By your own works shall you be judged

  Ernie Francis Lee looked at his library. The room was warm and dimly lit. There was a rhino horn of the rhino he killed after they had become close to extinction. He had a cabinetmaker build him a case for it from endangered timbers. The cabinetmaker had been well paid, of course, but he became sickened when the horn appeared. Then, the horn was installed in the display case. Ernie thought he might inform the police, so like many others, he disappeared soon after. He walked over the rug of a Sumatra Tiger he'd shot 15 years ago. It was such a beautiful creature. Now, only shadows of the fierceness there when it was alive were visible. No one ever came into this side of the house. No chambermaids, servants, or even his butler could enter. Dust was everywhere. He heard the doorbell chime again. It was almost time now. He was coming. He would fulfil their contract. Ernie's position, his influence in society, and his immeasurable wealth were all contractual. Ernie was afraid. He felt a warm patch on the front of his pants. He was wet again. His fear had grown every second. Now, it was time to pay the piper. His mind wandered back fifty years ago. The punch landed hard on Ernie's nose. Strong hands were holding him. "Where's the cash?" cried the thug. "I don't know what you mean. I only got 50 in my wallet and some change". The next four shots landed in rapid succession, injuring his ribs. Then, he exploded in agony as they kicked him in the testicles. They turned him around and rummaged through his clothes. "What is it," said the thug, taking out an envelope from Ernie's inner pocket. "You're hiding this from me", then kicked him again in the testicles. The agony was excruciating. The thug spat in Ernie's face. A voice shouted out, "What's going on here?". The thugs made to leave and ran fast away. A figure dashed past Ernie. Shouts and screams came from a distance. All went silent except for Ernie's laboured breathing. A handsome man appeared and helped Ernie to his feet. "I got your package back, here it is", handing it to Ernie The man's voice sounded cultivated, well-spoken. He produced a hanky and cleaned Ernie's face. Ernie looked towards where the men had run. "No need to worry. They won't be bothering anyone again, no fear" "Who are you?" Ernie gasped. "You could call me a guardian angel if you like. Fallen, of course." then he laughed. "Come on, I'll bring you to my flat; it's just up there", said his rescuer, pointing up towards the laneway. "I'll run you a bath and get you some food, up a daisy", Lifting Ernie. Having bathed and now in his rescuer's dressing gown. The handsome stranger was preparing food. Ernie wondered if he'd jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. When he sat down, the stranger looked at him in a manner Ernie could not decipher. Then, to Ernie's surprise said "I work for Satan, Mr. Lee. I buy souls from men I think could use his special help at being successful. Can you trade yours?" "I don't believe in Souls, Mr.", leaving the sentence unfinished. "Louis Oldhob", reaching out to shake Ernie's hand. "An unusual name, Mr. Oldhob", queried Ernie. Ernie now noted a contract on the table in front of him. He studied it. You heard things about the devil where he'd trip you up with something. "So what's the offer, Mr Oldhob." "Simple, we'll help you get success, influence, power, and wealth beyond measure, and you sign your soul away now." Ernie was becoming concerned that he did have a soul, "Is there an option to buy it back if I need to?" Louis Oldhob smiled the smile of a warm-hearted man, but his eyes were as cold as the Arctic. "You can claim it back if you do small deeds for us, nothing major, no killing or anything. Speak some words we'll prepare for you." Ernie signed the contract. He didn't feel any different. What could go wrong? He had no choice but to visit a loan shark, who loaned him fifteen thousand. Ten thousand for a ticket to get into the trade show and five to pay some other small debts The following day, he brought his invention to a trade show, hoping to sell it. He'd spent a year developing it and was broke, so he couldn't afford the admission fee, which was ten thousand bucks. He set up his stall with a homemade printed sign with "Lie detector" written on it. The first day, people scoffed at the idea of a lie detector for the home, whoever heard of such nonsense. He sold two at fifty bucks each. The next day, an obese man with a suit who was puffing a large cigar approached him, "Do these work?" he asked with a sneer. Ernie said, "No." the machine beeped and flashed red several times. The man laughed, "I think you were lying there", the light went green and there was no noise. "I don't think this works at all", and made to move away. The machine beeped again, and the light flashed red several times. The man turned back to Ernie, "It is a lie detector." "Yes", said Ernie "Let's do a better test. Ask me some questions," said the fat fellow. "How old are you?" asked Ernie. "I'm sixty-three," said the fat man. The machine stayed green. "You could have researched me. Try something harder." " When did you last have sex?" asked Ernie The man looked uncomfortable and said, "Two weeks ago". The machine beeped and flashed red several times. "One month ago", the machine beeped again and turned red. "Last year", he said, and the machine stayed green. "I'd like to buy your invention. It's only worth about twenty thousand." the machine beeped and flashed red several times. Two hours later, Ernie was leaving the