Authors: David Kempf
“Indeed, sir. You are an intelligent and insightful man.”
I set my compass to greener pastors. They received me. A much, much bigger theatre in New York no less and my act was hot. It was so hot; the fires of hell were ice cubes by comparison. I was on my way to becoming the best known magician in the country and I had the devil and Rev. Thorn to thank for it!
“The devil made me do it nonsense doesn’t work here,” the manager had told me.
“What?”
“This is New York; we have no use for God or the devil. Sorry.”
“And why is that?’
“It’s called cynicism, get used to it.”
These folks were of the “enlightened” variety. I mean even I knew on some level that old scratch was behind my great success. I prayed to the dark lord once again. The new manager needed to become a believer but how? I wondered how to cure him of his fatalistic skepticism. I came across a black cat. I trained it to react when I would say certain words such as father or mother. I had heard that the man in charge was afraid of cats, particularly black ones since childhood. He was not as rational as I had originally believed him to be.
“What ridiculous trick are you going to be showing me, sir?”
“You’ll see,” I answered him.
“I wish to reunite you with your sister who has been missing for nearly a year now. That would be quite a trick. Am I right?”
“Very well, make her appear.”
“Your wish is the master’s command!”
Now I could never explain in a thousand years, the look of disappointment on the man’s face when he saw the cat. It was merely a black cat and nothing more. The man had the appearance of someone who was either going to laugh out loud or explode with rage or become violent. I was wrong. He did neither.
“These cheap theatrics, sir, will not work on me. Yes, I have a fear of cats. Some men are afraid of rats, others spiders but cats and yes the bewitching kind especially are my greatest phobia. It’s all from childhood.”
“Tell the cat about your parents.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“My father…”
The hideous screams of the cat, the bewitched feline were dreadful and unforgettable. He jumped about a foot off his office chair when he saw the thing react to half a spoken sentence. He was probably thinking this cat was among the damned or perhaps it really was his sister transformed into this animal by some devil.
“Rose, is that you?”
Nothing, no response came.
“Rose, if it is… mother…”
Once again the sounds of hell came out of the cat. The man was positively terrified. He jumped back again and again. He was beginning to look like he was going mad. Then almost as soon as the cat jumped on his lap, he smiled.
“Thank you for bringing my sister back home.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“When will your master return her to normal?”
“Soon but you must do exactly what I say.”
“You may count on it.”
I did count on it. The former skeptic and his feline sister Rose granted every wish of my dark little heart. The man believed that the devil gave me special revelations. Whenever I asked him a favor, he would obey without question. Then I told him he was one step closer to getting Rose back in human form. We continued this absurd adventure for years; I made sure that the cat was thoroughly taken care of. The damned thing was half way to the grave when I trained it to scream. I knew my years were limited at this theatre. I was treated like a king but one day when the cat died, there would be many a man out to hang me from a cross. The people came to see me in droves and it was standing room only. Stories about my deals with the devil were told in great detail. I was a great success but time was growing short.
“When will my beautiful sister become human again, wizard?”
“Soon, I tell you.”
‘That’s what you always say.”
“Do you doubt God with the same zeal that you doubt Satan?”
“What?”
“Christians have awaited the return of their lord for centuries. Now my master demands obedience from you and you question him?”
“Look, sir…”
I picked up the cat and put a knife to its throat. He gasped. I smiled at him and gave him a look that indicated I meant business. The cat was screaming but I didn’t care about the damned cat. This was between him and me. I wasn’t going to lose this battle. He would have to submit to my satanic authority. The man began to cry and the something terrible happened. We were right there in his office and the most awful thing, the worst, the very worst occurred. It was almost too painful for words.
“Brother?”
