Coffin Island

by Will Berkeley

  “How is the cannibalism progressing?” Madison asked.

  “We’re running pretty low on wombats,” Honey said. “I have to lay off it while they breed. Then I’m going to eat the young.”

  “What are you eating now?” I asked.

  “We’re eating witches,” Kaiser said.

  “Why not lead a balanced existence?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t mind eating a witch,” Madison said.

  “Cannibalism has been highly popular,” Kaiser said.

  “Take a bite out of witchcraft,” Madison agreed. “Eat a witch.”

  “Which witch do you eat?” Kaiser snorted.

  “How do we get to The Casket Island School for Witches?” I asked. “Perhaps it might be helpful to have a few less mouths to feed here.”

  “We’d like to get out of your fur,” Madison said.

  “Give you cannibals a much needed break,” I said.

  “Casket Island sank into the emerald ocean,” Kaiser said.

  “I can’t say that I blame it,” I said.

  “It’s an underwater world?” Madison asked.

  “That’s what we think,” Kaiser said.

  “But we don’t know where it is,” Honey said.

  “Or how to get there,” Kaiser said.

  “Casket Island is doing the typical,” Madison said.

  “Hiding and being mysterious,” I said.

  “Trying to lure us in,” Madison said.

  “We’re the only world on the surface of the emerald ocean right now,” Honey said.

  “And we’re going under,” Kaiser said.

  “I’d sink too if I were a magical island on the emerald ocean,” I said.

  “Kaiser is the first and last Headmaster of The Crypt Island School for Witches,” Honey said.

  “The upper class witches put me in-charge as a joke,” Kaiser shrugged.

  “You did a good job for a joke,” I said. “Chin up, hound.”

  “He didn’t do any work,” Honey said. “Witchcraft took over.”

  “Are you accusing me of something?” Kaiser demanded.

  “You held it together until we got here,” Madison said.

  “Witchcraft held me until you got here,” Kaiser said. “This is your baby.”

  “It’s probably time for you to go, bro,” I said. “I hate to be the guy to break the bad news to you but you’ve got to go now.”

  “Booster is taking over,” Madison said.

  “Some day soon I am going to eat all of you,” Honey said.

  “How do you like your new school so far?” Kaiser asked.

  “You’re going to love lunch because it’s you,” Honey said.

  “It sounds like we showed up for the final days of it,” I said. “I’m ready to let everybody out if you follow my drift.”

  “I would have to agree,” Kaiser said. “School is nearly out.”

  “I wouldn’t mind some deep fried witch for graduation,” Madison said.

  “Plenty of primitive cultures eat their elders,” I said. “We fry up Professor Coffin.”

  “We can dip Kaiser in the rum for an appetizer,” Madison suggested.

  “You can’t eat my husband,” Honey snapped. “That’s my job.”

  “You need to treat me with more respect,” Kaiser bristled. “I’ve done a horrendous job but I’m still the Headmaster. You can’t eat me. I’m the hound at the top.”

  “This is The Crypt Island for Witches,” Honey snarled. “There aren’t any coffins here. You better watch your step.”

  “I don’t think that I’m going to need one,” Madison challenged. “I tortured plenty of animals when I was growing up.”

  “That’s a marker for a sociopath,” I said.

  “I enjoy torturing humans,” Honey said. “Eating them alive is my favorite dish.”

  “I can already see where this is going,” Madison said.

  Madison was looking for a weapon. Kaiser had his fur up. Honey was sitting there blissfully vicious and high on cobra venom. What did she have to worry about? I was the one with all the problems. Trying to drive this magical mess was a nightmare. Can I get a little help with the occult up in here?

  “The Crypt Island School for Witches looks lovely,” I said in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

  Madison wasn’t used to being powerless. She was going to get herself killed. I had some very graphic plans that involved her being alive. You don’t tie down a dead person and have your way with it. You need that person alive and kicking.

