This is a new feature that I will have on both my Facebook page and my website. A new super short story series featuring one of my characters, The Sandman. Enjoy part 1 of Evil Walks.Al Hartman felt a cold chill run up along his back as he got out of his car. The young black male zippered up his black jacket all the way to the top until it covered the thin white dress shirt that he was wearing. He even felt a cold breeze blowing up the legs of his black pants. It was a most unpleasant feeling. He regret not dressing in advance to deal with this cold night air. But by his estimate he would not be out here for long. He locked and shut the door of his car and stepped onto the sidewalk. He reached into his pocket and brought out the slip of paper torn from a notebook and examined the address that he had written down. The Fallen Angel Tavern. 4010 Oakdale Street. On the North Side. It has to be close, Al thought.Al looked about at the row of dark storefronts along the street. Many of them were closed. Understandable in his mind. His wristwatch displaying the time, 11:46 P.M. Al took a few steps to the left towards a storefront with a large glowing neon sign in it’s window. He walked closer to get a better view. The Fallen Angel. This has to be the place. Al was relieved to have found his destination so easily. Half the job was done. Now all he had to do was go inside and conduct his business with the most unusual person who was waiting for him.Al walked through the door and entered the dark tavern. It had a gloomy atmosphere with the strong odor of cigarette smoke in the air. At the right side of the tavern were four round tables where several patrons were sitting and engaging in conversation while drinking. He spied cigarettes in the mouths of a few persons. Smoking indoors? I thought that was illegal.Al walked over to the bar at the left side of the room and was approached by the bartender. A burly, bald headed man wearing a black Pittsburgh Steelers jersey.“What can I get you?” asked the bartender.Feeling nervous, Al cleared his throat. “Nothing really. I’m here to meet someone.”“Oh? Who?”Al was hesitant to speak out. “I’m here to see the Sandman.”Now it was the bartender’s turn to hesitate before speaking. “You want to see the Sandman. You have an appointment?”“Yes.”“Ok then. He’s in the back.”Al proceeded to walk to the back of the bar, past two billiard tables, until he came to an open doorway. He entered a small room that was illuminated by a dim light bulb on the ceiling. Stacked six feet high against the left, right, and rear walls was a variety of different boxes containing alcoholic beverages. In the center of the room was a lone figure sitting at a wooden table. He was dressed in all black attire. His pants were tucked into his knee high boots. He had a long sleeved shirt and necktie. He held his black gloved hands down in front of a dark beer bottle on the table top. He was also wearing a long hooded cape. The hood, along with the room’s dim light, obscured the features of his face.Al received a cold shiver when he saw this dark figure. The thought came to his mind, Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I should back out.The dark figure gave Al a jovial greeting. “Come in. Take a seat.”There was another chair on the opposite side of the table. With apprehension, Al sat down.For several seconds Al stared at the ominous dark figure sitting in front of him. Then he worked up the nerve to speak.“So, are you the Sandman?”“There’s nobody else here except me,” was the reply. “And I take it that you’re Al. And I also take it that you’re supposed to be here at 11:00. You‘re late.”“I’m sorry about that. I was going to back down at first. Then I changed my mind.”“You were going to back down? Why?”“At first I thought that what you said on your website was a bunch of nonsense. You know. What you said you can do. Trade dreams for wishes.”“Trade dreams and nightmares for wishes,” the Sandman corrected.“Trade dreams and nightmares for wishes,” Al repeated.“Occasionally I’ll offer cash,” the Sandman added.Al nodded, pondering this information. “And you can grant any wish?”“That’s right.”"Ok. If I wanted you to summon a dragon. Can you do that?”“No.”“No? Why not? I thought you said that you can grant any wish.”“I can, Al. But I’d refuse to do it. I can grant you any wish. But as long as it isn’t a stupid wish. Wishing for a dragon is stupid. What the hell are you going to do with a dragon, Al? Most boroughs in Alleghenny county won’t let you keep a cow in your back yard.”“I live in an apartment,” Al humbly admitted.“Then you’d really be screwed,” the Sandman told him. “Let’s keep it a little down to Earth.”Trading dreams for wishes, down to Earth? Al thought. “Ok, then scratch the dragon. But you can still grant other wishes? Like dealing with my boss?”“Like I said.”Al hesitated before going further. “And when we make a deal. This won’t be like selling my soul or anything like that?”The Sandman sat back in his chair. “Do I look like I need your soul, Al? If you’re putting your soul up for sale you might have to settle for an X-Box 360 game.”Al was insulted by that assessment. “Excuse me?”The Sandman held up his hands. “No offense. Just saying. Have you looked in the mirror at yourself lately? Your drug problems, abusive to your girlfriend. Sorry. Ex-girlfriend. Stealing money from the accounting firm you work for. And now you’re so self righteous that you want revenge on your boss for not giving you the promotion that you think you deserve. You were so ticked off at the guy that you were surfing the web to try and find a hitman to take care of him. That’s when you found me. Am I right?”Al was stunned at these details that the Sandman revealed. “How the hell do you know all this? I mean…I.”“I like to get background information on all my clients,” the Sandman confessed.