The Secret
By
Lori D’Angelo
When Maginalt offered to show us how to cheat Death, of course, I said I was interested. We all knew what Maginalt had accomplished before—how he had tamed the creatures of the sea and separated them from the creatures of the land, how he had assigned some beasts to the earth and some to the sky, how he had divided day from night and broken the year into manageable seasons. We could handle the darkness and the cold because we knew the light was coming. In short, Maginalt had imposed order onto the chaos. And Death was the ultimate form of chaos, the one thing most truly out of our control.
It was over a game of cards at Madame Trudy’s Blacklight Saloon that Maginalt first told me that he knew how to beat back the Reaper. He was whipping me badly at Poker, and I was eager for the game to end.
“I could tell you, Randolph,” he said. “But the knowledge comes with a price.”
We were both drinking whiskeys, but, as always, Maginalt’s drink was stronger than mine, stronger than anyone’s. It was said that Maginalt tolerance for pleasure and pain was rivaled only by the gods’. In fact, there were rumors that he had once been a god but that he had been expelled from the cosmos.
Why we weren’t told. We were content to have him among us. Maginalt did the best parlor tricks. Just last week, he had set a girl on fire and then blew her out. The spectacle had been marvelous to witness. When the flames were fanned, her skin was as good as knew, but it was said that she had scream-waking dream nightmares where her body was consumed by unquenchable flames.
Her sister, the ugly one with the prematurely silver hair, said that she got what she what she deserved. Who in their right mind would allow their body be used like that? Regardless, it was clear to all of us that the fire girl’s beauty was fading, and she must marry now or not at all. The black-eyed sailor who she had turned down before Maginalt’s fire trick was lurking in the background like an inevitable case of scurvy. This time when he asked her to be his wife, she said yes. We were told later that he held her down when she screamed to keep her from gouging out her eyes. When he was at sea, she would have to go it alone. People wondered if she would survive.
It was the price, people said, most without much sympathy, for knowing what it felt like to burn alive. After all, she had volunteered. She had even laughed it off when Maginalt warned her shrugging: “How bad can it be?”
Trudy, my dragon tailed mistress and the owner of the saloon, took me aside and reminded me that nothing good ever came from making a deal with Maginalt.
Her green eyes were sad as she pleaded, “Randoph, some people say he’s the Devil.”
But I didn’t believe in God or the Devil, so I brushed off her warning with bravado. There was too much evil in the world for it to have come from one source and one source alone. I didn’t believe anyone or anything could be that powerful.
“Pashaw, woman,” I said with more bravery than I felt. “Don’t you want to know how to beat death?”
“The fewer dealings you have with Maginalt, the better,” she said.
Maginalt told me to meet him at the bar. “If you want to know how to cheat Death,” he said, “all you have to do is drink this.”
“And what’s the price?” I asked.
“The knowledge is the price,” he said.
“But that doesn’t,” I began.
He hushed me. “This drink will evaporate in 63 seconds,” Maginalt said, as if he were the host of some warped reality show. “Your time starts now.” Maginalt began to count, slowly but accurately, as if his count was synched with Time itself.
I let him get 15 seconds into the count and then no more. I drank the drink in one shot.
It was the worst tasting thing I had ever consumed. It was like salt and bile and vomit with an aftermath of blood. With the drink came the visions of men and women dying. I watched as they came to the brink of Death and the Lifeforce went out of them. My eyes grew wide with the knowledge and the terror.
“How often will I see this?” I asked Maginalt after I had drunk it down.
“That’s a question that you should have asked before,” Maginalt said. His voice held no remorse. If it contained a trace of anything, it was pleasure.
I sought out the girl Maginalt had set on fire. When she screamed and her seafaring lover-husband was absent on the ocean, I held her down. And she enveloped me as I saw the dead and the dying. She became my only lover, my only friend. When her husband was home, I was alone. I missed Trudy, but I couldn’t share my terror with her, and I didn’t want to expose her to my pain.
There were moments, but moments only, when Fire Girl held me where briefly I could keep the visions at bay.
“What’s the escape?” I said to Maginalt that night as I left the bar. I tried to sound hopeful, but Maginalt’s reply took all that away.
“There is no escape,” he said with expressionless eyes. And I wondered then what he was and if he was Death itself. “Now that you’ve seen Death, you will never die.”
I went out into the night then. Though the light would come in the morning, it would not come for me.
Lori D'Angelo is a grant recipient from the Elizabeth George Foundation and an alumna of the Community of Writers. Her work has appeared in various journals including BULL, Drunken Boat, and Moon City Review. Her first book, a collection called The Monsters Are Here, was recently published by ELJ Editions.