trade show with a new partner. Two million bucks to his name and still had a controlling interest in the new company. The obese man, delighted with his purchase of shares, now wanted to test his junior execs. He was asking them questions about their work. Three of the five lost their jobs. Ernie fought with him about the new name, but ultimately, he had to agree. Ernest Lee Lie detectors, the ELLD and the tagline, "Know the truth." The agreement was signed by a team of lawyers on one side of the table the following day. Ernie was on the other side with a lawyer whose biggest ever sale had been selling a house. The man's name was Leon Stark, a global industrialist. Stark brought Ernie to his favourite restaurant and wined and dined him for the evening. He made another offer of ten million for the remaining shares. Ernie declined. Ernie showed Starks engineers how to reproduce the machine the following afternoon. Three months later, they were being sold at two hundred each. One hundred thousand had sold. Ernie's calculator had stayed on his hand. The first time he typed it, he got a figure of two million and was happy. Then he typed it again, and it was twenty million. He called his estranged brother to tell him the good news and try to patch things up. Patrick, his brother, hung up the phone as soon as Ernie spoke. He tried calling his mother to get the same result. He sighed and decided not to bother them again. Mr. Stark called later that night to speak to Ernie about How he'd like to progress with the company. Ernie was tired but listened to Leon for over an hour. His engineers wanted his permission to make a miniature version of the lie detector. This could be implanted into someone's brain. Ernie said he's thinking about it. They also wanted him to talk to a Cultural Sociologist. The possible ramifications of what a portable lie detector would mean to society. Ernie showed no interest in any cultural upheavals. In Ernie's mind, people should tell the truth. People scoffed at the idea that a miniature device could tell if someone was lying. They were very wrong. President Williams was being asked a question. A reporter sat on the reporter's panel of the hit television show Question Time for Politics. The reporter, Thomas Curry, asked, "Have you made any money through corruption from being the President?" President Johnson said, "I hear a lot of questions asked of this nature on a regular basis. Surely, there should be questions on the state of the country. My opponent was found with large sums of various currency in his possession. Why are you not talking to him about that? Why do we have to keep going through people's pasts to find things to bring them down. It is quite frankly disgusting." Curry continued, "But that was not the question I asked. Are you being evasive, Mr. President? Also, have you benefited from corruption by being President?" President Johnson looked at the reporter, "Of course, the answer to both questions is no'.' The ELLD beeped loudly and flashed red several times. "Mr. President, this is the Ernest Lee Lie Detector lie detector. It suggests you just told a lie when you said you were not being evasive and not corrupt." The following day, there was a surge in sales. Leon Stark suggested they increase the cost of the ELLD's. Ernie agreed. Now, with snap elections looming. Now, all reporters had their personal ELLD's to question people. As the years progressed, sales increased. Ernie owned several mansions, and his wife of three years had divorced him. He was investigated for her mysterious disappearance. Nothing was found to tie him to it. As their divorce was not finalised, her family got nothing. A young man, Jack, bought his personal ELLD and was out on a date with his fiancee, Alice. It had been a whirlwind romance. They planned to marry and buy a house together. He was deeply in love with her. "Alice, look what I bought, it's all the rage. It's an Ernest Lee Lie Detector, ELLD for short," he showed her the ELLD. She looked concerned. In her mind, she was wondering if it was a lie detector or not. Something so small couldn't be a working device. Jack said, "Let's give it a try. What am I wearing?". Alice said, "Trousers, shirt, socks and shoes." Jack laughed, "You're wearing a suit of armour." Beep and flashed red Alice was even more concerned now. "Alice, what's wrong? Are you feeling ill?" Alive said, "Yes" Beep and flashed red Jack said, "Okay, Alice, what's wrong. Are you nervous around the ELLD?" Alice said, "No, of course not" Beep and flashed red Jack pressed her, "Are you lying to me? I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other." Alice said, "Of course, we don't keep secrets from each other." Beep and flashed red, Jack felt very uncomfortable, "Have you lied to me before, Alice?" "No, never. I love you. You're the only love I've known." Beep and flashed red Jack Asked, "Have you had other lovers?" Alice said, "No, none. I love you." Beep and flashed red. Jack felt a wedge of ice enter his heart, "Have you had many lovers?" Alice began pleading with her eyes, "Only a few, but they meant nothing to me." Beep and flashed red. "How many have you had, more than fifty?" "No, of course not." Beep and flashed red Jack broke off the relationship with Alice, leaving her devastated. She had told him she was a virgin when they first met. A husband was being questioned by his wife with the ELLD on the table. "Whose cooking is better, mine or your mother's." His answer resulted in a beep. His answer didn't please her, and she filed for divorce the next day. A wife