Early November in Friarville
The rain beating on the hood of the car and the cold November air were calling me closer to sleep. I needed to get off the highway and to a hotel pretty fast. I frantically searched for an exit sign. About twenty minutes later, I spotted that familiar green glow. There was a city called Friarville only 2 miles away. I was a few days early getting to my next job, so one night wouldn’t hurt me.
Driving through Friarville took about two minutes. It was one of those places you see in scary movies, with one street filled with houses and a larger building at the end of the street, on a hill. Not a single light was on in any of the houses, and I was certain that if I drove up to the big house, a man carrying an axe would chop me in two. In my line of work, you always had to expect the worst, but this place actually scared me. I had to get some sleep though, so I drove up the hill, to the only building with lights shining through the rain.
The larger building was the house and business of the local undertaker. According to the shining placard hanging next to his house, his name was Joseph Friar.
This is just my luck. The undertaker of this backwoods town is the richest and the one it’s named after. I bet his family even had that exit sign put out on the highway.
I took the keys out of the ignition, turned off the lights, and prayed for God to help me live through the night as I climbed out of the car and raced to the front porch of Mr. Friar’s domain. The door knocker was a miniature coffin.
I decided to knock with my fist, not wanting much to do with death on a night like this.
Standing in front of me was one of the whitest and skinniest men I have ever seen in my life. White hair, toothpick arms — even one of his eyes was white.
The skinny man asked, “Are you friend or family of Mr. Burton?”
He may not have looked like a whole man, but his voice rang true. He had a deep bass to his voice that seemed impossible considering the package it was wrapped in.
“Neither, sir. My name is Stephen Daniels. I’ve just been driving all night and was wondering if I could find out from you where the nearest hotel is?”
“I’m sorry, friend, but the next hotel is nearly an hour’s drive in either direction from here. We don’t have many amenities in our little town,” he said with a slight, but terrifying, grin. “However, I have spare rooms in my home here, as long as you’re not squeamish. I only say that because most people don’t care to sleep here, especially when a customer is in the gathering room.”
I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to sleep near a dead man in a walking corpse’s house, but I also didn’t think I could stay awake for another thirty minutes, much less drive for an hour.
“That’s a very kind offer, and I think I’ll take you up on it. Thank you very much,” I replied.
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Most of my visitors are dead people, so this is a nice change.” His closed smile sent a shiver through my bones. “It’s a shame for Mr. Burton though. Not a single person has come to visit him.”
I didn’t understand why they didn’t visit but looking at the inside of the house had me completely convinced I knew the reason no one would ever come back. Joseph Friar had animal heads hanging from the walls, cobwebs hanging on candle chandeliers, and the stench of death hanging in the air. My eyes even scanned for axe wielders in the shadows.
“Does he have family?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise at the shadow of a stuffed squirrel.
“Yes. He does. They just haven’t shown up yet.” He was leading me towards the staircase as we spoke. I was able to get a closer look at the stuffed squirrel. I received quite a shock. I’m glad Joe wasn’t looking in my direction. That wasn’t a squirrel. It looked like a small statue of an overweight man whose stomach had been ripped open. I’d seen a similar sight before, but never in statue form.
“Well, it’s not extremely late. When were they supposed to be here?” I asked while trying to get the taste of bile out of my mouth.
“Three days ago.” My attention left the grotesque image in my head and turned more towards Mr. Friar. He had already stopped walking and I was about to bump into him when he turned around and looked at me with that one good eye.
“Really?” Fear shot through my veins. Had Mr. Burton’s family actually shown up? Maybe they’re in the basement standing just as still as that thing I saw near the staircase.
“Yessir. It seems they just couldn’t tear away from their busy lives over in the city.” I was able to see a slight wetness on his cheek. “It just doesn’t seem right that a man not have a proper burial with family. That’s why he’s still in the gathering room. I prayed his family would wise up.” He pulled out a dingy handkerchief from his left breast pocket and dabbed the wetness away.
I began to feel terribly silly. While thoughts of mass murder had been going through my head, Mr. Friar was only thinking of the feelings of a departed human being. I still didn’t like the “thing” near the staircase, but I was starting to feel just a little more comfortable here.
Upstairs looked much different from downstairs. Cobwebs were nowhere to be seen. As I looked down the hall, even the doorknobs shined. The contrast was breathtaking. I felt like I was in a museum. Joseph continued leading me to a door further down on the right.
The differences between the levels were staggering. Joe must have had some reason for decorating the first floor in the way he had.
“This is where you can stay the night. This is where Prince Stephen stayed when his father was in our care.” The room smelled of fresh flowers. I couldn’t believe this was the same house I started in.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you very much for your kindness.” I was no longer just being nice. I was in awe that I was allowed to even touch the door, much less enter this room and sleep on the four-poster bed.
“It’s my pleasure. I will leave you to get your rest.” Joseph bowed out of the room and disappeared behind the door.
Before falling asleep I noticed a calendar hanging on the wall. The month hadn’t been changed yet, so it still showed October, which was only a week ago.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of fried bacon, sausage, and a gentle note of maple syrup.
“Good morning, Mr. Daniels.” Joseph had on a different suit today, but this time he also had on an apron.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Friar, but you may call me Stephen.”
“Stephen it is. And to you, I am Joe.” His smile didn’t seem so alarming in the bright light of the sun pouring from the kitchen window.
“Did the family ever show?” I was truly curious. I had thought about poor Mr. Burton until I fell asleep. I also remember smiling when I woke up, because I had a little dream that involved that “thing” from last night and Mr. Burton’s family. It had been a satisfying image.
