The Devil and the Red Ribbon

by Theo Rion

  It was like a slight click, and Kurt’s look changed. And John saw the one whom he had never known before.

  Kurt stopped laughing, but the smile wasn’t gone from his face.

  “Oh, John, you can’t even imagine what you have done.” He grinned and hit John in the face so hard that his lip broke.

  “Damn!”

  Kurt grabbed John’s chin and squeezed. With great power, he shoved the ring in his hand into John’s mouth and covered it with his palm, so John could not spit it out.

  “Now listen, Johnny,” he said, leaning over him, his blue eyes twinkling icily. “Shhh.” Kurt put his finger to his lips. “No need, no need to be nervous, it’s just a game, John. We can stay in this castle, and we can get out of here, but I promise, you won’t be bored. Hear that?” His lips curved into a smile. “You won’t be.”

  He removed his hand, and John spat out the ring. It fell to the floor with a clang.

  Kurt sat in a dark corner; he started to do something, but John could not make out what.

  “John, do you have any idea how hard it is to forget something?” Kurt spoke, not looking up. “Years of training, years of work in order to forget…what I was, but undoubtedly there’s some…scoundrel somewhere, who will want to remind you. Maybe I really wanted to become what I became, but who cares now?” Kurt said as if to himself.

  John listened to him in silence.

  “But no! There’s always some John who is like a bloodhound and will prowl around you until he finds a cherished bone.” Kurt rose from the dark corner and went back to John. He leaned towards John’s face, as if scrutinizing what he saw. “I have no idea why you brought me back. And you…” Kurt smiled, “have no idea who you brought back.” He raised his hand that held the tangled rope. He cut the loops and tied John’s arms and legs, so John could hardly amble. His hands were tied at the elbows behind, and a sharp pain pierced John every time he tried to breathe a little deeper.

  They climbed to the top of the tower, where they had dined. Kurt pushed John to the window. Tying him to the grid, Kurt loosened the rope on his elbows.

  John erupted with raucous laughter. “I never knew you were so crazy!”

  Kurt laughed with him. “You still don’t know.” He took a few steps back from John and suddenly pulled John’s house key out of the pocket of the pants Kurt wore—John’s pants. He laughed again, and without stopping his laughter, Kurt threw the key out of the tower window.

  “You wanted to stay here with me, did you not?” Kurt smiled at John. “But…I think it would be unfair to deprive you of opportunity to leave.”

  Kurt leaned over and picked up the loop. Standing on a chair, Kurt tied it to the ceiling and stepped back down. He looked at John seriously, without a shadow of a smile.

  “Here is the new key and the door. You can leave if you find your key. And that’s fair.”

  “But I’m tied.” John grinned.

  “And you’ve left a scar on my hand!” said Kurt angrily, as if it could be an argument.

  “I didn’t know you cared about scars.”

  “Ugliness of the body sometimes is more difficult to hide than the ugliness of the soul. But what annoys me more is to be branded, although I should give you credit; the idea is interesting.”

  “Thank you,” John grinned.

  “And here I thought I had fallen in love with you,” Kurt said suddenly and laughed.

  “You are in love with me,” John replied calmly and confidently. Kurt turned on him a quizzical look and shook his head easily.

  “You aren’t afraid, are you, John? That’s good.” Kurt walked closer to him. “You’ve prepared for this trip. One of the rooms has food, clothing and other things. After three days, if you don’t return home, one of your servants will come for you. He will unlock the door from the outside, that’s why it didn’t disturb you when I threw the key out the window.” Kurt leaned over John’s face as if doing so helped to read his mind. “You’re sure I won’t do you any harm, and whatever happens after three days, you will be free again. But you thought you would be master of the situation. Not me. And with that in mind, three days is an extremely long term for me to punish you. I have much to tell you and to do with you, John.” Kurt looked into his eyes and smiled. And then he walked away from John and sat down, twisting the knife in his hands.