“Well. My issue with drugs. It’s not exactly a problem.”“It’s a hobby. I get it. We’re wasting time, Al. And I’ve got other clients. We need to step it up. So tell me about your dreams.”My dreams, Al thought. He had to dig within his memory to recall the most recent dream that he had. “A dream. I had this one a few nights ago. I saw myself laying in bed and then all these bugs came crawling out of my pillow. I wanted to jump up but I couldn’t move. Then they started to crawl all over me. Spiders, centipedes, roaches. Then I woke up. what do you think?”The Sandman crossed his arms over his chest. “Honestly? I think that if your dream were a TV show then the only entertaining part would be the commercials. But it’s good enough for me to take care of your boss.”“George Wilson,” Al growled. “That high and mighty ungrateful tin god jackass. He can go rot in hell. And I’m gonna send him there. And I‘d like to go to hell with him just so that I can watch him suffer. The idiot had the nerve to pass me over for a promotion to manager of accounts and give it to this skinny little four eyed witch, Darcy. I‘m ten times smarter than Darcy and I‘ve been there longer. But do I deserve the promotion? Oh no. As hard as I work? Oh no.”The Sandman leaned forward to the table and propped his head up against his right arm. He placed his left hand down and began to drum his gloved fingers down on the table top.“Excuse me. Am I boring you?” asked an indignant Al.“No. Not at all,” the Sandman returned. “I actually enjoy sitting here listening to whiners all night.”“Whoa. Hold on. I’m not a whiner,” replied Al. Insulted by the remark.The Sandman sat back and laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call that cheerleading. That’s serious talk after working for the man for so many years. I understand that your ten year anniversary with the company is coming up.”Al held that notion in high contempt. “Yeah. I busted my ass for that company. Working under that pig, Wilson. And all I’m supposed to get for it is a lousy lunch and a gold watch.”“Don’t forget the gift card,” the Sandman added. “A hell of a lot more than what I get.”“Never mind that,” Al snapped. “This is my chance to get back at Wilson for passing me up and not promoting me.”“And for giving you a second chance after you failed your drug test.”Al ignored the Sandman’s jab. “This is my chance to get even with him. Let’s make it look like an accident. That will be fun. Yeah. Make it a car crash.”“A car crash. You got it. You want balloons too?”Al nodded and laughed. He was feeling more enthusiastic about making this deal with the Sandman. “Alright. We got a deal. George Wilson gets his ass trashed in a car wreck. I only wish I could be there to see it.”“Ok then. It’s done,” the Sandman told Al.“Done? Just like that?”“Just like that.”“What about my dream? Did you get it?”“Do you remember it?”Al searched his mind for the dream, but the memory was not there. “It’s gone. I don’t remember it.”“Then I’ve got it.”“I don’t have to sign anything?” asked Al.“If it will make you happy then talk to the bartender on your way out. Maybe you can autograph a napkin before you leave.”This guy has a rotten sense of humor, was Al’s assessment.“Are we done?” asked the Sandman. “I’ve got two more people to talk to after you.”Al cracked a smile. “No. We’re done. That’s it. But I‘ve got just a couple of questions. Do you get a lot of people coming to you for help?”“Yeah. I do.”“People like me?”“Yeah. They’re all bad.”“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”“Nothing. Clock’s ticking. I’ll see you around.”See me around? I doubt that, Al told himself. He rose up from the chair and left the room. Al walked out of the tavern and got back into his car to drive home. He still could not believe that he drove all the way here from his apartment in West Mifflin to make a deal with a shadowy figure who claimed to be able to trade his dreams for a wish. It was like making a wish when you blow out the candles on a birthday cake. The only difference here is that Al’s wish was to kill his boss to gain revenge. It was a fanciful indulgence. But the question that he would take with him into the night would be, will it really happen?The next day Al was working in his small office in the accounting firm, Hessman and Associates. The time was 11:30 A.M. Earlier Al had gone through his usual morning ritual of staring at his computer monitor sitting in between two six inch stacks of papers on his desk on his desk. Earlier he consumed a styrofoam cup of hot coffee and then took a morning snort of cocaine to gain the motivation to slog through another day of work at a job that he hated. He was now busy working on his computer when he heard a loud knock on the stained glass of his office door. The door opened and a six foot tall, middle aged black man in a grey suit and short black hair entered the office. Al bristled at the presence of this man. This was the man that he hated the most in the world. George Wilson.“Hartman. Are you ready to go?” Wilson asked.Al was confused. “Go? Go where, sir?”“To you ten year anniversary luncheon,” Wilson explained. “You’ve been here ten years today. Have you forgotten?”“It slipped my mind, sir.”“Well we’re having it at the Hampfield Inn, on the South Side,” Wilson told him. “I’m driving. Grab your coat.”“Yes sir,” said Al. he was not at all enthusiastic about eating lunch at the same table with Wilson. Let alone riding in the same car with him. Al rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket from the tall metal coat stand behind his desk.Al felt awkward as he was rode in the car while Wilson was sitting next to him. It was a tense, silent drive between both of them. Al kept his eyes locked forward to the windshield as the white Cadillac drove along through the heavy traffic.After several minutes of silence Wilson spoke out to break the ice. “You know, Hartman. This entire anniversary lunch wasn’t my idea. It’s just the policy of the firm and I’m simply following that policy. It’s my job. But personally, do you really think you deserve a free lunch?”