The Interrogator (Very Short)

I may be thinking about adding more stories about this. This one sure entertained me. I hope it entertains you. :)

"So... where do we begin?"
The young, brown haired man with his smart suit and powerful appearance spread all his papers over the silver table, its shiny surface reflecting the small lamp above, which was the only source of light in the room. Two US police officers could barely be seen at the door behind the scruffy, greasy-haired man looking nowhere but down.

Jack tried to ignore the Interrogator's comical and mocking attitude as he spoke to him.

"Let's see... several cases of theft. Very small incidents. We've forgotten about those, haven't we?" He chucked two files behind him, papers flying in various directions around him. One landed over his head which he scrunched up and dropped it in the bin next to him. "Attempted murder. We let you off on that one. Go easy on the meatballs." He chucked a single file behind him. "Next-"
"Don't you care about the mess?" Jack's heavy Southern American voice beat the volume of the Interrogator's own, who stared at him blankly. He then scoffed and shrugged.

"No." He continued. "Next... (pausing for Jack's benefit) we have a report that you committed arson on three houses. Four years in prison. Would've been more if someone died. Shame..." Another file spreading its contents through the room.

"That's horrible. You wanted someone to die just so I would be in jail."
"If you knew how I feel for you, you'd probably be scared of me." He looked at the last file closely and sighed disapprovingly, tutting to annoy him. "And this is the one that got me. You stole my money. You broke into my own personal Vault and burnt the money. You were also responsible for hacking into my bank account and destroying all possibilities of getting my money back, you little-" The two officers stepped forward a little, but the Interrogator remained sat down, clearly fuming with anger whilst controlling himself. The only thing that scared Jack was how calm he looked when he was really, really ticked off.

"You know what I think?" Jack breathed and sat up, folding his arms. "I think you're a sad, spoilt little brat who thinks because he technically owns the laws with his power over crime and has a wealthy life he can do whatever he wants." Jack leaned closer. "You're wrong, sir."

"Don't try and turn the interrogation on me," the Interrogator snapped. "I can get you locked up for fifteen years for this!"
"I don't care. I did my work. I'm done." The Interrogator stood up at this.

"So how do you explain the fires? What were they for? And the attempted murder? And the theft!?"
"They were all ways to grab your attention... I wanted to be caught for the crime, but I made sure no-one was hurt."

"GRAB MY ATTENTION?" He banged the table with both hands, so hard that the light above shook a little on it's thin string. "For what!?"

Jack smiled victoriously and looked up at him. "To piss you off."

The Interrogator made sure Jack was behind bars as soon as possible, awaiting trial. Jack didn't care. He had nothing left anyway. No family. Besides, he never had nor ever would have a problem with the prisoners. They all respected him and thought it good of him to try and get the Interrogator mad. No-one liked him. They would all see him dead. But they had no reason to try it without further punishments.

However, that first night back in jail Jack happened to be the only one awake. He heard the Interrogator speaking with another man. The voice was young but dark. No strong diction. Sounded like another low-life criminal like some of the men in the prison. But hold on- what where they talking about? Without making a sound, Jack stuck his head against the bars and listened.

"Clinton, this is all I have." Clinton. The name of the Interrogator. But Jack preferred to just stick with the other name for now.

"That'll do fine. I'll let you go."
"But what are you gonna tell your big crowd?"
"I have my ways. I'm not just the Interrogator, you know." He wasn't joking. The Interrogator, as the prisoners have always called him, was also legible to provide evidence and force a judgement of his own choice when being the accuser. It wasn't a normal privilege to do this, but with his wealth the message got through eventually. He had so much power. He owned the police and could bribe them into almost anything. He managed to get a sight of the Interrogator being given a pile of crash strapped together. There must've been thousands of dollars in that pile. He was letting people off for their crimes in return for huge amounts of money. Stolen money. And he knew this was the exact plan for one single reason.

The Interrogator watched the man leave and was just about to do the same until he heard a voice call to him.

"You can't do it again. Not like you did to me."
The Interrogator grinned to himself and turned to look at his face watching back through the cell bars. "I can do what I want, in disagreement to what you said to me earlier. And what happened to you was different, Finnigan." He smirked and left.

Jack banged his cell wall furiously and fell onto his soft bed, the only comfort in the prison other than the respect of the other guys. It made him feel safe and secure, giving him room to think. And if he wanted to expose the Interrogator, he'd have a lot of thinking to be getting on with that night.

