The Glass Ball
The door was slightly ajar. Only slightly. The thin line between darkness and light seemed so intangible and yet within grasp. It had been raining for the past few hours and now well into the night how was the traveller suppose to know when it would stop. He had started his lengthy journey late in the afternoon, despite the warnings of the locals in the village far behind him now. The Traveller recalled the village very vividly now, their musty faces looking at him in what he thought was abrasiveness. He had asked for directions to the city, he was a merchant just returned from port making his way to sell his wares. Hauling his cart behind him he thought of setting up in that village for the evening hoping for some proper business, but he sensed at that time he would have none.
The Traveller was in the business of selling various trinkets. Ranging from household objects to foreign items from across the sea. Odd relics he would call them and put them on display in a very theatrical manner. Normally he would concoct some elaborate fable about the mysterious origins of the items, all lies but engaging none the less. He didn't like to do this, but if it helped business he would spin a tale now and again. On his way out of the this particular village the clouds started to gather, it was at this moment that an elderly woman came hobbling up to him. She looked at him earnestly and said that he shouldn't brave the forest at this time. His life would depend on it. The traveller took this as a warning against the approaching storm and shrugged it off. Was that woman at this time praying for his soul?
Standing at the threshold of the house the Traveller was without his cart. Shivering and holding his arms together across his chest he recalled the wolves. The wind picked up as the town disappeared from the Traveller's view. Dragging his cart along the various items rattled about, he was always cautious of his speed. There was precious cargo behind him after all. He had picked up a small box back in port, wrapped in a delicate bow the contents were that of a glass ball. The ball was adorned with gold circlet wrapping around it engraved with floral designs. It was to be a gift to the one he loved.
The city was his home, he would return there and establish both himself as a merchant and as a husband if that was his fate. The wind continued to blow harshly around him, it howled like nothing he had never heard before. The forest itself seemed to be howling at him as well, as the wind ducked and dodged through the trees as if it were stalking him. He hadn't seen the first wolf when it leap out from the trees. The beast's claws just barely missed his throat, the Traveller buckled back in shocked gripping at his neck. The wolf skidded to a halt beside him and bared its fangs. The traveller became aware then that he was surrounded. The creatures moved around him, backs hunched over and fur on ends. The Traveller was very cautious. He had never encountered wolves before but was aware of the stories fellow merchants would tell of them. He knew they would soon pounce, that they would tear him apart in seconds, he stood no chance at all.
His first reaction was to run as fast as he could be he knew the futility of such a thing. His second reaction was to reach back and retrieve the Glass Ball from the cart. The Traveller did both. With a quick grab he snatched the little box from behind him and made a mad dash forward. Almost as fast as his movements a loud clap was heard followed by the falling of a tree. Lightning had struck behind him, taking down a large tree. The tree creaked and groaned as it began to fall towards the path, the wolves had all but fled after the crash as the tree smashed the Traveller's cart beneath it. He had only heard the sound of things being smashed to pieces, the Traveller had not stopped running but knew the fate of his livelihood.
The rain began shortly after. The droplets were unforgiving and without end. They pounded and beat the Traveller as they made their way to the ground. He was drenched, aside for his hand which held the small box under his jacket. Would he just run through the night without end? At that time it seemed likely. However he had not counted on the house off the side of the path. He would have missed it were it not for the tiniest sliver of light emanating from the crack in the door. He paused for only a moment before running towards the light. As he went off the path branches cut and snapped at his face, he had lost his boots somewhere along the way but he didn't care. Then he found himself at the threshold.
The Traveller reached out with his free hand and pushed the door open slowly. He stepped into the house, at least what he thought was a house. He had not noticed from the outside and with the storm he couldn't see that this house was in fact a mansion. The hallway in front of him was vast and grand, as if it was used to large volumes of traffic. The lavishness of it all made the Traveller very ashamed that he had tracked his muddy socks thought such doorway. Tip toed his way from the door towards the first room he could see. Along the way he noticed the walls were adorned with paintings of utter blackness. The frames were brilliant and vibrant but their contents were void and absent.
The Traveller peered through the doorway and into a drawing room. Chairs circled around a great fire place in the wall, the fire roared with an inviting flame. He looked about, surely someone was awake and tending to this fire but no one was in sight. He didn't want to presume that he was welcome here but was tired and felt very drawn towards the cushioned furniture. He took off his coat and placed it hanging over the fire. Sitting in the elaborate chair he surveyed the room. The fire offered much of the light in the room. It too was decorated with black canvases. The more he stared into the blackness of the paintings the more he thought he saw images in them. Nothing tangible but just images of strangely shaped beings. Almost like cadavers in various grisly poses, but how could that be? There was nothing in the paintings.
