Kevin's Watch

Hey guys. These are two very short stories that I have written. The first one, I wrote one day in August 2005. I had forgotten about it until tonight, when I came across it by accident and decided to write the sequel.

Mr Riley

Tim knocked quietly on the old wooden door. He held the card which his mother had written out and forced him to bear across the street.

"It's unlocked." Came a voice from somewhere inside.

The house belonged to Mr Riley. All of the children in the neighbourhood were afraid of Mr Riley. He was an old recluse that barely ever came outside, and when he did (which was only when it was absolutely necessary), he had a manic, paranoid air about him that made people cross the road to avoid passing him.

Nevertheless, Tim's mother had forced him to go and visit the old man today. It's his birthday, she had said, he's just very lonely, take him this card. There's nothing to worry about.

But Tim was worried as he pushed open the door and was greeted by a dingy corridor with dirt stained walls. Very worried. A slight smell of what could only be described as stagnant putridity struck at his nose as he stepped inside.

"M--Mr Riley?" Said Tim.

"Through here," came the reply.

Tim followed the voice, his shoes sticking to the carpet as he walked. He went through the door at the end of the corridor, and was suddenly hit by the full potency of the stench. It was truly awful. Tim gagged, and his eyes watered. An overwhelming nausea came over him.

Mr Riley sat at a large dinner table. a multitude of moths fluttered and circled about, attracted to the dim ceiling light in the otherwise dark room; dark because the windows had been blacked out. Five dinner plates were laid out around the table. Putrid, rotting meat festered on them.

"Ah, Timothy, so it seems thou hast finally deigned to join us," said the old man, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage.

"Us?" Asked Tim, looking away from Mr Riley and scanning the seemingly otherwise uninhabited room.

"Yes," Said Mr Riley, gesturing around the table, "us."

"I--err--I brought you a birthday card."

"A card!" The old man's voice was suddenly full of terror. "Timothy, cards are the devil's domain. Lucifer has possessed thee! Cometh after me at once, boy, for we shall expunge this evil!"

With a speed uncharacteristic for a man of such age, Mr Riley leapt from his seat and grabbed Tim by the arm. Tim, now terrified, tried to pull away, but the man merely tightened his grip.

"Come, child. There is no time for dawdling."

He jerked into motion and headed for another door, dragging Tim behind him.

"Wh--where are you taking me?" Cried Tim.

"The basement, boy. We will flush this evil from you!"

Tim hardly heard the reply. He was in a state of hysteria. All he wanted to do was to get out of the house and run back to his mother. But he couldn't, he was not strong enough to fight the grip. The old man had him and would do with him as he pleased. That thought was worse than any other.

"Let me go! Please."

"Ha! Devil, you don't fool me."

Mr Riley flung Tim onto an empty wooden chair. The basement was perhaps the darkest room of all. A flickering light that seemed to cast nothing but shadow was all that stood between Tim and utter darkness.

Mr Riley turned to face the air. "Mary, fetch me the devil extraction kit." There was a pause. His face knotted into a grimace. "What do you mean you can't find it? It's right there! Silly child, out of my way, I will fetch it myself."

Tim was frozen to the chair. All he could do was watch with impotent panic as the man walked across the room and returned with a tattered cardboard box. He appeared to rummage through the contents for a moment, before a sadistic grin spread across his face.

"Ah, here we are."

He clutched a pair of rusty scissors.

###

Mr Riley opened the door.

"Uh, Mr Riley," said Marcus, "I kicked my ball over your fence, can I get it please?"

"Marcus, you're just in time to join us. Follow me."

The old man led the boy down the dirty corridor, and into the dining room.

Six dinner plates were placed around the table.

"Timothy!" Mr Riley shouted at the air. "Set a place for our guest."

And the sequel, which I wrote tonight:

Mr Riley 2

Edward Riley sat in his basement. The dim, flickering light cast his shadow across the dusty stone floor.

Mary stood beside him. She was the first he had saved. Lucifer had sent her on that late October night, her and Joanne together. They were older than the children who usually came by at that time of year. One could easily have mistaken them for innocent youths, but Riley saw the demonic temptresses that lay beneath.

He saw through the Devil's plot: the corruption of a prophet, the theft of his seed. Edward Riley was not so easily tempted! He beat the evil from those girls with his fists. Mary first, then Joanne, until no trace of the possessors remained.

The girls had accompanied him when he was forced to leave that house.

The minions of the beast knew him, and they pursued him always. Their retched wailing proceeded them, the demons in black and white.

They had found him once again.

A loud crack descended through the ceiling, as the front door was smashed from it's hinges.

“This is the police! Come out, Mr Riley, you're under arrest.” It would not take them long to find the basement.

“Well, Marcus,” said Edward Riley, “it appears you will not be able to stay for dinner after all. I do apologise.”

The small, bound, demon possessed child merely squirmed and uttered small, suppressed cries.

Riley moved as quickly as his age-tired legs would carry him to the shelves on the wall, and clasped hold of his most precious item; the devil extraction kit.

Even in the dim light of the basement, the rusty blade appeared to glimmer with holy clarity.

There was time yet, for one last extraction.

Riley wheeled around, and approached his patient.
“Football is the devil's sport, child, you are in need of purification.”

The demon-child did nothing but whimper as Riley pulled his head up by the hair, exposing his young throat.

At the top of the stairs, hands pushed against the locked door.

“The beast is rampant within you, child. You must be cleansed!”

Around him, the children that he had saved formed a circle, a barrier to protect him. Mary, Joanne, Robert, Michelle, Abigail, Timothy.

The door flew open, and the black and white demons flooded down the stairs in a malevolent tide. They were too late.

Edward Riley stood above the boy, scissors poised, gleeful in the knowledge that by him, the Lord's work would be done!

Excellent stories, James. An edit would help, but given this is a first draft it is very good! The ending to the first story is excellent, and the second story's ending is weaker (but I love the line: "Even in the dim light of the basement, the rusty blade appeared to glimmer with holy clarity.")

Good stuff.

Really good, enjoyed reading them.