The Fires of Lying

Toby is probably the most feared teenager in the town. No-one messes around with him. No-one underestimates him. He has every kid you can think of under his control, mainly because he is so popular at school despite the useless brain stuck in his head and the baggy eyes that stop you knowing what he is feeling. In the past six years he has attempted murder, committed theft, vandalised public facilities and some say he even murdered a young woman, but no proof or evidence has been found except random rumours from locals who have luckily managed to keep themselves anonymous. The town is small and secure. While Toby destroys many lives there he also protects the remaining relative- his younger brother (13 years of age) Patrick who stays with him until Social Services pluck up the courage to speak to them.

Patrick never likes what Toby does and is quite good at school but is never picked on because of his brother. One gang of boys who used to bully Patrick were locked in a public toilet overnight with nothing to eat or drink. To make matters worse, there wasn't any toilet paper either.

The one thing Toby has not done yet is arson. Now this was going to be a good challenge, he thinks. It had come across his mind when a friend threatened under his breath to burn the Post Office down after the owner kicked him out for buying an adult magazine.

"It's not up to him what I buy, is it?" he had said. "Stupid, effin'-"

Toby thinks he could achieve arson for his friend. After all, he also had a confrontation with the owner, Mister Vernon. It was about two years ago but he rarely talks or thinks about it. He had been kicked out after the incident was over. But this time he isn't going to leave when told to.

Mister Vernon, sitting at his chair behind the counter desk, reads a newspaper reporting the crime rate. He finishes reading the report and scoffs disapprovingly.

"Ruddy criminals. No hope for them." He puts the paper down to see the Toby kid entering the shop. "Don't you kids ever listen, never mind learn? I told you to not come back in this shop!"
"What are you gonna do?" Toby shrugged. He takes out a match and it's box, preparing to light it.

"You wouldn't dare! You would never kill somebody!" Mister Vernon recoils a little from him.

"You'll get out. The back door's only behind you. I just want to bring this place down, know what I'm saying. Give you a message not to mess with me."
"You can't scare me. No matter what you've done. Is it true you killed that woman?"
"Might be. Look at you, old man. Not much left to go. You might as well stay. I don't really care." He enjoys what he's doing so much that he almost sounds evil to himself. Too evil.

"I'm a man of God. I'd rather have the Angels above take me than have Satan's flames consume me!"
"I like those words. Better get out while you still can." He lights the match and throws it just in front of the desk. The flames manage to get hold of the items around and soon spreads, reacting from various chemicals on the items and sending sparks of flame all over. Mister Vernon cannot believe what he is seeing, just standing motionless watching the chaos unfold. He didn't get the message to get out until a spark of flame shot over the desk and landed next to him, quickly catching on to objects and cracking the windows. Toby turns to look outside the shop, the smile flickering a little but then resuming as he turns back to Mister Vernon.

"Damn you, child! You will go to hell!" he cries as he points at Toby accusingly, hissing anger.
"LOVE IT!" Toby screams happily, running through the fire and jumping over the desk to get out.

Mister Vernon runs one way to phone emergency services. Toby runs the other way, climbing over the wooden fence and climbing up the hill covered in trees and bushes until reaching the street above. He waits until all signs of human life are not visible and sprints at the fastest pace he has ever managed to the other end of the street, where his home resided. Something very much like an explosion sounds behind him but he ignores it.

Meeting his two mates outside the house, who congratulate him on the success, Toby falls to the ground in victory. He then goes inside with his mates to talk about what happened.

Sooner than expected, the local news speaks of the fire at the Post Office. The entire building was burnt down to the ground and only a minute or so before the emergency services arrived it exploded, killing the owner, James Vernon as he was waiting for help to arrive. According to medical services various chunks of wall hit him in the explosion. Toby feels his heart sink. He hadn't expected the man to die. He thought he would be fine, not that he cared. But for some strange reason, Patrick begins to cry and runs to his room upstairs. Toby sighs and puts his feet up, with nothing on his mind other than the accident.

Patrick has the same thing on his mind too. Whilst lying on the bed in tears, thinking about his poor old friend's death, he feels a surge of guilt that is yet to come. Toby thinks there is no evidence. No witnesses. But he is wrong. Who's to say that his own brother Patrick won't turn on him?

TWO YEARS AGO...

Patrick is lost. His brother Toby went after some boys who called him gay. He sees the lights on in the Post Office on the other side of the road. Mister Vernon is sitting reading his evening newspaper and as Patrick gets closer to the shop he can hear the classical music playing over the old man's radio. He knocks on the door, much to Mister Vernon's surprise. The man quickly abandons his paper and music to go to the door and see him.

"It's eight o'clock in the evening, little Patrick! What brings you here?"