“No.” It was easy to see that Joe was heartbroken over this entire mess. “I’m going to have to do the service today, and he’s going to be alone.”
“I’ll stay for the service. Someone needs to be there.”
Joe brightened up a little. “Really? That would be so kind of you. Mr. Burton would be delighted for you to do so.” His smile was more heartwarming with each passing moment.
After the service, I went back to my room and gathered my belongings. When I came down the stairs, Mr. Friar was waiting at the end of the staircase.
“Thank you for the kindness you showed Mr. Burton by attending his service.”
“It was an honor for me to do so,” I said and truly felt.
“If you’re ever this way again, please stop by and we’ll have a drink and some conversation,” he smiled at me.
“I’ll do that,” I said.
Joseph Friar then watched and waved as I got back into my car and headed out of town, passing laughing children playing in their yards.
I continued driving down the highway thinking about Friarville when a noise from the back of the car caught my attention. I glanced back just as the steering wheel forced itself to the right. I had lost control. I could see the trees on my right turn and face me.
The car suddenly stopped and I began choking on dust from the air bag that had just slammed in my face.
Mother… Son of a…
I punched the airbag to get it out of my face. It didn’t work. That white dust just traveled all over the inside of the car, turned, and aimed straight up my nostrils. It took a few seconds to start breathing correctly again. Finally, I decided to get out of the car. The seatbelt and the car door still seemed to work, but my legs didn’t. I fell out of the car and stared at my legs.
I started pulling myself towards the road when I got the feeling back in my legs. I tried to stand up and found my legs worked perfectly again. I didn’t feel any pain, so I started walking back in the direction of Friarville. I figured Joseph wouldn’t mind taking me in again. I could also borrow his phone to get a tow truck to come get my car. I planned out all the details trying to make sure I still made it to the location of my next job. The envelope containing the profile of my next target was still folded up in my back pocket.
The moon had already shown itself almost full. It had provided me light for the last hour.
I knocked on the door.
Hmmm. No sound. Let me try that again.
I tried to knock on the door again, and I still couldn’t believe it. My hand went straight through.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re dead,” said Joseph Friar as he opened the door. “But I need to get back to work. Feel free to come in and make yourself at home. I’d offer you that drink I promised, but in your current condition…” He laughed a little.
The shock of the situation slowly dissipated. My mind finally cleared and I realized why my legs started working. That was when I died. I started walking into the house when I noticed Joseph had closed the door. But it was too late. My forward momentum took me tumbling through the door.
I stood up and looked around. The house still looked the same as it had before. I saw Joseph as he rounded a corner towards the gathering room near the stairs. I started to follow him when I realized the statue was missing. The fat man with his stomach ripped out was not there. I hurriedly followed after Joseph.
“Welcome again, Stephen,” he said, not even turning towards me as I walked in. However, I could see a slight glow coming from his one white eye.
“Uhhh, yeah, about that… You said I’m dead.”
“Yes sir. You died right after that car crash. Thomas was watching you and he came back and reported it to me.”
I jumped when I saw the statue standing on a stool next to Joseph. It was smiling at me.
“I’m not even going to get into the subject of that thing being able to move around. That’s scary enough. But you had to know I was going to die or you had to be the cause of it to send it after me,” I said. My face was turning red from anger as the concept of my death sunk in more.
“I didn’t cause it. Thomas didn’t cause it. You died because it was your time. I just arranged for a detour of how you died,” he said while applying makeup to the body in the casket.
“So you had some part in it. Deto–” I saw the body. It was me. “Hey! That’s my body!”
“Calm down, Stephen. Thomas brought your body here so it could be taken care of.”
“Taken care of? You mean disposed of, right? You probably killed Mr. Burton too,” I said.
“Everyone who visits me is going to die. Considering my real name is Azrael and I’m the angel of death, it should all make sense,” he said. He then turned from his work and looked straight at me with his one white eye and a grin.
“Angel of… What? You’re just cra…” I was going to say “crazy” but then I realized I was a ghost and he was talking to me. There had to be some explanation. I tried to pinch myself thinking this was just a dream, but my fingers went straight through.
“You were going to die anyway, but you’ve been given a second chance. You see, I need someone to help me. You fit the bill quite nicely. That’s why I haven’t sent you back to heaven as I did for Mr. Burton. You have made a living killing people.” He paused for a second as he turned back to my corpse and chose a shade of lipstick. “Now don’t get me wrong. It’s a sin to kill someone. But it’s also a sin to lie. There are people in this world who have lied a thousand times more than you have killed, and you’re an honest and caring man. So you’re still bound for heaven.”
I decided to play along as I didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter, being dead and all.
“So how would I be able to help you?”
“It’s very simple really. There are men on this earth who have not died when they were supposed to. They’ve cheated me by way of Satan, black magic, or some other means. I need you to kill them. In return, you get to live as long as you care to on earth as a mortal. When you’re ready to leave, all you have to do is ask. Until then, you can’t die. Again that is.” He smirked.
“To make a long story short, I took the job, Mr. Blair. That’s why you’re tied up and it’s also why I’m pointing a gun at your head.”
July 29th, 2008 at 10:40 pm
Not a bad idea, but I find some of the twists contrived, and the ending quote was too much of a jump. If you want a monologue, write it as a monologue, not a short story. It’s just a poorly executed story. However, it is worth another draft. Write it again, and see how it goes.
July 30th, 2008 at 4:38 am
Yeah. This isn’t one of my favorite pieces. Also, the story isn’t divided out right because this theme doesn’t accept horizontal rules. But I definitely want to rewrite this one. It’s an old one.