He could hear the wind howling outside, it caused him to jump slightly in the chair. He felt as though the wolves had returned and where now just waiting for him outside the house. If that were the case he would have to spend the night here. The Traveller had shifted in his seat peering towards the hallway once more, if there was anyone in this house surely they would have heard him enter. He then heard a noise from above him. A loud slamming sound followed by dragging, he followed the noise as it seemed to being dragged across the room above him. Once more a thud, followed by a slamming sound. The Traveller jumped out of his chair. There was someone in this house. He made his way back to the hallway, he called out.
"Hello, pardon me, but is there anyone here?", He listened for a response, "I'm terribly sorry I let myself in without permission but if you are here would you please meet with me?"
Silence again. The Traveller walked down the hallway, if there was someone above him there must be stairs. The hallway seemed to stretch on without end, the further the Traveller walked the more the blackness ahead of him enclosed around him. Then from the dark a small light flickered. The Traveller stopped and gasped as the light moved closer to him. It wasn't a normal light, it glowed with a pale blue flame. The Traveller thought it might have been a trick of the dark but as it grew closer the more the flame's azure light became all the more transparent. It was held by a small man, he came up to the Traveller's shoulders. He wore a dull grey suit and had hair down to his shoulders dangling over his face. His face was course and reminded the Traveller of soot.
"Good evening Master Guest, how are we this fine night?" The man said bowing slightly.
The Traveller hadn't expected this from a man whose house he had entered uninvited. "I beg your pardon kind sir but I entered your home under the most unfortunate of circumstances. You see I-".
"That won't be necessary Master. You are most welcome here this night. The matter in which you found yourself here is unimportant. Please follow me to the dinning room you must be famished."
"Now that you bring it to my attention, yes I am. You have my utmost gratitude Sir-?"
"Please call me Mammon."
"Very well Mammon, My name is-"
"That won't be necessary either, while you are here you will be addressed as Master. To call you anything else would be quite disrespectful." Mammon said leading the Traveller down the hallway.
The Traveller followed at a distance. Though the man Mammon had made a hospitable impression he could not shake a feeling of insecurity. He decided to speak casually to Mammon, maybe it was all in his head after all.
"That is a unique flame sir, and this house is very lavish. Are you the owner?"
"Yes, the house is perfect. No, I am not the owner. And as for the flame, I suppose it would be unique to someone who hasn't seen one before." Mammon said quickly.
"Oh, I see. Then perhaps you may tell me where the owner of this house is. I should thank them."
"That won't be necessary. The owner of the house is no longer with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. I wouldn't be." Mammon said with the slightest hint of a smile.
"Surely the passing of someone would warrant some mourning. Were they not a kind master?" The Traveller said.
"He was the kind of man who would give his servants a beating without batting a lash. No, I do not mourn the passing of such a man." That was all Mammon had to say about that the Traveller thought. They carried on the rest of the way in silence. Along the way the Traveller noticed more and more paintings, they too were totally black. The Traveller and Mammon soon arrived at the dinning hall. Mammon offered the Traveller a seat at a large dinning table meant for many people. The room was decorated with paintings as well, though each was covered with a red tapestry instead. Mammon had disappeared into the kitchen only to return a moment later with a plate of warm food. The Traveller's mouth watered, between the soup and the warm bead he almost couldn't bring himself to eat the massive steak that went with it. Mammon watched the Traveller eat in silence. When the Traveller had finished he asked if he could offer his thanks to the chefs, Mammon however turned down the idea saying that it was unnecessary as the Chef had retired for the evening. Mammon then led the Traveller to a staircase across the hallway that the Traveller was sure wasn't there before. The stairs creaked beneath them, or so it seemed. Whenever the Traveller took a step the stairs groaned however Mammon's left no such sound.
The Traveller was shown to a room at the end of the upstairs hall. The room was lite by a solitary blue flame on a nightstand beside a grand king-sized bed. Mammon smiled and turned to leave the Traveller to himself.
"Mammon. Are you the only servant in this house? Aside from the chef I don't think there's anyone else here." Then again, the Traveller had not seen or heard the chef when he was dining.
"You have no need to worry. The rest of the retainers are merely sleeping. You were fortunate that I was awake taking care of some business when you came in. Otherwise I'm not sure we'd notice you till morning and that wouldn't do. Now, goodnight Master." Mammon said shutting the door. The Traveller then heard a loud clicking sound. He had been locked in.