"I'm lost, Mister Vernon. My brother ran off to find some boys. They called him gay-"
"They said he was a homosexual?" He raises his eyebrows at Patrick.
"Y-Yes, sir." Patrick answers, embarrassed.
"Well, he's no good anyway. You better come in until he come and finds you."

"Thank you, Mister Vernon." It's true what Mister Vernon thinks of the two brothers. He always liked Patrick better than Toby because of the difference in intelligence, respect and personality. The two respect each other well, and always will. Patrick tries his best to ignore his brother's ways and finds Mister Vernon a good man to talk to. Of course, Toby doesn't approve of it.

"Well, try and keep yourself comfy, heaven knows how, until he arrives." Mister Vernon notices Patrick's usual sad look and feels sympathy for him. "Don't worry about him. I've seen him grow up. I was once a friend of your mother's. Bless her, she was the good one- I see her in you, Patrick. But then she died of cancer. Your father abandoned you and-" He stops. "The thing is, Patrick... your brother first turned bad when he started lying. You must never tell lies. Not for yourself, for friends or in some cases for family. Never. Do you understand?"

Patrick nods. "I understand, Mister Vernon."
"That's good then. I think this is your brother coming over now."

And indeed it is. Who else kicks a shop door open, grabs their brother by the arms and pulls them backwards until they're standing behind him?

"What the eff' are you doing with my little brother!?" he shouts angrily. Except he doesn't say 'eff', he says the actual word.
"Calm down, Toby. He was lost, I was just-"
"What!? What were you going to do? Hurt him? You want me to hurt you, huh?" He threatens to attack, clenching his fists.

"Toby, will you just listen-"
"No! I'm sick of you people who think they can make things better for us. No-one can!"

"I was just helping him-"
"I've been looking all over for him, you stupid twa-"

"I WAS LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU TOO!" Patrick screams at his brother. Both Toby and Mister Vernon stare at him in shock. "BUT DID YOU CARE ABOUT ME? NO! DID YOU EVEN THINK IF I KNEW MY WAY AROUND IN THE DARK? NO! ALL YOU CARED ABOUT WAS GETTING A KNIFE OUT AND STABBING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE THEY CALLED YOU GAY! YOU'RE NOT GAY, YOU'RE PATHETIC!" He then hyperventilates from all the shouting and makes an apologetic look at him and strangely at Mister Vernon too, who looks as if he agrees with him.

"Patrick... I didn't have a knife." Toby doesn't look or sound like he wants to hurt or shout at his brother. He feels he never could.
"I don't care..." Patrick hangs his head in shame for shouting. Toby places his hand behind Patrick's back, and leads him out. He looks over his shoulder at Mister Vernon.

"You'll pay for this."

TWO YEARS LATER...

About forty minutes later, Toby wakes from a sleep. The television is still on from the news report earlier and the light is starting to fade. What a weekend it had been. But the first thing he sees through the window is the blazing lights of blue and red, the sound of sirens and the roar of the vehicles' engines. The police are coming for him. Without thinking, he leaves the house to confront them. Before he can do anything, heavily armed police grab him by the arms and drag him to a huge van. A red car drives round the police vehicles and parks directly behind the struggling Toby. Patrick steps out of the house, holding two bags of stuff and a suitcase. A smartly dressed woman leaves the car and takes him back there, looking at Toby and sighing. Patrick holds her hand, to her surprise.

"Social services." Toby mutters. He tries to pull himself away from the police. "Patrick! No! NO! PATRICK! PATRI-" Seconds pass and he is shoved into the van and secured inside. The police pat the sides of the van it drives off, followed by four cars. The last two wait for Patrick and the Social Services woman to leave before setting off with them. During the incident several people had watched the commotion, including both Toby's and Patrick's good friends. It wasn't a good sight for them, nor was it for the two brothers to see each other like that.

Toby was sentenced to 34 years in prison after his own brother, Patrick, appeared in court against him. When asked by his brother in caught why he 'grassed' on him, despite the Judge's order for him to remain quiet, Patrick replied; "When I was younger, that night I was lost two years ago, Mister Vernon told me I must never tell lies. I couldn't hide the truth. You knew I saw you with him when you set the Post Office on fire but you didn't think I would say anything. His death would count for nothing if I lied and he wanted me to do the right thing, to be the better person. And I have made him proud. You've shown you can't look after me. You'll end up getting me killed or making me be like you. I don't want to be like you. I don't feel safe." He stopped as if he couldn't believe he had spoke and that was the end of it. He would hopefully never see Toby again, because it was too much shame to look at him, let alone call him a brother.

