• The afternoon had dragged on forever, the tedious work and endless whispers and ticking seemed almost maddening now, but the day was almost over. There was only a few more seconds between the men in the office and the sweet freedom offered by the weekend. Only one man was unhappy that the hours of toil were over, and he had already begged his boss to allow him overtime. "Sorry, Frank" the reply had been "You've worked overtime all week. Go home and get some sleep. You look terrible." Defeated, Frank skulked back to his tiny cubicle and resumed his work, dreading those final few ticks of the clock leading to five. He continued to work, staring blankly at the dull glow coming from his mammoth computer, listening to the dull buzz of the monitor as he continued to enter in the data.

    An ordinary man by all standards, Frank was leading the normal life for a man his age. Working nine to five on weekdays at an accounting firm, now living the glorious single life in his own apartment on the east side of town. Frank hadn't been the same since his wife's mysterious death several years earlier. Some of the men around the firm had often speculated that Frank had hired someone to kill her, or that he had done the job himself. None of these rumors ever reached Frank, however, so they stayed only curious passing thoughts, eventually leaving topic of conversation for more important news, like who the boss might fire next or what had happened on some reality T.V show or another the night before. Everything about frank was normal, from his head, which was topped with sparse patches of thin brown hair, to his brown dress shoes which he wore every day. Frank was a perfectly normal man, until he left the office.

    Then, the clock struck five and everyone was up, a flurry of briefcases and jackets filled the room with motion. Slowly, Frank reached out to shut down his computer, looking around and making sure everything was tidy before he left for the day. He slowly rose, grabbing his briefcase and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. His feet dragged as he forced himself past the line of other cubicles, most of which had been vacated the moment work was over, onward toward the elevators. He waited beside a group of other men, all of whom were either talking to one another or shouting into their cell phones about what they would do over the weekend. Frank shot them all a smug look, rolling his eyes at the thought of spending time with his co-workers outside of the firm. Finally, the elevator doors opened and Frank walked in, instantly being crammed into a corner by the flood of suit-and-tie workers he was forced to work beside. Just once, he wished, just once could I be spared this? To be spared of the ceaseless toil that amounts to nothing but numbers on a spread-sheet, spared of the long hours killing his eyes staring at that same dull monitor? Then, the faint ding of the elevator sounded inside the small metal box and the doors slid open. Frank stepped out into the spacious lobby of the firm and inhaled deeply, pointing his shoes toward the door.

    "Hey, Frank" called a voice from somewhere slightly above him. Frank jumped, startled from his previous thoughts. He turned around slightly to see one of his future co-workers, an overly enthusiastic and energetic young intern whose name he had not bothered to commit to memory, waving at him from the railings of one of the landings on the stairs. Frank watched as he rushed down the stares, his mouth set in a wide grin now that he had Frank's attention. The intern made it down to the floor of the lobby and began to walk quickly toward Frank. In the back of his mind, Frank wished that the intern had missed that last step. He wished with all of his heart that his foot had slipped on the newly waxed surface and that gravity had sent him sprawling down onto the granite floor of the lobby, staining his white dress shirt red with blood, leaving behind a crimson puddle as Frank stood over him, smiling and laughing at the man as the light left his eyes. Then, Frank remembered what had happened the last time he had wished for something to come true, and that was enough to cut him off mid-thought. "Hey, Frank, wait up!" The young man finally caught up, bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah," Frank asked, "What is it?" The intern looked up, his face red and a hint of sweat made his features glisten under the florescent lighting. "Some of us are gonna hit the bar tonight, do you wanna come?" Frank stood and pretended to contemplate the young man's offering, enjoying the look of expectancy and premature triumph that lit up his features when he was not instantly turned away. "Sorry," said Frank, forcing himself not to smile in enjoyment when the young man's face fell. "I have some… Other matters to attend to." With that, Frank turned and walked through the double glass doors.

    A small click resounded through the dim narrow hallway, and the lock on the apartment door unlocked easily as it always did. Frank stepped in cautiously, groping around for the light switch, finding it quickly. He flipped it on and closed the door behind him, securing both the latch and deadbolt as well as fastening the chain for an extra measure of precaution. He wasn't entirely sure what he was so afraid of since no one usually bothered him. The lack of family and a limited social life ensured that he was typically alone, but it made him feel more secure all the same. Turning, he sighed at the state of disarray that he found his living room; the laundry strewn over the couch as well as filthy dishes creating small mountain chains upon very available surface almost proved that he wasn't going to be searching for a date anytime soon. Passing the standing chaos, he went into the kitchen, crossing the stained linoleum floor to the ancient yellow refrigerator, opening it and rummaging through empty Chinese take-out boxes and milk cartons in search of something edible, which turned up nothing more than moldy cheese and an empty jar of what was once probably pickles. Shrugging, he closed the fridge, deciding that food wasn't at the top of his list of priorities at the moment. Slowly, Frank turned from the fridge and glanced out of the window; the beautiful glittering lights off in the distance reminded him of the sparkle of the ring he had placed on her finger that warm summer night in the park. Euphoria that was now nothing more than a bittersweet memory which brought tears to his eyes. "But not for long," he mumbled to himself as he turned away from his cityscape view. "Soon, my love, we shall be reunited."

