of being subservient to the masters. They couldn’t turn into bats or take off in midair like some interplanetary comic book character. Despite who they worked for, there had never been a magic carpet in sight. In short, they could not fly. That’s why they, like ordinary men, required a mechanical bird that cheated nature.