Meanwhile, Patrick stayed with a foster mother who treated him like her son and looked after him, caring for him more than anything. She even allowed him to visit his parents' graves monthly to give flowers, as well as the grave of Mister Vernon, a blessed old man who wanted nothing more than to find the better person in people, especially Patrick. Whilst lying in bed, Patrick remembered what Mister Vernon had once said to him.

"To be the better person you must avoid the fires of lying, and in return you will find the angels of truth."

Selling a Soul for Love

This story is a mix of romance, fantasy and not-scary horror. You'll get what I mean if you read it. Please comment on your thoughts, good, bad or both. Thanks.

Ray Pollen was seventeen years of age, and as most boys of his age do, he liked a girl. But he never knew he was going to make it work with her, or better still, finally get there through confronting a demonic genie who offered him one billion pounds. But we'll get to that a bit later.

Ray ended his average night with an hour or so of revising for his A-Level studies, playing on a games console and speaking with his dream girlfriend, Katie, who was, without doubt, the best person he had ever known. She had been there for him when he was in a bad time, and understood him completely. Despite all their fun and frolics, it was unknown to him whether she just liked him as a friend or something more. Ray was getting tired and decided to go. Katie, for the first time in all the years they had known each other, left a love heart at the end of the "byeeee". She's just a girl, he thought. They always do that, probably nothing.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes he had been in bed with nothing on his mind but her. Did she like him? How would she respond if he told her his feelings? What kind of person is she on the side of relationships? Most boys just went along with these things, but Ray had always worried about girl's reactions- he never wanted to be accused of stalking, being creepy or anything to that effect. It makes him seem different and before you know it all girls get the horrible message about him which of course, is not true. Ten minutes more and his mind drifted away from these thoughts and prepared to rest in eight hours of solid sleep. However, only a minute had passed before something cold and dark growled within his room. He heard it immediately and shot up from the bed, sitting and looking all over for the source of the noise. The growl continued until it started to sound like a wail, then a cry of happiness and a "Woo-hoo!" mixed with manic laughter, lasting several seconds until a floating man with red skin, short black horns and Victorian robes appeared in the centre of the room, watching Ray curiously. His expression could only be read as- "What the bloody hell?"

"Hello, young sir. I am-" he began.
"A demon genie?" Ray guessed.
"Um... excuse me?"

"Demon genie." In some cases, especially if you're Ray, to be so shocked can make you sound sane. "I just guessed because you seem a bit... demon slash genie."
"Well, I am not 'demon slash genie', idiot mortal. I am a Deadly Genie, as they call me." He waved his hands as if to salute the introduction. "And you must be Ray?"
"How do you know my name?" Ray sat down against his pillows as his hunched back began to annoy him.

"I know everybody's names. I can work it out just by looking at them."
"That isn't possible."

The Genie leant closer to Ray so he could see the creature's fiery eyes (literally) with cat like slits.

"I am not possible."

Katie shut her laptop and sighed. Did Ray like her? She had an inkling he did but didn't know how to take it- she hoped to have the bravery to accept him but was worried about how she would feel if he tells her eventually. After all, Katie had never been in this position before. Believe it or not, she had only had two boyfriends who she got on alright with but both dumped her for reasons that upset her. Since she hasn't ever had a boyfriend, but isn't sure who she likes anymore. Even as the conversation ended she felt something different for him that night. Something stronger than before. It had only been a normal conversation, not as interesting as the ones in the past. Even her own changes as she grew older confused her as well as other people. Katie was a confused girl, but a brilliant one to Ray.

"What do you want? This has to be a dream."
"It isn't, Ray. I've come to give you a choice. Three choices in fact.."

Ray sighed. "Which are?"
"The first one is have a guaranteed relationship with Katie, but it will only last you six days. The second is that I will give you six million pounds." There was more emphasis on the third one. "The third... you get six days of Katie hating your guts and ruining your life with the aid of others who hate you. You may only pick one." Ray thought the Genie was an idiot. What did he expect him to pick? Still, he took his time with the decision, thinking about the money as well as the time with Katie.

Unknown to Ray, Katie had the same confrontation with a Genie who claimed to be the lesser evil of his brother. It was a very long story for Katie but after learning of what the other would say to Ray and what the Genie was trying to do, she decided to get out of the house and find him. But she didn't know where he lived! The good Genie offered his hand and she gripped it tightly, expecting them to shoot off into the air. In fact, they vanished.

"Come on, Ray. Make your decision. I'm getting impatient."

"Sorry, I'm just thinking." Am I going mad? he thought. Do I even believe any of this? It seems real...