was being questioned by her husband about a girls' night she had. She was at her bachelorette party twenty-two years before. "Did you have sex with men at your bachelorette party?" "She screamed, "Of course not." Beep and flashed red. He filed for divorce the next day. A man was explaining to a tax inspector why there were several sports cars in his name. "I'm just minding them for a friend." His personal ELLD beeped and flashed red A newspaper article came out about the Ernest Lee Lie Detector. The social problems it was causing were due to lies not being able to be kept, and the number of divorces was rising. Murders and domestic abuse were rising. Protests were forming about the device. Thousands of people were rioting. One of the leaders of the protests was on television. He shouted about this new device, which would cause cultural collapse unless banned. The first reporter had his ELLD in front of her. "Remove that device before you ask me any questions." She pretended to turn it off and put it away in her bag. "Are you just using this current climate to further your political ambitions?" "Of course not. I care deeply about what is happening in our society." From the reporter's handbag, a loud beep and her bag shone for a split second as the red light pulsed through the lining. The protests fizzled out shortly afterwards. Leon approached Ernie, concerned about what was happening. The murder rate was at an all-time high. Each day, they increased. Suicides were also rising at an alarming rate. Sales of hard drugs increased. "Ernie, please talk to the Cultural Sociologist. He has been calling me every day about the breakdown in society." Ernie met with him the following day, and he was bored silly by the time the meeting ended. According to the Cultural Sociologist, people must tell lies to not hurt other people's feelings. They were needed for the government to work. Ernie looked at the sociologist blankly and said, "Know the truth," then he laughed. Thirty years had passed now. He was getting concerned about the contract. He thought he could buy the contract off Mr. Louis Oldhob. He went to the location where the flat was located. The building was demolished years ago. Ernie's shares in the company had made him a trillionaire. Someone developed a device which would nullify the ELLD. This would make the original device obsolete. Ernie had the engineers reconfigure the new devices to counter this new menace to the truth. Ernie found out later that it was someone in Stark Engineering. They are currently serving twenty-five years for industrial espionage. Leon Stark died fifteen years before. Ernie was alone. He was lonely. His butlers had women sent to him. He always insisted on condoms, but they always insisted on no condoms, that they were on the pill and such. He told no one that he had a vasectomy years before. Something which helped when he was accused of being a father to a child by a woman who he'd never met Ernie was the man everyone loved to hate. Fingers pointed in his direction for the breakdown in society. Blamed for the war that broke out and the hundreds of thousands of deaths that occurred. Blamed for the collapse of the currency system. His influence in government came because he gave politicians a new device. This would nullify any fluctuations in their voices so they could lie freely. When Ernie was at his lowest, he had an unexpected call. It was Louis Oldhob. Forty years had passed, and he had not aged a day. Ernie cried at his feet, begging to repurchase the contract. He would sell everything he had to buy it. Oldhob was unmoved. He pulled a page from his jacket, "Here is a list of things we want to do to void the contract." The next day, Ernie diversified the company into biological industries. Five years later, after the plagues had ravaged populations of the civilised world. Ernie was offering a vaccine which would stop further infections. Oldhob appeared again, "Here is the updated list for you to buy your soul." Ernie wept, and he began funding radicals and religious extremists. They fought one another, further reducing the population. Then he realised that the jab his company developed made most women infertile. The Church of Satan's congregation had few casualties. Neither the plague nor the jab affected them in any harmful manner. They were still reproducing babies, which made people think Satan protected his people. Five years later, Ernie waited in his library for Oldhob to return. He was afraid he had wet himself again. The doorbell didn't ring, but somehow Ernie knew he was in the house. Ernie went to the window to see if he could see anything. "So, Mr Lee, are you prepared to honour the contract?" said Oldhob "I did what you asked", replied Ernie. "Yes, indeed you did. My master wishes to tell you he's delighted with you. You have caused a shift in the balance of power between Heaven and Hell", said Oldhob as he smiled. He pulled the contract out of his pocket," Consider this contract null and void". He crumpled it up and tossed it in the air, where it burst into flame. Ernie looked relieved. He started laughing and crying at the same time. Oldhob continued, "You must answer for what you've done since you signed the contract, of course." The smile faded from Ernie's face. "Just so you are aware, everything you've done since we met has been your own success; we didn't do anything. It was all your doing." Oldhob turned his eyes to Ernie, "God is the Judge. It's before him who'll choose your fate. Are you really that stupid to think you could sign away your soul?"

