Berserkly
Fantasy e-stories
Jack Broscie
Ebook – For free for everyone.
In return, spreading the link Berserkly to anyone you know, is encouraged of course.
Three short fantasy stories that competed in several contests. Enigmatic thrillers flavoured by fantasy and fable, slightly dressed with some supernatural activities.
Nearly All stories are probably going on in a world of fantasy. Names and places may be imagined by the author. Any similarity with fantasy is of purely intentional nature. Some unfortunate events will occur, others also.
No part of this publication may be reproduced and / or published by means of jugglery, magic, sorcery, or by any other means without prior written permission from the author.
You can send suggestions for an improved translation (originally Dutch) to
[email protected] Copyright © 2013 Jack Broscie (www.jackbroscie.nl)
ISBN: 9781301972890
Table of contents
The Two Wishes of the Devil
The_Greedy_King
Under_the_bed
About the Author
The Two Wishes of the Devil
A short story that competed in Thor of publisher WereldBibliotheek*Fantasy: 3rd place.
A fantasy story slightly dressed with some supernatural activities.
A man without a name.
A hammer in his fist.
A pack of wolves lashing in the snow.
A bolt of lightning split the clouds.
In the distance, thunder ...
Frustrated Spencer throws the old comic across the room. The magazine hits – all pages fluttering through the air - the vase with tulips and petals are flying in all directions. Angrily he sweeps the stack of old comics from the table. Spiderman, the Hulk, the Four Defenders, Thor and Batman. He has bought them for much money in old bookstores.
The nagging voice echoes through his head. Stupid nostalgia. Rotten life. Had I but-
Ugh, what a stench hangs in the normally so clean house, it smells like rotten eggs or something like that. Spencer walks through the neat tidy house, but can’t figure out the source. The bins are empty and in the refrigerator are only fresh products. In the bathroom everything blinks.
A man with gray hair stares at him in the mirror. He has a wrinkled but healthy looking face. The man is well dressed and neatly shaved, but his face is unhappy and his eyes are turning restlessly. The man turns with a jerk, takes a step and slips out over the polished floor.
Spencer utters an angry curse and scrambles to his feet. His old bones are hurt from the fall in the bathroom.
Always cleaning the house. Always keep everything tidy. Is there nothing else to do? She has ruined my whole life. I would give anything I have, to ...
The stench that he had smelled already, falls over him like a blanket.
"Anything you have...?" creaks a voice behind him.
With a beating heart Spencer turns around and stiffens on the spot. "My God," he whispers cramped. "The Devil in own person."
"Exactly," muses the Devil. "Your God, the Devil. I heard something about a ruined life? That sounds good, I must say. And did I hear it right that you mentioned that you would want something and that you would give anything for it? Anything?"
Spencer looks aghast at the macabre figure before him. Bucks legs, twisted horns, deep red.
"Do I look like my stereotype?" the Devil asks with a friendly smile. "You know, you do."
Spencer shakes his head. He nearly understands the half of what the Devil is saying. "Partly," he muttered. Strangely enough it appears to him that the face of the Devil looks like an angel.
"That’s what I hear quite often," nods the Devil, who apparently can read the thoughts of Spencer. "Let me be straight to you. I know your type. You are unhappy about your life and you would like to do it all over, right?"
"Check in the box," Spencer cries surprised. "How did you know that?"
"Let me say it this way, I've heard this before and in your case someone has complained freely about you; it stroked my heart, haha. But speaking of a heart, I'm more interested in souls. Your soul. So I grant you two wishes."
"And what do you want in return?" Spencer asks suspicious. He is unhappy, but not crazy.
The Devil knocks him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Does it matter? You have almost lived your life. Suppose you can do it all over again as you would like to do it now and at the end you own me your soul. What do have you to lose?"
Spencer pushes his fear away and thinks about the offer. The Devil may be right, but ... wait, no, I don’t buy anything for that, it struck to him. "No way, if I wish that I can do my life all over again, then I experience that misery twice. That is the worst scenario I can imagine and after that you’ll claim my soul and I’ll stay empty handed. You’re a Devil!"
