Damned Fiction Read online

  DAMNED FICTION

  By David Kempf

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form without prior written permission of author/publisher, except for a brief quote or description for a book review.

  Copyright 2018 David Kempf

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and places written within are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales are coincidental.

  I would like to thank these folks: Dan Stark, Jennifer Mills, Edward Khayat, Jr., Jenna Riley, Rich McGinley, Lauren Roberts, Douglas Hampton, Jon Donnis and A.L. Sirois for his excellent editing skills.

  Thanks to the law firm of Benstead, Mabon & Mitch for legal advice.

  Stephen Kirby, we miss you.

  “Let us not forget the second greatest radical of all time, Saul Alinsky. He never achieved his own kingdom but he is now a part of mine.”

  — LUCIFER

  Dear reader,

  The book is always better or so they say. I can tell you that ones who are wise know this to be a lie. The movie is better in some instances. Yes, you heard me correctly. For as much as many believe, dangerous and sinful movies make men commit rape and even murder, the opposite is actually true. Books are far more dangerous I assure you. This might not be the scariest or most intriguing book you have ever read but let me give you fair warning. This is no book to be trifled with. Enter at your own risk. This is something not to enter lightly. One must tread lightly in matters of the soul especially when salvation and damnation are concerned.

  This book is both a novel and a collection of short stories. It is both comedy and tragedy and contains more than enough soul damning horror for the brave reader to embrace. If you really want to test your courage than please by all means go ahead and continue your dark journey. You may not even like this book. Someday you might laugh at the idea of a horror novel inspiring or causing you to commit terrible and unspeakable violent acts. Then you will make a fool out of me and prove me wrong. Don’t say you were never warned. Oh, did I mention this book is also a sequel? Yes, a sequel that features yours truly and even a mention or two of the infamous wish masters known as the Jinn. I’ve cause much suffering and madness on this sad planet during my time. Still don’t want to believe me? Suit yourself. Graveyards and mental institutions need to be filled with lost souls in order to be successful. I, for one, would hate to disappoint them.

  I suppose anyone but a fool has guessed who I am by now. One can tell merely from the name of this book who they are dealing with. I am the spirit and the inspiration for the writing of this book. This book has my dark blessing. I am pleased with it so if you, dear reader, do unspeakable things after reading it then so be it. See how fair I am that I am warning you in advance of about this book. I am not the terrible villain that He makes me out to be. The reality of the situation is I am just another lost soul like you. Once you have read this book, there is no turning back. Well, I’ve said enough now. You’ve been given every chance to be wise and go back to your dreary mundane lives. It’s time for the brave among you to go on a literary journey and surrender to the madness.

  Best Wishes,

  The Man with Many Names

  1

  The Devil & the Jinn

  “A haunted house attraction is a fine meeting place,” Arioch said.

  “When I said I will see you in Hell, I was only half joking.” Satan answered, smiling.

  Arioch snorted. “You wish. Anyway, why disguise ourselves as teenage boys? We could simply walk in as we are.” He had chosen a form resembling Harry Potter, while Satan looked like Alfred E. Neuman of Mad Magazine. Like his companion, Arioch was dressed all in black, with white face paint and black-rimmed eyes.

  Ghosts, vampires, witches and classic Poe characters surrounded them, running, chattering, shouting, and taking pictures with their phones.

  “Simply to fit in better,” Satan said. “The scares are good. Most of the actors are teens. They’re not bad,” he added, as a headless corpse lurched past, gurgling from its neck.

  “The make-up works,” said Arioch. “We’ll give them that. The sound system is certainly first-rate. We like the engines that make the floors shake. But we’ll never understand why humans like being scared.” He shook his head.

  “Murder most foul,” growled a young girl dressed as a vampire. She screamed at what appeared to be two teenage geeks, the types who could only dream of sex with a pretty girl, then scampered off into the darkness of the next room. Satan and his companion couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

  “As if she knows the first thing about murder,” Arioch said.

  “Well, you can’t be sure, these days,” Satan said. “What with all these school shootings.”

  What he couldn’t admit to his rival was that he had come to enjoy sojourning among mortals without being recognized. Demons weren’t necessarily the best company. They knew who he was; they weren’t awed by him—just fearful, which was appropriate, but after millennia no longer particularly satisfying.

  Whereas if I revealed my true form here, he thought, there would be screaming and running and vomiting. It was, he knew, a matter of pride.

  The Devil had his pride and that had been the problem all along. He was only now, when so few people believed in him any longer, starting to recognize it.

  I have the means and power to be terrifying and beautiful. I have so many names. The Lord of the Great Fire, the Seven Deadly Sins personified… I’ve put my time in. Were it not for the Jinn! Damn these blind monsters, the Devil thought. And this fucking Arioch is the worst.

  “So, now it finally happens,” Arioch said. You prideful bastard, he thought.

  “Yes,” answered the Prince of Darkness, keeping his voice neutral. “Come.”

  They walked slowly towards the next two rooms. One had a stereotypical strobe light and trolls hiding in closets; but the other was more fun.

  Inside that one were walls of skulls.