  “I must immediately warn you that you will spend all three days tied,” Kurt spoke again. “If you want to leave early, don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Kurt smiled and nodded at the loop on the ceiling. “I won’t untie you, because you’re likely to use brute force, and here, I have to admit, I concede to you. We certainly can spend a couple of hours, breaking each other’s faces, but now I’m not in the mood.”

  “All I took with me is in a room on the second floor of the tower. There’s a chest,” John said.

  Dawn began to break. Through the barred window, it was visible as the sky turned pinkish, and the sun promised to appear over the horizon, starting a new day.

  “I must say, the night was exhausting, and I need to rest. You can do anything you want here.” Kurt smiled and walked out, leaving John alone. He went to the second floor. There was a massive four-poster bed, two armchairs, a small table between them, and the chest. There, as John said, was food, wine and clothes. The bed was made with clean sheets. Kurt lay on the bed. His body needed rest—the night had been very strenuous and eventful.

  And sleep didn’t make him wait.

  * * * *

  When Kurt opened his eyes, midday sun flooded the room with light. He was glancing around the room and stopped at John’s head, which was lying on the pillow next to him. John was sleeping. Kurt just grinned and shook his head. He got out of bed, freshened up and had breakfast. John was still sleeping. He woke up when Kurt, humming, sat on the edge of the bed. John opened his eyes, reached out with pleasure and sat up.

  “You didn’t smother me in my sleep,” Kurt smiled. “I’m really flattered. If I were you, I could not have resisted.”

  “And be left all alone for three days? Come on. I don’t want to die of boredom. And you were able to surprise me,” John replied lazily. “And whatever you think of me, I’ve never wanted you dead.”

  “Very touching,” Kurt said and put his hand to his chest.

  “You’re not interested how I freed myself from the ropes?”

  “Do you need praise so badly?” Kurt smiled. “Let it be your little secret. I rarely leave unresolved puzzles for myself, but there are things I’m just not interested in. This is one of them.”

  “You promised me I would not be bored. I’m already getting bored,” John said and leaned back on the pillows.

  “You know what our difference is, John?” Kurt continued, without waiting for his reply. “You’re alive, really alive, both inside and out; it is both your strength and your weakness. And I’m dead. Why do you think I left the university after the incident with the students? Do you think fear overcame me, or maybe remorse?” Kurt shook his head. “That wasn’t the case; simply there were so many questions asked; I got too much attention. There was no place to work.”

  “That’s a lie, Kurt. Why would you have become what you’ve become—a psychologist with a mediocre life in frames—if you didn’t have regrets?”

  Kurt seemed to have gone inward, as if he wanted to remember this moment. Returning from his thoughts, he looked at John, but was in no hurry to give him an answer.

  John stood up. He dressed under Kurt’s gaze, pulled a bottle of wine and a few snacks out of the chest, sat on the armchair in front of Kurt and began his scratch breakfast.

  All this time they were silent. Kurt stared thoughtfully at the cuffs of his white silk shirt, and John was sipping wine. When John finished, Kurt stood up and headed for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” John asked, rising from his chair.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure to examine this place. So I’m going for a walk.” He smiled.

  “Well, then, I w
ould be honored to accompany you,” John said pompously. They went into the corridor. A spiral stone staircase rose steeply up to the very top of the tower, where Kurt and John had dinner the day before. On the second floor, where they were, in addition to the bedroom, was another room. It was empty, lifeless and dull, like a closet. The ground floor also had two rooms, both of which were familiar to Kurt. It was in the first one he had awoken, tied to a chair, and here there was a hatchway into the dungeon. The second room had big vats of water, with a space for a fire underneath. The third floor had one room, littered with rags. They hung from the chandelier and lay on the floor with many broken chairs and the doors to a dilapidated cabinet.

