Read The New Death and others Online
Authors: James Hutchings
Tags: #fiction, #anthology, #humor, #fantasy, #short stories, #short story, #gothic, #science fiction, #dark fantasy, #funny, #fairy tales, #dark, #collection, #humour, #lovecraftian, #flash fiction, #fairy tale, #bargain, #budget, #fairytale, #fantasy fiction, #goth, #flash, #hp lovecraft, #cheap, #robert e howard, #lord dunsany, #collection of flash fiction, #clark ashton smith
++++
Everlasting Fire
Once upon a time there was a demon named
Lilly, whose job was devising ironic punishments for the damned.
The greedy she caused to be stuffed with lard until their stomachs
exploded, upon which they were sewn together to gorge anew. The
generative organs of the lustful she caused to sprout chains, and
these chains to be attached to skeletal horses, who dragged the
wretches around. Thus, as she explained to them, they who followed
their genitals in life would follow them in death. On her wall she
proudly displayed the award she had won for this, even though the
judges had noted that a few of the most debauched seemed to enjoy
it. However most of her work was traditional but solidly executed,
as she spent the centuries heaping humiliation on the prideful and
causing the covetous to lack what they desired most.
One day she received word that her section
would be expanded.
"Thou must choose for thyself three
underlings, of whatever kind and nature thou desirest. Yet beware!
For many have been brought to ruin by the attainment of their
heart's desire; and that which is bought without payment may in the
end cost...THY SOUL! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" the memo read. She thought
for a great while on who she would request to have transferred to
her. The worst part of the job was the paperwork. There was no
point taunting an Aztec priest by denying him a cell phone, or
withholding a finely-curved sacrificial knife from a real estate
agent, and thus each soul must have a detailed file. She had often
wished that Inhuman Resources would computerize the system. Alas,
the section head was a demon of the Eighth Deadly Sin, making
puns(
1
) and always said
"I'll be
damned
if I use those
infernal
things! Har har, did you see what I did there?" In
the end she chose three different specialists. The first was an
expert in torture by conversation. The second was trained in the
Ninth Deadly Sin (saying 'lol' out loud). And the third was an
incubus, a male demon of lust.
The new minions duly arrived. The first
minion worked hard, although he had a slight speech impediment
which meant that he sometimes used words correctly. He knew a
secret, extra-annoying way to mispronounce 'nuclear', and he could
use the word 'synergy' four times in a sentence. His specialty was
quoting comedy sketches and getting them slightly wrong. Few could
stand his rendition of
'This parrot is no good!'
The second minion did his job well, although
once she caught him looking at spreadsheets when he was supposed to
be working on pornography.
But the third minion, the incubus, brought
joy to her black and rotting heart. From the top of his horns to
the tip of his hooves, he looked the very embodiment of both
punishment and sin. He seemed slightly taller than whoever he was
talking to. He had velvety wings and strong yet gentle claws, and
his violet eyes gave a promise of honesty and commitment that no
damned soul could resist, though they knew it was false. As she
considered these attributes one evening (if that term may be used
for a place where sunlight is unknown) Lilly realised that she had
fallen in love with the incubus.
Love is strictly forbidden in the infernal
realms, or rather happiness derived from love. The damned may feel
the agonies of unfulfilled yearning, or pity for their equally
damned beloved, but there may be no happy marriages. Demons are, of
course, masters of deception, and so she had no fear of her
feelings being found out, provided she did not act on them. But oh,
how it cost her to maintain the facade of normal unlife. When
forcing critics to review every book in The Library That Contains
Nothing But Fan-Fiction she still brought forth peals of malevolent
laughter, but in truth she felt no joy. She bought tumors and
pustules for the office's morning teas, where before she had baked
them at home. Even feeding the supermodels failed to cheer her.
She began finding fault with the incubus,
speaking harshly to him from fear that she would betray her true
feelings. Yet her harshest words were reserved for those occasions,
all too common it seemed to Lilly, when the incubus was called upon
to go to the mortal realm to seduce a weak soul or reward some
lustful evil-doer.
"Thy mustache is unevenly curled, so that the
left maketh two full revolutions more than the right," she would
say, or "that goatee maketh thee look like thou workest in a skate
shop." Always the incubus would respond with mildness and humility,
which tore Lilly's heart far deeper than angry words would have
done, for they made her feel weak and foolish.
Things came to a head at the office's
annual party, just before the unholidays. It was the tradition to
have an office Secret Satan, where each employee would be given the
name of another, for whom they would have to buy a gift. The gift
had to be cheap--no more than 40 pieces of silver(
2
). Everyone was included, even
the imps, though they were not permanent(
3
). The incubus
drew Lilly's name. Most gave such gifts as bottles of white whine
(the cheaper blends of scaremongering and resentment), or for the
ladies perfume scented with soiled mattresses and the sour sweat of
despair. But the incubus gave the best gift of all. It was a desk
calendar, printed on creamy human skin, and featuring inspirational
quotes from such paragons of wickedness as Jack the Ripper, Tom
Cruise, and people who put comments on YouTube. Everything about it
said 'quality'-- even the typeface(
4
).
"D00d!" said the imp of the Ninth Deadly Sin,
"How d1d u f1nd that 1n budget :O ????" The incubus merely smiled
modestly. But Lilly scowled.
"I like not this gift," she said
brusquely.
Some hours later, the incubus approached
her.
"O my manager," he said with head
humbly bowed, "I crave the honor of a private audience." They went
into a stairwell. Lilly swayed slightly, affected by strong
drink(
5
), and perhaps by another
intoxication.