By
Lori D’Angelo
When Maginalt offered to show us how to cheat Death, of course, I said I was interested. We all knew what Maginalt had accomplished before—how he had tamed the creatures of the sea and separated them from the creatures of the land, how he had assigned some beasts to the earth and some to the sky, how he had divided day from night and broken the year into manageable seasons. We could handle the darkness and the cold because we knew the light was coming. In short, Maginalt had imposed order onto the chaos. And Death was the ultimate form of chaos, the one thing most truly out of our control.
It was over a game of cards at Madame Trudy’s Blacklight Saloon that Maginalt first told me that he knew how to beat back the Reaper. He was whipping me badly at Poker, and I was eager for the game to end.
“I could tell you, Randolph,” he said. “But the knowledge comes with a price.”
We were both drinking whiskeys, but, as always, Maginalt’s drink was stronger than mine, stronger than anyone’s. It was said that Maginalt tolerance for pleasure and pain was rivaled only by the gods’. In fact, there were rumors that he had once been a god but that he had been expelled from the cosmos.
Why we weren’t told. We were content to have him among us. Maginalt did the best parlor tricks. Just last week, he had set a girl on fire and then blew her out. The spectacle had been marvelous to witness. When the flames were fanned, her skin was as good as knew, but it was said that she had scream-waking dream nightmares where her body was consumed by unquenchable flames.
Her sister, the ugly one with the prematurely silver hair, said that she got what she what she deserved. Who in their right mind would allow their body be used like that? Regardless, it was clear to all of us that the fire girl’s beauty was fading, and she must marry now or not at all. The black-eyed sailor who she had turned down before Maginalt’s fire trick was lurking in the background like an inevitable case of scurvy. This time when he asked her to be his wife, she said yes. We were told later that he held her down when she screamed to keep her from gouging out her eyes. When he was at sea, she would have to go it alone. People wondered if she would survive.
It was the price, people said, most without much sympathy, for knowing what it felt like to burn alive. After all, she had volunteered. She had even laughed it off when Maginalt warned her shrugging: “How bad can it be?”
Trudy, my dragon tailed mistress and the owner of the saloon, took me aside and reminded me that nothing good ever came from making a deal with Maginalt.
Her green eyes were sad as she pleaded, “Randoph, some people say he’s the Devil.”
But I didn’t believe in God or the Devil, so I brushed off her warning with bravado. There was too much evil in the world for it to have come from one source and one source alone. I didn’t believe anyone or anything could be that powerful.
“Pashaw, woman,” I said with more bravery than I felt. “Don’t you want to know how to beat death?”
“The fewer dealings you have with Maginalt, the better,” she said.
Maginalt told me to meet him at the bar. “If you want to know how to cheat Death,” he said, “all you have to do is drink this.”
“And what’s the price?” I asked.
“The knowledge is the price,” he said.
“But that doesn’t,” I began.
He hushed me. “This drink will evaporate in 63 seconds,” Maginalt said, as if he were the host of some warped reality show. “Your time starts now.” Maginalt began to count, slowly but accurately, as if his count was synched with Time itself.
I let him get 15 seconds into the count and then no more. I drank the drink in one shot.
It was the worst tasting thing I had ever consumed. It was like salt and bile and vomit with an aftermath of blood. With the drink came the visions of men and women dying. I watched as they came to the brink of Death and the Lifeforce went out of them. My eyes grew wide with the knowledge and the terror.
“How often will I see this?” I asked Maginalt after I had drunk it down.
“That’s a question that you should have asked before,” Maginalt said. His voice held no remorse. If it contained a trace of anything, it was pleasure.
I sought out the girl Maginalt had set on fire. When she screamed and her seafaring lover-husband was absent on the ocean, I held her down. And she enveloped me as I saw the dead and the dying. She became my only lover, my only friend. When her husband was home, I was alone. I missed Trudy, but I couldn’t share my terror with her, and I didn’t want to expose her to my pain.
There were moments, but moments only, when Fire Girl held me where briefly I could keep the visions at bay.
“What’s the escape?” I said to Maginalt that night as I left the bar. I tried to sound hopeful, but Maginalt’s reply took all that away.
“There is no escape,” he said with expressionless eyes. And I wondered then what he was and if he was Death itself. “Now that you’ve seen Death, you will never die.”
I went out into the night then. Though the light would come in the morning, it would not come for me.
Lori D'Angelo is a grant recipient from the Elizabeth George Foundation and an alumna of the Community of Writers. Her work has appeared in various journals including BULL, Drunken Boat, and Moon City Review. Her first book, a collection called The Monsters Are Here, was recently published by ELJ Editions.
