The Dark Somnium - I Have a Strange Job, These Are Some Of My Clients

Episode Date: May 19, 2024

This Creepypasta scary story is a submission, sent to me by Ananth Ram. Let me know what you think of this story and if you would like to see more like it!Special thanks to  @DusklightRadio  and  @RomNex  for joining me in this! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Luke sucks at soccer, I have to admit it. I know as a dad that's a terrible thing to say. My eight-year-old son is much better at math than running around dribbling the ball on a soccer field, but he has the time of his life every time he steps on the field, his enthusiasm often rubbing off on his teammates, and sometimes even the coach. Whether it's a practice session during the weekdays or a game on the weekends, Luke gives it as all, even if the end result is not to his liking. Today would be a good example of that.

His team, the Trailblazers, was defeated 0 to 7. So it has become customary for me to treat sulking Luke to an ice cream at his favorite joint after every Sunday game, where he would go over the game specifics in the hopes that a change of tactics would lead to a change of outcome in the next game. His attention however changed midway when he saw a large limousine stop at a construction site nearby. Tad, do you drive one of those? He asked, looking at me.

I wasn't surprised at the question, since I work as a driver for a car rental agency, but we no longer had those stretch limousines at our shop anymore. Its popularity had waned over the years, and a lot of traveling businessmen now find them tacky, at least in the New York financial circles. Nobody, but your grandpa did. In fact, he used to pick me up from school in that car often, and we used to go on long drives.

I would like to travel in that too someday. Luke replied, his eyes still fixed on the car. Well, maybe you can take your date to prom in that thing in a few years. I said, smiling, while Luke shriveled his nose and mock disgust. The side of the limousine brought about mixed feelings in me. My dad, Henry Pritchard, walked out of my life when I was ten years old, and I never saw him again. One fine day, he told me that he was traveling abroad for a little while, and emphasized that I was to be the man of the house until he got back.

He also instructed me that I should take good care of mom until he returned. As I peered through the window from my room, I saw Dad wave at me one last time before boarding a red-colored stretch limousine outside our home. I never saw or heard from him again. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I felt my phone ring in my pocket. It was from my boss, Gary. Hey, Matt, we got a new booking today. Big fish, by the looks of it.

He's booked us for the whole month. Assisted on you being the wheelman. Said you came highly recommended. Think you can handle it for the entire time? Sure, boss. Just tell me when and where. Great. Take good care of him, Matt.

He might just tip you a sack of gold. Oh, and take Roy out for a spin. He added before ending the call. Roy, a custom-ordered Rolls-Roy's Phantom, is our best car at the rental agency. He is reserved exclusively for our top clients. Gary and I visited the manufacturers and spent a few days meticulously selecting every detail for Roy, from Arctic white leather seats to discrete bulletproofing, wood veneers, to upholstery, and every other amenity to achieve the best blend of luxury and security. Gary and I go back a long

way. In fact, he was best friends with my dad, and they both used to work for the same rental agency. Gary is also my godfather, and when my dad went missing, he went the extra mile to fill the void in my life. I developed a rebellious streak in my early teens, angry that dad had abandoned me and mom as a family. For the first few months after his disappearance, I made it a point to peek at the window every day, sometimes for hours, hoping he would eventually turn up. A habit that never stopped, and still continues subconsciously to this day, although I know better now. However, back then, it eventually turned to anger, and Mom had a difficult time controlling me as a kid. My grades started falling.

I would pick fights with children in school. And I even tried my luck being an errand boy for drug peddlers in my neighborhood. Gary had to intervene and introduced me to his love for basketball and driving. He took me on long drives once every month for an entire year and showed me around the countryside. It felt like a soothing bomb for the wounded soul. But my happiest moment came when I was in attendance at the stadium with Gary, and Tino Martinez's Grand Slam in 98 unfolded right in front of our eyes. We all went delirious with joy at the stadium, as I found myself hugging and celebrating with random strangers. That experience changed my life,

and I emerged transformed as a person. Gary also obtained a sign jersey and cap from the players during his time chauffeering them on tours, presenting it to me as a birthday gift. It remains my most prized possession. And when he started his own rental agency, I joined him as soon as I was finished with school and have been working for him ever since. My childhood experiences motivated me to be the best dad I could to my kid. Since his mother was no longer with us, I always went the extra mile to ensure he had a supportive and loving environment.

I tried to inculcate in Luke my love for driving and baseball, but the kid gravitated towards soccer. Fortunately, we still do share a common love for cars, and he always looks forward to long drives on weekends. My mind got diverted again when I heard my phone beep. Gary had just sent me the details about the next client. I dropped Luke at home and went to the office garage to take Roy out for a spin. A couple of hours later, I arrived at the address I had been provided.

situated a little bit on the outskirts of the city. I got there half an hour ahead of time. I parked my car near a diner and noticed a large man standing by the entrance, dressed in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit. He appeared to be in his early 50s, around 6'4 in height, with broad shoulders and a heavy set build. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed.

He casually smoked a cigar while holding a walking stick in his other hand, adorned with a prominent, goat-shaped carving at the top. Mr. Thomas Devlin? I inquired as I stepped out of the car. He nodded, extending his hand while clenching the cigar in his mouth. And you must be mad. He declared with a booming, baritone voice. I could see a couple of gold teeth glint in the dark as he flashed a warm smile.

Yes, sir. I'm Matt Pritchard, your chauffeur for the evening. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. I inquired, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. despite being ahead of schedule. No, young man. I usually like to stretch my legs and enjoy a cigar after a fine meal. He said, pointing to the diner behind him.

Mr. Devlin looked a peculiar sight in this neighborhood, especially with the diner in the backdrop. Everything about him screamed money, so it did make me wonder why someone of his affluence would choose to visit this place at this hour. But I could also sense an undeniable. toughness in him, the kind of man who wouldn't hesitate to get down and dirty if the need arose. A few minutes later, Mr. Devlin suggested we hit the road, and I promptly opened the car door, allowing him to ease into the back seat. When I took my position behind the wheel, he handed me

a gold card, which was the size of a normal government ID, but much thicker. It had a red trident symbol embosed on both ends. As I looked at it, confused, he told me to simply place it. on the GPS screen. I did as I was told, and the navigation system immediately sprang to life, displaying a new set of coordinates. Mr. Devlin realized my lingering confusion as I continued to stare at the card that was stuck to the screen. Probably a hidden chip embedded in that thing.

He joked from the back seat, his teeth glinting as I looked in the rearview mirror. I quickly nodded in acknowledgement and began driving. As we navigated through the city, Mr. Devlin shared that he was based out of Chicago and was currently in the city for a new business venture. He was not much of a conversationalist, but instead showed more interests in my life, inquiring about my job and family. It struck me as somewhat unusual for a businessman of his nature to delve into a chauffeur's experiences. He particularly relished the humorous stories I recounted revolving Luke, often breaking into a smile. While chauffeurs typically have anecdotes on hand for bored clients,

Mr. Devlin appeared genuinely intrigued by my life, almost as if he was using it as an opportunity to evaluate me. The navigation system then finally beeped to signal our arrival at the location. A newly opened, grand hotel loomed just a few feet away. "'Yes, sir, your card.' I said as I retrieved the gold card from the screen and turned around in my seat to hand it to him. "'Keep it, Matt. It's your tip for the evening.

