Jaded

The second of my “Seven Deadly Sins” inspired stories, 1000 words or less. This episode garnered a first-place win at my workplace and publication in the Kansas City wide 2010 “Art Work / Creativity from the Cube” competition.

Jaded
by Duane Porter

“You’re a sorry-looking sewer rat!” I sneer.

The little turd looks up at me from the mud puddle I just shoved him into. He groans. “Leave me alone, Jake. You’re just jealous.”

“Haw! Why would I be jealous of you?”

He climbs to his feet, pushing his dirty brown hair back. “I don’t know. I don’t know why you beat me up every day, why you steal my money, why you call me names. I’ve never done anything to you.”

I don’t need a reason.” I grin. “You’re worthless street garbage that sleeps on the curb.”

So I’m homeless. You’re better off than I am. Why do you pick on me?” His dark eyes bore into me, almost hopeful.

“I think you like the attention,” I drawl. I push him down again as I walk away. Chester is such a chump. The nerve, thinking he can get on my good side.

In class the next day there’s a stupid math test. Who needs math? I can count the money I take from Chester, isn’t that good enough?

I glance at the little creep. Hmmm… he’s sneaking something out of his pocket, looking at it, then writing an answer on his test. So, the little bug’s a cheater, too! Whoa—something green flashed in his hand as he pocketed it. I better keep an eye on this one.

When we get our tests back I peek at Chester’s sheet. Geez, he got a hundred! I only get a sixty-three and he gets a perfect score? No fair, man. I’ll even things up after school. Just wait.


After the last bell I tail him out of the building. We’re getting close to the racetrack when I have to duck behind some dumpsters. Some dude wearing a suit and a gold necklace walks up and starts talking to Chester. Mr. Cool looks around, and then he hands the runt a sheet of paper. Chester turns his back to the guy, and he—


There it is again! He’s pulling that green thing out of his pocket! It glitters like glass. He stares at the green thing, scribbles something down and then  hands the paper back to the dude. What’s going on? I gotta watch.

The guy leaves for maybe ten minutes, then he shows up again. Crap, now he’s handing Chester a wad of money! Chester peels off several big bills and  hands the rest back to the guy, who grins real big and leaves. What does that green thing do? I gotta find out.

I step out from behind the trash bins. “We’re alone, now, Chester. And you’re going to tell me everything about that green thing in your pocket, or I’m  going to beat your pimply face into pudding.”


Chester looks up and sighs. “I’m not afraid of you. But if you really wanna know—“

“Oh, I do, I do.”

He pulls out this green gemstone that’s about the size of a chocolate creme egg. It has lots of flat sides, kinda like a diamond.

It’s jade. You want my money, too?”

“No, scumbag, I think that jade thing is worth more than all your money. Didn’t you use it to score a hundred on the math test?”

His eyes open wide. “You saw?”

Enough. Tell me how it works, or I start pulling off ears.”

Okay, take it easy. It’s—kind of a prophecy thing. It tells the future.”

Right, and my mother raised a dummy.”

I don’t need the stone to tell me that—ow!” He squeals as I yank his hair.

What’s up with the dude in the suit?”

He brings me the racecard, I tell him what to bet. He places the wager, and gives me part of the winnings.”

Yeah? Why doesn’t he just keep all the money for himself?”

Chester rolls his eyes. “Because, you big doofus, if he doesn’t pay me, he doesn’t get any more winning bets. Ow! Easy on the hair!”

Easy on the doofus, doofus. So you just look at the egg and see all this stuff?”

Yeah—something like that.”

He looks at me, defiant-like. I can’t stand it. Almost like he’s daring me.

But I want that jade egg. I want it so bad my stomach aches. I can do bigger, better things with it than this twerp can.

I pull his mousey face close to mine. “Give it up, loser. You don’t deserve it.”

Then take it from me.” His eyes are spooky, shining. He’s crazy.

I punch him in the face and he drops to the ground like a rag doll. It’s easy to pry the egg out of his fingers. Then I look into the facets and see …

I can’t tell you what I see.

Chester is laughing, lying on the ground and cackling like a hyena. His voice is getting deeper—he’s changing, arms and legs getting longer, clothes  ripping. Geez, he looks twenty.

You’re right! You deserve it, Jake! Has it shown you yet? Do you know your future?” He groans and his body trembles, he seems thirty, forty now. “It makes you immortal, Jake! You won’t ever age until someone takes it from you.”

I feel the hunger gnawing inside me, welding my soul to this cursed gem. It’s everything to me now.

But you can’t tell anyone, Jake! You’ll have to abandon your family and live on the streets because you can’t reveal your secret!” The years are racing
through Chester’s body like a film on fast-forward. Sixty, seventy …

And you’ll learn not to envy what others have, eventually.” His voice wheezes, cracked and hoarse. Ninety, a hundred, his hair gray wisps blowing away in the wind, his cheeks sinking into his skull …

Until the day someone else wants it more than you …” He whispers in a horrible parody of speech, and what used to be Chester crumbles into dust.

I know what he says is true. More than ever, I envy Chester.

The Vending Machine

Today I’m sharing a short supernatural story that won an honorable mention at the 2009 Art/Work: Creativity from the Cube city-wide competition in Kansas City, Missouri.  This is the first in a planned seven-part anthology dealing with the famous “Seven Deadly Sins” dating from medieval times. Each story will be limited to 1000 words. Enjoy!