Some things are best left be

 

Sarah scrounged, seeking to find aluminium cans on the street. She could have some money if she found enough. Sometimes, people only ate some of their takeaway food, and Sarah got to eat. If she wasn't too fussy, she could deal with the stomach aches if it were too stale. Alcohol costs money, which is what collected aluminium cans were suitable for. She went down to the water's edge, where teenagers had parties. Sometimes, she would find a tin of beer half-drunk.

 

There was a noisy gang there. She had trouble with them before and avoided them when she could. Screamed her head off if she couldn't get away from them and hoped a cop would be close enough to help her. She skirted away, hoping they wouldn't notice her being too close. She had to be careful, so she wouldn't get caught. They left old Scraggy a scar on his face because he was too close.

 

Hunger was a pain she was used to. She brought the cans she had to the scrapyard. She needed what that greedy, nefarious old merchant Scag would give her for them. As she made her way to where she might exchange them, she walked past a TV shop. On the TV, there was a news program about some auctions. Someone was selling dresses, and people were bidding on them. Dizzying figures were rolling across the screen as people bid for various dresses. Five thousand, ten thousand.

 

The TV presenter then started to talk about the star lot. She didn't hear anything that was being said. There were subtitles she could read. She looked and saw it was her red dress being sold. She recognised it immediately. It was definitely hers. Not only that, but she hadn't seen it for forty years, ever since that bitch Erica stole it. Memories flooded her mind: her first time wearing the dress and how jealous all the other women were. Daniel hugging and then kissing her, then sad memories of Daniel getting shot dead.

 

The figures on the screen started to rise, starting at fifty thousand, then went to one hundred, then one hundred and fifty. Then, it jumped to two hundred and fifty thousand. The presenter wiped the sweat off her brow with a tissue. She was saying something about how the dress was one of a kind. The stitches were extraordinarily unusual and had never seen anything like it before. Sarah knew it was unique because she had made it herself and dyed it with beetroot to the shade she wanted it to be.

 

She was looking at the figures again. They had risen to five hundred and fifty thousand. Sarah's stomach rumbled, she was hungry, and she knew she had to eat. The presenter watched as the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice, going three times, sold", as he tapped his hammer down. Sarah knew she needed advice as fast as possible. The following day, she went to her case officer and told her what she needed.

 

Two days later, Sarah was at the auction house. She tried to walk in but was repulsed by the aghast receptionist who was wiping her hands with a wet wipe after touching the homeless woman.

 

Sarah was shouting that she wanted her dress. There was a man in the background laughing at her. The receptionist was on the phone looking directly at Sarah. She went on shouting for some more time until the police were called and moved her along. She was sitting on a bench when a young woman approached. "Hi, my name is Emily. I work for a dealer in the auction house. I couldn't help but hear you at the gallery saying that the dress was yours. Which dress were you talking about?"

 

"Yes, it's mine, and I want it back, that bitch Erica stole it from me. I want it now, you hear?"

Emily could see this woman had bathed in a long time. There were sores on her chin and beside her nose.

Emily said, "Come with me, and we'll get you something to eat."