Don't worry, it's genuine. He chuckled as he noticed me glancing at the gold card a little longer than necessary. And consider it a ticket, not a card. Mr. Devlin fell silent for a moment, remaining seated in contemplation as he gazed in my direction before speaking again. Matt, I have a proposition for you. Would you be interested in hearing me out? He suddenly asked. Sure, Mr. Devlin.

What do you have in mind? I'm looking for a driver I can rely on. Your name came recommended from a former client of yours whose judgment I trust. I was told that you're good at your job, professional, always on time, know your way around the city, and that you're discreet about the clients your chauffeur. Would you accept that as an accurate assessment of yourself? Yes, sir, that would be correct. Good.

So here's what I have in mind. I need you to chauffeur my clients for the next 30 days. The details of the pickup will be texted to your phone every day at 7 p.m. sharp. All you have to do is pick them up and drop them at the coordinates provided to you. That is all. Nothing more. Similar to how it happened between us today. A gold ticket will be given to you at the start of each drop,

and that would be your payment for services rendered. I hope I have been clear. thus far? He stopped midway to ask me. I simply nodded back. Excellent. Now, I have three conditions you need to religiously adhere to. One, if you agree to take on this job, you cannot walk out midway. You need to see it through. Two, under no circumstances are you to participate or involve yourself in whatever activity the passengers may be engaged in. Your job, is to solely chauffeur them. And once you have dropped them at the designated location, you are to return back.

There is no need for you to wait to pick them up again. 3. You have to be discreet about this job, which means nobody else can know about it. That would include your boss or any other colleagues in your agency. These are the only three rules you need to follow. Furthermore, payment to your company has already been settled in full for the business. proposed deals duration, covering fuel costs and exclusively booking your services as a driver. So, you do not have to worry about other commitments either.

I need you to concentrate only on the job at hand. Are we clear? He asked, pausing again to await my response. I nodded in understanding, although I was beginning to get wary about what was on offer. The more the man spoke, the more I began to watch. wonder if I would be getting into some kind of trouble. Sir, I need to ask, does this job involve any dealings with the gray areas of the law? I inquired delicately.

Mr. Devlin paused for a moment before speaking. Maybe. Maybe not. But I can assure you this. You will not get into any kind of legal trouble. I trust you've been a chauffeur long enough to know when to look the other way. treat this job like any other and you'll be just fine. I felt a sense of unease over the entire thing and started slowly shaking my head when Mr. Devlin said,

Look, Matt, there's no need to rush your decision. If your answer is no, just keep it to yourself for now and you can simply text me a decision tomorrow. My suggestion to you is to take the night to mull things over. It's good, easy money you can make in a month. He can probably use it to buy something nice for your kid. However, there is no pressure from my side. Your employer will not receive bad feedback from me if you choose to reject this offer. So, I'll leave it entirely up to you.

I nodded back at him, smiling. I'm grateful that he was open and direct with me. All right then. I guess it's time to get back on my feet. He said, has he prepared to get out? I quickly got out of the vehicle to open the door for him. Mr. Devlin shook my hand and started his walk to the hotel. I saw him slowly climb the stairs and enter through the doors of the newly built Trident

Regency Hotel. The following day, just like I was told, I received a text on my phone at 7 p.m. sharp. It gave the location of the pickup and also reminded me to be on time. I sat down and looked at the gold ticket that was lying on my bedside table, Picking it up, I examined it closely, feeling its weight in my hand as I patted it on my palm. It would certainly be worth a considerable chunk of money, especially if I was to come into possession of another thirty of them. Plus, the elegantly embosed from ruby-encrusted trident on both sides of the card was only

going to add to its value. On one hand, I had a bad feeling about this, knowing full well the client from last night could be involved in a questionable line of work. but I also saw this as an opportunity to make some quick money. It's only a month-long gig, requiring a few hours of driving each day. I could easily be making two or three times my annual salary within that time frame, maybe even more once I get to know exactly how much these cards are worth. I mean, how that could it really get?

I asked myself when I really thought about it. I might be required to drive people to an illegal gambling joint or take a VIP client to his favorite hooker in the middle of the night. No one is going to hire a premium car service to indulge in petty crime, I reasoned. My eyes then shifted toward my son Luke, who was immersed in his studies. He was busy tackling a new math problem, and that made me break into a smile. He was probably the only kid in the world who liked the idea of homework. Give him a few books that pique his interest, and he'll need to be constantly reminded to eat.

Maybe I could sell the tickets and deposit the proceeds in a bank, leave it untouched for a few years, letting it slowly collect interest over time, and when Luke gets older, the money could come in handy to pay for college, I thought. The more I contemplated, the more I wanted to take on this job. So I replied back, saying that I would be there. I got ready and dressed and was out the door in 20 minutes. Before leaving, I reached out to my regular babysitter, Jennifer, who lives with her family on the same floor of the apartment just next to ours.

She is very fond of Luke and agrees to keep an eye on him whenever I am away for work. I got in my car and instructed Little Roy to be on his best behavior for the night. Starting the car, I rolled out of my apartment building towards my pickup spot. Upon reaching the venue, my attention was immediately drawn to a man dressed like a clown, carrying a duffel bag slung across his shoulder. When our eyes met, I realized that he was my fare for the night. the designated passenger I was meant to pick up. The clown opened the door and sat in the back seat.

He reached into his jacket and handed me his ticket. I could see his knuckles were bruised, giving me the impression he was involved in some kind of brawl recently. Great start, Matt. I thought to myself. I received the ticket from him and placed it on the GPS screen, and it immediately started relaying a new set of coordinates. The odd thing with this new arrangement is that it doesn't reveal the destination before, Instead, all you get are directions for the next 150 feet ahead of you.

The blue line on the screen updates only as much as the movement your car makes while driving. I thought the whole thing was a little bizarre, but the ticket was doing its magic, dangling itself like a carrot in front of me every time I tried to wrestle with reason. I quickly glanced at the rear view mirror to take a look at my passenger. He looked tired and worn out, and was resting his head on the headrest. Despite the heavy makeup, his face bore visible wounds. Even by clown standards, I thought the outfit was unusual and weird. Instead of the rainbow-colored wig, he was wearing a wavy white one, reminiscent of those

barristers in British courts. There was also a neckband jutting out from his outfit that people usually associate with lawyers. What was this guy up to? I thought to myself, as the clown simply rested in the back seat of the car, whistling softly while tapping his fingers rhythmically on the duffel bag, like he was getting ready to put on a show. A couple of minutes later, the system beeped abruptly to signal the arrival at a certain Rosa pharmacy, which was located on the opposite side of the road. The clown thanked me for the ride and stepped out of the car.

He stretched for a moment and then opened his duffel bag to remove a bugle. He dug his right hand into his pocket to retrieve a knucklebuster and put it on. The oncoming traffic suddenly came to a standstill. still, to make way for the clown as he crossed the road, playing his bugle and twirling his arm raised in the air. The commuters cursed him as they passed by, but he remained unfazed and continued moving forward. The clown then rolled his hand into a fist and pointed it at the guy working behind the counter in the pharmacy.