Rose wandered into his office, the real one and stood directly in front of the black cat. That would, of course, make me a fraud. The joy of his reunion was short, quickly replaced by his rage at me. I suppose it wasn’t fair to even call it rage. Something worse than betrayal happened to him, he was made a fool out of. The skeptic fell for a stupid trick that could have fooled anyone. I ran as fast as I could and never, ever, ever looked back again. I left all my magic tricks (well, they weren’t that expensive) behind. My good name (or infamous name) was ruined. I know bad news travels fast and that was true even back then. I ran and ran. There were times when I heard the dogs barking and some angry mobs. I will never know if they wanted to kill me or merely beat me to a pulp. I ran and ran until I stumbled upon my next residence.
“So this is Washington State.”
“Welcome, how long will you be staying, sir?” asked the hotel clerk.
“At least a few days, it shouldn’t be too long now.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the biggest form of entertainment?” I asked the clerk.
The young man looked puzzled.
“Is it the music?”
“No.”
“Live theatre then?” I asked him.
“No, that’s not it.”
“What then?”
“The Daily’s Circus is the hottest act.”
“Please be more specific,” I said.
“You see, Gorman Cleo reads people’s minds. Some say that he works with the devil himself. His act is called “the forsaken arts. You should come see him perform.”
I certainly did and he was phenomenal. He was very costly to the audiences. The people in the front paid a fortune. Critics raved again and again about Cleo. He was amazing. The best example of mind reading on the planet was how he was praised. Cleo was apparently worth every penny. A few hundred special paying customers got to watch him under an elite VIP tent. I was in the front row. I spent all the money I had left over now. This was my way of trying to make a new fortune. This man was good. I was better and I intended to prove it.
“There has never been a man whose mind I could not read.”
“Read mine, Cleo,” I screamed.
“Your mind, sir… ?”
“Please read it.”
“If that is your wish then so be it… Once you tangle with the prince of darkness, you will never be the same.”
“I know, sir.”
“You do?” asked Cleo.
“I would dare say that I have tangled with him much more than you have ever dreamed of.”
“Would you care to wager on that?” he asked.
“Indeed, sir, let us do that.”
We took the audience apart. It was really ridiculous. We would allow them to decide who really had the powers of old scratch in him. There was a real suspension of disbelief with this audience. Cleo and I both knew we were both mentalists. There was no magic there or was there? I always knew that I would make a deal to be the best one day. That night that I gave up my soul once and for all was the greatest night of my wicked life.
“Let us put our dark faith to the test,” I said.
“What?” Cleo asked.
“I have here an ancient pagan statue of the devil himself. Place your hand on the idol and swear allegiance to him. If you are truly full of his dark powers then your faith was well placed. The cost of putting one’s hand on this idol is one’ eternal soul, you know that. Now come and let us be among the damned that are granted great powers with our brief time on this wicked planet.”
“I…”
“You must do so now…”
The audience grew into a dead silence.
“You know that you are a sham. You have never placed your faith in the beloved arms of the fallen angel. Do it now or apologize for being a fraud. Stop ripping these good people off with your lies and cheap magic tricks. You never put your faith in the dark one. Now do so. Only then will you be given my great powers of dark faith. Then we can battle it out based upon the evil that resides within our souls. Will you do that, sir?”
“I…”
“The brave and the bold will sacrifice all for the sake of artistic greatness.”
“I will do it.”
“Excellent.”
Cleo had been so publicly humiliated by me that he had little choice. He walked up slowly towards the idle. He placed his hand above it but did not touch it.
“What I do now, I do for you my beloved audience. I will be a real dark magician from now on. I swear.”
“No!”
“Anne?”
His wife begged him not to do this evil, wicked thing. She looked at him with the deadly stare of true goodness.
“You mustn’t, I love you,” she said.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I must.”
“Do it,” I screamed.
Cleo vomited on the idol. He was sick to his stomach with guilt. He ran away, wife followed and he was…… never heard from again.
“Don’t worry, ladies and gentleman. I’ve got the stomach for eternal damnation. Watch me now.”
The audience gasped.