When they walked into the restaurant. A bald head waiter was instantly by their side, "Miss Emily, I'm sorry, but there are no tables here today", despite the scattered empty tables in sight.

 

Emily pierced him with a look and pulled out her phone. She dialled a number which obviously was on speed dial. Then said, "Hello, Mr. Fritz, I found that woman you asked me to find. She's hungry and needs to eat. I've brought her to your usual restaurant as you requested me to, but they won't serve us. Can you speak to the head waiter and see if he can manage a table, please?"

 

The pompous head waiter didn't look so arrogant now; he was sweating, and his bald head shone like a mirror. Emily handed the phone to the head waiter. He gulped, "Hello, Mr. Fritz." He tried speaking, but obviously, Mr. Fritz had a lot to say in a few choice words. "Yes, yes, Mr. Fritz, it will be just as you say".

The waiter turned to Emily and, with a smile that only a crocodile could achieve, brought Sarah and Emily to a table close to the kitchen door.

 

Sarah was offered a menu but refused. She asked Emily to order for her. After an hour of eating and drinking, Emily got down to business.

"You said it was your dress. Can you verify this with documents or witnesses?"

Her family was descended from people who were wiped out in the 1800s. The skills she has were passed down from generation to generation. Emily showed interest in the parts about the dress but feigned interest in the details about this woman, Erica. Or how sad Sarah's life was now. Sarah was a skilled stitch mechanic, and the dress was made from a single thread. She was the last of a line of stitch mechanics who could weave with knots made on her fingers. Emily couldn't make any sense of what Sarah was saying but recognised that both the dress and Sarah were unique. She called the head waiter and asked for some thread. Then, asked Sarah to show her the knot. Sarah started weaving and talking. The knot was eight-sided. It required four fingers of each hand to be wrapped with thread, and the thumbs were folding the knots as they became available.

 

Emily's eyes ogled as the finished weave started to appear. This was very new or ancient and forgotten.

Four weeks later, Sarah was unrecognisable; her facial sores were almost gone, and the smell she had was gone, replaced with perfume. Mr. Fritz was generous to his new dressmaker. She was on TV shows showing people how to create the knot, but no one could recreate it. People gushed over her and the twinkle in her eyes. One presenter mentioned that the price of the dress had increased ten times what it was valued at since the auction.

 

She finally met Mr. Fritz one day. He was happy to see her. Sarah didn't like the look he was giving her. "So this is the woman who made the dress. Well done, woman, I have to thank you for increasing the dress's value." Sarah turned to find Emily had disappeared. Mr. Fritz didn't look as friendly now. He looked positively demonic. She was terrified.

"Did you know that living artists never see the true value of their work?"

She realised what was happening and made a run for the door.

Four weeks later, the dress was sold again after bids starting at eight million.

 

~Boris Doyle 

 

©2023

Three Little Words

Three gentle knocks on the door alerted Dr Thomilson. He had only sat down for the first time this evening to watch a program he'd been waiting in anticipation of. A debate between two politicians, one he hated and one he admired. He had turned off the doorbell so there'd be no interruption. Three more knocks on his door. Dr. Thomilson rose abruptly from his chair to answer the door.

His family had left ten minutes before to visit the circus with tickets they'd unexpectedly won.

Gaudish-coloured costumed people hanging from ropes throwing themselves to catch swings or others on swings, men pouring whitewash down each other's trousers, tossing multiple balls in the air, and forcing animals to do tricks, throwing knives at each other. Thomilson shuddered at the thought. He was glad he had a good excuse not to buy a ticket, in that they were completely sold out.

"Probably want me to give them more spending money," went through his head as he headed to the front door. He felt a chill as he opened the door. There, in the doorway, was a tall man with a gaunt pale face. He smiled at Dr. Thomilson. "Forgive me for calling at this late hour, Dr. Thomilson. I contacted your secretary Amanda. I tried to get an evening appointment, but she said you only do appointments in daylight. She gave me your address and said you might be home now".

The words spoken were cultured with a hint of an East European accent.

Thomilson felt shocked. His secretary Amanda should have kept his home address private unless he gave permission.

"I'm sorry, Mr, I'm sorry, but what is your name?

"I am Baron Naxi, Duke of the Albajurianic and Sibiu region of Transylvania. Overlord of Târgu Mureș. High commissionaire of Banská Bystrica. May I enter your dwelling?"