"Mammon? Mammon, did you lock the door? Mammon?" He called out. But no answer.
The Traveller was trapped in this room. Maybe Mammon was just being cautious. After all, the Traveller was a a stranger. He was just thankful for the bed, it didn't matter if he was trusted or not he would be gone by the morning. The Traveller took out the small box containing the glass ball. Though he had left his coat by the fire he hadn't forgotten to take the gift with him. He thought of his beloved. How much longer he would be without his lover. Would it come as a surprise when he proposed? He laughed at the thought, it was an uncommon union. No one would approve of their union, but that didn't matter. They would soon be happy, yes, that's all that mattered.
The Traveller got into the bed. When he closed his eyes the noises outside became all the more clearer. The wind, the rain and the thunder may have been right in the room with him. And the wolves. They too might as well have been surrounding the bed waiting for him to fall out. But he thought of the glass ball, it was with him and that was enough to survive the night. Just then, the wind stopped. The noises all subsided and the Traveller felt a shadow loom over his body. He sprung up wide-eyed. There was nobody.
"Mammon? Mammon is that you?" He whispered across the dark room. The blue flame had gone out and the room was as black as the canvases which decorated the room. The Traveller looked around the room, trying to adjust to the blackness. Then without warning the Traveller was pushed back onto the bed with a violent shove. He was pinned to the mattress by some invisible force, he reached out with his hand and caught hold of something warm. It felt like a body, in the darkness there was someone else in this room holding the Traveller down on the bed.
"Let me go! Who ever you are, release me this instance!" The Traveller yelled. A hand reached out and touched the Traveller's lips. It ran It's finger across the Traveller's mouth. Breathing now. A heavy, hot and harsh breath caressed the Traveller's face. It reeked of smoke and decay, the kind of which could only be present in death. The Traveller tried to struggle but to no avail. It was as if tens of hands held him down in place while the phantom presence began to work his hands further down the Traveller's body. Reaching into the lower recesses of the Traveller's body the hands worked and groped at the Traveller. The Traveller let out gasping breathes as tears began to well up in the Traveller's eyes. The Traveller's breath became sharper and more intense, the pleasure that began to grow increasingly was only matched by the sheer terror of the phantom's forceful entry.
"P-please, stop. Stop this, I can't, I-I can't hold it anymore. For the love of god please stop!" The Traveller cried out. Within moments the hands stopped as the Traveller came with a sharp cry. The hands released the Traveller and the invisible pressure was lifted. The Traveller lay there spent and broken. In the darkness the Traveller sobbed and wept, the Traveller turned and reached out feebly for the box on the nightstand. Opening it and taking out the glass ball he held it in hand and thought of his lover, the shame and the pain of betrayal. In his mind, in the darkest part of his consciousness he enjoyed it, he revelled in it. The pleasure and the pain stimulated and worked its way through his body. He hated that part of him now, the darkest part of him.
Lightning struck and illuminated the room. The Traveller shot up, it was not the room he had once been in. The carpets were ripped and bloodied, the curtains too were shred and hanging off their rods. But most of all, the paintings. The once black and empty canvases were now filled with images of utter madness and horror. Three hung in the room. The one depicted a woman tearing and eating the flesh of children, her eyes wide with fury and fire. The next had an old man holding a young girl down and penetrating her, around them danced grotesque imps and other monstrosities. Finally the third painting was of a man with his arms draped around a dark and shadowy silhouette. They were embraced in utter ecstasy, but what the Traveller noticed was that the face of the man was of his. The Traveller fell out of his bed and scrambled to get up. Grabbing the glass ball he ran to the door across the blood stained floor and reached for the handle. The once locked door opened and fell off its handle. The hallway too had changed. All the paintings now held images, similar to the ones in the room. They showed scenes of utter baseness and horror. Death was a common theme and acts taboo. The Traveller held back the urge to vomit, but couldn't contain it. He buckled to his knees into a bloodied pool at his feet. The blood flowed down the hall like a stream to the stairway. Gathering what little courage the Traveller had left he got to his feet and began to walk down the hall with weak steps. Looking at the paintings as he went, each of them tore at his soul. All the darkness of the human heart was lay bare in them. Acts of fornication, murder, idolatry, and cannibalism all shown in ruthless form. Both human and beast depicted in sexual climax. It was as if they showed scenes from Hell itself, a glimpse into the infernal.