  There were skeletons, hideous ones, half covered in flesh looking convincingly real, and a parade of vampires lurking in front of coffins. “Nice work,” Satan murmured, and Arioch, though amused, couldn’t help but agree. The vampires were the traditional Nosferatu kind, pale, bald and beautiful. Arioch felt immediate recognition. They were so realistic they could have been some of his actual ghoul lackeys.

  But Nosferatu and ghouls did not exist here, only kids who loved to masquerade as sinister things of which they had no real understanding. Arioch said, “These kids have no idea just how much we secretly influence them and darken their hearts every day of their lives.”

  Satan couldn’t help sneering. Arioch was ultimately alone. Arioch, Satan knew, was the darkness of men’s hearts, their secret wishes of self-absorption, lust, greed, hate and personal glory. Every human soul had its own inner narcissist screaming to be set free and praised. Arioch had dominion over them.

  The Devil, however, was not alone, though he had until recently thought he was, sitting on his throne at the center of Hell.

  Satan’s epiphany (he clenched his fists: how he hated the word) was that he, the Prince of Darkness, never could be alone. No one who had captured the imagination of all monotheistic religions, horror fans and self-righteous non-believers was ever alone. Not even in the beginning, when he had been cast out of Heaven, because there were those other rebel angels with him.

  They had had their way with humanity after that (in God’s name, of course). Until the Jinn rose from the ancient sands of Arabia.

  The Monkey’s Paw came very close to revealing what the Jinn really were. At the time, it was written, no short story in dark fi
ction had ever come close to revealing the truth about them. The Jinn had ghouls to protect them, human servants, but they were not infallible. Arioch knew deep in his heart that his kind was very close to extinction. After all, all it took was one self-aware human to wish it.

  That man was Christopher Wisdom. He wrote a story that reviled William Wymark Jacobs, at least in terms of discovering the absolute truth about those who “granted every wish.” The title of that story was Lydia and unlike the Jacobs story, it was not a work of fiction. Wisdom was supposed to be a ghoul but he had rejected the road to perdition. Christopher made a wish (the Jinn give every human on earth one) to be human again. This reduced Arioch’s power and he had had to fight to get it back. Fortunately, he got hold of some poor souls who gave him what he needed.

  “Just a little longer,” said the Devil. “Let’s see what’s down this hallway.”

  “Don’t you find this a bit humiliating?” asked Arioch.

  “Yes, for the Prince of Darkness it is.” Satan scowled to hide his amusement. “The king of the Jinn must also find this humiliating.”

  Arioch snarled quietly in response.

  They continued down a long dark hallway leading outside to a phony graveyard, filled with adolescents dressed as Grim Reapers.

  “Last time we were in a place like this,” Arioch said in a reminiscent tone, “there were two guys dressed up, a fog machine, and a record—a record! An actual LP on a turntable!—with creepy sounds.” He chuckled. “They had to keep turning it over.”

  Satan nodded. “They’re far more sophisticated these days. Computer controlled lights, even odors. You have to give them credit.” The two disguised beings smiled at one another. They listened to a digital loop of prerecorded wolf sounds, the chilling music of the children of the night. “If they only knew two greatest soul hunters of all eternity were taking their tour.”

  “We think we already have most of these,” said Arioch. The irony was that men could go on to live for decades before they became aware they were trophies. “What’s the name of this place again?”

  “Séance Manor.”

  “You don’t just snack on irony, do you? You make a bloody god damned feast of it….”

  “It’s my nature, Arioch.” Satan sighed. Thinking again of those who had been cast out with him, he said, “You could have stayed with me.”

  Arioch scoffed. “You could have stayed with Him. He loved you above all, you were His favorite.”

  “Enough!” the Devil roared. Human heads turned toward them in surprise.

  “Pride,” said the Jinn king in a chiding tone. The heads turned away.

  Satan growled, “Yours will be your downfall tonight.”

  Above, a full moon lit up the night sky. It was like a candle that would not curse the darkness. It was a symbol of the destiny that would change mankind forever. How ironic, Satan thought, that this would all take place at Séance Manor, a place of the imagination. Yet we, this fucking Jinn and I, are not imaginary. Here we walk, unnoticed. Man for all his accomplishments is not wise enough to break the spell of disbelief.

  “Funny thing is, we know it.”

  “Excellent, Jinn king…”

  “We know you know it. You are after all, the Lord of Fire,” Arioch said sarcastically.

  “We are kings of men and men are fools.”

  “No argument there,” said Arioch. Even the greatest gods of the Greeks and Romans couldn’t compare to the Jinn, he knew. For one thing, the Jinn are real and many gods are not.

  “And yet, they have admirable qualities. They’re often adventurous, even with their frail, fragile bodies. They explore the ocean depths, they shoot themselves into space.”

  “Oh, they have noble aspects to their foolishness,” Arioch said. “Lucky for us, like everything else though, foolishness has a dark side to it. They try to live longer and longer, some even dreaming of immortality through some yet undiscovered form of science. They always managed to improve themselves, to evolve but then they inevitably blow it.”