Update: This story also won 1st place in the Young Peoples’ Fiction competition at the 2010 Liberty Arts Squared festival!

The Vending Machine

by Duane Porter

This is so cool, Andy! Come look at this!” Mike marched down the alley to a large metal box.

Andy followed tentatively. “Hey, it’s an old vending machine! And it’s still got candy in it!”

Mike’s brown eyes glowed as he pushed his black hair out of his eyes. “Check out the prices! Twenty-five cents!”

Andy nodded. “How long do you think it’s been here? Why would they leave the candy in it? Stuff’s probably crawling with worms.”

Chicken!” Mike drew a quarter from his pocket and jammed it into the slot. Quickly he punched in a code. “They have Butterfingers!”

So do you, apparently,” Andy grinned. “The Butterfingers are on G1. The bag from G2 just dropped into the bin!”

What? No way!” Mike pushed the door open and pulled out a red bag labeled ‘Lucy’s Red Hots.’ “Aw, geez, I know I pushed G1! Have you ever heard of this crap?” He shook the bag in Andy’s face.

Never seen ‘em before.”

Man, it doesn’t even feel like there’s anything in here.” He tore open the end and peered inside. “Holy Cow!”

What?”

Mike drew out a piece of paper the size of a business card and a ten dollar bill.

Crap, no way! Anything else in there?”

Empty.”

What does the card say?”

Mike stared for a minute. “It’s some kind of poem.”

Greed is the downfall for seekers unwise.

Three times you may profit, but the fourth will surprise.”

They looked through the dirty glass. Sitting in row G2 were three more packages of Lucy’s Red Hots.

Andy, you think those other bags have ten dollar bills in ‘em, too?”

Andy shook his head. “I don’t know, Mike. Why would anyone leave money in candy bags?”

Mike had already rolled another quarter into the slot and punched G2. The second bag of candy fell into the bin.

Andy shifted nervously as Mike ripped open the bag. “It’s a twenty! Geez, Andy, I got thirty dollars for fifty cents! This is freakin’ incredible!”

It looks like there’s another card, too.”

Yeah, big deal. This one says:

Twice you have gained, so much more indeed!

Beware that you do not fall prey to your greed!”

Who writes this crap?” Mike scowled. “I wonder how much is in the third bag?”

Andy felt a surge of panic. “Mike, don’t get any more bags, please! This is creepy!”

Mike merely laughed as he fished for another quarter. The boys listened as the money rolled down the pathway. The third bag dropped into the bin.

Rrripp! “Oh, man! This is freakin’ unbelievable!” Mike held up a crisp fifty dollar bill.

That’s the third one, can we go now?” Andy pleaded.

You’re kidding, right? Hey, don’t you want to read the card?”

Andy grabbed the card this time and read out loud.

You are quite brave to buy more than two.

Now you have three; what will you do?”

Mike’s eyes dilated with anticipation. He fumbled in his pocket for a quarter.

Mike, are you nuts? The card said bad things would happen if you took more than three! Let’s get out of here – Mike, noooo!”

Mike jammed the last quarter home and watched the final bag fall from the rack.

As his hand closed on the bag his eyes widened in shock.

Mike? What’s wrong?”

Mike seemed to wither, as if all the fluids were being sucked out of him. He collapsed like a deflated balloon and was sucked inside the vending machine door. The red bag of Lucy’s Red Hots popped out onto the alley, and the vending machine door banged shut.

Andy moaned in disbelief. He looked inside the vending machine. A single green bag sat in row G2. It had a cartoon-like picture of a boy with black hair and brown eyes under the label ‘Mike’s Sour Apple Treats.’

Oh, no, no, no, no…” Andy mumbled as he searched in his pocket. He pulled out a quarter, shoved it in the slot and punched G2.

Nothing happened.

He hit the coin return, fished his quarter out, and tried again.

Still nothing.

He collapsed in front of the machine and put his hand out for support. He jumped as he touched the bag of Lucy’s Red Hots.

Slowly he ripped open the bag. Inside were another card and a bill with Benjamin Franklin’s picture on it. “A hundred dollars,” he whispered.

He turned the card over and read:

My goodness gracious, your life’s at an end.

Unless this last note is being read by a friend?”

Andy gasped as he realized what he had missed before.

The price below G2 now read $100.

Andy didn’t even think about it. He fed the hundred dollar bill carefully into the machine and pressed G2. Slowly, agonizingly, the spiral rack rotated and the bag of Mike’s Sour Apple Treats dropped.

Andy jumped as his quarter clattered into the change return. Shaking, he put his hand into the bin and pulled out the bag. It felt empty.

He tore one end open and the bag puffed out like popcorn in a microwave. Glittering blue sparks shot out of the bag and formed the outline of a boy, quickly coalescing into Mike’s familiar form.

Andy grabbed Mike’s arm. “Mike! Is it really you?”

God, what happened, Andy? I felt really strange for a second, and then I was back here with you – hey, what happened to my money? The ten, the twenty, the fifty – they’re all gone!”

Forget about it, Mike. You won’t believe what I …” his voice trailed off.

What is it, Andy? Why are you looking at the vending machine again …”

Both boys stared at the four bags of Lucy’s Red Hots sitting neatly in row G2.

Seconds later only the sound of running feet echoed down the deserted alley. A chill wind blew between the buildings, sucking a crumpled green candy wrapper into the air. The abandoned vending machine waited silently in the dark.