The Traveller made his way down the blood flowing stairs. Slipping now and again, his legs were now covered in blood. The iron stenches filled his nostrils with nausea. He tripped and plummeted down the stairs, he landed face first onto the hard floor, his face blooded with his own blood and that of the floor. He couldn't tell which was which at this point. Slowly getting to his feet the Traveller heard noises coming from the dining room. What sounded like laughter and glasses clashing together in cheer. He wanted to turn and leave, run to the door and let himself out of this hell. But he was drawn, compelled to see what had happened to this house. What of Mammon, and the phantom? There were questions he had, but were they worth it? If he went to discover the source of all this would he be able to return to his love? But it was anger that now took him, he had been played. Whatever had transpired this evening, be it metaphysical or not, he had been a pawn in this evening. An offering to whatever took advantage of him. He could not leave without cornering the truth that awaited him in that dining room.
He limped down the hall, the dining room door cracked slightly letting out a sliver of light. Pushing the door open forcefully he came upon a scene truly reminiscent of Hell. The once luxurious dining room had altered as well. The covered paintings had now been revealed. Held within them were bodies, they were neither painted nor imaginary. But hanging out of the portrait were the bodies of people screaming in pain and terror. They struggled and cursed as they hung there from the walls nude and scarred. The Traveller saw the table, which was now seated with the multitude of bizarre creatures and people. Men with horns and the legs of goats, women with arms like wings and feet of talons sat bare chested like the harpies of myth. Imps like the ones in the portrait in the room laughing and fornicating on the table with each other. All manner of horned and clawed humanoid beings sat in unholy union at the dining table. Spread across the table was a body. A man's body lay sprawled on the table, his face covered with black cloth. He was naked and mutilated.
The occupants of the room quickly became aware of the Traveller's presence and the room grew silent. They all stared at him with a hunger in their eyes. The bodies in the painting all converged on him, shouting at him to run and get away as fast as he could. Then the kitchen doors burst open Mammon stood in the doorway. But he was not as the Traveller remembered. He was no longer the small and diminutive man that led him around the house. But now he stood taller than the Traveller, his face was beautiful and adorned in a crown of horns and leaves. A bright red robe flowed from his shoulders to the floor. All the creatures began to applaud and cheer, some bow their heads and others gnaw their limbs. He looked at the Traveller and smiled a small twisted smile. His lips a pale rouge, thin and almost invisible. But there was a smile, a lusting smile that penetrated the Traveller's very being. It was the smile of a predator catching its prey, the finally killing stroke before the revel.
The Traveller was dumbfounded. He sank to the floor and coughed up bile. "You. You're Mammon, are you not?" The Traveller managed to say.
"I am. I am as I should be. This is my domain, you are both guest and prisoner to this place of bedlam and madness. I'd have hoped you find it to your liking but I can see it repulses you. Pity." Mammon said taking a seat at the head of the table. Some of the harpies swiftly went to his side, caressing his arms and kissing his hands.
"To my liking? My liking! Dammit, God-damn you. God-damn you!" The Traveller yelled. Some of the occupants of the room laughed and rolled on their sides while others rose defensively only to have Mammon wave his hand to order silence again.
"I am damned. You have an odd way of showing your gratitude. I saw you in the woods, took pity on you when the wolves had you in their grasps. I guided you to this place, took you in. Fed you and gave you a place to rest. I would hope you that at least thank me." Mammon said with a smile.
"Thank you? Your mad. I was raped, defiled and shamed. This place has shown me nothing but horror and things I never wished to see. Tell Mammon, what manner of beast are you that takes men into such a place?" The Traveller said finding the strength to get to his feet.
"Manner of beast, you say? I am one of the infernal, a lord of the damned and of Pandemonium. Tell me Traveller, what are you to show such disrespect to the one who saved your life?" Mammon said . The Traveller walked towards the table. Beasts and demons all moved aside. The Traveller eyed the corpse on the table.
"Who is this? Is this the true owner of this house?" The Traveller looked upon the naked body, despite the cuts and befouled engravings upon his body the corpse was beautiful. It looked so familiar and yet it couldn't be anyone he knew.
"We shared a contractual relationship. This man and I met only a few months ago, he called out in the darkness hoping to find guidance for his lover. All he wanted was for his lover to find a way home safely. I appeared and told him that I would ensure his lover returned to him, however if his lover were to die on the way home then I would stay Death's hand and the contract would be fulfilled." Mammon said.