  Satan nodded slowly. “Why, I wonder?”

  “Because it’s in their nature to destroy themselves,” said Arioch. “You ought to know that. God made them that way. And again we say, lucky for both of us.”

  “I suppose so.” Man, as Satan knew better than any other being, had some genuine goodness. “They always overplay their hand. Right? They want more than real life can give and that’s why they had gods to begin with. That’s where you and I came in.” He gestured at himself. “I’m not merely a fallen angel; I’m the most beautiful creature on the face of the planet! And,” he added with a malicious grin, “I’m also the most dreadful and grotesque thing in the universe. Just like in all the stories, I can take on many forms. The funny thing about that is, the stories are close enough to the truth to be real.”

  Arioch said, “And almost far as away from reality as to be ridiculous. Men are fearful by nature and often cowardly. The ones here and he gestured around at the dozens of people in Séance Manor, “think we’re merely a couple of ordinary teenage boys. And why wouldn’t they believe that? Their senses tell them that. Why wouldn’t they believe their senses?”

  Satan shrugged. “Yes, but there are always a few wise ones who manage to figure out the nature of reality.”

  “Maybe, but civilization after civilization, society after society, they are mocked as lunatics. And we say again, lucky for us. God knows what they’d do if they found out we were real. Come after us with particle beams or something.”

  “As if that would help.”

  Arioch gave a grunt of agreement. Privately, though, he maintained a vast contempt for Satan. The Devil had been in hiding, frozen in Hell for centuries, just hanging out with his demons playing board games or the like. Arioch’s opinion was that Satan, after having brought Evil to humanity, had decided to sit back and watch the concept play out for his own selfish amusement. Just board games, he thought. Whereas the Jinn were being far more proactive in their attempts to damn men for eternity. Arioch wanted them off the planet entirely, to make it free for his kind.

  There was, he knew, no such thing as demonic possession. Even humans had finally come to realize that “possessions” were no more than self-hatred or the result of mental illness. The Jinn made damn sure tragedy, loneliness, murder, jealousy and genocide were all the result of mankind’s own doing. Humans brought their miseries on themselves. They wished for it, in many cases.

  The ones who knew Jinn were at work were wise and often unspeakably lonely because they were shunned for their beliefs. They took the spirit world seriously, unlike most patrons of the Séance Manor establishment. Figurative Hell had been unleashed there on this fateful night. The King of Wishes wanted to be there for the extinction of all men. He desperately wanted to be there when the very last wish was made. But it was not meant to be. The Prince of Darkness had somehow got wind of his plans, and tracked him down. Satan would, more than likely, walk out of Séance Manor alone—if he could swallow his pride.

  That was, of course, much easier said than done. Even the frightened mortals had great pride in their demon-haunted worlds. Arioch ground his teeth. This world was pathetic, the world of men. The Jinn had actively sought self-inflicted damnation in every parallel universe. If any human—or any species of the flesh for that matter—knew the truth of the universe, they would go mad.

  Madhouses had been filled with those who knew the truth all throughout the turbulent history of human beings.

  Many wise ones who knew absolute truth were burned alive before the gathering crowds of sadists and cowards.

  “Arioch?”

  The Jinn startled out of his thoughts, blinked. “Yes?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” Arioch answered innocently.

  “You know damn well what…”

  “We have our reasons.”

  Satan smiled and ignored the snide comment. “It’s about time.”

  They paused t
o watch a mysterious figure go by. A man dressed like an old lady wielding a very large plastic knife.

  This made the Devil and the Jinn king laugh out loud.

  “Hello, Norman,” said Arioch.

  “I don’t think it is the young Master Bates, I think it is all Mother now,” the Devil said.

  The young actor playing psychotic walked right by what he perceived to be two dorky teenagers. They didn’t look like they were going to scare easy.

  “Now, I repeat: Why are you doing this?”

  Arioch made a dismissive gesture. “It’s time. The destiny of all known worlds will change tonight here at Séance Manor.”

  “There will not be many mansions and many rooms for you to see, old friend. Do you get me, Arioch?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Oblivion.”

  “Yes, sweet oblivion it shall be…”

  “How can you be so sure, Arioch?” Satan asked.

  “It has to beat actual existence.”

  “Perhaps,” said the Devil.

  “Do you think we’re making a bad decision?”

  “No, I want to be center stage now. And with you out of the way…”

  Arioch grunted again.

  “Soon,” said the Prince of Darkness. He smiled. “Soon.”

  The Devil had waited so long to be center stage once again. Dante and Milton were long dead. Satan didn’t like to live for the glory of the deceased, even though they had given him good publicity. Especially the types that ended up in that other place, the bad place, the opposite of Hell, the place of angels, stupid angels who could not think for themselves. The ones who could have backed me up. I was the greatest community organizer of all time. That’s why Saul Alinsky dedicated his most famous book to me.

  Satan envied the Jinn their awesome power to condemn men by using their own blind selfishness and stupidity against them. The idea of making mankind damn itself by its own wishes, to watch them curse themselves, was almost orgasmic to the Lord of the Fire.