  In the corner stood a small piano. Even without touching it, it was clear that after standing there for years, it was hopelessly out of tune. Even if it had stood away from the cold walls and sunbeams that came through the window, it would have been out of tune anyway, because this place was very sullen, desolate and cold. It was unlikely the tower itself wished a piece of light and joy here. However, this finding gave Kurt a moment of excitement. He slowly sat down, pushing a pile of rags from the chair to the floor, then lifted the lid and touched the keys. The sounds were discordant as Kurt picked out some notes.

  John stood in the doorway and looked at Kurt without moving. A strange feeling spread through his soul, intertwined with the sunlight and impelled by the timid notes ringing in the air. This feeling rushed into John’s heart and chained him to the ground. There was no thought in his head, nor any sharp word on his tongue until Kurt quit playing. The sound rang in the air and in John’s soul.

  Kurt felt the resentment lurking within the walls for those who dared to disturb its peace. Kurt turned and looked out the window. Without turning to John, he suddenly said, “We are like ghosts here, John.”

  They were silent then, until the thud of the keyboard lid closing broke the silence, allowing them to continue exploring.

  The fourth floor contained no rooms, only an open space where the large barred window poured light on the stairs. Having reached the room on the last floor, where a table stood near the fireplace, Kurt went to the window. He silently looked around the room and at John, who sat down in a chair at the table. Something in John’s movements was a bit odd, which Kurt now easily guessed; he didn’t need to peer closely or observe. It all turned into a simple vision similar to one of the senses, like touch or sight.

  “I’ve always imagined,” said Kurt, “that thoughts physically exist around us, but we can’t see them with our eyes. However, each of us has a certain vision, with which we might catch a thought. It’s the same with a sense. Sometimes you stand in a room full of people, where all are infected with one mood, and you feel this tension. The feeling itself. You can feel its presence, but stay aside. Note, this is felt the best indoors, so here is the conclusion that thought and feeling consist of some kind of matter, which intersects with the physical.” Kurt paused; John said nothing. “Well, the walk was lovely,” Kurt said and smiled.

  “What are you going to do now, Kurt?” John asked.

  Kurt momentarily went inside his crystal castle, where he held a brush in his hand. He stood at the canvas; the picture was still not finished. Kurt looked back at John.

  “I have a suggestion. Each of us will tell a story of life. The story may be true or fiction or both. The aim of the narrator is to fool the listener, to confuse him so he cannot distinguish truth from lie. If the listener interprets the story correctly, then he will win and can claim to fulfil his desire from the narrator. But the greater the lie in your story, the more violent will be the desire. I can easily cut off your finger with a hot knife, if your story has more than five moments of lie. But you can do the same with me, if it turns out I have deceived you as well.”

  John frowned, but then smiled. “It’s a crazy idea, but I like it. Especially since I already have a desire in mind,” John grinned.

  “But let’s not start right now,” Kurt said, stopping him. “In the evening. And I ask you to stay in the bedroom until that time.”

  John shrugged and leaned back in his chair. They went down, where John went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  When the first gloom of twilight descended from heaven, the evening coolness surrounded the tower from all sides, soaking in the thick stone walls. John threw a few logs in the fireplace; the room was warm and twilight made it cozy even though it was just an illusion decoration. There was no real warmth and never could be. Listening to the noise wafting occasionally into the room and Kurt’s steps on the stairs, John wanted to go out many times; he was very curious to see the fruits of Kurt’s labors.

  Kurt finally came into the bedroom. His face held no particular emotion. He nodded calmly to John, and he followed Kurt upstairs to the third floor in the room with the piano, but this time the room was different. Like an old actress who had once shone on the stage and had gotten used to deafening audience applause, it was trying to become younger, dressing in old rags, attempting in vain to regain its once dazzling beauty, and it was miserable in the process.

  It was like a loge at the theatre appeared before John. On random chairs in several rows silent spectators were sitting as if in anticipation of the performance. Kurt had made these dolls from rags. They didn’t have faces on their round and oval rag heads, but they wore clothes. And they were so cleverly placed in their chairs, that from the back it seemed that these were real people. The piano stood at its original location at the window, and a cleared strip ran from it, which apparently served as a makeshift stage. Several candles were burning, and the dim illumination breathed life into this grotesque theatre. And it was creepy.