The employee just stared back from the storefront window. His face had gone white, and he immediately bent down to probably reach for a gun. the clown was prepared and suddenly took off into a sprint. He threw away the bugle and rushed into the pharmacy, catching the customers inside by surprise. The employee by this time had retrieved a shotgun, but only just barely, as the clown caught him by the collar of his shirt and banged his head against the counter. He then dragged the hapless employee to his side of the shop and yanked the shotgun away from his grasp. The clown aimed the shotgun in the air and fired at once, suggesting to the customers that they would be wise to flee.

He then aimed the weapon directly at the employee's face as he waited for the people to run. I could see him speaking something animatedly to the employee, but I was too far away to pick up any of it. Once the people had cleared out, he emptied the shotgun and threw it behind the counter. The clown then picked up the employee and started repeatedly punching him in the face. I watched in both horror and amazement as he caught hold of the guy's shirt and started pushing him forcefully. They both ram themselves into the storefront window. shattering it and spilling onto the pavement. The clown swiftly rose to his feet and began pummeling the employee again, who lay sprawled on the sidewalk. Each time he raised his brass

knuckle-fitted hand into the air, he looked skyward, as if inquiring with the gods above, Are you happy? Is this enough? Before delivering another blow, and he kept repeating it again and again. The cars on the road just sped past him, momentarily blocking my view of the event from unfolding. reminiscent of a flickering tube light illuminating a dark space in momentary bursts. And when the clown's fist did make contact, it was like a streak of lightning determinedly hitting its intended target. I watched the whole thing completely transfixed, unable to move, mind or muscle. I jolted back to my senses only when a large vehicle suddenly parked itself in front of the

pharmacy, completely blocking my view. Up until then, it felt as if I'd been in a trance. I immediately started my car and sped off. As I continued driving, my mind struggled to even recollect if the vehicle on scene was a patrol car or an ambulance or simply another taxi. The surreal nature of the encounter left me unsettled, questioning the motives and actions of the unpredictable clown. Despite driving in circles for the next 20 minutes, I eventually found myself back at the

exact spot where I had left Mr. Devlin the previous night. I brought the car to a stop, but kept the engine running while I continued to stare at the hotel, located a mere 50 feet away from me. Maybe I should head up those stairs and meet Mr. Devlin and communicate to him in person that I'm not interested in this job anymore, or I could just ask my boss Gary to cancel the order. He would definitely understand if I said the gig was risky and wouldn't probe me for details. Every instinct in me warned that I should pack my bags and lay low for a while. On any given day, I would have done that, but I felt something awakened in me when I saw that clown

in the pharmacy, and I couldn't understand what it was. I hadn't felt this alive in years, and I struggled to shake it off. At the same time, I could also sense an overwhelming cacophony of contradictory voices in my head simultaneously coming to life, each fighting the other to gain the upper hand on who gets to dictate my future course of action. So what are we waiting for, Matt? You saw the clown at work. How he went to town and made the world his own circus.

How much more of a warning do you need? But you have a deal to honor here, Matt, and you have a duty to see it through. You didn't hurt anybody. You did nothing wrong here. The clown would have gone through with this plan anyway, even if you hadn't taken up this job. Oh, so this is how we're going to rationalize the events of this evening, are we? Would you consider taking a job knowing you'd be driving for smugglers dealing with stolen body parts? or offering your services to a group that kidnaps kids as they return home from school?

These are extreme examples, Matt, and are being dished out to screw with your head. Don't overthink this. This world isn't a fair place. We all know that. Sometimes we've got to make the best use of the opportunities that come our way. Remember, you have a kid you need to take care of. You have seen how smart Luke is. He could be a doctor or an engineer someday.

How else are you going to arrange the money for his college tuition? You swore to yourself the day you held Luke in your arms for the first time, you would be present in his life and not abandon him like your father did to you. Wow, this is low even for you, Matt. To drag your father and kid into a mess of your own making, did you ever stop to consider that you could land yourself in prison over this? If day one could be this dramatic, what do you think will follow in the days to come? Are you planning on becoming father of the year from behind bars while your kid grows up in foster care? Do you think the little bookworm can survive the bullying from kids twice his size?

Why don't you just admit it, Matt, that you liked what you saw back there, and that somewhere deep within you, there was a flaw in your moral character? I shut down the car and closed my eyes, resting my forehead on the steering wheel, trying to desperately filter out all the noise. I took deep, long breaths as I tried to steady my mind. A little while later, I leaned back in my seat and attempted to think things through again from scratch. One night, just one more night, I said to myself, and if things don't change for the better, we're calling it quits no matter what. I finally decided a few minutes later.

I started the car again and raced for home to get ready for the next day. When the clock struck seven the following day, I was already sitting in my car and started the vehicle to head to the location. While approaching the pickup point, I spotted a solitary, tall figure near a bus stop in the distance. Upon getting closer, I discovered that my passenger for the night was none other than Batman. As I stopped my car and looked across the window, I saw the man's cape fluttering gracefully in the wind, casting a dramatic silhouette against the backdrop of the city skyline. Batman then opened the door and sat in the back seat of my car. "'Gotham City?' I asked, looking into the rearview mirror and offering half a smile. I knew my feeble attempt at humor was.

not going to cut it with him, but I needed to assess the new customer if I was to somehow try and prevent a repeat of last night. Someone's getting real comfortable. Batman growled back with a scow while handing me the golden ticket he held in his hand. He then leaned back and looked at the road ahead in silence. I placed the card on the navigation system and started driving, deciding to remain quiet for the remainder of the journey. As the minutes passed, the man masquerading as Batman slowly began to begin to.

to exude a certain kind of warmth, almost reluctant to admit that he was having a decent time. A wry smile even appeared on his face as he relaxed to the rhythm of New York's evening traffic, silently observing people go about their daily lives. From friends laughing at each other's jokes in the sidelines, to people enjoying a quiet meal at a bistro, to commentators getting involved in heated disputes with one another, and lovers simply sitting on a bench holding hands, he soaked it all in. with a quiet sense of detachment. I inwardly heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Hopefully, Batman won't just suddenly barge out of the car mid-traffic, chasing after gangsters in a deserted alley. I also turned on the radio to play some music to further soothe the atmosphere. In a matter of minutes, both Batman and I were bobbing our heads, slowly jiving to the beat of a soaring jazz number. Though I had no idea about who the artist was, I could somehow feel the lingering edge from the last night, slowly wearing off, when suddenly I was distracted by a beep from the navigation system.

I figured we had finally reached our destination, and I gently slowed down the car to a halt, but my heart began to race again when I realized I'd stopped the vehicle just outside a police station. Before I could utter another word, Batman was already out the door. Keep the car running, he said, looking back as he crossed the road to get to the police station. I saw two police officers standing outside the precinct, drinking coffee and looking engrossed in conversation. Their attention quickly turned towards the Cape Crusader, as he gently bowed his head while walking

past them, offering a quick two-finger salute that caused both officers to break into a grin. One of the policemen then looked in my direction, winking and smiling at me, as if signaling to mention the arrival of this week's weirdo amongst our midst. I cursed under my breath, kicking my feet around the car while pretending to smile back at the officer. A policeman had spotted me, and the last thing I needed right now was to spend a night in a jail cell. All I can say with certainty was that this version of Batman is not looking to pay a courtesy visit to his old pal Gordon. I kept the engine running, with my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, wondering if I should just quietly drive away. But my body had already frozen, and a part of me actually.

wanted to wait and see what was going to happen, and that scared me even more. I scanned the surrounding buildings, looking for cameras, and to my dismay, I found them everywhere. I felt like they had been specifically installed just to keep an eye on me. Then when I looked across the road to steal a glance at the precinct again, I found the same officer staring at me while his buddy was busy answering a phone call. He had a curious look on his face, as if he was trying to connect the dots to a possible problem. I suddenly felt a pit form in my stomach. When I heard loud noises emanate from the police building behind him, the screams of

people echoed through the air as unknown objects crashed and shattered to the floor. The officer briefly glanced back before fixing his gaze on my panic-stricken face, finally connecting the dots. He pointed his hand at me, looked me in the eye, and sternly yelled, Stay. Soon after, gunshots also echoed from within the precinct. Both officers swiftly drew their weapons and charged toward the police building. Guns pointed forward, and everything began to unfold in slow motion from that very moment before my own eyes. As they reached for the door, a colossal ball of fire erupted from the building, obliterating everything in its path.

