Dark Fiction

by David Kempf

  “I give up!” Christopher screamed into the dark.

  “Don’t give up, almost there,” said a distant voice.

  “I don’t want to go on,” he answered.as a corpse eating monster, hell-bent on the destruction of the world. Mooney was a thug at worst and a mercenary at best. What was his excuse for bad manners? This deadly journey was surreal. It didn’t make any sense to Christopher Wisdom. Was the entire affair one big nightmare?

  “What time is it?” asked Christopher.

  “High noon,” answered David.

  “Yes, time for your breakfast,” said Mooney.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t bring any corpses,” said Mooney.

  “Shut the fuck up,” said Christopher.

  “Fine,” said Mooney, laughing.

  “This is the voyage of the damned,” said David.

  “Funny,” said Christopher.

  “I want to fix you a hero’s breakfast,” said Mooney. “I mean, after all you are the young hero here on our little epic journey.”

  “Just remember, we live forever, Mooney,” said Christopher. “If I get really hungry perhaps David and I can feast on your dead flesh. Perhaps we’ll even keep you alive long enough to make you wish for death!”

  “Easy, tiger,” said David.

  “Who are you to draw the line? Who are you to make the call on the acceptable level of force? I will treat him as I will,” said Christopher angrily.

  “I beg to differ. He’s my servant,” David calmly replied.

  “He’s a smartass,” Christopher said.

  “So are you, Chris,” David said.

  “I know I am.”

  “What the hell is your problem?” Mooney asked.

  “Give me a drink to cure my hangover,” Christopher demanded.

  “Fine,” said Mooney.

  Christopher went to the front of the fine vessel to enjoy an Irish coffee and a lobster sandwich. He smiled at Mooney who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with Christopher’s menacing tone. It’s not that he was a bully, per se. He was just sick of being treated a certain way by someone who was much lower on the food chain than he was. Christopher loved looking outside at all the beautiful glaciers. It gave him a wonderful but somewhat absurd thought. He was truly grateful from the bottom of his heart that he was a ghoul and not a vampire!

  “So beautiful here,” Christopher said to himself.

  The way in which the sun hit the top of the lovely glaciers made him quite happy that he could walk around in sunlight. This must be what wealthy, well-traveled people feel like when they are comforted by adventurous new surroundings. Perhaps that’s why he resented the working class, harsh-talking Mooney.

  “You okay?” Mooney asked.”

  “Yes, fine,” Christopher answered.

  Mooney reminded him of working people who lacked education but still felt the need to prove how smart they were to better men who had gone to college. How many men worked hard in factories to send their kids to good schools in his family? Many did. Christopher had one uncle who had three sons who went to Ivy League schools on football scholarships. The tragedy of their stupidity was almost unbelievable. All three of the man’s sons flunked out! It was this sheer absurdity in everyday life that made Christopher Wisdom very close indeed to taking the point of view of the masters. An excellent argument could be made that humanity was not worth saving. The Jinn and their servant ghouls could try to redeem man by teaching them the error of their ways, perhaps. They would have none of it, the humans. The creatures known as people would always make the stupidest decisions that would assure their own destruction. In a way, they would wish for everything worth saving to end in time.

  “Would you like anything else, sir?” asked Mooney.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay then, sir.”

  “Why do you have this change in tone?” Christopher asked.

  “I have my reasons, sir,” Mooney replied.

  “Mooney, I love the newfound respect, but you don’t have to always call me sir. This is isn’t the damned military.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Good,” said Christopher grimacing.

  “You don’t wish death on me then?” Mooney asked.

  “I wish you a long life and a swift, painless demise,” said Christopher.

  “Oh, grave, where is thy victory?” Mooney said.

  “Yes, Mooney, very droll sense of humor you’ve got there.”

  “Oh, death, where is thy sting?” Mooney smiled.

  “How much do you know about us?” Christopher asked.

  “Everything there is to know.”

  “Wow!” Christopher gasped.

  “We are people, a family, who keep secrets well. We are the servants of those who serve the great masters. When man’s checkmate finally comes at endgame, we will know that humans had it coming the entire time. Everything that is meant to happen eventually, you know.”

  Christopher had an odd feeling now. He had a change of heart, a tremendous rethinking of this man Mooney. The way he had described his service made Christopher take an instant like and trust to him. His descriptions of the way the world works and the true nature of reality made David’s protégé think Mooney had the soul of a poet.

  “I misjudged you, Mooney,” said Christopher.

  “Apology accepted, sir. It’s an honor to serve you and your mentor,” Mooney said.

  “Thank you,” Christopher replied.

  Now Christopher was thinking that behind every great man is not necessarily a great woman, but something else entirely. It could be said that servants such as exceptional butlers, gentlemen’s gentlemen, were the true unsung heroes of men of action. Actors, poets and, of course, the greatest art form of all, writers, probably had men similar to Mooney behind them. Enough of this class envy nonsense, he thought. There is true art in damned near everything in life. That certainly included dealing with people and service to others.

