The Wish

11:57 PM

Andrew turned his eyes from the clock hanging on the wall. He knew the time but couldn’t help glancing over at it ever few seconds. He was restless and nervous. .

How do I know it will even work? He wondered to himself. The old man had given him very specific instructions on what to do and what to expect and what was the harm in trying? He had already gone through so much in the past several months: the divorce, being laid off, the death of his brother. After all of that, could this really hurt him that much to just give it a try?

11:58 PM

Andrew looked down at his hands and noticed they were shaking. “C’mon, Andrew” he said to himself, “get a grip.” He glanced around his apartment, noticing how ominous it looked in the dark. The shadows stretched long and ominous, seeming to reach out for him. There was the candle on the table, but the tiny flame barley gave off much more than a glow. Nonetheless, it had to be this way, according to the old man. The ritual wouldn't work without the candle or the dark.

Andrew took a deep breath and pushed himself forward on the couch until he was closer to the coffee table. On top of the coffee table was the candle, glowing softly, and the jar.

It was a small jar, made from red clay appearing to be quite old with a thin layer of dust covering its surface. Andrew slowly lifted the lid and as he did, a quiet hiss of air came from the jar. The flame from the candle flickered slightly, but Andrew didn't notice. He was too focused on setting the lid down carefully. Once finished, Andrew sat back with his hands on his knees and stared with apprehension at the jar, waiting.

Nothing happened.

Andrew glanced at the clock: 12:00 AM

With a frown, Andrew turned back to the jar. The seconds ticked by, slowly but surly. Andrew continued staring at the jar, tension building in him like a wound-up cord.

A car screeched by his apartment, breaking Andrew out of his stupor with a start. With his hand over his heart he glanced back at the clock: 12:02 AM.

"C'mon..." As the words left his mouth, Andrew felt a chill run through his body. The hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle and he became aware of another presence in the room.

SNICK SNICK.

The sound was like knives rubbing against each-other but it was nothing compared to the voice.

"Child..."

Andrew jumped to his feet and spun around to face the voice. With a terrified gasp, Andrew stumbled backward, falling to the ground.

Before him stood The Shadow. Despite standing hunched over, The Shadow was tall, over seven feet, wearing long, hooded, black robes which covered its face. Its arms were long, and the sleeves opened to reveal large, skeletal hands with long, knife like fingers. When it spoke, its voice was smooth but had a hint of menace.

"You are new," said The Shadow. Andrew couldn't reply, his mouth simply opening and closing like a fish. Upon seeing Andrew's fear, The Shadow continues, "Do not be afraid. I am here to help."

Andrew finally managed to speak. "I'm sorry, you just..." he gulped. "...startled me is all. I wasn't..."

"Expecting me to look like this?" asked The Shadow. Andrew nodded in reply. "Yes, you will have to forgive me. I can do many things, but unfortunately, I am unable to change my own appearance. It is a curse, if you will, both literally and figuratively."

"I was told," said Andrew. "That you would look...well..."

"Scary?" The Shadow finished. Andrew nodded. From underneath the shadows of the hood, a large, toothy smile emerged. Andrew shivered at the sights.

The Shadow began circling Andrew as it continued, "Very few over the centuries have found my appearance comforting, although they all came around to it eventually."

"Centuries," Andrew said. "How long have you been around?"

"Since the beginning of time itself, child." The Shadow spread its long arms wide. "I was here before mankind and I will be here long after you have left. When Rome fell, I was there. When the Black Death took the lives of thousands, I was there. Through every war, every disaster, every plague, I was there." The Shadow finished its circle and now stood directly in-front of Andrew, towering over him.

Andrew hesitated. "And what should I call you?"

"You may call me whatever you like, child. I do have a name, but it is a name that no one has spoken in centuries. A name that none of your kind has ever uttered." The Shadow reached a claw out and stroked Andrew's cheek softly. Andrew withdrew, fear flashing across his face. The Shadow clucked. "My dear child, there is nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not sure I can do this." Andrew replied.

The Shadow chuckled quietly and slowly withdrew a small, black book from within the folds of its robes. Without breaking its stare, The Shadow flipped open the book until it landed on a specific page. It extended the book to Andrew.

Andrew took the book slowly and looked down at the pages. Written inside the book was a name: Andrew White.

Andrew looks up sharply. "How do you know my name?"

The Shadow chuckled low. "I know many things, Andrew White." said The Shadow. "I know who you are and what you are. I know you innermost thoughts, your fears, your desires." As The Shadow spoke it moved forward. With every step forward, Andrew stepped back. "I see your soul, Andrew."

Hesitantly, Andrew replied. "And what do you se in mine?"

"Despair. Loss. Pain. You are at a dark place in your life. There is much turmoil in your soul." The Shadow laid a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "You wish for my help."

Andrew hesitated once again. "I do, but I do not know the cost."