The explosion sent shockwaves, tearing the two men's bodies to shreds. One officer's head soared 30 feet in the air, landed on the bonnet of my car before bouncing off to hit the the lamp post adjacent to me, and finally settling in the dead space between my car and the vehicle in front. It belonged to the policeman who had smiled at me only a minute earlier, and now his haunting, lifeless gaze sent me into a panicked frenzy. I quickly put the car in reverse, only to hit the car behind me, setting off its siren. My senses suddenly snapped back to real time. It was as if the clock had been sped up and I finally started to experience the chaotic atmosphere around me. The branches of the trees around the precinct had caught fire. The sirens of

multiple cars blared in unison while the people nearby were scared senseless, ducking helplessly for cover. I quickly tried to compose myself again, before trying to swerve to the right as much as possible to avoid from running over the severed head in front of me. But I wound up chipping it from the side, causing the head to roll inwards and catch the full impact of my rear will. Whincing and disgust, I struggled to steady my trembling hands while gripping the steering wheel. Once I cleared a couple of blocks and the nerves began to finally settle, I could already see visions of the police breaking into my home and cuffing my hands in front of my kid. What was going to happen to my son?

He's got nowhere else in the world. I thought to myself, my mind fraught with worry. I drove around the city aimless for the next 20 minutes, contemplating the increasing likelihood of my own incarceration. Going to the police on my own accord made no sense. They wouldn't believe my story anyway. I'd probably be tagged as an accomplice to the crime, and honestly, that wouldn't surprise me. Then there was Mr. Devlin himself, and that wretched deal of his that I also needed to

sit and worry about. Surely I'm not going to go through with the rest of it now, and he's not going to be pleased over it either. I thought it would be best to probably lay low for a while until this all blew over. So I ditched my cell and stopped at a convenience store along the way to get a new burner phone. I reached my apartment at last and quickly stuffed some clothes into a bag. I woke up Luke who was fast asleep on his bed and made him get dressed. We then sat in the car and headed for Philly, where I thought I could crash at a friend's place

for a couple of days before thinking about my next move. An old buddy of mine since high school, Eric Gunther, who had moved to Philadelphia for work, reaching out to him felt like a good idea. By the time I reached Eric's home, it was already four in the morning. He was surprised to see me at his doorstep, with Luke's sound asleep and resting on my shoulder, and immediately knew I was in some kind of trouble. He ushered me in and cleared the spare room for the two of us. Eric and I agreed to get some rest first and talk things over in the morning.

After gently laying down on the bed without waking him, I settled into a rocking chair nearby. As I leaned back, the exhaustion washed over me. And I immediately drifted to sleep. When I woke up, I took a moment to realize I was still at Eric's place. I checked my watch, and it was already 8 a.m. I then glanced at the bed next to me and realized Luke was already up. He's probably hungry, or Eric's already made something for him, I thought. I could hear the TV playing from the living room.

I slowly got up from the chair and walked to the hall, still groggy from last night. My legs suddenly buckled and I hit the floor hard. Eric's severed head lay skewered on a pitchfork erected in the middle of the living room. I tried to get up, but my legs buckled again. I crawled all the way to his room like a dog and opened the door. I caught hold of the wall and pulled myself up, finally standing straight, and found my old friend's headless body laying on the bed. I puked my guts out right there. I suddenly remembered Luke.

He was nowhere in sight. I got up and searched every nook and cranny of the apartment, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the cupboards, under the bed, the attic everywhere. He was nowhere to be found, and he was not the sort of kid to run off on his own. I then went and started to check the other apartments in the building, including the terrace, and could find no trace of him. I finally remembered the basement where I had parked the car, and I immediately rushed to look for him there.

As I reached the entrance to the basement, I saw droplets of blood. in the parking area, and it led all the way to the trunk of my car. My heart started pounding in my chest as I walked slowly, fearing the absolute worst. Once I reached the car, with trepidation, I opened the trunk and slowly peered in. There, dead center, lay my burner phone, the one I had purchased the previous night. As soon as I picked it up, it vibrated in my hand, revealing a new set of coordinates. Coordinates pointing to my own address. I shut the trunk and immediately started my drive back to New York. I drove as fast as possible and rushed to my apartment to the moment I reached the city.

When I opened the door to Luke's room, I heaved a huge sigh of relief to see him with Jennifer, who was helping him with his lessons. I sank into a couch in the hall, teetering almost on the verge of a breakdown. I think Jennifer somehow realized my state of mind and excused herself before leaving for her apartment. She also goaded Luke to come sit next to his dad. He came and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head on my chest. An overwhelming avalanche of guilt engulfed me as I sat there thinking about my friend Eric,

while also experiencing a feeling of intense relief upon seeing that my son was safe. Luke recalled me waking him up in the middle of the night, but he dismissed it as a dream, as he eventually woke up in his own bed. He gestured towards a sealed envelope placed on the center table just a couple of feet away from us. When I picked the envelope, I noticed the wax seal had a trident symbol and bowsed on it. I ripped it open and took out the letter. It read, We had a deal. Get back to your regular life.

Don't worry about the cops. A simmering rage gradually took hold within me. I wanted to get up and break every item in my apartment. Luke's embrace was the only thing. comforting antidote that prevented me from releasing all that pent-up frustration. So I simply closed the letter and proceeded to get along with my daily chores. I showered, bought groceries, cooked and cleaned, and then took Luke out for soccer practice. We were back home by six, and I went about getting ready for my next appointment. Once I was dressed, I simply sat in the

living room, looking at the phone placed on the table, waiting for it to go off. And at 7 p.m. sharp, I got the coordinates for my next pickup. I got off the couch, headed for the liquor cabinet, and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon. After taking a big swig from it, I sat in the car and tossed the bottle onto the adjacent seat. As the engine purred to life, I hit the streets and got ready to pick up my new passenger for the night. The person I was supposed to ride with for tonight turned out to be Gandhi. When I arrived at the designated spot, I saw him dressed in a traditional loincloth with

a shawl wrapped around his torso. Gandhi placed his walking stick on his lap, after settling into his seat, and remained nonchalant as he observed me taking another swig of bourbon. I pressed the gas pedal as soon as he closed the door and started driving towards the drop point. When I eventually slowed the car down at a stoplight, I saw a patrol car parked along the sidewalk. Their presence immediately reminded me of the sealed envelope. I then lowered my window and hollered at the officers seated inside the car, and they waved back in acknowledgement. I took two large gulps of bourbon in front of them, but I was a little taken aback when they ignored me, even though my car was a mere 10 feet away from theirs. Next, I dangled my arm outside the window and started pouring the alcohol onto the

street. When even that was ignored, I banged the bottle against the door of the car, continuing to empty its contents onto the road as I kept staring at the cops with a smile on my face. I became livid when the officer simply smiled back at me and then continued their private conversation. In a fit of anger, I got out of the car and threw the bottle at their vehicle, where it hit the bonnet and shattered to the ground, finally grabbing their complete attention. However, I stood there in stunned silence when I saw the cops searching for the culprit in every possible direction except mine, while I was standing a mere three feet away from them. The officer pushed me away and continued to search for the culprit.

