The words fell out of Lester’s mouth without any translation app to help him. Maybe some branch of ancient Latin, maybe a made-up Greek, maybe something that burned up in the Library of Alexandria that….what’s his name made up.
Lester’s gloved hand moved up and down over the rusted chain guarding the gates that reflected the reflected light of the semi-bright moon. The rides, wheels, games beckoned, shining, beyond the chain link fence. By now, he knew the motions he was to make while the mystery words fell out of his mouth. Just like many, many years ago, the spell or whatever this was, worked and the gate opened, freed of its bounds. The rusted chain fell flaccid on the left gate, a clanging noise hitting the steel post and chain link as the hinges creaked, grinding from years of wear and tear. Maybe from hearing the screams of children already begging their parents for money. After many changes, that went from quarters, to dollars, to tokens, and now access cards. Even after once a year, every year for the past decade ..or two…on the day after Halloween, Lester waited until after the crowds dispersed, the night guards and dogs took the mild sedative potion he always had prepared in advance and felt its effects as they snoozed on the ground or on couches.
At 48 years old, Lester Stouts felt like a creepy old man entering this child’s dream-land like he belonged to the rides, carnival attractions and fatty, salty, greasy cheap food that those same children threw back up after their third time around on the Eviscerator. He could smell the dried…mess in the trash cans, but it wasn’t overpowering enough to drive him away this year.
By now, he only gave a passing thought to the magic book that he found at the hospital bookstore when he went in for his latest treatment. He had scoured the shelves for anything to read. Anything besides the trashy romances that the nurses read over their short lunch breaks. “It’s going to be an ordeal.”, one doctor tells him. “It’ll be okay after the first hour or two.”, the other tells him. And besides, a magic book? Not like card tricks, or pouring milk into your sleeve or anything like that. Summoning things, burning things and saying weird, old languages. What was this doing in the hospital bookstore next to titles meant to encourage one to “heal thyself through prayer” or “feel better fast through the power of meditation!”? With each diagnosis, each treatment suggestion of removing this organ, or that, or going on a handful of drugs every day forever, the latter two titles felt hopeless. Oh well, he thought, maybe this will take my mind off the needles going into my arms again. He handed it to the clerk and she looked it over, checking her inventory as well and shook her head, having no idea where it came from. She shrugged and handed it to me, giving a brief giggle at the odd looking script on the cover. It looked like “Old Spells from Hevensia! Make Old Magic Work For You!”. The pages were yellowed in the corners and browned at the edges, the binding was a little shaky, as if the inside pages were also yellowed, browned at the edges. Like it was taken from an old scroll and glued into a mass market paperback next to some self-help bestsellers.
Lester took the book back to his room and climbed into bed, hating how that paper gown fit him. He looked at how the letters seemed to move around on the paper on their own, as if forming into a language. His language. Half King’s English, half-failed both semesters of middle school english classes. While he scoffed at most of the suggestions of summoning some kind of demon or genie or whatever Hevensia was, something about the book was making him skim pages to 2/3rds of the way back. He could actually hear a voice in his head, through his ears, guiding him to the page number…if they were numbers…he “needed” to see.
The night nurse’s aide came to give him dinner, but he just nodded and gave some “uh huh”s when they showed it to him and carried on with this exploration into semi-literacy. Normally, he lay back on his upright hospital bed, but he found himself leaning forward, his weak fingers keeping the pages pried open, total focus on what was supposed to be revealed to him. He felt his lips moving as they and his tongue and throat attempted to pronounce whatever it was those pages. The lights in the room dimmed after he came to the last page, the smell of myrrh and ginger filled his nostrils. He managed to make his sore neck lift his swirling head and thought that he saw smoke. Incense smoke. No way. This hospital was paranoid about fires, smoking, etc and even odd smells.
A semi-human looking..person?...sat on the edge of the over-hard bed, leaning over to face him. It…he….she…they…had a compassionate look on their sleek, dark face, sharp nose seemingly pointing at Lester. There actually were horns on….let’s say “his”...head over his slicked back hair. He was dark, but not in a racist way, of course. He was just dark. His eyes were a bright red with black, big, round black pupils. His right arm leaned on the bed, hand causing an indention near Lesters’ foot, his other hand across his thigh. He wasn’t naked, exactly, but he seemed “covered”. He wore what looked like a retro psychedelic suit, but more dark instead of bright colors. Odd thing was, he looked good in it. His body was turned to face Lester. “You rang?” he said.
His first instinct was, of course, to grab the nurse call button and back away from this intruder. But he felt comforted. Like an old friend walked in and sat down to catch him up on the latest news from home. Kitchy, yes, but with the lack of visitors lately, he felt like he could use the company. “Sorry, but I'm not sure what's going on here. Who are you and how did you get in here?” He said, trying to settle in before the hospital suddenly exploded in a burst of hellfire and brimstone.