The two reappeared directly in front of the house driveway. Katie went to unlock the large gate. The Genie gestured her away from it and pointed to the next driveway.

"That house."
"Oh... right." Katie blushed with a strange feeling of embarrassment and ran over to the other house, not noticing glimmer of colours from the top window. Knocks on the door gave no response. What she did notice was there being no cars. He was obviously alone. She tried to kick the door open but her lack of strength gave way. The Genie once again pulled her away and opened the door simply by pulling the handle.

"How did you-"
"I'm impossible. Therefore the impossibility of opening a locked door doesn't comprehend with me."
"Ah. Good. Let's find him then." She tried a smile but the nerves got the better of her and once spotting the stairs ran quickly up them and checked every door for Ray's room until she heard the sound of talking and dived into the door of its source. Unfortunately, she came to find a rather unpleasant scene taking place within a double bed. Apologising, but thanking the lord above that they didn't even hear her or see her, closed the door carefully and found the last door she hadn't checked, diving once more into it and looking around, seeing the much more strangely dressed and peculiar looking monster confronting Ray.

Ray jumped out of the bed in his pyjamas and stood next to Katie.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered to her, trying to hold back the gaping mouth.

"A good Genie, or whatever they call themselves, came to me and told me you were in trouble or something."
"Trouble? Are you kidding, I'm- wait, how much do you know?"
"It's okay, Ray, I know the choices, but you can't listen to it-"
"AH-AH-AAH!" the Deadly Genie screeched. "You can't help him. Not any more." He smiled and watched the other Genie who, with a slightly scared expression, vanished immediately.

"So much for help."
"Don't worry, Ray, I'll- ah, I can't..."

The Genie cackled manically.

"Ha, ha! You see? The one thing Katie can do for you cannot be done tonight! NOW MAKE YOUR CHOICE!"
"Or what? You'll leave?" Ray stared at him furiously.

"... um, yes. I think." The Genie began to shake a little, backing away. "Make your choice! MAKE IT!"
"Why should-"
"NO! If you don't do it I will destroy you both! I can even do it to the Friendly Genie!"

"Ray, make a choice, it isn't hard." She smiled a little and looked into his eyes. It lasted longer than ever before. Ray did the same, looking only at the bright blue eyes and nothing else; he ignored the long, curly brown hair, the random dressing of clothes that she had so obviously thrown on whilst hurrying to get to him and the smile which tempted them both to get closer.

But he looked away from her. She frowned but he stopped her. Something wasn't right about this. He knew general beliefs and facts about demons and similar creatures. He assumed this being a sort of demon, once only just realising the trio of 6's, a trio of this number marking the presence or action of a demon or in some beliefs, Satan himself. He felt as if this was destined. For starters, he had seen a documentary in school about various religious views and separate opinions on Satanism and Hell. One opinion that for some reason caught his eye was the one about the mark of the Demon (666) representing the selling of one's soul. Did this catch his eye for the sole purpose that he would need the information now?

"Your choice is destined to be." the Genie said.

Yes, it did.

"As are the choices of all my other victims. Like them, you will make the right choice."
"Katie, think about it. Three 6's- the selling of one's soul. Any of these would sell my soul to him. What if I did nothing?"
"You can't! We'll die!"
"If we don't do anything. What if I make my choice for myself and not through him?"
"WHAT!? How could you possibly work that out! You're, you're-"
"Human. Unlike you. And I have a mind. A living mind with more than just hatred and evil- I have compassion, love, care, all for the girl beside me." Katie blushed but managed a greater smile than she had ever made before. Ray looked back into her eyes and the moment resumed. The Deadly Genie then smirked at the girl, grabbing her attention by hovering closer.

"Aaaah, but you see- to allow this to happen you must claim the amount of money too!"

"I have." He looked at Katie. "I claim the money because she is worth every penny of it."

The Genie began to flicker and fade. "But what about the six days of hatred!?"
"Oh, that's easy." Katie held Ray by both hands. "For me to hate him for six days is impossible. I think you can handle impossible." She smiled at him mockingly and he vanished, wailing with pure hate and spitting small flames which vanished as they touched the ground. The final seconds of his demise didn't seem to attract the attention of the couple next door. Katie thought about them after he left and asked about the cars.

"Oh, the only car we had crashed. Wasn't my fault. You didn't see them, did you? Like, just now?"

Katie thought about her answer. "No, I didn't." With that she let go of his hands and waved him bye.

What a night it had been. And his parents knew nothing of it. He had beaten a demonic Genie who tried to sell him love in return for a soul. Blimey, is finding love that much to ask?