  “I was just trying to be one of the guys,” said Mooney.

  “I know,” answered Christopher.

  “We were born to serve; we are your most faithful and loyal servants.”

  “I already accepted your explanation, sir. Now please leave me alone so I can have my thoughts.”

  “Yes, of course, sir. Your wishing is my command.”

  “Very funny, Mooney, you can’t grant wishes.”

  “I know.”

  “Get the hell out of here,” said Christopher.

  “Yes, sir, right away.”

  Mooney, Christopher and David were not like anyone else. They had a destination and a perfect goal. The premise of killing immortals was the subject of many great books ranging from the Victorian age to recent times. In a way, these three had nothing to lose but everything to gain! How many dark journeys had the Mooney clan been on over their years of service while keeping the ultimate terrible secret? Writers write always. Servants serve always. The exception to the rule, of course, is when they are trying to perform the impossible and kill those who, at least in theory, cannot die under any circumstances. The dream of man has always been immortality, but the nightmare of those who served the masters was the dream of those who turn to worm food and dust.

  “Are you okay, Christopher?” asked David.

  “Yes, just enjoying the view.”

  “There is a lot here to enjoy, Christopher.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are your thoughts right now?”

  “What the fuck does that mean, David?” Christopher asked.

  “I think you know…..”

  “Well, I was hoping to go to Disneyland but you guys thought we should go and kill a few immortals frozen in the ice for this vacation.”

  “Are you okay?” David asked again.

  “Sure.”

  “Really, Chris, are you?”

  “Sure. You expect me to kill ghouls and in return you helped me make a drunk perpetually drunk.”

  “
Okay,” said David.

  “No, it’s not!” Christopher yelled.

  “What’s wrong?” David asked.

  “This is not a fair deal, David.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. When the entire world wishes itself out of existence, will that be a fair deal for them?” David demanded.

  “No.”

  “Then what possible reason could you have to complain?”

  “Well…” Christopher started.

  “Exactly, Chris, now you see.”

  “Leave me alone, David,” Christopher said, sullenly.

  “Why?”

  “Well, because after breakfast I’m going to keep on drinking and pass out again. It’s like being a damned oracle, you know.”

  “What? You mean having dreams?” asked David.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you dream about?”

  “None of your business; leave me alone.”

  “Fine, I’ll do that,” David said and left.

  Christopher was alone again. This time there was some light at the end of the tunnel of the cave. He could not hear the voices of the wish masters at the moment. They were way too distant for him to make sense of what they were saying. It sounded like nonsense.

  “Ch….ahhhh...da….ahhh.”

  “Nonsense!” screamed Christopher.

  The hunt was not supposed to be like this, he thought. He kept walking further down what seemed like perpetual darkness. This time was different because now Christopher knew that he was dreaming all of this. His five senses concurred with his self awareness. Dreams and nightmares and cannibalism…must mean something. That’s what he knew for sure. The other thing he knew, he knew for certain, was that he had never felt such terrible dread.

  “This can’t be happening,” said Christopher.

  What the hell did these creatures want from him now? Did he forget to eat an aunt, uncle or second cousin? Fighting these things was not difficult; it was impossible. Any attempts to disobey them were feeble and met with disastrous results. Whether one was merely man or immortal, the cards were too stacked in the favor of those who could make terrible wishes true. It might be compared to a lunatic trying to debate someone who was lucid and grounded in reality. No, he thought. It was a million times worse than that scenario.

  “Coming!” screamed Christopher.

  “Chri…”

  “Oh.”

  “Chris!”

  “Yes?”

  “Christopher…..”

  “Yes?”

  “Come to us, Christopher. We want to reborn in you……”

  “Oh?”

  The horror of it all was really happening. It was as real as it was evil. The sense of dread grew. These things were excellent at making one’s dreams into nightmares.

  “No.”

  “Oh…yes!”

  It was obvious to him. They didn’t want the stupidity of man to suffice; they wanted it to excel. That’s all. Now he finally realized his huge ego and desire to be known for brilliant writing were vital parts of man’s inevitable demise. They chose him because on some level he hated people. He did. Perhaps he always had. They cast a spell…they baited him…they manipulated him…and it worked.

  “I’m unconscious and I know it,” said Christopher out loud.

  “Come to us, child. You are so close….”

  He had an epiphany. Now he knew something of which he previously wasn’t fully aware. He was thinking out loud again. These things were not predestined to kill everything that was alive. They had to first take the wills of the living. In a sense, free will was necessary in order for chaos to occur. Christopher was the key. Perhaps he could defy them with his will. That was something he had not previously considered as a real possibility. The future was not unsalvageable. It had not been set in stone and these things were trying to simultaneously scare him and flatter him into submission. For God’s sake, Christopher Wisdom was a writer. He should have known all along that there was no ending to a story until the last page was written.

