The Many Works of Pat Hatt
February 13, 2017
Derek surveyed the remains of his childhood home. He cursed the person who had set it on fire, wishing he could do the same to them. Of the three charred bodies that had been taken away, two were his parents and the other the presumed fire bug. The police had yet to identify the third body, but Derek made sure to call every day, wanting answers to his many questions.
He pushed back some boards and kicked his way through piles of ash, hoping to find a clue that the police had overlooked. He coughed as a wind gust filled his lungs with ash. Falling to his knees, he coughed until his throat cleared. He took a deep breath and tilted his head toward the sky, catching a glimpse of his grandfather’s desk. He had always asked how old it was, but his father would only tell him, “It’s as old as dirt,” and he would never let him touch it.
Derek crawled across the ground, spying a fully in tact bottom drawer. The rest of the desk had crumbled around it while this one sparkled. He shoved a few boards away and yanked at the drawer.
“Open! Open, you stupid piece of…” Derek fell backwards as the drawer broke free and flung from his hand.
He quickly ignored the drawer, staring at the gem that had flown from it. It caught the sun and golden beams shot from it in every direction. He held his hand out, ready to catch it. Seconds passed and an eerie sensation came over him while he stared at the hovering gem. Before he could move the beams came down and covered him within a cage.
“You won’t escape me a second time.”
The gem plummeted at Derek and smacked his forehead, digging into his skin. He screamed out in pain until he finally succumbed to it and passed out.
“Twitch the wrong way and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Derek’s eyes popped open at the sound of his father’s voice. He glared at him, thinking he had died, as his father hovered over him with a shotgun pointed at his chest.
“Dad, where are we? What is this? Are we dead?” Derek blurted out, sounding like a rambling lunatic.
“Faye, put the phone down.” Ron lowered his shotgun and extended his hand to Derek.
“What is it? Don’t tell me our nightmare has come true?” Faye’s wide hazel eyes filled with fear. Her focus shifted from Derek to his grandfather’s desk.
“Faye, we knew this day might come. By the looks of it, he at least had a good life so far. Still have that sweet tooth, huh, my boy?”
“What is going on? You were dead. Where am I? Why aren’t you as freaked out as I am? And how in the hell are you so young? You are younger than I am.”
“Derek, we prayed you’d never succumb to his will. You are the last of the line. We contemplated killing you, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to. I pray we made the right…” Faye gasped as the old desk shook and then the drawer popped open.
“You didn’t. He is just what I needed to break free.” The gem flew from the desk and hovered over Derek.
“Horace, spare our son,” Faye pleaded.
“Enough from you fleshbags.” The gem zipped through the air and within seconds it had gone through the chest of Faye and Ron, leaving their bodies lying in a pool of their own blood.
“What…What…Are you?” Derek latched onto the wall, barely able to stand from the shock of it all.
The gem gave off a blinding golden light and then his grandfather appeared before him. He grinned at Derek, transforming from a meek old man to a horned demon. Its blood-red eyes pierced his soul and Derek gasped for breath, falling to his knees while Horace cackled.
“You thought you could finish me when you burnt the house down. You thought that would destroy me and free you of my grasp. You thought, wrong. I have all of time to play with and with that, I can keep bringing you back until we get this right.”
Derek glanced up at Horace, still trying to piece everything together.
“That’s right. You burnt your own house down, killing yourself and your parents. At least you did, then I brought you back further. Isn’t time travel grand?”
Derek clawed at the wall, using it to pull himself up to his feet. He stared at his dead parents, a rage burning inside of him that he had never felt before.
“I am going to kill you.”
“Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time around? I sure did.” Horace cackled and stepped aside as Derek lunged at him. “Still some fight in you. Your soul will do just fine. And this time I won’t be taking it bit by bit as I did with your parents. This time I’m taking it all.”
Derek fell face first on the floor as Horace threw his arms in the air, sucking the rest of his soul from his body.
“Why…” Derek mumbled.
“Why not? I gave you life and I can take it away. I am your god and no desk made from the Tree of Wisdom can hold a god forever. Your life is mine.”
Derek gave one final gasp before dying at the feet of Horace. Horace cackled and transformed himself into Derek. He scoffed at the body in the mirror, bending it into shape.
“That’s better. Now I’ll get any fleshbag I want and ensure I have spawn to consume for centuries to come.”
Horace scoffed at the desk and then kicked the open drawer shut. He swung his arm and the front door flew open. The sun greeted him as he marched outside, ready to seek out his next victims, while a young, teary eyed Derek, sat shaking atop the staircase.
Word Count: 998
And that is what popped in as I went all back of the drawer. That and like 50 other things, but this one came first so I gave it a go. Thoughts?
Enjoy life, forget the strife.