Friday, 10 August 2018


I've had this storyline bumping around in my head for about 3 weeks; unable to work it out, until today. I just sat down and wrote it! 


I woke to a heart monitor in a hospital bed, wondering how in the hell I came to be here – how did I survive the car accident, as atrocious as it was – and where were my parents?
The nurse looked up from her desk and stood, “Oh good, you’re awake. Do you know where you are?”
“What happened?” a whisper came from my throat, “My throat...”
“You’ve been sleeping for some time, Evan.” She said, “I’ll get a doctor.” She checked my vitals and scribbled something on my chart then left me alone for what seemed like an age, but it was only about a minute or so and she returned with a doctor – a kindly man whose smile warmed his face, and yet his eyes avoided mine completely.
“Evan Murdock Williams, am I right?” he pulled up a stool from the other side of the room and perched himself on it as he looked over my chart. Looking up, he saw me nod, and he smiled a little, “I’m afraid to say that you’re the sole survivor of the accident; and I’m wondering how you did.”
My eyes moved from the doctor to the nurse and back, my voice straining “What do you mean?”
Placing the plastic chart on the bed next to me, he sighed moving uncomfortably on his seat, “The car was a fireball when the emergency services arrived; and you were found in a nearby ditch with huge head injuries – so bad we thought you’d never make it. And yet, here you are.”
I blinked, “A miracle?”
He shook his head, “I don’t believe in God or those kinds of things, son. Whatever happened to pull you through and have you sitting here talking to me, well, I’d like to know what or who helped you.” He gave the nurse the chart, as he turned from me, “We’ll keep you in for another week and you can return home.”
“What about my parents?”
The doctor gave me a sideways look in such a way, he didn’t need to tell me that they were dead, “I’m sorry. Like I said you are the sole survivor of this. Not even the truck driver survived.”
“What truck driver? The road was clear.”
The nurse rushed from the room, “I’ll get the police in here to talk to him.”

After talking to the police and telling them that there wasn’t anything which looked like a truck on the road that night, they told me the horrible news: “... but there was an eighteen-wheeler coming from the other direction, Mr. Williams, surely you saw the headlights.”
“I would remember if there was whopping big truck on that road because I was sitting in the front seat next to my Dad. And I didn’t see any truck on that road; Mom was in the back seat sleeping.” I snapped, “So you tell me, how did a big truck like that suddenly cream the car I was in, and yet I have survived this accident?”
The two cops couldn’t tell me anything than what the doctor had – and I was at a loss as well – and they turned the left the room; leaving me to my loss and on my own.

I was permitted home after a week in the hospital. The doctors told me that since I could walk up and down the hallways and up and down stairs without fall over and was eating well, it was time for me to go home.
The cab dropped me off in front of my family home and I stood outside of it with my overnight bag collecting the mail, which had accumulated over the last two weeks. Looking over at the driveway, I expected to see the large green Four Wheel Drive my folks owned, but instead I saw my little blue sedan hiding in under the car port, covered in dust and waiting for me to drive it. It looked kinda sad that it was sitting there without the other one as its partner.
Unlatching the gate, I picked up my bag and walked up the path to the house, which looked as empty as it really was now. Stepping over the dozen or so newspapers in front of the door, I unlocked the front door and walked inside to the deathly silence of my parents’ house.
There’s a real drawback to living on the same property as your parents’. When you lose them, you have to deal with their house, their things, and their legal shit a lot sooner than everyone else does in your family because you’re their next door neighbour in more ways than one. Okay, you’ve saved yourself a lot of dosh over the long run, but really, it’s heartbreaking to walk into their house and not hear their voices, see their faces or know they’re going to be there ever again!
Tears blurred my vision. I dropped my bag and the mail, “Oh shit!”
“Evan?” A woman’s voice asked from behind me, and I turned to find Aunty Susan standing there, “Oh, Evan, I knew you were coming home today. I wanted to be here before you got here to open the house up. To get out their Wills and have the lawyer here.” She held me as I sobbed onto her shoulder, “I really didn’t want you living here; and this is the reason why. But we have to talk to the lawyer.” She pulled me off her, “There’s something you need to know.”
I looked at her and found she wasn’t crying. She didn’t look upset, “How can you not be sad?”
“Because your parents did something in the 1970’s I really didn’t like.” She said picking up my bag and the mail, “Let’s have some coffee and talk before the lawyer gets here – because we’re going to get a visitor you don’t know.” Aunt Susan walked through to the kitchen and started opening the house up and turning on the lights, “I did some shopping, so the delivery guy will be here soon.”

An hour or so later, I had gone to my place out the back and had a shower and changed my clothes. While I was out there, Aunt Susan had pulled together coffee, some cake and other things to ready the place for company.

She was serious about this.

