The Devil’s Game

The gate that once closed was open will be

Life of the one is the true crime

Entry will carry on for him to see

Death arrives to break time


            Detective Jack Dawson seemed absorbed in the little card he found. It was Monday morning and a new week began. There was always a new murder to solve.

Jack had just about seen it all. Angry husbands, gang shootouts, satanic sacrifices, all these were just a taste of what he had seen during his long career.

But for some reason this one felt different. At the beginning he thought it was just another satanic like sacrifice. But the riddle he had found was different. Blood was used to write the riddle on every place imaginable in the house. The unusual thing was that one body would have never given that much blood. There were about 80 litres of blood everywhere, there was no way it could have all come from that one body. A normal body only had around 6 litres of blood.

            The body was of a woman identified as one Tara Lewis. Her maid had found the body when she cam in this morning to clean the house. She had her own key and entered. She was still in shock. Blood covered the inner house walls. The body itself was cut into many pieces. Those pieces were everywhere, covering the whole house, leaving messy quantities of blood everywhere. The head was stuffed in the fish tank, where it looked like a cheap B movie style effect.

            All these details together with this strange card gave Jack a really bad feeling. This stupid prophecy actually gave him the willies. He didn’t really understand it, but the whole end of time thing seemed very unsettling.

The whole house was dusted for fingerprints put strangely enough nothing was found. It seemed almost impossible not to have any clues in such a bloody scene, but the fact remained they found nothing. The only prints they did find were the ones the housemaid made on entering the house. The other strange thing was the body. It wasn’t cut, it was torn. If Jack hadn’t known any better he would have said the woman imploded. But how could a body implode? There were too many questions and not enough clues to even suggest a possible answer.

            Jack went back to the station, leaving the lab boys to do their job at the crime scene. He would get the results tomorrow or later that afternoon if Carlos got back from his vacation in Hawaii. Carlos should have been back this morning but he gave some bullshit story about the plane arriving later then planned and bla bla bla. Jack spent the last 20 days in Europe trying to catch a serial killer that escaped the U.S. It took him 15 days to finally track him down to Romania. He brought him back and sent him, for a life time in jail.

When that was finally over with he returned home to find his wife had gone. Sheryl the most beautiful woman he had ever met. And now she was gone. He supposed it was really his fault. If he hadn’t been too obsessive about his job she would still be around. That’s why he let her go. He didn’t even call her. Let her be happy, she deserves it.

            Jack reached the station and entered. It wasn’t busy yet. He walked passed Holy the secretary. Holy was the most amazing secretary, definitely the most beautiful. She had the face and body of a playboy model. She had blond hair and big green eyes. She had big full breasts, a small waist and a tiny ass. Every cop tried his best to talk to her without much luck though. She was always very professional towards everyone.

“Hi holy” cried jack.

Holy nodded back which was her way of saying hello.

He sat down by his desk and as soon as he put his feet up on the table the phone rang.

“Damn” he muttered and put his feet down to pick up the phone.

“Detective Jack Dawson here, what can I do for you?”

“Hello, Jack” said a very low and husky voice.

“Yea, what can I do for you?”

“I need your help” said the voice

“Do I know you?” asked jack

“I don’t think so, I know you though”

“Ok mister, what is it that you want me to help you with?” asked jack starting to lost his patience.

“I need… your life”

“Ha ha, very funny wise guy, who put you up to it?” asked jack angrily

“Welcome to hell jack” said the voice. He then hung up.

Jack went straight to holy.

“Did you just pass me that call?” He asked.

“No, why?”

“Oh, Nothing, forget it. I need you to check something for me; can you check where that call came from?”

“Yea sure, no problem Jack”

“Thanks, call me at my desk when you have the answer”


He returned to his desk. A few seconds later the phone rang.


“Hi, jack. Got the info you wanted. The call came from in here, from the phone in the basement actually” came holly’s voice from the other end.

“Ok thanks”

“No problem”

            Jack got up and quickly went down the stairs to the basement. The basement was where all the old evidence was kept. It must be some new guy’s idea for a joke. Well I will turn them straight Jake thought to himself.

He arrived at the end of the stairs and searched for the cop that was supposed to be on duty there. There were always 2 cops on duty there. One was at the gate, where you got access to the entire drugs and weapons related material and one at a small cubical just right from the stairs. The cubical was empty. No cop was allowed to leave his post. Especially when speaking of the evidence room. Something was definitely wrong. He drew out his gone and slowly looked around. The basement had 2 directions to go. One was to the right passed the cubical and on to the gate and the second which was straight along passed the cubical where the other evidence material was kept.

Jake went right, heading towards the metallic gate, where a second cop was supposed to be. The position was empty, the cop gone. He saw two black hands pull something behind one of the many cabinets.

“Freeze” Jack screamed. The hands quickly disappeared behind the cabinet. It was stupid to come alone he thought. Real stupid, now… His thoughts were cut short by an agonizing pain in his skull. He fell on the floor unconscious.

            Someone shook him. “Detective? Are you alright?”

Jack opened his eyes and saw 2 cops standing in front of him. He quickly got up. “Did you get the guy?” he demanded.