    Quickly, he dashed into his bedroom, changing into a dark cloak and taking a small bag from atop the dresser. Keeping the same pace, he walked through the door of the second bedroom and stood completely still, letting his eyes take in everything around him, his mouth betraying the faint traces of a smile. The makeshift alter before him held several candles, most of which were burnt down almost into nothingness. Only one candle, a crimson candle at the very center, showed a stark contrast to the others, for it stood tall and proud among the others, its wick a pitch black despite the fact that no natural flame had ever touched it. A silver dagger sat on the flat polished surface, glimmering in the faint light that filled the room from the hallway light. Frank stepped into the room cautiously, as though a hidden danger was lurking around the corner of the door. Advancing slowly toward the alter at the other end of the room, he stopped once more and reached into his pocket for the bag which he had acquired from the dresser. Opening it carefully, he examined its contents; a diamond ring, a small lock of blond hair, and a scrap of material that was worn by age. These he carefully poured into his open palm, touching each thoughtfully, feeling a sharp sting in his chest as his eyes misted over. Replacing the objects into the bag, he blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill out onto his cheeks. "The time is almost here, my love," he said softly, clutching the bag in his clenched fist. The first chime of midnight echoed into his room from the apartment next door. One of the few times Frank appreciated his antique-obsessed neighbor's Grandfather clock. It was time for him to begin the ritual; months of pain and suffering, hours upon hours of pouring through dust covered books and ancient volumes passed down from the Dark Ages and lost in the passages of time to those who never knew they existed, sleepless nights deciphering forbidden tomes and learning secret languages and incantations. All of these things were about to come to fruition in this one moment, and Frank was more than ready.


    Approaching the alter, he slowly lifted the matchbox and struck one of the matches along the side, lighting each candle until the room was filled with soft, flickering light. Extinguishing the match, he turned his attention to a box on the floor beside his feet. Lifting it slowly, almost reverently, he opened it and exhumed an ornate silver chalice. Placing it onto the surface in front of the red candle, Frank slowly emptied out the bag he still had clutched in his hand into the cup and turned away from the table toward a chalk circle drawn on the wooden floor. A strange pulsating black aura surrounded it.

    Frank approached the circle and stepped inside it, taking another piece of chalk and writing the cryptic symbols around its outer edge, writing in the ancient phrases along the inside of the rim and continuing into the very center, where another slightly smaller circle was located, completely void of any kind of designs. He smiled halfheartedly at his work, leaving the circle once more to retrieve the dagger from its place on the smooth black top of the alter. Running a finger along its edge he winced as a small trickle of blood ran down the blade, making it seem as though the dagger itself was melancholy with the thought of the task that was in store for it. The third chime rang through the room, forcing Frank out of his thoughts and back to his work. Reentering the outer circle, he walked slowly toward the center, entering it and turning to face the alter. Speaking the forbidden incantations in some ancient tongue, he kept his eyes on the single crimson candle.

    Suddenly, all went dark, every candle snuffed out at once a a mighty wind blew through the room, forcing Frank to his knees. Risking a glance upward, he saw the crimson candle light instantaneously, its sapphire flame still despite the unrelenting wind that howled through the room. Then, suddenly, the wind stopped and a booming voice shattered the eerie silence, rattling the walls and toppling books off of the shelves that lined the walls. “Who are you that awakens me from my slumber?” Frank stayed in his kneeling position, not daring to risk another look to see who was speaking to him. “It is I,” Frank mumbled with his face nearly pressed against the cold floor, “Do you remember? From four years ago. I offered you a sacrifice in exchange for my own personal gain.” He winced, remembering that final wish he had allowed himself to make...

    Frank and his wife seemed to be the perfect couple until that night. The dove cooed softly in its cage at the center of the circle, Frank and his wife stood looking expectantly at the same crimson candle, both chanting in unison the same summoning request. Frank looked to his wife, her long blond hair which usually fell in curls down her back was now blowing about her shoulders in the mild wind. He watched her slowly approach the dove, a silver dagger held high above her head. Slowly, she lowered herself to the dove's level, looking over it cautiously before opening the cage door. Reaching inside, she exhumed the dove and began to rise to her feet. Suddenly, before either she or Frank had time to react, it happened.

    What had once been a timid white dove transfigured into a large, grotesque crow. Angered, the crow began to lash out with great talons and a sharp beak, all of its fury focused on the blond haired woman who tried to keep it restrained. The crow slashed at her face without mercy, its claws digging deeply behind her eyes and tearing them out, gashing her once beautiful face with its beak. Shocked, the woman dropped the dagger to the floor, releasing the crow and protecting the rest of her body from harm, which proved futile. Frank stood, paralized in fear, watching as his wife was torn to shreds. Then, the crimson candle lit itself, and the crow halted its attack to cast its black, lifeless eyes toward the alter. Then, as suddenly as it had lit, the candle's flame went out, leaving the room cloaked in darkness. Then, a blinding light suddenly consumed the room, followed by a piercing scream. Frank uncovered his eyes and watched in horror as his wife was engulfed in black flames...