They looked ahead, they looked back, and then to the sides, even underneath the car. They glanced at the upper floors of the nearby buildings to check for potential mischief makers. The officers then went on to even ask why I was staring at them and ordered me to get back to my car. During this entire episode, Gandhi sat in silence in the back seat, his face betraying no emotion or acknowledgement. And then the light turned green, giving me the go-ahead to keep driving straight, as per the GPS system. I instead took a sharp right turn and started going off course from the required destination. I pressed the pedal as the car quickly began to pick up speed. 50 miles per hour, 70, 80.

I swerved dangerously every now and then to avoid colliding into other cars, even though I knew I had a passenger I was responsible for in the back seat. Who even was this person to begin with? He looked more Japanese than Indian anyway. Was even really Gandhi? I looked in my rearview mirror and we locked eyes. In that moment, I felt the anger in me dissipate, and I couldn't understand why. Things could get even worse than they are now.

I slowed the car down to a stop and turned back to look at him. He had his sight fixed on the window, looking outside and lost in thought. Although he seemed very much aware of his surroundings, What on earth is going on here? I asked him, feeling helpless and unable to keep the bitterness away from my voice. What sort of madness are we part of? Japanese Gandhi continued to observe the passing scenery without offering an answer. He simply pointed forward as if he wanted me to keep driving.

That was all he would offer as he continued to stare outside. I sighed deeply and turned around in my seat, feeling disappointed. I started the car and slowly got back on the current route. Once we reached the location, I saw a fair number of people assembled at a square, which was odd considering how late it was. There was also a small crew of people holding cameras and reporting from the scene. I removed the ticket from the GPS screen and threw it outside. I then dug into my shirt pocket and removed all the other tickets I had collected so far and

threw them out as well. They quickly submerged from view as people walked over them, blending into the activity at the square. As the reporters clicked away at their cameras, I wondered what would happen if I suddenly jumped out of the car right now, but naked holding a machine gun. Would the crowd only notice me and not the gun I was holding in my hand? Will I continue to have the same kind of selective invisibility that I had a few minutes back?

While these bizarre thoughts lingered in my head, Japanese Gandhi, meanwhile, had already stepped out from the car and slowly strode towards the square, holding his walking stick at hip level, treating it like a samurai sword. As I began turning my car around the block to head home, I observed him shift his grip on the stick, raising it horizontally to chest height and then pulled at it, to unsheath what appeared to be a long sword. I no longer felt any interest in watching the event, except for sadness for what would follow shortly.

Before navigating the corner, I glanced at my rear. of Yomir one last time, and saw Gandhi had his sword raised above his head like a warrior and charged into a group of people protesting peacefully over gun violence. I simply drove back in silence. After getting back home a few hours later, I realized Luke had already gone to sleep. I felt a profound gratitude towards Jennifer for watching over him during my work hours. When I finally entered my room and turned on the light, I found all the discarded golden tickets lying on my bedside table. They had somehow mysteriously found their way back into the

house. Frankly, I wasn't surprised anymore, nor did I have any fuel left to feel another round of emotions for the day. I laid down on my bed and fell fast asleep. Over the next few days, I chauffured all sorts of clients. There was a woman who was dressed like a bird with large wings attached to her back. I drove her around New York for two hours, where she would stop by very places to feed pigeons, and she would sing for them, before finally stopping at the Manhattan Bridge, only to suddenly jump into the water. There was another case where I had to wait outside the hospital. A surgeon stepped out of the building, still dressed in scrubs.

As he approached me, he threw away his mask, gloves, and even the shoes he was wearing and climbed into the car barefoot. We drove for many hours, well beyond the outskirts of the city, to finally stop at a train station in a small town located in the middle of nowhere. He boarded one of the coaches of a goods train and simply lay on his back as the train began to depart. I could see a couple of scalples jutting out of his pocket. God only knows what kind of havoc he was about to wreak in some remote corner of America. Then there was a case where I dropped different people in the same farmland one at a time over the period of five days. They dressed themselves as cowboys, a red Native American,

a Confederate soldier, and an African-American slave, respectively, while the last one turned up as a former U.S. president. They waited patiently for all members to arrive at the farm, and the moment George Washington set foot on the ground, the guns were out for what would be a duel to the death. By this point, I'd become accustomed to any kind of unpredictability from my passengers, but I kept stacking up the tickets as the days went by. The initial anger that I had nursed in me had died down by this point, and I had to have I simply became numb and hollow from the inside.

All I could think of was to get through this ordeal and get back to my regular life. I still hoped that would be a possibility for me. And the last day finally did arrive, where I would chauffeur my 30th and hopefully last customer of this month-long nightmare. I was already sitting in my car with my eyes closed, holding a phone, and it buzzed as usual at 7 p.m. Once I figured out my new destination, I started the car and braced me. myself for a final ride, wondering what was in store.

When I reached the Guggenheim Museum, I could see a small crowd of people returning from a party. The attendees, a mix of men and women spanning various ages, were impeccably dressed in fashionable attire, and I wondered how I would be able to find my passenger for the night. Amidst the sea of faces, a young woman in a vibrant red dress caught my eye, an elegant pearl necklace adorned around her neck, capturing the subtle glow of strength. streetlights, and her expressive eyes suggested a depth of mystery to her. Her artfully arranged hair added to the overall allure, and a ring on her finger, likely a ruby, added a touch of opulence to her already captivating presence. I started the car and slowly drove to the point

where she was standing. Our eyes met, and she instantly broke into a warm smile. Hi, Matthew. She said, gesturing at me to remain seated as she settled into the car. taking the seat next to me. She retrieved a gold ticket, placed it on the screen, and leaned back while launching into a smile again as she looked at me. I gazed straight ahead and started to drive without acknowledging her. The last thing I need right now is to be hoodwinked by a sultry siren. I thought. Fine. She said, remaining unfazed by my stoic response as she began fixing her makeup. We have a long night ahead of us anyway. You can take your time to get to know me if you want. My name is Pamela.

You can call me Pam when you become increasingly fond of me. I ignored her comment and drove in silence for the next 20 minutes, but my heart slowly started to flutter again when I became increasingly familiar with the route I was on. I realized we were driving straight back to Mr. Devlin's hotel. As the navigation system beeped, I brought the car to a stop, and the new Trident Regency came into view, located just a few meters away. When she saw the look of confusion on my face, Pamela quickly responded. You are my date for tonight, Matthew.

Didn't you know? She asked with an air of innocence. No, Miss Pamela, that can't be right. I'm only a chauffeur. This was my last job on the day. I said, a little lost for words as I tried to process the unexpected turn of events. Pamela flashed a mischievous smile and casually continued. Well, Matt, and let's make your last day a memorable one.