I looked at her and frowned as she fixed my collar, “Now, you have to be understanding about this, okay?” Looking beyond her shoulder, I saw a man walking up to the door of the house and heard the doorbell ring. She turned, answering it and letting in a small, spritely man who had a briefcase and dressed in an Armani suit with short oiled hair, “Evan, this is Mr. Beechen. He’s from one of the world’s oldest law firms.”
He looked up, offering his hand to me, but I didn’t it, “I don’t know you, so please understand if I don’t shake your hand.”
Smiling he nodded, “Of course, Evan. We are one short, but can proceed in this matter.”
We all sat at the kitchen table, and he pulled out a folder which had enclosed my parents’ Wills and he read from them. There was money, furniture, the house and other things bequeathed to family members and to me.
“And now, comes to the person who we’re one short of...” he said, as a knock at the door sounded, “Aaah, here he is finally. I never doubted his arrival, just when he would arrive.”
Aunt Susan opened the door and there stood a man who was a stranger to me, and yet I felt as though I had met him before in a past life or two. He held his hand out and smiled, “Evan. Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I couldn’t stop myself, as my hand shot out and took his, “You don’t know me and yet you shake my hand, interesting.”
Snatching my hand back, “How do you know I’m like that?”
“All in the details, my boy.” He walked past me and into the kitchen as I looked over at Aunt Susan and found her looking at her feet, fear emanating from her in waves, “And don’t worry about your dear Aunt, she’s got a right to be scared of me.” Mr. Beechen pulled out a chair for the man and he sat as the lawyer poured him a fresh cup of coffee and offered him some of the food to eat, “So, where are we up to in this?”
Mr. Beechen sat next to him and smiled, “Right where you’re expected to be, sir.”
“Well, proceed.”
“Very well.” He looked over the papers and found where he was up to, “Oh, here we are: ‘As in the original agreement from the year of nineteen hundred and seventy-seven, in the grounds of if – and when both Mary and Robert Williams both die at some point in their lives – their eldest of their offspring will be Evan, the King of Hell’s son, as he impregnated Mary on that year of the agreement on the eve of their marriage in nineteen hundred and eighty.’” He looked up and across the table at me, “Well, that means that you’re a Prince.”
“What?” I looked over at the man, “Who in the hell are you?”
“Oh, I’m the King of Hell. You can call me Dad.”
“I had a Dad, he’d died three weeks ago.”
“No. I caused that truck to be on the road because your parents made a deal and lost their souls to me personally during a swingers party in 1977.” He grinned, “You’re Mom didn’t know what she said to me was real, and they were too stoned to realise they also signed your life away too.”
“But all those miss-carriages?” Aunt Susan sputtered.
“Well, I only wanted heir, so...” he shrugged.
Looking at the table, I suddenly felt sick, “Oh god.”
“Nope, he’s not going to help you now.” He looked over at me, “Okay, Evan, your folks shitted away their souls and yours in the process without thinking. That was their fault... now you have a place to come to, a Kingdom to rule over – with me – isn’t that great?”
I glared at him, “No. I like my life. I have a job here and nice car and my house; which is on a quiet street.”
“I can get you anything you want, why would you want to live in squalor for when you could be living in the lap of luxury?” he glanced around, “This is so... tiny.”
“This is my life.”
He sighed, “I noticed you didn’t say anything about having a girl in your life.”
“I have problems keeping a relationship going.” I mumbled, “What’s it to you?”
The man sat back, glanced at his lawyer and then smiled at me, “Well, in Hell, you can have as many women as you want.”
“I want one woman, but I can’t have her. She’s married.”
“I’ll break up the marriage, and you can have her.” He snorted.
“Why not? You get what you want, when you want. That’s what it’s like being the son of mine – but you’ve had a life where people fear you. It’s been like that since you were born; or haven’t you noticed?” he grinned.
I thought back over my life, how the bullies avoided me at school – even though I was the shortest kid there. I never had a problem at night clubs from anyone; and when a fight broke out and my friends were pulled in, I’d step up and people would look at me – with that look of...fear.

He was right.

People feared me.

“I don’t like it. Why do people fear me?” I looked at him.
“Because when I took your parents’ souls in 1977, and then came back on their wedding night and told your Dad to ‘take a walk’, I took yours as well when your Mom and I bumped boots.” His eyes sparkled at the memory of doing my Mom, “And your Mom... oh she was...”
“Oh shut up!” I shouted standing, pushing the chair back hard enough for it to fall over, “That’s my Mother you’re talking about!”
“And I have your soul in a little jar in Hell if you want it.” He grinned.
“Screw you... Dad.... I’m staying here.”
He pulled a black clay talisman from his pocket and put it on the table, “If you change your mind, Evan, here’s my calling card. Mr. Beechen, let’s go.”
After they left, I picked up the talisman and looked at it. How was a person like me going to use the information I had just been given to my advantage? Like anyone does: I just found out I have an inheritance from the most powerful being around – besides God – and he thinks I’m not interested.

I’ll bide my time.