Appointment With Satan
Short Story (Fantasy)
Excerpt: ““This is Chosen Emissary Fronner.”“Great. This is Joshua Derne. We met last week on the plane to Houston. We spoke about meeting and setting up an appointment?”“Yes, Mr. Derne. I remember. We were told you would call today. You are scheduled for tomorrow evening at seven-twelve. Do you know how to get to the Temple?”“Who told you I was coming?” Derne paused a moment. No one at the magazine would have called.“Our Master.”“Right.” A chill raised the hair on Derne's neck. “Why such an odd time?”“An hour after sunset. When darkness begins its true reign.”“Midnight doesn't work anymore?”“Don’t believe we're a group of charlatans, Mr. Derne. I was chosen by The Dark Master to lead the temple. Be here at seven-twelve tomorrow evening. Bring your journalist equipment.” A simple, ‘snick’ ended the conversation.Derne looked at the phone, then set it down. He slept uneasily that night. Dreams just out of focus tormented him. He awoke with a jolt at 6:30, vetoed the idea of trying to get more sleep, and then took a shower.Derne couldn't get the temperature adjusted right. He surrendered and endured the cold spray. He dried, wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.With an unintelligible oath, Derne jumped back.The room was completely made up. Bed table-top smooth, his discarded clothes folded on a chair. The laptop and recorder on the table arranged neatly with pad and two pens nearby. Lying at the foot of the bed were his shoes, polished. A warm, gentle breeze teased the curtains.“Room service must have been here early.” He said aloud, reassuring himself.”
Short Story (Fantasy)
Excerpt: ““This is Chosen Emissary Fronner.”“Great. This is Joshua Derne. We met last week on the plane to Houston. We spoke about meeting and setting up an appointment?”“Yes, Mr. Derne. I remember. We were told you would call today. You are scheduled for tomorrow evening at seven-twelve. Do you know how to get to the Temple?”“Who told you I was coming?” Derne paused a moment. No one at the magazine would have called.“Our Master.”“Right.” A chill raised the hair on Derne's neck. “Why such an odd time?”“An hour after sunset. When darkness begins its true reign.”“Midnight doesn't work anymore?”“Don’t believe we're a group of charlatans, Mr. Derne. I was chosen by The Dark Master to lead the temple. Be here at seven-twelve tomorrow evening. Bring your journalist equipment.” A simple, ‘snick’ ended the conversation.Derne looked at the phone, then set it down. He slept uneasily that night. Dreams just out of focus tormented him. He awoke with a jolt at 6:30, vetoed the idea of trying to get more sleep, and then took a shower.Derne couldn't get the temperature adjusted right. He surrendered and endured the cold spray. He dried, wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.With an unintelligible oath, Derne jumped back.The room was completely made up. Bed table-top smooth, his discarded clothes folded on a chair. The laptop and recorder on the table arranged neatly with pad and two pens nearby. Lying at the foot of the bed were his shoes, polished. A warm, gentle breeze teased the curtains.“Room service must have been here early.” He said aloud, reassuring himself.”
Short Story (Fantasy)
Excerpt: ““This is Chosen Emissary Fronner.”“Great. This is Joshua Derne. We met last week on the plane to Houston. We spoke about meeting and setting up an appointment?”“Yes, Mr. Derne. I remember. We were told you would call today. You are scheduled for tomorrow evening at seven-twelve. Do you know how to get to the Temple?”“Who told you I was coming?” Derne paused a moment. No one at the magazine would have called.“Our Master.”“Right.” A chill raised the hair on Derne's neck. “Why such an odd time?”“An hour after sunset. When darkness begins its true reign.”“Midnight doesn't work anymore?”“Don’t believe we're a group of charlatans, Mr. Derne. I was chosen by The Dark Master to lead the temple. Be here at seven-twelve tomorrow evening. Bring your journalist equipment.” A simple, ‘snick’ ended the conversation.Derne looked at the phone, then set it down. He slept uneasily that night. Dreams just out of focus tormented him. He awoke with a jolt at 6:30, vetoed the idea of trying to get more sleep, and then took a shower.Derne couldn't get the temperature adjusted right. He surrendered and endured the cold spray. He dried, wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.With an unintelligible oath, Derne jumped back.The room was completely made up. Bed table-top smooth, his discarded clothes folded on a chair. The laptop and recorder on the table arranged neatly with pad and two pens nearby. Lying at the foot of the bed were his shoes, polished. A warm, gentle breeze teased the curtains.“Room service must have been here early.” He said aloud, reassuring himself.”