“I don’t understand, sir.”“You don’t understand? I asked you if you think you deserve a free lunch from the firm. You should be able to comprehend the concept of free lunch. It seems that you’ve been getting one your whole life.”Al was at a loss as to how to respond to Wilson’s charge. All he could do was sit and listen.Wilson continued to admonish Al. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Hartman. And I must say that I’m very disappointed with you on several levels. Your character as a person and your performance as an employee have both declined. And it’s all on account of your drug use.”Al sank down in his seat as he continued to listen to Wilson.“Out of the goodness of my heart I saw fit to support you and give you a second chance when your recent drug test came up positive. I figured that if you’ve got some kind of problem then we can try to work with you to help make things better. And help you keep your job. And how do you repay me? By showing up late on a regular basis, by calling off from work for several days when you feel like it, turning in sloppy work. And you’re probably unaware that I’ve been keeping an eye on your work very closely. I have no solid proof, but I suspect that you’ve been skimming money from several different accounts that you’ve been working on. No doubt to support your drug habit.Al felt his entire body petrify with fear when he heard Wilson’s accusation of his theft. And it was indeed true. He was taking small amounts of money from several of the firm’s clients for his own use. Small amounts that he hoped would not raise and red flags. But amounts that were enough to get him fired and land him behind bars with criminal charges against him. He was at a loss for words as to what to say in his own defense. “Mr Wilson. I…I mean. I…Don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Of course you don’t. That’s because people like you can do no wrong in your own little minds. There’s never any personal responsibility. And you expect me to give you a promotion in your sorry state?”“Hey. I deserved that promotion,” Al snapped back in anger. “I had seniority.”“Seniority,” Wilson scoffed. Turning his head to face Al. “What you deserve is to be fired.The car approached an intersection. Al barely noticed the blue SUV as it approached from the right and blew through the red light. The vehicle plowed head on into the right side of Wilson’s car. After the loud boom of the impact Al felt an over whelming sensation of pain penetrate his entire body. Cold metal sliced into his frail flesh. His bones snapped. A shower of broken glass from the passenger’s side window sprayed into his face. Looking through the now cracked windshield Al could only watch as the car skidded to the left and headed straight for a thick utility pole. Then there was another loud boom. Then Al’s vision went black.Al awoke, still feeling intense pain surging through his body as he lay in his hospital bed. The thick neck brace that he was wearing was so tight that he had difficulty breathing. His right arm was covered by a tight, white brace. There were also braces on both his legs. Looking down at his legs he also saw a figure dressed in black. The hood of his long flowing cape concealed the upper portion of his face. Al could only see the dark skin of the lower portion of this person’s face. Al recognized this shadowy figure from a previous meeting. “Sandman.”“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” the Sandman asked.Al tried to lift his left arm. This action caused pain to shoot through the rest of his body. “How do I feel? I feel like crap. I have two broken legs, my right arm is broken in two places, my neck is broken. And all I feel is pain. It even hurts to blink.”“That’s too bad,” said the Sandman. “That’s understandable. That other driver tried to park his SUV inside your sigmoid colon. You’re lucky to be alive. Too bad you didn’t end up like your boss, Wilson. He was thrown from the car and landed in this grassy field. But funny thing. The grass was unmowed. And it was so high that it provided a cushion for Wilson and broke his fall. He walked away without a scratch.”Al’s mind was balancing the sensations of pain and anger after hearing about Wilson. “Well whoop de friggin do to that. Is that supposed to make me feel better? The doctors say that I may not be able to walk again.”“That’s tough.”“That’s tough? Is that all you have to say? You’re the one. You caused this.”“What? The crash? Well sure I did. It’s what you wanted. Remember? We made a deal and I did what you asked. I put your boss into a car crash. So what’s the complaint?”“I didn’t want to be in the car when it happened!” Al shouted.“Then why the hell did you get in, Jackass? Who’s fault is that?”“I…You…Dammit!” Al’s legs and arm were throbbing. “I’m in too much pain to argue.”“Well don’t jump all over me just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bedpan.”“Bedpan. I wish you hadn’t said that. I really need to go. Can you help me-”“Oh, look at the time,” replied the Sandman. “I have to get moving. I have other appointments to keep.”The Sandman headed towards the door.“Hey wait. You’re not going to leave me here are you?”“I’ll tell the nurse to come in and help you out,” the Sandman told him. “But in the meantime if you ever have any more dreams that you want to trade me then just send me an E-mail. I’ll be sure to get back to you.”The Sandman left the room. Leaving the battered Al Hartman to wonder if his sleeping mind can ever conjure up a dream that would be worth bartering to get himself out of this dire situation.
Comments