The Shadow removed its hand and stepped away, pacing the room and clicking its claws together ominously. "The cost is simple," it said. "As payment for me helping you and for fixing your life, you will owe me your soul."

Silence fell on the room. "My soul...?"

The Shadow stopped again in front of a portrait of Andrew with a woman. "Yes." it turned back to Andrew. "Is this not a fitting payment for what you are seeking?"

"You're telling me that the only way that I can be happy is to sell you my soul?"

The Shadow stared at Andrew for a few moments. Click, click. Its claws clacked together. "Is happiness not what you are trying to gain?" The Shadow asked.

Andrew looked down.

"You," continued The Shadow. "have been ready on two sperate occasions to end your life because you could not find happiness." The Shadow pointed at the scars on Andrew's left wrist. Andrew instinctively covered them with his hand. "Would you not do anything for some respite? For some happiness? A soul is nothing compared to seven years of good fortune. Would you not do anything to have your pain and despair taken away from you?"

Andrew stared into black depth of the hood, all his past pain and misery flashing before him: Finding Ann cheating on him, the divorce, the suicide attempts, all of it.

"I would," began Andrew "do anything to not feel this way anymore, but..."

"You doubt me." said The Shadow.

Andrew didn't reply. The Shadow pointed at the scars on Andrew's wrist. "Those scars remind you of all the pain you've been through. All the misery that has led you to this moment."

Andrew looked down at his wrists and nodded. The Shadow took Andrew's arm in its hand and gently stroked it before releasing them and stepping back. Andrew looked down at his arm in amazement: the scars were gone! He held his arm up against the light to get a better look at it. "Oh my god!"

"You are pleased?"

"Yes!" Andrew exclaimed. "Of course! This is amazing!"

The Shadow grinned at Andrew. "Good. Now that you are pleased with the results..." The Shadow pointed at the book. Andrew looked down and saw writing beginning to appear on the pages beneath his name.

"What are these?" Andrew asked.

"The terms to the deal." The Shadow answered. Sure enough, the terms were being written out by some unseen hand. Andrew watched in shock as more words appeared on the pages. "Do you agree to the terms?"

Andrew thinks. His soul. "I would do anything to feel happy again..."

"You will be happy." replied The Shadow. "Why shouldn't you? You deserve to feel happy again."

"I do." Andrew was beginning to feel more confident. "I agree to the terms."

The Shadow grinned and Andrew shuddered at the sight. "Now that the terms are set, what do you require of me?"

Andrew glanced at his arm and lowered it, thinking long and hard. He glanced around the studio, noticing how little he owned and how empty it was. Finally, he looked back at The Shadow. "There is a lot I could use right now...my life is kind of in shambles."

"And you don't deserve for your life to be this way." The Shadow replied.

"Exactly," Andrew continued. "I'm a good person. I work hard. I should have a bit of fortune for myself."

"Of course. But what is the point of working hard when you have but to ask and it will be provided."

Andrew looked back at The Shadow, determination on his face. "You're right. I want fortune and riches."

"An excellent choice." said The Shadow. "However, you must be precise. How much will suffice?"

"Twenty-thousand."

The Shadow bowed low to the ground. "It is done."

Ding. Andrew pulled out his phone and glanced at it. A notification from his bank was on his screen, indicating that the money had been deposited into his account. Andrew stared in awe at his phone, a smile creeping on his face. "Incredible!"

The Shadow nodded. "Is there anything else that you require?"

Andrew continued staring at his phone in awe. Finally, he looked up. "What?" he said. "No...no, I guess there isn't."

Andrew moved to put his phone on the table but faster than he could react, The Shadow's hand darted forward, grabbing Andrew's arm and twisting it so his palm was facing up.

"A deal has been made." Grinned The Shadow and with a quick slash downward, The Shadow sliced Andrew's palm open with its long claw. Andrew yelled in pain and shock, the phone falling to the floor. The Shadow forced Andrew's bloody palm onto the black book, pushing the hand down. "Every month, for seven years, I will serve you. At the end of those seven years, you will owe me a debt."

Andrew struggled to pull his arm back, but the Shadow's grip was strong, and it pulled Andrew closer as it leaned down, giving Andrew a glimpse of the face underneath the hood. Andrew gasped at the sight.

The face resembled the skull of a pig; white bone with bits of dried flesh hanging from it. The eye sockets were deep, black, and empty, but it seemed to be staring into Andrew's very soul.

"Seven years..." The Shadow released Andrew's palm. Andrew pulled his hand away, leaving behind a bloody handprint on the book.

A car screeched by, illuminating the room briefly and Andrew glances at the window. When he turned back, The Shadow was gone.

Andrew glanced around wildly for any sign of The Shadow, but he was alone in the studio.

Andrew stood in silence for several moments then looked down at his bloody hand and the handprint on the book. The realization of his situation finally dawning on him.

"What have I done?"