"Well, that’s true," winks the Devil confidentially to him. "You got that right. You're much smarter than I’d thought. So what you have to do, is making a wish that you want to do your live all over again without your wife."
The Devil grins as he sees the surprise on the face of Spencer. "Do you really think that I don’t know what’s bothering you? You always have to do what your wife wants. Working, cleaning and shopping. But a concert, a blow, a few wild women, no way, right?"
Spencer nods and the Devil sees the frustration on his face.
The Devil smiles friendly. These men are all the same. Suckers, they don’t know what they possess or what they have to appreciate! "Well, come on Spencer, grab your chance and do your first wish," he encourages the unhappy looking man.
Spencer isn’t wholly convinced. "What about that second wish? When can I do that one and how do I find you?"
"Don’t worry about that, Spencer. I come along twice. The first time I’ll be here after exactly one year. And the second time, if you have lived your life again, I appear on the same day as today. It’s completely up to you when you would like to do your second wish."
Spencer takes a decision. What does he have to lose? "Ok. I wish I am back in the past at my nineteenth year and that I’ll dump my wife rather than asking her to come with me to that boring prom as I unfortunately did then."
"Sorry, Amanda, I really can’t make it tonight. And anyway, it seems to me that it is better if we don’t meet again."
Relieved Spencer throws the phone on the hook. He doesn’t hear the crying on the other side of the line. That was a good move, redeeming that silly girl. Quickly he swallows a purple pill and grabs another bottle of booze. Staggering to his feet he walks back to the bedroom where the two naked groupies are waiting for him. He has picked them up last night at a concert. He turns on the music as loudly as possible. Let’s party. The neighbours can drop dead and at work they can go to Hell today, just like yesterday. Live is fun.
The sun is high in the sky as Spencer awakes. He pushes away his umpteenth flirt, a redhead chick with a big bosom, and gets out of his bed. Posters and signed shirts of his favourite band are hanging on the walls of his messy room. A streak of light falls along the black sheets which he has nailed inside on the windows. He has a splitting headache and almost slips on the box with a half-eaten pizza lying next to the bed. It is the remaining of the party last night with dozens of friends.
On the way to the toilet to empty his bladder of all the beer, Spencer looks at himself in the glass of the door that’s steamed with the smoke of many joints. A brown tanned face of sitting on terraces, framed by hair that hangs on his shoulder. Proudly he looks at his rolling muscles. The yield of his daily visits to the gym and the special concentrates that he inherits. He manoeuvres through the dirty hall full with illegal trade; liquor and cigarettes.
Afterwards, he had laughed about his resignation bec
ause he had committed fraud. ‘Trade’, he had earned a small fortune with little effort.
In the hall hangs a strange smell. Spencer sniffs; it's not the smell of weed where his house is filled with. It smells like-
He opens the bathroom door and presses the light switch.
"Yes, indeed, here I am again," the Devil says with a friendly smile. "You see, I stick to our appointment. Do you like your new life now? Is it already time for the second wish?"
Spencer Instantly remembers the agreement. "Like it? It’s fantastic! What a devilish good life this is, man. If I had known this sooner, then-"
"That’s fine, I like to hear that," the Devil winks to Spencer. "You have value for your soul. So, you don’t need me now?"
Spencer rolls his muscles and tries to stand upright. His mind is still hazy of the coke and beer he has consumed. "Fuck off, Devil. I'm not going to waste my second wish, my life is gold now.”
The eyes of the Devil glow like hot coals while he looks almost with pity at Spencer. "All right then, I’ll be back in exactly fifty years." It almost sounds like a threat, but that does not seem to get to Spencer. He hangs over the toilet and empties his stomach of the good life.
The smell of rotten eggs dominates the smell of too long preserved vegetables and hurling garbage. Spencer tries to find his way along the high piled boxes and garbage bags. The carpet is worn to threads and the dirt is everywhere. The bathroom is dirty and smells awfully.