Shall we? Now get going. We can't be late. She said, looking into a compact mirror while adjusting her hair, even as I sat still in my seat. Come on, Matt. Go and check your trunk. She said, a sense of urgency in her tone. I approached my trunk, uncertain of what awaited me. Upon opening it, I discovered a new tuxedo, neatly folded in packing paper. Reluctantly, I tried it on, and, to my surprise, found it to be a perfect fit, even earning a nod of approval from Pamela herself. She quickly leaned in closer to fix my hair at the sides and then wrapped her arm around mine, causing me to flinch slightly. When is it, Maddie? Haven't you ever felt a woman's touch before? She asked, looking me in the eyes, mischief apparent in her voice.

Well, she's not entirely wrong. I haven't been with another woman since Luke's mother died at childbirth. Life got in the way, I guess. But I hardly doubt unsatiated lust as a factor is at play here, when compared to all the events that transpired over the last month. Observing me getting lost in my thoughts, Pamela gently nudged me in the ribs. Hey, don't space out on me, Matt. We are going to have fun tonight. I promise. Oh, I don't doubt that, I said, nodding an acknowledgement.

Excellent. She replied excitedly. As the two of us climbed the stairs to enter through the doors of the Trident residency. This was my first time setting foot inside the place, and my initial impression was a dominance of the color red. My eyes immediately darted towards a sharp-looking Trident logo on the reception wall, while the expanse of lobby boasted gleaming red Italian marbles, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and old-world charm.

Pamela directed me towards the elevator, where a peculiar-looking figure was a peculiar-looking figure was already waiting. He sported a hat and a large trench coat, his face concealed by a mask and black goggles. He was standing with a file neatly tucked under his arm. Once the elevator door opened, we all stepped inside. The display panel revealed that the building had around 50 floors in total. Floors 40 and above were restricted to the general public. Pamela utilized her ruby ring as a key, inserting it into a slot next to the display and pressed 40. The masked man pressed 41, repeating the process with his own ring. More and more people entered the elevator as it ascended, bringing us all closer together.

However, the higher it went, the quicker people vacated it, finally leaving only the three of us as we now entered the restricted zone. The man with the mask stood just inches from me. When his floor arrived, he stepped out, turned toward me and Pamela, and bowed once more before heading off again. My attention, though, was more focused on the narrow corridor I saw in front of me. It was filled with hundreds of people dressed just like him, their faces covered, with all of them holding onto a file.

They were seated in a row of chairs that stretched farther than the eye could see. Before I knew it, the elevator door closed again. Who are these people? What on earth is this place? I began to ask myself. When the doors opened again, I was looking at a large hall. with hundreds of people seated at tables busy playing cards. Pamela seized my arm, leading us into the hall,

where the manager promptly escorted us to a pair of vacant seats at a table. Where are we? What's going on? I asked Pamela, bewildered by the situation. We're going to play a round of poker, Matt. But I don't have any money. We don't use money here, Matt. That was when I grasped it for the first time, noticing the gold tickets neatly stacked at every table.

But I don't have my money. with me. Don't be silly, Matt. What do you think that is? Pamela asked, smiling and pointing to my right. To my utter shock, my stash of gold tickets had magically appeared out of nowhere and was resting on the table in front of me. I could already feel my head spinning with beads of sweat forming on my forehead, even as we

sat in the air-conditioned room. When I pulled out my pocket square from the tuxedo, a small slip of paper fell onto my lap. I picked it up and opened it. The message read, Don't spend the tickets. The note also caught Pamela's attention as she grabbed it from my hand, and I saw her eyes widening in surprise as well.

Before she could utter another word, I abruptly stood up from my seat and dashed towards the hall entrance. Once inside the elevator, I started pressing the buttons for the lower floors and realized the ring was needed for activation. Pamela arrived at the elevator entrance with a couple of security guards by her. her side. She had an annoyed look on her face and was about to direct her guards at me. Just

then, I noticed a button lighting up on the display, marked D, the topmost floor of the building. Pamela noticed this, too, from the display on the outside. As the doors sealed shut, I caught a curious smile on her face, prompting her to signal her guards to stand down, while a shiver ran down my spine, leaving that as my last image of her. When the elevator reached the final floor, a cold gust of air welcomed me from a dimly lit corridor. Small pots of fire lined either side, barely allowing me to see more than ten feet ahead. Stepping cautiously onto the corridor, the pots automatically began to ignite as I slowly moved, illuminating the path before me.

Then the temperature began to rapidly change as I continued to walk ahead. The chill I felt at the beginning was a little. now replaced by a hot breeze, and I could already feel the back of my shirt sticking to my skin. Finally, I stood before a grand entrance, its massive doors adorned with ominous-looking goat carvings. The doors then suddenly opened on their own, and I took a deep breath before deciding to step inside. I felt an unsettling aura envelop me as soon as I set foot inside. Fires raged against the walls, as they ebbed and flowed in a rhythmic fashion, lending the place an unnatural crimson glow. At the center of the chamber, I saw Mr. Devlin sitting on a large throne,

his tail gracefully mimicking the dance of the flames around him. Above the throne, a pentagram symbol with a goat's head embedded within it hung ominously. Mr. Devlin looked very different from the last time I'd seen him. The heavy-set frame within the salt and pepper hair was gone. Instead, the one sitting in front of me looked like the devil himself, bald with fiery red skin and menacing horns that adorned his head. He exuded in otherworldly presence. The devil's piercing gaze met mine while a chilling silence gripped the room. "'Readings, Matthew.

What a delightful surprise!' Mr. Devlin's voice cut through the crackling of the flames. "'It's not every day someone stumbles right into the... The devil's lair. He said, smiling. Why don't you sit down first? He continued, pointing his gaze at the chair that appeared magically in front of me. I hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach, unsure of what awaited me in the presence

of this devilish figure. But I did as I was told. What am I doing here, Mr. Devlin? I asked, looking around. Are you really the... Yes. He replied before I could even finish the question. And then he went silent again, intensely staring at me as his tail swished about in the air.

A lot was going through my mind. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I went with the one that would probably offer me the quickest exit out of here. Are we through with the month-long deal? Can I leave? You haven't spent the tickets yet, Matthew. He said, continuing to stare at me. I'm not much of a gambling person, Mr. Devlin. I'm just a simple guy.

I don't have much need for the golden tickets either. I'm willing to perhaps donate to someone in the room downstairs, whoever is interested in playing. Well, you have to use the gold tickets to come into your possession, Matthew. You can't simply get rid of them by throwing or giving them away. You need to spend them. But why? Because they represent your sins, Matthew, which is why you can't get rid of them. but when you spend them, you accept your part in it, showing a willingness to pay a price for your redemption.

Redemption? How? By coming to work for me? The devil replied, smiling, his tail cutting through the air as it swayed in a sinuous dance. The golden glow in his eyes intensified, revealing an otherworldly allure. Join my ranks, Matthew. Unlock the hidden one. But I didn't do anything wrong. I immediately protested. I stayed away from all the violence.

I was only the driver the entire time. I did as I was told. Even after my friend Eric was killed by your people, I followed through with your orders. I had no choice in the matter in the first place. But you did have a choice in the matter, Matthew. You could have simply chosen not to show up the following day once I made you the offer.

