Mr. Sprite

Mr. Sprite

A Story by TheWritingWriter
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A mysterious man by the name of Mr. Sprite commits an act of devilishly wicked magnitude that reaps something as dark as himself.

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Today marks the tenth anniversary of my brother’s death. It seems so long ago now that I’ve almost forgotten. It all began twenty-two years ago. Something my mother D and her late husband Nial experienced exactly sixty-six days before I was born. D told me fragments of the story, but I’m still curious as to whether she told me the whole thing. For some reason I don’t think she did. She always had a way of being secretive and naive.

One evening in the late summer of 1992 my mother and her boyfriend at the time (Nial) decided to go on a date. Nial made reservations to a fine dinner at a new restaurant on the outskirts of town. My mother’s husband Brick sat at home that night with bruised knuckles. My mother limped as if she had a peg-leg and had intense welts across her midsection. No one knew of the bruises covering D's body"not even Nial. With not much thought, I concluded Brick had taken his anger out on D for the last time. As a result, Brick filled his evening with the consumption of fungus from cow manure. It was his way of forgiving himself for what he had done.

D and Nial arrived at the venue a few minutes before their reservation. A show was going on in the main hall that made the place louder than they expected. They were unaware there would be entertainment during their dinner"a couple of nobodies. But it seemed that the upcoming act was well-known by the chatter D and Nial overheard from the table next to them. Something about a magician of some sort.

The dinner was wonderful, which consisted of a variety of seafood and bread rolls that inflated in the belly, making for an unenjoyable stomach pain. When they finished eating, both D and Nial leaned back in their chairs and thought about leaving. They didn’t want to stay for a magic show. What a waste of time. Just then, they noticed someone appear out of the corner of the dimly lit room as a spotlight hovered over the person. The man must have been in his fifties, having such white skin that made him almost transparent. A long black top hat sat on his balding head ready to tip at any moment. He wore a fine black suit with a black bow tie and black shiny shoes.

Professional.

 He skipped across the room with his black cane clicking against the floor as he went. As Nial got a glimpse of the man, cracks seemed to run across the man's face as if he was a piece of pottery about to shatter. However, D realized the cracks on the man's face were actually veins"and was slightly disgusted. The man wore a thin strip of black eyeliner, which matched the black iris of his eyes. Long yellow teeth appeared as he smiled with faint red lips that appeared to be a shade too bright. It seemed like something that would appear out of a horror movie. But to the audience, he had a charming effect.

“Good evening, everyone!” the man said. 

The others at the dinner seemed excited, but D and Nial wanted to go home. But they thought it rude and decided to see what the show was about. As the spotlight followed the man, he introduced himself by saying: “My name’s Mr. Sprite, and I’ll be your entertainment for the evening!” An applause crescendoed through the dinner hall. 

Nial looked at D"she seemed miserable. Just then, a small midget named Gordon appeared out of the darkness in a silly outfit. Gordon wore a yellow, red, and green jester outfit. The bells on his hat jingled as he ran up behind Mr. Sprite. Mr. Sprite introduced him as Gordon’s Imp. The audience members pointed and laughed at the little guy in a jester’s outfit. A full-grown dwarf.

As Gordon and Mr. Sprite both walked around the room, they stopped at various tables, and performed tricks for the dinner guests. They had many cheap tricks that included the shuffling of cards to hypnotizing participants. The two made their way around the hall and stopped at an old fat woman's table. The fat woman was chomping on her dinner.

“Hello dear, though it may not appear to be, my jester here is a very intelligent specimen. Mind if I demonstrate?” Mr. Sprite said. 

The woman nodded with a smile as she continued to chew her food.

“Alright everyone, my jester here is going to tell all of you what's in this fine lady's purse, and if he's correct, I'll remove the item from the purse as proof." 

The audience clapped and roared in anticipation. 

Sure enough, everything Gordon said was in the purse, and Mr. Sprite removed each item as promised. Nial watched in awe. He had never seen anything like it before. My mother was still unimpressed, and didn't try to hide her dissatisfaction. Cheap tricks and dwarfs were for children.

Mr. Sprite galloped across the room as silly music began to play. He approached my mother’s table, and stopped behind her. Nial looked to Mr. Sprite curiously with a smile. 

“This time, I’m going to penetrate this woman’s mind"also known as a DreamSneak. It's been a while since I've performed this trick, so I may be a bit rusty. I've never met this woman, and could not possibly know any of this ahead of time,” Mr. Sprite said. "Isn't that right my dear?" 

D raised her eyebrows in a manner of both agreement and boredom as she took a sip of her red wine.

Mr. Sprite placed his hand on top of D’s head, and closed his eyes pretending to be in deep concentration as the music became more intense. The audience concentrated on Mr. Sprite. Everyone began clapping as Mr. Sprite leaned down toward my mother with a smile and whispered in her ear: “Let’s hope you don’t have anything to hide.”

Mr. Sprite stood up and looked out into the crowd, and scanned the room as the spotlight reaped beads of sweat that dripped from his forehead. 