An almost bald emaciated man with a tired face looks at him in the mirror. He wears rags and stubble containing a residue of dried food. His face is looking unhappy. If the lonely man turns away with a jerk of his through life wounded mirror image, his eye falls on the with red marker circled day on the calendar. Suddenly a distant memory crosses his mind. Hope dawns slowly on his face.
"Yes," says the Devil behind him. "It's time for your second wish if you want to."
Spencer suddenly remembers almost everything and he has no doubts. "I wish that my first wish is reversed," he screams with a voice that is filled with despair, regret and sadness.
Dazed Spencer looks around. The same dirty hallway. He looks in the mirror. The same decrepit, unhealthy-looking head is looking back at him. The dissatisfied and unhappy traits that are grooved in the face are also unchanged.
Grinning the Devil looks at the face of Spencer. The Devil’s face has nothing angelic anymore.
"You're cheating me," Spencer shouts hoarsely. His anger is greater than his fear.
"No, I don’t cheat anyone, I wouldn’t dare," the Devil says with full enjoyment. "But, of course coincidentally, your wife had two wishes also," he smirks. "Her first wish was that you wouldn’t wish your first wish."
Confused Spencer looks to the Devil. "I don’t understand anything of that twaddle about first wishes and I don’t care about it. I just want to know what about my second wish."
"Wrong," the Devil chuckles friendly. "It's no twaddle. The point is that your wife outsmarted you. She wished her first wish before your first one. "
It dazzles Spencer for the eyes. He doesn’t understand a thing of what the Devil is trying to tell.
The Devil laughs and enjoys the confusion at Spencer’s face. "Look Spencer, smart you've never been, because you never appreciated what you had. Listen, it's quite simple. That you invited your wife for the proms and finally married her, was her first wish, because - after you dumped her - she never found her Valentino. Your first wish turned hers back. Your second wish you just did to turn back your first wish, turned everything back and so everything remains as it was. Capiche?"
The explanation of the Devil confuses Spencer even more. His brain is affected by excessive use of LSD and booze. Slowly he begins to understand what the Devil is saying. "But what about her second wish? Didn’t she wish that her first wish would be fulfilled again, when I turned back her first one?"
The Devil bursts out in a loud laugh. His hooves are pounding on the tiled floor of malicious pleasure. "What do you think? That she wanted to hear your bullshit and nagging again a lifelong? That she wanted to watch to that unhappy ugly face of yours for more than fifty years again?"
Slowly it dawns to Spencer what the devil is saying. He shrinks of misery. How could he be so stupid? Why did he ruin his life?
The Devil bares his teeth and smiles satisfied. He knows the devilishly answers to the questions of Spencer and other men in the past who did the same wishes and afterwards asked the same. "It's time for your part of the bargain, Spencer. Come on with your soul." His eyes are glowing red and he protrudes his claws to Spencer.
Spencer is trembling with fear; beads of cold sweat stand out on his forehead and he falls to the ground.
"Spencer, Spencer." A familiar and worried voice sounds in his ears. "What's wrong with you? What has happened, is everything okay?"
He opens his eyes and his gaze falls on the neatly polished floor and neat clothes of his wife and himself.
His concerned wife is bending over him.
Even at this age a neat lady, he thinks full of pride on her. He smiles reassuringly at her. "Oh, I slipped, but I’m all right. God, I'm glad you're back," he continues on cordial tone. "Tomorrow I’ll go shopping with you. It's so lonely when you're not here."
The combination of fear and relief, that came to her when she found him lying on the bathroom floor, ebbs away. Almost surprised she looks at her husband.
Spencer gets up and walks relieved into the living room. A little later his wife joins him. It’s cosy in the room. She reads a book of fairytales, Berserkly, of Jack Broscie. The coffee and the pieces of apple-pie on the table smell deliciously. Besides the TV are the pictures of their kids and grandkids. Spencer sniffs; a smell of rotten eggs permeates the room. Hurriedly he gets up and reaches his hand to his wife. "You know, we should go away for a couple of days, to Paris, just a cosy getaway together."