And that would have been the end of that. You used a considerable chunk of your free will right there when you decided to drive the clown to the pharmacy And you could have still walked away When you had parked your car outside my establishment Seriously wondering about the path you were on And you chose poorly again What little free will you had left

You spent it all that night People don't realize their situation until they get in over their heads. Yours came when the police precinct went up in flames. You knew a big line had been crossed, and your choice was to take evasive action by fleeing, which you were already knee-deep in this mess by now, and there was no turning back.

You had to now see it through to the end. The devil's words resonated, a somber reminder of the irreversible path I had tread. I closed my eyes in frustration as a wave of guilt. guilt and remorse ripped through every fiber of my being. It felt like a mirror talking back to me, picking out my shortcomings at will and throwing them back at my face. Don't you think this is entrapment?

Feeling helpless and unable to keep my voice in check. I was living my own life without being a threat or a bother to society. Why drag innocent people into this web of deceit and lies? The devil grinned. Ah, Matthew, innocence is a fragile illusion. I simply offer choices to people. It's their decisions that entrap them. Why blame the apple in the tree when it is your eyes that refuse to look away?

The devil waited for me to respond, sensing that the inner turmoil was reaching its peak. He then continued to speak. Come work for me, Matthew. Become an agent of my design. You will deliver my message to people when they are ready. You will tread places where light can never hope to reach. Together, we will spread by influence far and wide, casting shadows forever that linger in the hearts of the people we touch. Respond to your calling, Matthew.

Just like how your father did. I suddenly looked up at him in shock. My father worked for you? I asked, unable to suppress the quiver in my voice. Your father, in fact, was one of the people who boarded the elevator with you. You do remember, right? He even bowed down before you and Pamela when he got down on this floor. Who else do you think slipped that little note in your coat?

Ah, it was sneaky of him, I must admit. Still looking out for his son, I gather. Had it not been for his intervention? You would have spent your tickets by now and come directly under my employment. What work did my father do for you? For the first time, curiosity overtaking my disbelief. Your father works for me as a ledger man. You saw those people down on floor 41, didn't you?

The ones wearing a hat and dressed in a trench coat, with sunglasses and a mask covering their face, carrying a file tucked under their arms. They are the ones. tasked with the responsibility of handing over the filed people who are ready to embrace their true nature. The file is representative of a ledger, which is a culmination of an individual's actions, choices, and the moral debts they accumulate through the course of their lives. So when somebody receives the file, they have reached a point in life where they can no longer maintain their

status quo. They begin their inevitable descent into the darker recesses of their own existence. But how will you know if somebody's ready? Look at me, Matthew. The devil said, spreading his hands, his lips curling into an evil smile. I have been here since the beginning of time. Do you think I haven't figured out when a person will snap? The real question, though, is,

are you ready to take on the role you're destined for? I mean, you have already been working with your father in tandem. while serving this establishment. Working with my father? How? Who do you think acted as the ledger man while approaching the clown, or the woman dressed as a bird, or the batman, or every other person you chauffeur the past one month?

It was your own dad, Matthew. Both father and son have been working together to propel individuals to embrace their own destiny, to bring them on the brink of self-awareness. While Dad showed them the mirror to help break the walls around them, the son drove them towards their eventual fate. Beautiful, when you think about it, don't you think? So you want me to become a ledger man as well?

Yes, that's correct. While your father has served me well, he is immortal at the end of the day. and I am not a tyrant to work him to the bone. He can retire and continue to serve in the afterlife. So it is essential that you fill in his place now. You are ready, Matthew. I can see it.

The devil spoke with a subtle nod of approval. Why can't you hire someone else? Since my father has already served you, why not find a replacement from another family? Why does it have to be me? because your family owes me, Matthew. Your great-great-grandfather, Armand Pritchard, was a rich count in Europe who lost all his wealth when he moved to the United States.

He struck a deal with me promising ten generations of Pritchards who would serve at my feet if I helped him win back his wealth. So you are the fifth in that line, Matthew. Your lineage is still only halfway through with paying your debts. I sat there in shock as the weight of generations old promises settled heavily on my shoulders. I had been aware that my forefathers were wealthy while my own father grew up poor since his childhood. But my biggest concern was for my own child. Does that mean Luke will have to take over for me as well?

Eventually, yes. And so will his child, and later his child's child and so on until the debt is paid in full. The devil affirmed, sealing the fate of generations to come. No, no, no, no, no. I began in anguish, my voice breaking under the weight of the revelation. This can't be happening. It's not right to hold an entire lineage hostage to a promise made by someone centuries ago. I can't let my son, too, be part of this.

Well, your ancestors certainly didn't mind the money that came their way until they squandered it all over again a second time. You can't make a deal and then renege on it. There must be a way out of this. I kept thinking to myself. The thought of passing this burden onto my son simply filled me with dread. For the first time in my life, I began to appreciate the choices my father was confronted with and the sacrifices he had made to honor his obligations. But my mind was only trying to conjure solutions to evade the same fate.

Perhaps I could flee with Luke whenever I got the chance and seek refuge in a reason. religious place like a church which could shield us from the devil's influence. While I furiously mold the future course of action in silence, the devil resumes speaking again. Matthew, you do realize that you are free to leave, right? As long as you don't spend the tickets, I will not touch you. But do remember this. Every little plan you are hatching in your mind right now has already been tried to before by others. So if you feel you need some more time to figure this out, go ahead.

But do keep in mind there will always come a time where you will eventually lay your hands on that ticket yourself. You can run and hide wherever you wish, but the tickets will continue to hang around your neck like an albatross. Maybe you can find refuge in another place by running away. But everybody there will eventually come to know you own something of value, and that will put a permanent target on your back. Or maybe in the future, there's an accident to you or Luke, and you finally decide to pawn the ticket because you urgently need money for surgery. Or maybe Luke develops a drug problem and decides to use the ticket to fund his habit. I could go on, but you get the gist. For better or worse, due to your dad's intervention, you are sitting here right now in a position to negotiate your fate.

Why not try and make the best of it? I cannot abandon my child. Not when I find he is destined to eventually end up like me. I have a duty to protect his freedom, even if that means fighting or losing battle. I said, crestfallen, but with my voice resolute and filled with conviction. The devil regarded me with subtle amusement, silently gauging both my determination and the inner turmoil I grappled with. In that silent moment of acknowledgement, it became evident that the devil fully comprehended the challenges I was prepared to face for the well-being of my child. Okay, Matthew, maybe there is an alternative to this impasse.

But I am afraid you're not going to like it. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure my child has a shot at a normal life. Even if it means giving my own, the devil's horn suddenly turned red-hot, as he led out a wave of laughter that echoed through the entire chamber. Meanwhile, the flames licking the walls behind him surged in intensity. A sudden ring of fire ignited around my legs, spreading rapidly to my feet and crawling up my body. I screamed in agonizing pain while the devil continued to laugh in the distance, and then I saw the fire consume me whole as my body went up in flames. I suddenly opened my eyes and realized I was sprawled on the couch in the living room of my own apartment. As I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead, I noticed that I was still dressed in last night's tuxedo.