The 2 cops looked at each other puzzled. “What guy?” asked one of them finally.

“The guy that hit me on the head and probably killed the two guards” said jack impatiently.

“No one killed the guard’s sir and no one hit you over the head” exclaimed one of the cops.

“What the hell do you mean?” jack demanded. His anger rising.

“We are the guards, you fell down the stairs on your head” The cops looked embarrassed.

            Something was wrong. He didn’t fall; he had a completely different memory then the 2 cops. Was he crazy or were those cops’ nuts? He made a quick sweep of the place checking for any clues but found none. His head pounded and he could already feel a bump. He went back up the stairs and put some ice on his head. He had just gotten back to his seat when his phone rang again. He quickly picked up.


“Jack? Is that you” The voice sounded familiar.

“Yea it’s me who’s this?!”

“It’s Larry; we have some results for you from the murder thing this morning” came Larry’s voice.

“Ok, I’ll be right over pal” Jack replied and hung up.

Larry worked in the lab for the last 12 years or so. He was a bit weird but a good guy never the less.

Jack went to the laboratory.

“Hi Jack” called Larry when he saw him “What happened to your head” he asked noticing jack was holding a bag with ice on to his head.

“Nothing just a little accident” Jack muttered his reply.

“Right, anyway let me show you what we got it’s actually very interesting. In the mouth of the head we found an empty flask and we got an analysis running on it. Nothing really special about it, the blood however is a different story, we found a lot of iron in it. We don’t really know why, although I can tell you that all the blood from the crime scene comes from the same person…”

“But that’s impossible” Jack cut in.

“That’s the strange thing alright. You see we covered something like 20 litres of blood in the house. The only way to get that much blood from one person is to drain them in a period of several days. That would also explain her time of death. This was about 10 hours ago”

“Didn’t you find any prints? Anything I can use?” Jack asked

“Nope sorry, who ever did this is amazing, I mean with all this blood and no shoe print or anything. I really don’t see how this is possible”

“Thanks Lar, let me know if you find anything else”

“Sure, will do”

            Jack left the lab and went to his desk. He sat down; his head began to throb again. He put the ice down and held his head between his hands. His mind was spinning and he was growing increasingly dizzy. He saw his hand taking a piece of paper and start writing something but he took no notice of it. In his mind images were passing in front of him. Images of a big door opening, Gargoyles were coming through it. Their bodies grey and distorted, their head looked like a skull of a monkey, their 4 hands were long with big sharp claws at the end. Their backs were bended and they were walking closely to the ground using their legs and hands to walk forward. More images appeared. The empty flask was filling up, the gargoyle like creatures were sucked into it. After the last gargoyle was sucked in the flask closed and the big doors shut.

            Jake looked around him and saw his desk. On it was the paper he had written something on, it was the strange inscription they had found in the crime scene this morning. A tickling sensation from his nose caused him to rub it with the back of his hand. He stared at his hand in shock and saw it was covered in dark blood.  He took a piece of paper and used it to stop the nose from bleeding. He felt bad; this day was turning into a nightmare.

            He walked to the captain’s office and asked to take the rest of the day off. This wasn’t usually done, but Jack looked bad with his bloody nose and bag of ice on his head. The captain had given Jack the rest of the day off. Jack thanked him and walked out of the station throwing the bag of ice in the garbage and taking the paper out of his nose on the way to his car.

“Jack wait” came a cry. Jack turned and saw holy running towards him. “You dropped your keys” she said handing them over. He put his hand in his pocket and found it to be empty the keys were indeed gone. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yea I’m fine just having a bad day that’s all” Jack replied. He was staring at her. She was wearing a white shirt without a bra and a blue pair of jeans. Dirty thoughts were running through Jack’s mind as he looked over the curves of her body.

“/you looked a little strange. Someone told me you fell on your head or something”

“Yeah, well that’s not exactly what I remember” said jack uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing, just forget it”

“Ok, anyway I finished work for the day; I’m going to pick up my kid from school in an hour. You think you can give me a ride home?”

“Sure doll no problem”

            They got into Jack’s car strangely enough Holy hadn’t anything with her. No purse, nothing.

“Hey Jack, would you like to see something most of the guys at the stations only dream of?!” Holy asked suddenly and took off her shirt exposing her round and beautiful breasts.

Jack stared at her in shock that was quickly turning into lust. 

“Do you like them?” she asked touching her breasts.

He forgot they were still in the parking lot in the station and with one hand reached out to touch her breast. He grabbed one and squeezed it in his hand. Holy was smiling, she held Jack’s hand in hers and in the other a knife appeared. She cut Jack’s palm with one quick motion. Jack let out a scream and blood flowed out like a river. Jack tried to get his hand out of Holy’s tugging and pulling but it was no use he couldn’t move it. Holy took out a flask and filled it with Jack’s blood.

“Do you still like these?” she asked pointing at her breasts that were now covered in blood.

            Jack jumped up. It took him a while to realize where he was. He was in a house, not his own but the victim’s house he realized and cold dread filled him. The walls were white; there was no blood… yet. What was the victim’s name? Tara something? He looked around and heard voices coming from downstairs. He walked towards the sound.