Thomilson felt the urge to let his eyes roll and became irritated. Anyone wanting treatment should call his clinic instead of calling his home.

"Now listen here, Mr Naxi or whatever your name is, I don't want people calling my home after office hours. If you wish treatment, call my secretary and book an appointment during office hours. Like everyone else has to".

He put his hand on the door to close the door more firmly than he thought he needed to.

"Your wife and children will remain safe if you allow me to enter your home of your own free will"

Thomilson felt the icy fingers of fear clutch his heart, "What did you say?".

The eyes of the Baron bore into Thomilson. His smile did little to diminish the fear clasping his bowels.

"Your wife Laura, your twin boys Roger and Billy, and your adorable sweet girls Mae and Lucy will remain safe. Their free night out at the circus will be a memorable one."

Baron Naxi smiled again, this time his teeth were more visible, they were very white.

"I've given strict instructions to my minions. They are not to come to harm. They will return here in four hours, oblivious to any possible danger. This is of course assuming, of course, we can come to an accord, Dr. Thomilson."

Dr Thomilson opened his door to allow Baron Naxi entry.

The Baron didn't move.

"Say the words Dr Thomilson"

A memory surfaced in Thomilson's mind. Some monsters are only allowed to enter a home with an invitation. He looked at Baron Naxi. The Baron smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I am a monster, but your family is in my hand."

Baron Naxi put his hand out palm upwards, then closed it into a fist tightly.

"I am not here to cause you or your family harm."

The Baron then unclenched his fist and, as if shooing a butterfly, raised it into the air.

"Enter my home, Baron Naxi", said the Doctor

The Baron took a step inside.

"You have excellent taste in wallpaper, Dr. Thomilson."

"My mother chose the pattern before she passed on."

"Yes, Patricia, her maiden name was Moorehouse, I'm told."

Thomilson was more uncomfortable than before.

"I made a point of finding out everything about you," said the Baron

"What do you want?" asked Thomilson.

"I'm sorry I was making small talk. I need psychiatric help from you."

"How am I supposed to help one of the Devil's minions? I thought you wouldn't need help."

"I am 875 years old, Dr Thomilson. Do you mind if I call you David or Davy if you prefer? I'm told your friends call you Davy. I don't want to be overly familiar with you if it's not what you're comfortable with."

" You can call me what you wish. You are holding my family to ransom."

"Please have no fear. I need you to help me."

"Again, Baron Naxi, what do you want, and how can I help you?"

The Baron cleared his throat.

"I have always felt the urge to taste human fear. Watching the light go out of a human's eyes as I feed on their fear was sweeter than any wine I had when I was human. The story of vampires is that we feed on blood. That is not so. We drink fear. In my time, I have soaked myself in the fear of multitudes of thousands. You will find me where war is. I go to places where innocents cower in fear. I feed off mothers who fear what will happen to their children. I feed off young girls when they see lust in the eyes of enemy troops. Sometimes, boys will feel terror, too. I have been to many nations where I can feed freely."

The vampire blinked and turned emotionless eyes toward Thomilson.

"Let me show you."

His hands moved to his eyes and pulled out two contact lenses.

Where his eyes had been was midnight black. They were without shine, like two pieces of skin, utterly emotionless. Thomilson felt the chill of terror gnaw his soul.

The Baron sniffed the air, "Yes, you would make for a good meal."

He licked his lips.

"but I have no desire to feed."

Thomilson tried to bring himself together.

"So what is the problem?"

"I told you, I have no desire to feed."

"So when did this start?"

"I was in France before the war ended."

"War?" asked Thomilson.

"Yes, the First World War. People had become hardened by the war and the blood lust of the troops. I can influence some people to make them act in ways they normally wouldn't. So during war, man's base desires awake, and I fully use them. My hunger was insatiable. I fed off hundreds of souls every day. I destroyed whole villages and towns, and I spread terror wherever I went. Nothing could stop me. I rested at a small village after feeding. I sensed some fresh, untainted souls approaching. It was dark, so I could move freely. I picked them off one by one. The last one was a young girl. I decided to spend the night feeding off her. As I tore into her soul, she said, "I forgive you." Now, I cannot feed. Please help me."

~Boris Doyle

© 2023