So the whole thing was obviously not a dream. But I still couldn't remember how I got back home. Luke was sitting in a nearby chair watching his favorite show while busy munching on cereal. I got up from the couch and experienced a sense of disorientation lingering as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night, but deep down, my conscience was troubled, and I couldn't yet figure out why. I walked to my room and opened the closet to check for the gold tickets. They were no longer there. At that very moment, I heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling up in the driveway. I walked over to the window to take a look and saw a large

red limousine parked at the entrance to my apartment building. My heart began to flutter immediately. This was the same type of car that took Dad away years ago, and they were probably here from me now. I made Luke get up from his seat and ordered him to stay put in his room. Soon after, the doorbell rang. I approached the door and glanced through the peephole and then proceeded to open it. Henry Pritchard was standing at the entrance, wearing a hat and dressed in a trench coat with a file tucked under his arm. Hello, father. I said, looking at him.

He had removed his goggles. and his mask was down to his chin, a tear trickling down his eye as he looked in pain. I could see that my dad was here on an official visit. Seeing my dad in person after all these years, the memories of last night came flooding back. I began to recollect everything, including the deal that was struck with the devil. Is that for me? I asked, pointing to the ledger in his hand. You should have waited, son.

We could have figured out something. He said, his voice expressing both concern and lament. While I knew my dad was looking out from my best, I wondered what other alternative was there. I then simply leaned in to hug him for the first time in years, and he embraced me back, bringing a wave of relief to my already overwhelmed emotions. Is this your last assignment? I asked him, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Good, because that was part of the deal.

I said to myself in silence, Our eyes then immediately shifted to Luke's room, where the little boy was peeking from behind his door, wondering what was unfolding in the living room. "'Come here, boy. Say hello to your grandpa.' I said looking at him. As dad lifted Luke and gave his grandson a tight hug, I took away the ledger from his hand and sat down on a couch nearby to take a look.

When I opened it, all I found was a gold ticket inside. I took it in my hand and watched my reflection appear alongside a set of numbers and a date before dissolving into nothingness. So I have around 48 hours, I asked, pointing the card at Dad. He nodded in silent affirmation while Luke was busy playing with his goggles. I took a deep, long breath and finally replied, All right then, let's make the best use of the time we have left. We spent the next couple of days outdoors, ensuring we gave Luke the best possible memories

to last a lifetime. Dad and I took him to watch a show from the Blue Man group, and then our ferry ride to Staten Island turned into a photo-filled escapade, capturing panoramic views of Manhattan and creating silly poses together. Luke and Grandpa then had a blast at Nintendo New York, as the two spent two full hours just playing Pokemon. This was followed by a stop at Lombardy's, which was Luke's favorite pizza joint. We also visited a couple of museums in between all of that. By the time we returned back home, everybody was dead tired, and Luke had already fallen asleep. But I was happy to see my son warm up to his grandpa. The two had already managed to build a bond. The night before I was to leave, I found it easier to explain

to Luke that I would be traveling to Europe for work, assuring him it would only be a month. Grandpa will take care of you till I get back. I reassured him. When the day arrived, we spent the morning playing board games while ordering in. I also had a private chat with Dad regarding Luke how to manage him in my absence. I explained to him how I had coped during the difficult periods in my childhood, hoping that it would give him some insight on how to handle Luke if he started to act out. Dad was particularly upset about the path I had chosen, but there was nothing he could do to change it now. The two of us had a few shots of whiskey to take away the edge, and that did provide some relief. It was my first.

first adult moment with Dad, but that's a memory to keep. The three of us then left for Luke's soccer practice in the evening, as Dad and I sat in the stands watching him train. A BMW car arrived at the venue, catching my immediate attention. I hugged Dad one last time, and he had a hard time letting go of me. I called out to Luke, informing him that I was headed for the airport and waved goodbye. He rushed toward me, gave me a big hug before running back to his field to resume training. I picked up my shoulder bag and headed towards the waiting car.

The driver was around my age, and I could deduce that this was not his first trip, so he definitely did have an inkling of what to expect. I could sense the same emotion in him that I had experienced when I took the job. I simply gave him my gold card, and he placed it on the screen and started driving. I looked at Luke and dad one last time before the driver turned the corner and hit the main road. Sitting in the back seat, my mind began to recollecting. select the conversation I had with the devil. The details of that encounter played in my head like a haunting melody.

The conversation towards the end was perhaps the most haunting of all, when the devil started to make clear the expectations he had of me if I wanted to relieve my family of the generational burden. That part played itself over and over again in my head, hundreds of times over the last couple days. The car began to slow down as it reached the destination. Before leaving, I locked eyes with the driver and uttered, best of luck. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, his demeanor swiftly softening as he realized

someone understood the weight he carried. I could see that he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask me, but I was already out the door with my bag hung over my shoulder and made my way into the building. As I climbed the stairs, I remove my jacket and cap from the bag and put it on. I could hear the devil utter those final words again and again. Okay, Matthew, maybe there is an alternative to this impasse, but I'm afraid you're not going to like it. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure my child has a shot at a normal life,

even if it means giving my own. You are ready to give your life to save your son, but are you ready to kill for him? Yes, I had said with reluctance, The more heinous the crime, the better protected your family will be from coming under my employment. I reached the office of my boss, Gary Mahikas, and opened the door to find him busy on the phone. His face immediately lit up when he saw me dressed in the autographed baseball jersey and cap he had gifted me for my birthday as a youngster. I waited for him to finish speaking.

Did you and Luke catch a game today? The more heinous the crime, the better protected your family will be from coming under my employment. What are you talking about, Matt? I repeated the exact words the devil had told me during our meeting. While he still didn't understand, I saw my godfather's face turn pale when he noticed me removing a kitchen knife from my jacket and locking the door behind me. A few years later, Luke Pritchard entered the hospital with his 10-year-old son, Sam.

He was holding a bouquet of flowers he wanted to give to a patient. When he reached the patient's room, he knocked on the door before. before entering. Please come in. A voice said from within the room. An old man was lying on the bed with both his legs heavily bandaged. He had been involved in an accident while trying to save Sam, who was looking to cross the road without paying attention.

The patient managed to save Sam in the nick of time, but got hit by a motorcyclist, resulting in fractures in both his legs. Hello, Mr. Devlin. How are you doing today? Luke asked as he entered the room with Sam by his side. Much better. Luke, thank you. He said, while receiving the flowers from him, Mr. Devlin then looked at the boy and smiled.

How are you doing, young man? Fine, sir. I'm very sorry about what happened to you, sir. Sam said, with his face down, looking very remorseful. Forget it, my child. I'm just relieved you are all right. Luke had been visiting Mr. Devlin every day for the last week since the accident happened. The two men had grown close during their visits. opening up to each other about the challenges in their own personal lives. This was the first time Luke brought Sam along with him so that he could apologize in person.

Mr. Devlin looked at Sam. So what are you wearing, my child? Are you a baseball fan? Chip off the old block, huh? He asked Luke, pointing at Sam's jersey. Actually, he has taken after his grandfather. He was a big baseball fan. Luke replied, Interesting. Is he the one you said is currently serving a life sedent in prison? Yes, Mr. Devlin. Luke replied, with a trace of sadness in his voice.

They eventually changed the subject and went on to talk about other things for the next half hour. When Luke finally got up to leave, he asked, Mr. Devlin, would it be okay for you if the three of us took a picture together? I would like to send a copy of it to my dad. I think he would love to see a picture of the man who saved his grandkid. Of course, Luke. I would absolutely love that. Thomas Devlin replied, breaking into a smile.