“I could not and would not cheat, dear friends,” Mr. Sprite said.

Gordon smiled and backed out of the spotlight into the black of the room. 

As Mr. Sprite was about to perform his trick, D stood up dramatically, and grabbed Nial by the arm. 

“Get your hand off me, you creep!” D said, swiping Mr. Sprite's hand off of her. 

Mr. Sprite took his hand away with a confused look as the crowd went silent. He didn’t say anything as D and Nial stormed out of the room. 

"A poor sport, I see," Mr. Sprite said, as the crowd burst into laughter.


My mother woke up the next morning with a weird pain and lump on her belly. It’s as if seven months of pregnancy occurred overnight. She could feel the intense pain surge through her midsection. She missed her monthly curse the following week.


It was sixty-six days later when my pregnant mother gave birth to me. She decided to name me Priest, for some reason I didn’t know at the time. No one ever told me who my father was, and no one ever claimed me. 

I never got to see Brick before he shot himself. It didn’t seem that important of a person anyway. My feelings weren't hurt. D hadn't spoken to him in years. She refused the dozens of apologies he gave.

 Twelve years after I was born, my mother gave birth to my half-brother, Ron Victim. D began drinking again when she found out my younger brother was having night terrors when he was eight-years old. The doctors didn’t know what to do. His condition was more unique than any other. No amount of sleep tests or medication came to my brother's aid.


There were nights he would wake up screaming"discovering claw marks on his face and on his back. There was no explanation for what was going on. The doctors had no idea what sort of creature would be able to produce such injuries.

Everyone was dumbfounded. 

Ron mentioned early on of having nightmares about a man with a top hat and transparent skin. D and Nial shrugged off their child's testimony, though they were reminded of a particular person. They dismissed it as coincidence, and denied knowing anything of the sort when the doctor asked.  

When I learned of this, I insisted Ron leave his bedroom door open so I could make sure nothing happened to him. I would leave my door open as well and sit up for hours in the middle of the night staring into his room making sure Ron was okay. He would glance into my room every now and then during the night, and pull the blankets over his head. I could hear him breathing. It's as if he was afraid of something, but I didn't know what. I couldn't see anything.

However, I couldn’t help but fall asleep sometimes, and the next thing I knew, it was morning. 

I offered to play outside with Ron to take his mind off things, but D insisted that I stay inside. I’ve always had fair skin, and would burn easily if I were to go outside. Nial teased that I was allergic to the sun, but I didn’t find it funny. As a joke when I was sleeping as a child, Nial would trace on me with erasable marker the veins that showed through my thin skin. 

There was a whole week where Ron woke up with new wounds. He tried staying with Nial's parents, but nothing changed no matter where he went. I overheard some speculate he was possessed by some sort of demon, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. I didn’t want my brother to hear what D and Nial were saying about him being demon possessed, or see what was going on around him. I knew he must have been terrified. No one would want to know they were possessed by a demon. 

I wanted to help. 

I looked into exorcisms, and found it immensely interesting. I read about it more and more as the months went on. Eventually, it became an obsession of mine. We all have obsessions"mine may be a little more unorthodox than most, but it is what it is. I couldn’t tell anyone that it was what I wanted to do as a career. They would only laugh at me. Besides, they didn’t believe exorcisms worked in the first place. 

As the months continued, the injuries my brother acquired were more intense, until one morning, he was found dead under his sheets. Blood leaked from his wounds onto the white linens. It was a nasty sight. His eyes had been removed from his sockets, and his ears torn off with duct tape in their place. We moved out of the house after the incident. D and Nial tried to hide it from me and refused to answer any questions that I had about the situation. I really wanted to know what they thought happened. But they refused to answer me no matter how much I pressed.

It wasn’t long before the same fate occurred to D and Nial.

I’m now twenty-two years old and doing the thing I love"performing exorcisms. As in every business, there are those who aren't happy with the way I operate. I have been exorcising people for over a year, and have a perfect fail rate. Practice makes perfect, right? 

A man called me last week insisting he was my father. We met, and it turns out, we have more in common than I ever thought possible. I can’t be sure if it’s my father, but it seems likely. 

He invited me to be a guest for his show. 

So tonight, I’m shifting gears. I’m trying something new. My dad wishes to teach me how to perform the purse trick since I have the DreamSneak down.


“And now ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you my very special guest this evening, Mr. Priest!” Mr. Sprite exclaimed, as applause thundered through the dinner hall. 

© 2014 TheWritingWriter


Author's Note

TheWritingWriter
This was originally a fabulist piece I did for a writing class I am in, but have made several revisions, and would like to know if anyone can figure out the significance of each character. HINT: The names of the characters are very important.

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Added on September 25, 2014
Last Updated on September 25, 2014
Tags: story, stories, writing, write, writer, ghoul, ghost, curse, exorcism, dark, horror, scary

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TheWritingWriter
TheWritingWriter

Northport, AL



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A Story by TheWritingWriter