“Fire, sulphur and brimstone. Those old platitudes never get old.” Lester heard a subtle cackle from his new…. friend.. “Trust me, the last thing that I want is somebody's soul. That's just gross having to put my hands down somebody's…” his shoulders shuddered, putting a dark, clawed hand up. “Okay, let's cut to the chase. I only have so much time and word count to tell you what's going on.” Word count. Weird. “You're dying, Lester Stouts. Chances are, even if any of this psychic voodoo witchcraft called medicine actually worked on you, you probably will only live a y months more at least. You didn't pick up my self-published novel by accident. I felt a little bit sorry for you, so I thought that I'd see what I can do for you. And us.”
Lester started to open his mouth to ask the obvious “What is going on here?” before he realized that the hospital outside of his room and even in this sterile-clean room was silent. None of the usual beeps, tweeks, grinds and people talking. Diagnoses, gossip about doctors and nurses and how hot the new orderlies are and even the endless television droning about how much cash somebody won just then and then and then was…gone. Even the air conditioning went quiet. “That’s right. I can stop time. How do ya like me now, as some of your bizarre culture says.” The darkened skin being making the mattress sink a little looked very proud of himself. Lester looked for sharp teeth in that…demonic…smile, but saw none. “Actually, it’s not really my doing. I just like to brag. It’s an effect of my kind. No, I’m not a demon as you thought. I’m actually…well…let’s skip that. Just know that I have no interest in sending you to the bottom of a bbq grill to be poked for all eternity. Unless you’re into that. Even if you are, I seriously do NOT want to know that.”
“Well, what exactly are you doing here? With me? Here?”
“Aw, you’re acclimating. Getting used to me. That’s really sweet. Usually, I get screamed at, hit with ‘holy water’ or whatever and get a lower case ‘t’ shoved in my face. That’s so rude.” He crossed his legs, holding a knee with one hand. “Okay, I said I would get to it. We’re at 1400 something words, so here it is. I’m here to help you enjoy what’s left of your earthly life. Tell me, for serious, what is one thing that you miss doing more than anything. Right now. No thinking about it. Tell me.”
“Roller coasters.” Lester felt himself recoil, disbelieving what he just said, pushing himself back on the propped-up pillow mountain. “I. I haven’t…rode anything in an amusement park in many years. My step-father took me to a carnival when I was 14 just to make points with my mother and I remembered that was the greatest time I’ve ever had. I never went to one again. I pass by them on my way to my jobs, thinking that I’ll stop in and take the day off, but…”
“Ah. Self-denial. Your kind is the best at that. That and self-destruction of course, but we won’t get into that. Yet. So, what is the appeal of those rides? What exactly do you get out of those?”
“Dangers, or near-dangers, the noise, the feel of them, being around others enjoying it as much.I don’t know how else to describe it all.”
“I think you just did. You’ve actually got me interested. You humans are a funny creature.” He made a noise that sounded to Lester a little like laughing, a little like barking. “Tell you what! I’ll help you out. Prove to you that I’m not some evil pointy-tailed figment of your weird mythology. As I so blatantly pointed out before, I can’t cure you, but I can keep you from your disease for a period of 24 of your hours once a month. 24 hours to be spent in a theme park of your choice. I’ll show you a little minor spell to open the gates without tripping alarms, and I’ll slip a mild sedative potion into the guard dogs’ and human night guards’ drinks and food before the gates officially close, so you can go in and….indulge yourself.”
“What about you? You sounded like your interest piqued when I told you about all of this.”
He clapped his leathery-looking hands, a big smile over his dark face. “Glorious! I knew not all of you were those red-capped wearing cretins! I do get something out of it besides showing my mastery with potions. I feel your emotional state. Like…oh….the feel of danger, as you said before. Whatever you eat, I can taste it. My interaction with your world is, oh, somewhat limited, so I need a vessel to help me experience all of that. If you agree to this, YOU, my new friend, would be that vessel.” He pointed what looked like a clawed finger in Lesters’ direction. At the pad stuck to the sunken chest under the paper gown.
“So what if I refuse? Am I going to..”
“I thought that I explained myself clearly. I. Do. Not. BBQ. You. End. Of. Story. No, good fellow, I understand your fears.” He sighed and continued. “You and your mythology. Anyway, if you chose not to pursue this offer, I’ll leave you on your merry way to the afterlife. No, I won’t help you along with it, but I will not interfere, either. I place my soon-to-be bestseller around shelves at random to see if somebody will help me…live your life. I think that probably makes sense to you.”
“Do I have time to think about it?”
That odd laugh mix came out again. “My new friend, you don’t have much time left. I can’t keep you like….this…” He motioned around the room and out into the silenced hallway. “For good. Besides, when was the last time you did something spontaneously, without thinking about it? What, truly, have you got to lose?”
“When would we start this?”
