Fairly Wicked Tales (38 page)

***

“Father, what’s wrong with the water?” Matthew asked as he and George rowed out into the sea.

George replied, “I don’t know.” But he had some idea. He imagined somewhere in the vast body of water, a hellish fish swam around with a bloody wound on its head. Nothing else could account for the dark blue—somewhat purplish—and gray water they rowed along on. George did not even think what they traveled on constituted as water anymore. The sea had become thick like molasses. Rowing had nearly become impossible. Nevertheless, after a ridiculous amount of time, the two arrived at the designated rendezvous spot.

“Is this where you met the fish?” Matthew asked when his father retracted the oars.

“Yes.”

“Think you might ask for a horse and carriage? It’d be swell if we had a means of traveling on land. Maybe I could even drive sometime.”

“Maybe.”

George rose to his feet in the unsteady boat and scrutinized the water. “Faugder, Faugder in the sea,” he called out, “come, I pray thee, here to me. For my life, as good as it is, wills not as I’d have it will.”

For quite some time, the two men waited. “Maybe you recited the spell wrong,” Matthew stated.

George shook his head. “Patience.”

The two of them waited a bit more. Matthew opened his mouth to suggest his father try summoning the fish again, but his words fell dead on his tongue for the water made a nauseating sucking sound as the devil fish emerged from the water. “Oh, shit!” Matthew exclaimed as he proceeded to cower in the boat.

A smirk appeared on George’s face. He delighted in witnessing someone besides himself sport a yellow spine when faced with the horrifying Faugder, son of the Prince (of Darkness).

Faugder gave Matthew a passing glance with those serpentine eyes of its and eventually let its sights settle on George. “I expected another visit from you, but not so soon. Am I to assume the cottage and everything accompanying it no longer satisfies you?”

“Don’t misunderstand me. Everything is lovely, more than I expected, but apparently there’s still more we need.”

“Declare your desire.”

“My family and I desire to live in a palace.”

“And a horse and carriage,” Matthew said under his breath.

George shushed his son.

“Very well.” Faugder’s sights swept over Matthew before returning to George. “I assume you’ve brought payment.”

The man nodded.

“Throw it in then.”

“Throw it in?” George asked, obviously confused. “Into the water? I thought we might make a vow and be on our way.”

Faugder laughed heartily, causing both men to flinch. “Your credit is no good here!” the fish bellowed in the midst of its laughter. “My father desires his payment up front.”

“How much is the payment?” Matthew whispered to his father.

George shook his head. “Nothing we can’t afford,” he said while pondering his options. He chose his oldest son, Matthew, because the boy would have seen sixteen summers come June. Even at the age of fifteen Matthew thought too much of himself. In another year or two, the boy would be a man, challenging his father’s authority even more than he had been. While he, George, grew old and frail, his son became big and strong. George would not remain head of the household if Matthew ever decided to exude his dominance.

I never thought I would be responsible for the loss of my child’s life,
he lamented.
I figured by selling his soul, he would come to a tragic end in another two or three years. To have him taken from me now …. Do I dare?

“Well, what do you say?” the fish asked.

George gulped loudly, swallowing his fear and guilt. “You have a deal.” He pretended to reach for their belongings laying at the bottom of the boat, wanting to convince Matthew the purse was his goal. Instead of retrieving the small sack containing no money, George grabbed the oar’s handle and took a deep breath before bringing the makeshift weapon up with tremendous force.
WHACK!
The flat side of the oar impacted with Matthew’s skull, creating a reverberation that traveled up the stick and into George’s arms. He immediately dropped the instrument in hopes to stop the revolting feeling.

Faugder grinned, flashing those knife like teeth of its. “My father shall be pleased. Throw the sacrifice into the water and return home. Your family will be standing before the door of your palace.”

George did not speak. He simply walked over to his unconscious son, grabbed him under his arms, and heaved him into the sea where the boy sunk like a stone. “Dear God, forgive me,” he whispered as tears spilled over the rims of his eyes.