  “I never actually ate anyone because this is just a dream,” he said. This time he was talking directly to them. “You think you’ve won but all you’ve done to me so far is given me childish, meaningless nightmares.”

  “Oh no…we are the ones who grant…”

  “Wishes, I know. Been there, heard that. You grant every fucking wish to the stupid sheep that make up this idiotic planet.”

  “We grant every wish.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Christopher in a mocking tone.

  “We are those who grant wishes.”

  “You are those who sound like a broken record.”

  “Your voice…your voice...”

  “I know. It’s called sarcasm. Since you guys have no personality and no sense of individuality, you don’t fully understand.”

  “All dissent will be punished.”

  “You sound like a broken record. You envy humans.”

  “No. Humans are insincere and self serving.”

  “So are you. Fuck all of you!”

  “We grant every wish.”

  “Big deal, your kind is pathetic.”

  “We are those who…”

  “Oh, please, let me guess. Grant wishes?”

  Silence can be louder than thunder. That’s what Christopher discovered. These terrible beings actually shut up. He was astounded. They wanted him at the Wailing Wall in a state of despair. Not so. He was far from that. Christopher was winning and he knew it. These things were vulnerable because they were nothing more than parasites that played on man’s folly.

  “I know your secret!” Christopher screamed. “Where the hell are you right now?”

  Walking deeper into the darkness, he found a ray of light. He had reached the end of the cave. It was lit with torches. He looked all around but found no sign of those who granted wishes. Saint George would slay the dragon again but would not have to actually fight him. The battle would be won by humanity ignoring them. A sense of gratitude for one’s life and the refusal to be hatefully envious were the best weapons in the arsenal. Even more so than using a talisman of some type, he thought. Now he knew why David and Mooney were not with him on this epic journey dream. Those two were still in fear and denial about what they were dealing with.

  “There is part of me that’s still human, you bastards!”

  Christopher smiled a very human smile. He picked up a torch and explored the end of this strange cave. Scare tactics weren’t going to work anymore. That was fine for politicians and religionists, but genies should have a better act. In a sense, all they had was fear. All they were was fear. They were a little horror fest. Christopher knew that David thought these things were godlike and contained a great wit. They weren’t. Christopher knew that these creatures were the equivalent of losers who had to pay women to have sex with them. He smiled.

  “You’re not going to win. The part of me that’s still human will not allow you to win. How about some clever comments? No. I didn’t think so. How I long to hear that you grant every wish and you are those who grant wishes.”

  Silence again. He was winning and he knew it. Why wouldn’t these omnipotent beings show up at the playground to fight? He was having fun mocking them. Like Martin Luther used to say about the devil, the wish masters could not bear mocking and scorn of any kind.

  “Why don’t you losers speak to me?” Christopher smiled again and then his smiles turned into disrespectful laughter. “I’m sorry. Do you need to pick a fight with Lydia to warm up? I know that fighting with little girls is more your kind of battle.”

  “Enough!”

  Christopher’s torch dropped. He burned his hand badly and screamed in terrible pain. It was like having the wind knocked out of him. This time he had really pissed them off with his mocking tone and insubordinate disrespect.

  “All dissent will be punished.”

  “I know. You dickheads already said that.”

  “We will make it colder.”

  Christop
her was naked. The masters had made his clothes vanish and now he was freezing. He smiled and once again it turned into loud, loud laughter.

  “No!”

  “No?”

  Through his sheer will power, Christopher managed to bring the clothing back on his body. In his mind’s eye, he added clothes that he previously did not have. It was amazing. He felt like he could be the one to grant wishes. His own wishes anyway.

  “We will make it colder.”

  “Go to hell. I’m still standing and my clothing just got an upgrade!”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “David will not have respect for you.”

  “So?”

  “He will deal with your betrayal.”

  “Oh, I see. You have to have others fight your battles for you now.”

  “We grant every wish.”

  “Go to hell! You have no power over me anymore. I wish….”

  “What is your wish, Christopher Wisdom?”

  “I wish that you would leave me alone.”

  That was the worst wish possible, from their point of view. It was far better to be hated than simply ignored. Silence again. Christopher, through the sheer power of his will, was making a mockery of them. Prometheus defied the masters of his day. There was a terrible price to be paid but he was willing to bear it. Then he felt a sudden tremor. He wasn’t sure what was going on. What he did know was that there was no going back now. He would suffer the consequences of crossing the line. There was no repenting or recanting what choices had already been made. They wanted to give him their eternal wrath but he had found their Achilles’ heel. There was no time to sulk or be afraid now. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. Christopher felt that tremor once again.

  “What’s going on?” he said out loud.

  His feet were trembling and he looked at the ground. The snow was clearing up, revealing ice.

  “Ice at the bottom of hell; Dante would be proud.”