“Don’t worry it will all be arranged” said a woman’s voice.

Jack sneaked closer and stared at the two people talking. He nearly choked when he saw the two people. The one was an average woman he recognized as the victim. The other one was he himself. He was standing talking to the woman, but how could that be. He can’t be at two places at the same time.

“When he comes it will be ready. It must be!” said the other Jack.

“Don’t worry we got it fixed” said the woman. Jack tried to get closer and hit a small coffee table. He cursed his negligence.

“What was that?” asked the other Jack

Jack looked around him and saw a closet. He opened the door. There seemed to be no back to the closet, just darkness.

“No” screamed the other Jack “Don’t open the door”

A grey hand came from the darkness in the closet and grabbed hold of him, pulling him inside.

            Hell always seemed an easy place. Hot perhaps but not that dangerous. Jack looked around him not in fear but in astonishment. The heat was overwhelming; he could feel his cloths slowly start to burn as were his hairs. The area around him was a wasteland filled with fire lava and sharp edged rocks. The lava burst right out of the earth ripping it apart leaving shards of rock on the already jagged ground. A big gargoyle was staring down at him, his big black eyes cold and frightening. He opened his mouth revealing rows upon rows of very sharp small teeth. “May we enter?” asked in a hissing voice sounding like nothing even remotely human. Its sound send shivers down Jack’s spine, a sort of rasping of chainsaws on one another.

            Jack was stunned he had no idea what this creature expected of him. He reached for his pocket and felt the flask. Slowly he started putting the puzzle pieces together. Someone had opened a doorway; maybe this doorway was connected to everything and everyone that might explain why he saw himself. It might have been some other time. As Jack was pondering what to say to the creature he was blown into the air by a warm gust of wind. He flew in a sharp straight line upwards. Around him images flickered into existents, of houses, people, cars, all flickered and went in a matter of seconds. Then everything became dark and he noticed he was now standing. In front of him stood a big mirror, but instead of a normal reflection of him he saw himself differently. As if it was a different Jack he saw, A Jack alien to him.

            It all had something to do with the inscription, the one that kept haunting him through the day.

“Hello Jack, Are you here to stop me? Or should I say stop your self?” The jack in the mirror asked.

“You are not me” stated Jack

“Of course I am, fool. I am as much you as you are me” The reflection a grinned.

“If you are me then why do you want to open the door?”

“You don’t understand anything do you?! The door is already open, it was always open. All they need though is an invitation to enter, and that I am going to give them”

“But the inscription works both ways. I can close the gate if I choose”

At this the reflection looked surprised. Fear appeared in its eyes, but it quickly went away.

“You’re bluffing, you don’t know anything” The reflection was trying to assure it self.

The puzzle seemed to make more and more sense. He nearly solved it now. The gate was an entry way to those things he saw. And somehow he was the key to open it and close it at the same time. He took the empty flask from his pocket. All the little flashes of things he had seen were now falling into place.

“What are you doing?” asked the reflection

Jack didn’t answer he looked at the mirror and with a quick punch broke it into a hundred little pieces.

“NO!!!” screamed the reflection “It’s not over yet”

Jack looked at his bleeding hand. The glass had cut very deep into his wrist. He opened the flask and let the blood flow into it. A door appeared behind him. And Jack saw he was surrounded by people. All of whom looked like him. He took the filled flask and threw the blood on the door. A cry sounded all around him, a searing pain shot from his chest to the rest of his body and he fell to the ground. Darkness covered him like a blanket and he fainted.


            Detective Tara lewis looked around at the crime scene. “What the heck happened here?” she asked one of the guys from the forensic team.

“This head was found early this morning; it looks like the body somehow exploded from the inside out. There is way too much blood though”

“What’s the name of the victim?” asked Tara.

“Wait I have it here somewhere” he took a little paper from his coat pocket “A Jack Dawson”

Tara looked around the messy crime scene. Something was strangely familiar about this, she looked at the wall where written in blood stood the strangest thing. She shook her head how was she ever going to write a report on this? She looked at the sentence again and wrote it down. Although she knew she wouldn’t forget the line in the days to come something made it personal somehow. Something made it creepy; she looked at the sentence again: Don’t trust you’re self. She walked out the house “all I need now is a prophecy to go with it” she muttered to herself and smiled.

“Detective, I think you will want to see this” said one of the cops.

“What is it?” she asked

“Some kind of poem I think”

Tara shook her head this is going to be a long Monday she thought to her self…



Like most of my stories I have an image in my mind a long time before it is attached to any story. This one came from an image I had of someone looking down the stairs to see himself talking. That image was very eerie in a way, because at the time I had no idea if this was an image of the future, an alternate reality or just a strange dream. I finally came up with this story as a setting for that one image, although in my mind it was different then what eventually turned up. In my mind the person looking down at himself was somehow stuck in a hell and was actually the murder in one dimension, the savior in another and a random character in yet another. But once again that became a bit too complicated for a short story and so this is what came out of all these ideas. (2005)


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