Our Jail
A SotL/X-Files crossover. What if one of the guys from 'My Town' met H. L.? Post Red Dragon, pre SotL.
I woke up to the sound of nasal laughter. Unlikely enough, however, it wasn't Chilton.
"Who are you, and why are you making that racket?"
"The warden doesn't know my secret," he replied. "He's not a Shadow Government man."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"The people in our town found the secret of eternal youth," he replied. "You have to kill people while saying a secret word under your breath. Then you eat their flesh." And he grinned.
I just looked at him for a moment. "If you're trying to intimidate me, my dear boy, it won't work. I'm here for, essentially, the same reason you are. I simply did it for pleasure."
"I'm 85 years old, you know," he said. "They have my records, I can prove it to you. And why are you such a skeptic, anyway?"
"Years of listening to utter and absolute madmen rant. On the other hand, you do seem saner than most."
"I could teach you the word."
I laughed. "I'm no Narcissus, in love with my own reflection. Anyway, what use would it be in here?"
He smiled. "True, true. How old are you, by the way?"
I told him.
"You don't look it. Maybe just killing people works, but less. Interesting."
"Ah. Well, I'm going to go back to sleep. Please do not wake me again."
That was the one and only time we spoke: it seems that there are plenty of narcissists out there.
I kept the incident in my memory palace, of course–hidden inside a picture of Dorian Gray.
But I never wanted the word. After all, too many men crave immortality who know not what to do with themselves every Sunday afternoon.
The End
(Author's Note: I've heard 'many men crave immortality who know not what to do with themselves every Sunday afternoon' before, but I'm not sure where. If you know, please tell me!)