He looked at his bare wrist like he had a watch on there. Not exactly mocking Lester or humans in general, but making a familiar gesture. “Today if you want, after your miraculous recovery if you like!”
Lester shook his head, surprised. The creature was correct, what, really, did he have to lose? “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.”
His dark-skinned, red-eyed friend looked like he smiled and slid off of the bed. “I finally meet one of you that is not afraid of taking a chance. So refreshing. I look forward to experiencing your fake dangers!” Then it felt like time was restored, his friend was gone and the room and hospital was overwhelmed with noises of machines, talk, cries, announcements, pages.
There was one difference. Lester Stout felt good. Far better than he had in a long time. He looked around, nodded to himself and shrugged. He slid out of bed as well, began to take the monitor pads off, set them aside. Even with his seemingly restored strength, he felt the stings of the sticky pads tear some hair off. He wondered if his spirit-friend felt that. He took his shoes, socks, pants, shirt that he wore on his arrival here and put them on. Oddly enough, no one stopped him. No nurse came in to tell him he needed rest, no orderly came to put him back in bed. It was like he didn’t exist. Before leaving, he grabbed the roll, the chicken leg and the lemonade on the food tray and ate heartily. Walking out the doors, as he wolfed down his food, he noticed that no one else paid him any mind. And, the food settled well in his stomach and didn’t want to exit as fast as it came in. It was sunset, near dusk and there was a ferris wheel on the horizon as he looked around at the outside world, breathed in the car exhaust tainted air. Nearly nighttime. Nearly time to take his friends’ offer. He had some cash in his wallet, but he smiled and decided it was a good night for a brisk walk. It’s been a long time for that, too.
Lester surprised himself at his stamina. Not just in how much he ate of the standard carnival junk food, but at how many rides he went on through the course of the night. His friend outdid himself. The food was cooked well, the rides were timed perfectly to accommodate him, what music accompanied them went off without any issues. Perfect. He allowed himself to shout, scream in joy. Let himself burp out loud after the second chili dog, lick his fingers clean after the cotton candy stuck to his face as well. No feeling of the dizziness, nausea, weakness that seemed to his only companions the last several months. No need of his daily handful of pills. No treatments. He felt wonderful. The first signs of dawn came to the horizon. It was a beach side resort, so the orange tinted the waters before it asserted its dominance over the land.
“Well. That was exhilarating!" His friend appeared, walking next to him, hands behind his back, wearing the same dark, but wild colored suit. Not sitting on the hospital bed, he noticed that his new friend was the same height, so they could look each other in the eyes. “I will say, out of all of the destructive technologies you’ve all come up with, that was the most useful and enjoyable! I SO look forward to next month! Oh, by the way, after today, you’ll go back to being sick, but it’s not like before we did this. It will be subtle, like when your ailment was discovered. Then, on the thirty day mark, you’ll feel as chipper as you did today.” He shrugged in his suit. Best I can offer, like one of your television entertainment shows states.”
Lester paused as they walked out of the gate and locked it, rusty chain and all.
“Forever?”
“Let’s see…yes, actually, I could do this with you for all eternity. How wonderful!”
Lester paused in his steps, stopping short of the empty parking lot leading to the opening in the fence that he found.
“What’s wrong, friend? You….and it…had fun, right? Why not do it over and over and over? I promise, thirty days is the best I can give and I very much enjoyed this with you!”
Lester suddenly felt himself reviewing his past. Friends, family he had known. Visits to the hospitals and treatment centers grew fewer, but he knew that they did love him in their way. In their way. He had turned down invitations, favors from them, so he wasn’t entirely guiltless. Even after the wonderful night he had, he felt..tired. Done. He realized he didn’t want company from anyone. Just being left alone. Now he had that, with his odd friend being the exception, of course. Doing this once a month for all eternity? Why?
“I can’t do this anymore. I appreciate this, but I need something else. Not a thrill ride, or overloading myself on food, but I’ve fulfilled my dream. I hope I’m making sense. I’m sorry if I’m not making any.” Lester found himself on the verge of tears.
He glanced over at his odd friend. His head was down, but he nodded and looked back up at Lester. “I think that I understand. You need to live a full life. I hope that I did my good deed and brought you to that end.” He laughed. “I appreciate you not throwing water at me and throwing small english letters at me. Thanks for your experiences.”
“So what happens now? Do I start getting sick again like before?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I will lose a friend.”
Lester almost choked up hearing that, but sighed.
“You’ll go back to the hospital and if you choose, I can speed up the progress of your disorder so you won’t linger. Deal?”
He met his friend’s warm, dark hand and shook it. They both smiled at each other.
“The patient in room 9393! His heart rate is irregular and his blood pressure is declining!” The team with carts, knowledge and orders shouted failed to bring things back into order for Lester Stout. But, as one nurse noted, he passed with a smile on his face.
One orderly noted that she thought she saw a tall man wearing a dark paisley coat leaving the room.