  “However we would like to go to The Casket Island School for Witches even if it sank into the ocean and it’s moving around and we can’t find it,” I said. “Do you have any suggestions on how we might go about beginning the process?”

  “Wouldn’t we all like suggestions,” Kaiser snorted.

  “We’re all clueless here,” Honey said.

  “Some are more ignorant than others on Casket Island,” Kaiser corrected.

  “Ignorance is a popular endeavor these days,” Madison said. “The parishioners seem to grow everyday like so many weeds that need to be pulled.”

  “What exactly do you know?” I asked.

  “You must graduate from The Crypt Island School for Witches before you go down to The Casket Island School for Witches,” Kaiser said. “We are the middle school even though we are the upper school. That’s all we know.”

  “How do you know this?” Madison asked.

  “We’ve been told this by the wombats that escaped from Casket Island,” Honey said.

  “What else do they say about Casket Island?” I asked.

  “They refused to tell us anything else,” Honey shrugged.

  “Honey upset them,” Kaiser said.

  “Silence was their only weapon,” Honey said.

  “You ate them?” Madison asked.

  “You ate the only link we had to the final school?” I shouted.

  “All of them,” Honey said.

  Honey was smoking a long cigar. She had called one down. Apparently wombats had witchcraft in this world. How did they get the power into themselves? Were wombats drinking our magical power? Or just eating witches did the trick?

  Chapter

  “How do we graduate from here,” I asked. “Are there any procedures that might increase our odds at getting out of here?”

  Such as eating the occupants of the backseat of the glass Cadillac? I thought.

  “We haven’t figured out the steps,” Kaiser said.

  “It will probably take four hundred years,” Madison sighed.

  “We have never graduated a single pupil,” Honey said.

  “What exactly have you been doing here?” I asked.

  “We’ve been riding around in the glass Cadillac,” Honey said.

  I was already planning on crashing the glass Cadillac somehow. It wasn’t going to get to decide my destination.

  “What has everyone else been doing?” I asked.

  “Cannibalism and war,” Kaiser shrugged. “At least that’s what it looks like from afar.”

  Glass Alcatraz was definitely not happening.

  “You’re not sure what they’ve been doing at glass Alcatraz?” I asked.

  “We take a peek at it every now and then,” Kaiser said defensively.

  “We try not to get too involved,” Honey said.

  “They content themselves with riots,” Kaiser shrugged.

  “Sounds like you have a pretty loose hand on the wheel,” I said.

  “It’s a stressful situation being in-charge of all these warmongering cannibals,” Kaiser said. “You can’t imagine the sleepless nights that we’ve had in the glass Cadillac.”

  “We eat the dead after the riots,” Honey said.

  “The bodies that aren’t thrown into the rum,” Kaiser said.

  “We’re setting out for glass Alcatraz now,” Honey explained.

  “Tonight is the final riot,” Kaiser said.

  “The last supper,” Honey said.<
br />
  “What’s the hurry?” Madison asked.

  “We wanted to make sure that we got the last bite,” Honey said.

  “The island is almost entirely depopulated,” Kaiser said.

  “Old Havana in glass is nothing but glass,” Honey said.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” I asked.

  “You’re going into the rum,” Kaiser said.

  “Or getting eaten,” Honey said.

  “Do we have a choice?” I asked.

  The glass Cadillac passed two hitchhikers. The glass Cadillac threw itself into reverse.

  “No, you don’t,” Madison shouted and tried to prevent the glass Cadillac from backing up to retrieve the hitchhikers.

  “They’re not sitting back here with us,” Kaiser snarled.

  “They aren’t sitting up here with us,” Madison shouted.

  “There is no way that a four hundred year old pirate is sitting on my lap,” I said calmly. “I’d rather kill myself.”

  “Hail thee fellows,” Professor Coffin bellowed.

  “It’s nice to see such friendly faces,” The Red Lady gnashed her ancient teeth. They looked like a flock of dead canaries. I was thinking back fondly on that shotgun. Why had I tossed it out the window? Wasn’t a gun supposed to go off if you introduce it into the plot?