The fish dived. Seconds later, the water churned violently, nearly knocking George overboard. Once blood rose to the top of the dark blue—somewhat purplish—gray water, George could no longer stand. He collapsed to the bottom of the boat. “My God!” He fumbled for the oars, took hold of them, and placed them in the rowing stations. George traveled through the thick water as fast as possible, eager to be away from the site of his heinous crime.

***

George staggered through the woods, having run all the way from the shore. He eventually came upon his home and saw it was as Faugder had prophesied. His family, bubbling with excitement, stood on the steps of their new stone palace. Then George’s haggard face came into view and concern arose.

Isabell reached for her husband as he neared the steps. “Where is my son? Where is Matthew?”

“He drowned!” George cried.

Gasps erupted all around him. “What do you mean he drowned?” Isabell asked as tears welled up in her eyes.

“He drowned,” the man reiterated as he joined his family in their grief. “We rowed out into the sea to meet with the fish. After it granted our request, we began to row back. On our return trip, a large wave appeared out of nowhere and flipped the boat. We both went over.” George indicated the clothes he had the mind to soak once he reached the shore. “Matthew did not surface. I searched for him, I swear I searched as long as possible, but he vanished. My firstborn! He drowned.”

George’s words were a lie, of course, but his grief was real. For this reason, no one thought to question his story.

***

The Anderman’s period of mourning eventually ended, allowing them to enjoy the stone palace they now called their home. Every day, they admired the large foyer with its hanging crystal chandelier, and they cherished the marble covering the floors of the palace. A multitude of servants came along with their new home, people who willingly waited on the Anderman’s hand and foot. Beautiful tapestries covered the walls. Furniture crafted from pure gold adorned every room. In addition to the grand furnishings, a never ending supply of food filled their cupboards—a smorgasbord of delicacies.

The outside of the palace complemented the wondrous inside. A large courtyard—containing splendid carriages and stalls for horses and cows (a feature Matthew would have loved)—surrounded the Anderman’s home. Isabell’s garden grew from a vegetable patch placed alongside a cottage to an orchard filled with beautiful flowers and fruit trees. A forest stood nearby—half a mile long—filled with elk, deer, rabbits, and many more species any nature lover would covet.

“Did I not tell you this would be a good move?” George asked Isabell as they took a stroll through her garden one day. “And you wanted to remain in the cottage.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose. But don’t you think this is a bit much?” And they lost their oldest son in the process of procuring their palace, but Isabell was too good of a wife to mention such a thing.

“A bit much? If anything, it’s not enough.” He held his hand outward, indicating the large land they owned. “This is but a tiny fraction of what the world has to offer. Why should we be reduced to settling for this alone? Isabell, I could be king! Ruler over this and much more. You would become queen! Think about the perks associated with such titles.”

“King and queen?” Isabell asked. The notion terrified her. “George, you’re shooting for the stars when the treetops would do.” The woman took his hands into hers and gazed lovingly into his eyes. “You and the kids are all I need and all I’ve ever needed—children I barely come across anymore. This place is enormous. I don’t even know where to find them, and they don’t care to come find us.

“You need not visit the fish anymore, George. Let’s be content with what we have.”

George considered his wife’s advice. Wisdom filled her words and he knew this initially, but a voice intruded his thoughts.
What are you doing? This bitch trying to hold you back. She’s always held you back. Do you think you all lived in a shack because of you? No. You worked harder than anyone alive and still had nothing. She’s at fault. She’s responsible for your previous lack of success.

He never observed the situation from such a viewpoint, but George figured he (the foreign voice) might be on to something. Isabell had been anchoring him to a life of squalor. Now his wife was acting as dead weight again. ‘You’re shooting for the stars when the treetops would do’, she said.

Well, isn’t she a sly one,
he thought.

George forced himself to smile. “Whatever you want,” he finally told her.

Isabell breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said as they continued their walk.