    Frank had never let himself forget that night, and now he was going to right the wrongs the event had created. “I have little tolerance for your kind,” the voice exclaimed, “you are all the same! All wishing for the same thing, which I have provided without reservation! Yet when I exact my toll all of you come crawling on your hands and knees, begging me to reverse it!” A loud sound like thunder boomed through the room, shaking the alter once again, sending several black candles to the floor. Frank shook as well, for he feared his safety was compromised now that this being he had summoned was enraged. “Listen,” Frank pleaded, “I have a deal I want to make with you! If offer you a worthy sacrifice, you will return my wife to me!” Laughter filled the room, making Frank doubt himself for the first time. “And what would a mere mortal like yourself have that I would find appeasing?” The voice betrayed a slight hint of curiosity in its tone, which showed through all of the malice. “My eternal slavery, master.” Frank held up his wrists in a sign of subordination, trembling slightly. To Frank, those few moments he knelt waiting for the reply felt like years. “Yes,” the voice finally announced, “this is acceptable. Your life in exchange for hers.”

    Frank looked up slightly, focusing only on the floorboards a few feet in front of him. “Master, what do you require? The ancient tomes named different requirements, pictures, locks of hair, personal items... What is it that you desire to bring my wife back?” Then booming laughter erupted, only much louder and much more sinister than before. “I require only two things from the likes of you; a body that is fit to hold her soul, and a soul not fit for the body it inhabits.” Frank contemplated this for a moment, feeling a hint of delight in the thought of seeing his wife. “I have a body, though it isn't human.” He rose nervously, focusing on the floor and going to the closet where he exhumed a wooden puppet the size of a full grown human. “Will this be suitable?” Another gust of wind, hotter this time and bearing the stench of rot and decay, blew through the room. “Yes. Place it within the circle and watch as I return your beloved to you.”

    Eagerly, Frank placed the lifeless body into the center of the inner circle and backed up slowly, keeping his eyes on the wooden puppet. “Now, human, stand back and witness my power!” A loud crash resounded through the room, shaking the ground and sending Frank face first into the floor. He struggled to keep his head up, wanting to see his wife brought back to life. Blue lighting flashed around him, all aimed at the center of the puppets chest. Then, a blinding light forced Frank to cover his eyes, protecting them from the glare. Then, all went silent. Silence and darkness surrounded him, and he struggled to lift his shaking body from the ground, looking toward the place where the puppet once laid.

    A blond haired woman, her pale complexion glowing in the light of the crimson candle, stood in its place. Overjoyed, Frank ran toward her, arms outstretched to once again embrace his beloved. Then, the woman turned to face him, and Frank screamed in horror. What was once a snowy complexion turned into rotting skin, her hair patchy and thin. Her eyes that once brought him so much comfort and joy now made him wretch, for the deep gashes around the sockets that had ripped the eyes from them were gushing blood, the eyes themselves hung limply at either side of her face. She smiled at him, most of her teeth missing and the rest a rotten yellow and black. She advanced in a shuffling motion, limply lifting an arm in his direction. “You are not my wife!” Frank exclaimed loudly, turning to run. The ground shook again, sending Frank flying to the floor. “This, indeed, is your wife, human.” The grotesque creature advanced closer, its stench filling Frank's nose and causing him to gag. He opened his mouth to scream as the monster before him slowly lowered itself to look him dead in the face. Slowly, the creature opened her mouth and pressed her lips to his, all the while digging her ragged filthy nails into the flesh of his arms. He attempted to scream once more, but the sound of laughter filled the room, making him shake in fear and anger. The creature began to tear at his eyes and chest, leaving long burning gashes in his skin. Frank pushed the creature away and leaped to his feet, holding his eye where the creature's nails tore the skin.

    Keeping an eye on this thing he had summoned, Frank dashed to the door, tugging at the handle fruitlessly as his once-beautiful wife advanced slowly with a silent menacing presence. Then, Frank turned in horror to see his rotting figure of a wife no more than a hairs breath away, her stench more repulsive at the shortened distance between them. “You would kill your own servant?!” Frank pleaded as the creature slowly moved its arm backwards, angling its nails like five sharpened daggers poised to slash through whatever it came into contact with. “Foolish human,” came the amused reply, “what good is a servant of mine while alive?” Then the laughter came again and Frank jolted suddenly, mouth opening wide, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as he reached weakly to grab the wrist of his wife, who was now beautiful as she had been.

    “You weren't the only one to sell your soul” she whispered into his ear. Then, smiling, she removed her hand from his stomach and backed away, watching him writhe in pain. “You let me die when I could have lived. Now, I return the favor.” Once again, the black flames devoured their prey, and Frank felt the searing flames eat away at his flesh and bones as he begged for mercy. “Till death to us part, my love.” And with that, Frank watched as his wife turned and blew out the flame of the crimson candle as the final chime of midnight resounded through the silent room once more.