  “Just get in the trunk,” Madison said.

  The trunk of the glass Cadillac popped itself.

  “Try to be quiet like two corpses that need to be disposed of in the nearest swamp,” I suggested.

  “After you, old cow,” Professor Coffin said cheerily.

  “You really know how to treat an old hag,” The Red Lady snarled as she climbed into the trunk of the glass Cadillac like a wedding bed. “Take my hook, you old goat.”

  Professor Coffin took the cold hook of The Red Lady and rattled aboard the trunk of the glass Cadillac like a pail of bones. There was definitely a romance blossoming in that trunk. I could practically see the bones pushing their way up through the rubble. A garden of skulls would be lovely. You don’t get to tend one of those everyday. The trunk of the glass Cadillac slammed shut.

  “We’ve found the romantic angle that this saga was lacking,” Madison snorted.

  “I can only imagine the horror that it grows,” I said.

  “A horned infant,” Madison snorted.

  “With a tail,” I said.

  “You’re going to be the godparents,” Professor Coffin shouted from the trunk of the glass Cadillac.

  Now we had four suspects that were potentially running our test?

  “It will be our pleasure if you two old bags can produce a spawn,” I hollered.

  Why not roll with this dreaded witchcraft? You might as hang upside down and hiss like a bat for your own amusement.

  “I’m preemptively shuddering,” Madison said.

  “You’re not the only one,” The Red Lady croaked from within the trunk.

  “I haven’t been out of these drawers in four hundred years,” Professor Coffin bellowed. “Hail thee fellow.”

  I put my arm around Madison. Honey snuggled Kaiser. I don’t even want to think about what Professor Coffin and The Red Lady were doing in the trunk of the glass Cadillac. We speed off across the wasteland towards glass Alcatraz. Why not just go for it?

  “If the glass Cadillac is rocking,” Professor Coffin bellowed. “Witchcraft will come knocking.”

  “Tap on the window with a nightstick,” I said.

  “Keep it down in there,” Madison roared.

  Chapter

  The glass Cadillac drove itself into the lake of bubbling rum. We were screaming our faces off in terror. However it simplified matters. Witchcraft was cutting us a break. We just didn’t see it for the good fortune that it was while it was happening. That piece of it in retrospect wasn’t shocking. It looked decidedly dangerous as we drove into that lake of bubbling rum. Although in a strange way it put my troubled mind at ease.

  Frankly I wasn’t looking forward to whatever horrors Alcatraz in glass was brewing up in its tin cup. The induction ceremony presumably included scalding rum on the trousers. There was nothing delicate about that. It made the horrors of the drive-thru pale in comparison. You’ve got to keep that perspective finely tuned. Otherwise you’ll go mad in this world of witchcraft.

  Crudely fashioned weapons, hitting your spine were probably the only comfort in that super max. Kitchen patrol included peeling humans. Boiling them until they were fork tender and then the masher came out. A glass Cadillac driving through a volcano was preferable. It was a well built automobile. It was just the operating system that was a bit unnerving. It heightened the volcano anxiety. Who wants an out-of-control force of the occult determining their destination as it plunges down into a lake of fire?

  I might have stepped on the parking break in the interest of full disclosure. We were cruising up this incredibly steep ramp to presumably jump the lake of fire. I was hopeless to change our direction. The steering wheel wouldn’t give so why not step on the parking brake? I put that pedal to the metal as it were. Give witchcraft a little shudder. The parking brake operated beautifully. We skidded right up that ramp until takeoff.

  We failed to jump the entire lake of fire. We actually almost made it. Roll up your windows pronto. I just stomped on the parking break out of sheer cussedness. We’re going into the lake of fire. How is that for a big gamble down on the felt? That’s right dealer I’ve got my whole life on lucky number seven. It’s going to pay out too. You watch. Stand back though because I might have blown it. Why juggle sticks of dynamite if you’re not going to light the fuse?