About a week later, George—and the voice now dwelling within him—came upon Rachael alone in the stables. “Hi, father,” she said before refocusing on her horse, Rachael’s most prized possession.

“Good day, daughter.”

“You need me?” Rachael asked as she brushed her mare’s silky coat.

George glanced about the stable to ensure no one else was about. “As a matter of fact, there is something you could do for me.” After seeing the coast was clear, he removed the hatchet and burlap sack from behind his back. Rachael had been chosen for the sacrifice out of pure elimination. Mark was his only surviving son, and a king needed an heir. Catherine was the youngest of them all. This left the second born to die so George’s dreams could be fulfilled.

“Pray tell, father.”

No one will even miss her,
George reasoned as he stalked his daughter, who had yet to look up from her chore.
Like Isabell said. We barely even see them nowadays.
After closing the distance, he raised his hatchet. “All I need you to do is …
die!
” As he spoke that last venom filled word, George brought his weapon down with tremendous force.

***

“Faugder, Faugder in the sea, come, I pray thee, here to me. For my life, as good as it is, wills not as I’d have it will.”

George stared out at the sea while he waited. The water had become dark gray in color. It bubbled like boiling soup. Noxious gases escaped the bursting bubbles, filling the air with a terrible stench. George took all this in stride. He thought of himself as a man on a mission, and sea life conservation did not make his agenda.

Eventually, Faugder appeared at the top of the water. “My good friend George,” the fish said. “My! You are ambitious, aren’t you?”

“I want to be king.” George bent over, grabbed his bloody burlap sack, and tossed everything overboard. Rachael’s butchered body was swallowed by the boiling water. “Here’s your payment.”

“Go home, for you are king,” a sneering Faugder said as it slowly descended into the water.

***

Hours after his meeting with Faugder, King George reclined on his magnificent throne. Opulently clad soldiers stood on either side of his dais while a handmaiden knelt nearby feeding him grapes. As he relished his supremacy, the gigantic double doors to his throne room flew open. A page scampered into the great hall and announced, “Queen Isabell approaches!” The soldiers went to attention. Everyone else—with the exception of King George—bowed their heads.

A single glance at his wife told the king she was displeased. Isabell, her face flushed with anger, stormed into the throne room. Handmaidens hurried along to maintain pace, doing their best to carry the train attached to the Queen’s extravagant gown.

“What have you done?” she bellowed. “You assured me this would not happen!”

King George pretended to admire his fingernails. “I did, then I thought things over. Why not do it if it is within my power to do so?”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Queen Isabell spat.

The king sat upright. His anger now matched his wife’s. “Be careful how you speak to your king!”

“You’re no king of mine,” she said, coming to a stop when the king’s personal guards came to stand in her way. “You’re a fisherman who lived in a shanty by the sea before you went and sold your soul to the devil.”

“The soul was not mine, my dear,” King George said with a smirk.

“You bastard! What happened to Matthew? Where is Rachael? What have you done with my children?”

“Guards! Take her away!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CHILDREN?” Queen Isabell shrieked as the guards grabbed her by her arms and drug her away. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CHILDREN?”

***

Two days later, the youngest child Catherine screamed while being thrown into the now black, but still boiling sea. A strong wind continually blew about the place. “I want to be emperor,” King George said.

“You are emperor,” Faugder said before going below the water to feast on the cooked child.

Later that evening, Emperor George tossed Mark into the shallow end of the sea for he feared rowing out. The water boiled while gigantic waves rose up and came crashing down. A strong gust of wind blew across the land, tearing leaves from their trees and whipping the vegetation through the air. Clouds edged in red filled the sky. Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning flashed. Emperor George had never witnessed such a ghastly sight, but he was not deterred for good old Faugder was gracious enough to come near the shore.

“I want to be pope!” Emperor George screamed to be heard over nature and his wailing child.

“Are you shitting me?” Faugder asked with a laugh. “You? The Pope?”