“I swear allegiance to you, my dark lord. May you give me fantastic powers of darkness…! I will read minds and soul for your bidding. Should my powers grow weak then you may send your terrible minions to help aid me in my humble request. You have my soul, oh lord. Please give me the magic I desire. I have given up heaven itself and all the wonderful time I could spend with good Christians there for you. Now I invoke thee on this audience. They paid a high price to be here but not as high as mine. Let us work together to give them their money’s worth!”
Several ladies fainted in the first two rows. One man got up and started to wave his King James Bible around and tried to speak in tongues. I knew that the fantasy of it all had finally become reality. I did sell my soul for fame and fortune. It finally happened. Old scratch had always spoken to me in my mind even when I knew I was being somewhat delusional. I imagined how he would speak to me about our deal.
“You put your hands on the symbol of evil, you’ve sealed the deal.”
“There is no turning back now.”
“Will I see Rev. Thorn in hell?”
“Yes, he’s with us.”
“At least I will go down in glory.”
“Yes.”
“I do have one request now that we are doing business.”
“What is it?”
“Let the disgraceful history of Rev. Thorn and the stupidity of folks like my parents be known in history. No one should be swindled like that. The fine people here are at least paying in advance for this dark entertainment.”
“Yes.”
“Now I will give these people a show they will never forget.”
“Do that, they didn’t pay for anything less.”
My reputation for dark doings insured that the audience came into the experience intoxicated with belief and dread.
“I know you fine people don’t know my name. You should know who you’re dealing with. I really think it merely fair because you are going to be subject to evil spirits. I will peer into your very soul and read the innermost thoughts of your minds. Now… I am … the great Gorman!”
“Show us your powers,” screamed a wealthy lady in the front row.
“We want to see what you can do,” yelled a wealthy man behind her.
“Indeed, I will. Indeed, I will.”
I showed them magic. I revealed their secrets, the lusts, the hate, the secret desire to kill and steal and everything else imaginable. Hell was coming to all of them. I had them under my dark spell and it lasted for years. My former crimes were never revealed. I never heard from the ones whose lives I controlled over a lie. That liar Rev. Thorn, on the other hand was known all over the country as a wicked and exploitative sadist. History was very unkind to him just as the devil promised me it would be. The black cat never crossed my path. I lived a very, very long life. I have done so many shows; I could never hope to accurately number them. The entire mysterious life I’ve led was even beyond me. I can only attribute it to my damned soul. Old scratch has been knocking for some time now. I am truly an old man. An unnaturally old man. Yesterday, I turned two hundred years old. An unnaturally life such as mine could only be attributed to the devil. I’m waiting to die here in an old, abandoned shack in the woods of Appalachia. All the evil of the world, murder, rape, torture, genocide, war, hate and my long life were all attributed to old scratch. I always thought it was funny that no one ever took the blame for evil themselves. It was either the devil or someone else who did the evil. The devil made them do it. If you are reading this then I am probably dead. I scattered several journals around the property here. I’m waiting to die and still wondering if I will get to hear the sounds of old scratch at the door. Is that him now or merely just the howling wind?
Are they revelations or hallucinations? Sometimes I just can’t honestly tell anymore. My last name is Godley but my family has often been anything but virtuous. My mother and father were always very kind but so wealthy that we could never enter the kingdom of heaven without a huge donation first. There was no likely way that the Godley family could get thorough the eye of a needle.
We were always good story tellers, I always wrote everything down whenever I could, especially when coming back from a journey through time. The first story I put down on paper for this manuscript, dear reader was the one about the alien lord from that famous Hollywood religion.
Mom and dad or as I always referred to them, Mother and Father had always been there for me. They were counting on me to go to seminary to make up for how obscenely wealthy our little clan was. I suppose they hoped they would follow me up to the gates of heaven like Young Goodman Brown holding onto his wife Faith’s skirt. My father was never very emotionally close to too many people except for his grandfather Harold. He was apparently a wonderful man to get to know. Oh, you’re probably wondering what the heck I meant by time travels? You see I do travel thought time as do my Mother and Father, at least they did. The Godley family has been the only ones to travel though time as far as I had ever known.