  There were these hideous little faces screaming at us as we drove down through that bubbling inferno. Those fiery caretakers of the volcano were a comfort though. There was life in this volcano. It was terrible. It was angry. It desperately wanted to kill us. However it was a cause for celebration because if you’re already dead a hideous flaming creature can’t want to kill you.

  We were definitely alive. Fear was the main indicator. Flaming faces were clamoring for our destruction. That was the only thing of which I was certain. I was still alive. The flaming creatures were the indicator. They desperately wanted to kill us. It was a wonderful sign. Come and get me flaming tough guy.

  However witchcraft had more hideous plans up its black sleeve. Why wear all black if you aren’t going to frighten the daylights out of everyone? I was terrified to death but that would turn into something much darker shortly. It’s funny how that works. One minute you are praying that your wretched life be spared. Then let’s just say for the sake of argument that you make it. Chances are the next move in the playbook features seizing the life force right out of your enemy. It is god’s will, you see? The cosmic creature spared your life because he wants you to end your tormentor. You snuff the daylight out of your enemy like a candle, poof. If I live through this I will slaughter my enemies if I can delineate who they are. That’s what I was praying for. I was praying to identify the guilty party behind all of this so that I could sacrifice it brutally to my cosmic creature.

  The flaming creatures howled hopelessly at our glass Cadillac as we drove down into that sea of fire. The flaming creatures had no hope of killing us. Our hope was unbreakable. Or perhaps it was just our glass Cadillac could not be penetrated by fire. Why have a glass Cadillac if it’s going to catch on fire?

  We need it to smash during the horrendous crash into the second world of witchcraft which was actually the third world of witchcraft. The second world of witchcraft was the third world of witchcraft. Or the third world of witchcraft was the second world of witchcraft. Frankly I wasn’t counting at this point. Why let witchcraft score a point?

  However witchcraft needed that glass Cadillac intact so it could impale us with spears of glass which it would shortly do. I was trying to find something to be pleased about. The glass Cadillac didn’t incinerate somehow. Magical Detroit was a credit to my people.

  Also Flash was furiously
running defense. How could flaming creatures intimidate that cantankerous beast? It wasn’t possible. He was relishing the fiery attention. Flash was howling brimstone out the tailpipe to all takers. I had to admire the fortitude of that flaming ape.

  He was hideously outnumbered, defending his sworn enemy, but he refused to surrender to even his own people. Flash was an artist of the first right. He would wage war with any flaming creature that had the audacity to darken his fiery door. No matter how ferocious. No matter the tribal connection. He would slay his own flaming ape mother if she had the cheek to question his profession.

  Flash was the protector of the Coffin Island library of this much I was certain. He would back down for no creature whether magical or human. Madison may have destroyed him briefly but he couldn’t be broken. He would always come back for more. Climb out of his fiery coffin for more. Flash had earned his stripes in my book. He was a righteous creature.

  Although I had a few misgivings as the glass Cadillac roared through the boiling rum. Was I missing something here? Why not take a moment to clarify your thinking? Reconsider your circumstances and what brought you here? Let’s trace back a bit, shall we? Are you satisfied with these reflections that seem to be your last cognitive thoughts? That final gasp of consciousness before the great beyond and I’m pondering a flaming magical ape? Witchcraft is going to pay for this, I thought. If I live through this there will be terrible consequences. How’s that for a happy thought on death’s door? If I get the opportunity to turn back from the hinges of hell, there will be hell to pay. Why the hell not?

  What to make of this flaming ape in the meanwhile. We might as well study him for instruction. Perhaps we can learn something from a flaming ape that has been so prominently featured in this test. What to make of this flaming beast?

  Flash was just doing his sworn magically duty. He was merely magically attached to his task of protecting the books. He had a job that couldn’t be broken. It really wasn’t his decision at all.