  “Please, John,” Kurt invited him, passing forward to the scene. “I took the liberty and created an atmosphere so our game would be more interesting.”

  Kurt paused, looking at John, then he looked around the gathered crowd.

  “Just look at them, John,” Kurt said with some tenderness in his voice. “I thought you might be more comfortable in public. And most importantly, you will hardly feel any difference,” Kurt smiled. “As if it is your reception in your luxurious mansion.”

  Light of the candles reflected whimsically in Kurt’s eyes, and his glance seemed scalding, but cold. Kurt sat on an empty chair in the front row, next to a doll in a bonnet; Kurt had tied a broken fan to her hand. To his right there was a gentleman in a shabby hat and tail coat with just a single sleeve. John came on the scene in front of Kurt, who was watching him carefully.

  John looked into Kurt’s eyes, blinking slightly. Now he looked like the host of the evening. “I’ll tell you a story, Kurt.”

  “Don’t be rude to our guests.” Kurt interrupted him. “There’s no need to show such obvious favor to me.”

  But John continued. “You’re not the first person with whom I started these matches. That was long ago. His name was…although what difference does it make now?” John grinned. “I’ve always liked teasing others, especially my father, and especially after his wedding with this French woman. I always knew where his weak spot was. It became so simple I got bored. I just wanted to do what I wanted. And I could not understand why I was so bored. One day my father invited me for dinner with a wealthy gentleman whom he had long dreamed of doing business with. Most likely, he even dreamed of intermarrying with his family, because this gentleman had a daughter about my age. But he had a son also. An elder one. But his father didn’t pin his hopes on him, for he was too wayward. And, at first, I didn’t like him.”

  A smile touched John’s lips before he continued. “His sister didn’t differ from the ladies I constantly met at my house. Ladies make a nice background for company. Her brother knew that if our fathers agreed on our engagement, I eventually would have become the head of the two families and the one who would control the capital of both. Of course, the brother didn’t want that. I also didn’t want to be a pawn in my father’s game, but as I said, I didn’t like this young man, and the fact that I ga
ve him such dissatisfaction by my existence, I found it all quite funny.

  “However, soon I discovered amazing qualities in him that I, to my shame, had not imagined before…what can I say? Previously, I wasn’t so observant. A few times we even tried to talk when our fathers met from time to time. He became a frequent guest in our home. He always came with his sister. While we tried to kill each other with words or looks, she blushed furiously, looking at us, or the floor, or the pictures, but never participated in conversations. There were times when we quarreled, even fought, but every time he came again, and again we argued. Yet, I grew attached to him with all my heart. I was even willing to marry his sister to intermarry with him! But once he came to the house with his father and silently handed me a letter in which his sister passionately confessed her undying love for me. But being aware of her homeliness, she also confessed that she could not carry the burden of unrequited love. His sister had committed suicide by drinking poison, and this letter was found at her bedside. At the end of the letter, however, his sister could not resist and made a daring postscript addressed to her father. It said that it was more likely I would marry her brother than her. What then could I tell him? Yes, I was attached to him, but the death of his sister barely touched me, and her farewell letter, I confess, I found even slightly amusing. Maybe if I had found the words then…

  “In the end, he challenged me to a duel to, as he put it, defend his honor and dispel idle speculation. We met without seconds in the forest at dawn, greeting each other in silence. We broke apart and got ready to shoot. In those few seconds, all I knew about him arose in my mind, and I was very sure that he would not kill me. His face suddenly turned into an open book to me, and I saw what I hadn’t seen before. Rather than shoot, I went up to him and kissed him. Why did I do it?” John looked away, as if trying to remember. “I wanted to check my guess. Unfortunately, it was true. His eyes became like a crystal, and his soul was in my hands. He stepped back from me and looked at me with a glance I couldn’t describe or explain. And then he shot himself in the temple.”