"O tower of villainy," the incubus said,
politely sinking to one knee, "it is clear to me that my labors
pleaseth thee not. Yet I have striven with all my might to seduce
and corrupt. Yea, and more than once have I been rewarded with
commendations. Even Azrael, the Destruction of All Hope, the
Bringer of Unending Night, hath written in letters of black fire
that I am a credit to the team. Behold my letter of reference,
wherein he also writes 'I am sorry to hear that he is leaving us.
Indeed I will howl terrible blasphemies for a year and a day at
this doom which hath been laid upon the whole section. I have no
doubt that he will be a calamitous force for ruin in his new role.'
By the cloven hooves of Oprah, tell me how I may gain thy favor!"
All the while the incubus looked up at her with an expression of
such woe that she felt as guilty as if she had a soul. At the
conclusion of his speech, Lilly was moved beyond endurance.
"O my minion," she cried, "Thou art the very
model of foulness. The fault is mine; for thy perfection hath moved
me beyond propriety, and into love."
The incubus stood, and took her in his
arms.
"I, too, have fallen in love," he said, with
a sincerity that could not be doubted.
With all the slyness of their kind, the two
devils hid their affair. At work not so much as an improper look
passed between them, and there was neither heat nor coldness in
their speech. They would leave work separately, then meet later,
going by devious paths to avoid meeting anyone from the office.
Sometimes they would stay inside and watch TV; a comedy like
Fiends
or the game show
Who Wants to Boil A
Millionaire?
Often they would go to a McDonald's (the only
restaurant in Hell). There they would stare into each others eyes,
needing no words (which is lucky, because the McDonald's in Hell
constantly have eight separate toddlers' birthday parties happening
at once). One weekend they visited the county unfair. They ate
fairy floss made from real fairies, and rode on the emotional
rollercoaster. Afterwards they walked along, simply holding claws,
looking up at the moonlight streaming through the hole in Ozzy
Osbourne's back yard. The lyrics to songs suddenly seemed
meaningful: Lilly was embarrassed to find herself shedding a tear
at
Hail, Bringer of Torture
. They gave each other their
hearts, as well as several others.
"O darkness of my life," the incubus said one
day as they lay in bed, tails entwined, "wilt thou allow me to
visit thee over the long weekend? I have a surprise."
"O Snuggle-Maggot," Lilly replied, "I
will."
It was a balmy 1000 degrees when the
incubus arrived. He sat in a fine carriage, drawn by two murderers,
who had been condemned for setting fire to the
homeless(
6
). When Lilly answered her
door, he presented her with a blindfold.
"I fear to spoil the surprise," he explained.
Lilly leaned against him as they rode, listening to the pleasantly
anguished moans of the murderers as the coach-imp whipped them to
go faster, or simply for the joy of whipping.
"We have arrived," the incubus said at last.
He held her by the arm as she stepped from the coach.
"Do not remove the blindfold yet," he said,
and gently guided her, until she heard the creak of a door opening,
and he sat her on a seat that felt hard and wooden.
"Remove thy blindfold now," he said at last.
She did so--and found herself in a prison cell.
"Lilith O'Diferous, you are hereby detained
under the Ironic Comeuppance Act," said the incubus. "You are
charged that you did, on various dates, ironically punish the
damned. This is both compulsory and illegal according to government
policy."
"Betrayed!" Lilly cried, heartbroken. "Alas,
I have been so naive. Was thy love all a sham?" she asked.
"It was!" replied the incubus. "You, who
arranged ironic punishments for others, are thyself punished. You
who scourged the lustful are undone by your own lust--is this not
itself ironic?" the incubus laughed.
"But...wait," Lilly replied. "If I am to be
ironically punished for punishing others ironically, does this not
mean that you will be likewise punished for punishing me?" The
incubus stared at her for a moment.
"Oh hell," he said.
1 Authors Note: I myself used to do
this. But I repunted.
(back)
2 $6.66 in decimal currency.
(back)
3 They had been hired through a timp
agency.
(back)
4 It was Hellvetica.
(back)
5 They served evil spirits.
(back)
6 They were flaming hobo sexuals.
(back)
++++
Under the Pyramids
Based on the story of the same name by H.P.
Lovecraft.
Cairo is a story-book
and Cairo is a dream
where all the fates the world awaits
were long ago foreseen.
The smoky, incense-thickened air
the water-seller's cry
the wailing of the call to prayer
unchanging as the sky.
The sky itself a miracle
a deep and cloudless jewel.
The sunrise like the eye of God
all-seeing, golden, cruel
for not all dreams are happy, nor
do stories always end
with monsters killed and treasures won
and coming home again.
Both beautiful and hideous
unsullied and unclean
Cairo is a story-book
and Cairo is a dream.
---
I left the noise and crowds behind
and walked into the dunes.
Night came and I was all alone
save for the crescent moon.
Save for the moon, and for the past
and for the desert wind
that whispered like a pack of ghouls
reciting every sin.
Before me, blotting out the stars
I saw the pyramids.
One seemed to call me forth, and I
approached as I was bid.
I walked toward the monoliths
an ant before a lion
cowed like an ancient Israelite
enslaved and far from Zion.
No God saw fit to rescue me.
I walked till I arrived
below the tomb of Nitocris
where she was sealed alive.
---
As subtle as a cobra's hiss
the one who lay within:
the pitiless Queen Nitocris
queen of the ghoul and djinn.
The merciless Queen Nitocris
who, some have dared to write,
still has her throne within the stone
as pharaoh of the night.
No guide would come here in the night.
The tourists lay in bed.
I stood, the only living thing
among the royal dead.
I cringed and looked around like one
who braces for attack.
I looked up at the silent tomb
and it, I thought, looked back.
In terror of I knew not what
in darkness and alone
I cried. The desert drank my tears
and stayed as dry as bone.
No guide or tourist dared to come
without the light of day.
Who was it then that came to me
and carried me away?
---