The Traveller grew very pale. A sinking feeling in his stomach grew deeper and heavier. "Th-then this man, his lover has returned to him I suppose. And yet they are torn once more. You are a monster."
"Monster? I am not the monster, I am not the beasts who chased his lover through the woods, I am not the one who tore him limb from limb. I put him back together again though, kept him alive. He may not recall such an event but that is for the best. No one should recall how they died." His smile grew longer and his pitch increased. The Traveller backed away from the table. It couldn't be, there was no way it was possible.
"I even gave them a final night together. Of course he couldn't tell his lover what he was or what had happened so I gave him the form of a shadow. It sufficed, they got to spend one last evening together." Mammon poured himself a glass of red liquid from a pitched beside the corpse. "I'd say I am very merciful, but I can't help it if his lover doesn't appreciate all he did for him. Your very ungrateful to the one who saved your life, calling his final moments with you rape and accusing his partner of being a monster."
"It isn't true! Tell me your lying, please for the love of God tell me this isn't him on the table!" The Traveller cried in desperation.
"But it is. He came to me in the midst of despair. Begging for a way to bring you home in one piece. It's a good thing too, you were killed by the wolves. That happened. Oh yes, You died. As soon as you did your lover's soul was mine. He is mine now, as you are. Now then my dear Traveller, won't you join us for this feast? The ultimate banquet for a night soaked in fear." Mammon said gesturing towards a vacant seat at the table.
"You don't mean? No, never! I couldn't do that! I'd never, I'd-" The Traveller said consumed with anguish as he threw up again. Mammon and his host of demons all cackled.
"A soul baked in terror and sadness has the most exquisite taste! I'd be ashamed of my abilities as host if you didn't partake of it." Mammon smiled cruelly. "But never mind. My retinue and I shall have our fill if you should choose not to. All the more for us."
The demon's at the table all opened their mouths with joy, they salivated staring at the body of the Traveller's lover on the table.
"Wait! Please, wait! I'll-I'll do it. I'll take his flesh. I'll partake of his soul. Just please, don't let them touch him." The Traveller said gravely.
"Very well. Please, come take a seat at the head of the table my dear guest. I'm so glad you've come to your senses." Mammon said offering up his seat.
The Traveller stood up and limped to the head of the table, clutching the glass ball in hand. His tears streamed down his face as he took up the chair at the table. "Tell me, devil, why? Why do this to me? To us?"
"It's simple. Human sorrow makes for the best seasoning for any festivities. There's nothing like a lover's sadness and torment to really bring out the best in an evening of the damned. You two just happened to be the best candidates I could find on such short notice." Mammon said placing his hands on the Traveller's shoulder's. "Now, Take your time and enjoy yourself. Be sure to chew every bite, and savour the taste in your mouth. It's not everyday you get to partake of such delicacy."
The Traveller took up his knife in his right hand, placing his fork in his left. The Traveller placed the glass ball on the table beside a goblet. He sobbed wildly onto his plate as he began to take his first cut into the body of man he once called his lover all the while Mammon looked on and laughed.
The Traveller never left the woods that night. The people of the nearby village went out the morning after into the woods only to come across the broken down cart and the mangled body of the merchant who visited their town late last night.
"Poor thing. The wolves must have got him." An elderly woman said crossing herself over the man's body. "What's this though?" She said bending down beside the body. His hand was severed and laying a few feet from his body. It still had its fingers wrapped around an object. The elderly woman pried the cold fingers off the object. She took a rag out of her pocket and rubbed the blood off of the object. It was a glass ball with golden engravings wrapped around it.
"What a pretty thing." The woman said.
"Isn't it?" A voice said behind her. She turned around to see a man she had never seen before. He was a shorter man wearing a very dull grey suite. His hair was long and thin. The man's face reminded the old woman of soot. "Yes, a very pretty item indeed. It must have meant a great deal to the poor merchant if he was so desperate to keep it safe from the wolves. Leave it with the body, such things are not for us to take."
"Very well. It will be buried with the body. Tell me stranger, who are you? I've never seen you before." The woman said.
"Oh I'm just a servant. I'm on my way back to my master's manor. If only this man had made it a little further he may have found shelter there. My master is kind man, he'd have gladly housed this poor soul for the night." the man said shaking his head.
"Bless his soul then, what a kind master you have. But, I never heard of a manor in the woods, has it always been there?" The elderly woman asked.
The man chuckled. "The manor has always been there for people who need a place to rest, please do visit some time. We would welcome you with open arms."
The End of a Night.