Nighttime Visits
By Martin L. Shoemaker
John Horner sat at his table and poured himself a double of Jameson’s. He could already feel it was going to be one of those nights. He was ready to get thoroughly drunk and just sleep through it.
But that wouldn’t be allowed. What Big G giveth, Big G could taketh away. Big S, too. Despite John’s valiant efforts, he was wide awake and sober when his first visitor sat down across the table. The man—thing?—was small and slight, hardly threatening at all. But after so many nights of so many visits, John knew better than to take any of the Sins lightly. They were Deadly, after all…
Little E set his knobby elbows on the table. He was a rail-thin homunculus with enlarged ears and even larger eyes. His face was sallow and long. He looked not at John, but at the bottle. He sniffed. “Sure wish I had a drink, John.”
“Heh.” This was a new tack: instead of dredging up one of John’s bouts of envy, Little E was exhibiting his own. “I could pour you one…” A dim green light appeared in Little E’s eyes as John reached for the bottle; but then John withdrew his hand. “…but that never works, does it? As soon as you have it, you won’t want it, will you?”
Little E’s narrow mouth suddenly split impossibly wide, showing a partial set of broken teeth. “Are we talking about me or you, John?”
John nodded. “Is there a difference? You’re all in my head. In my heart. I just see you out there.”
“How does that make you feel, John? Do you wish you could be normal, like your neighbors? Is it fair that they can get a good night’s sleep when you can’t?”
John gulped the whiskey. “What’s fair got to do with it? Lady downstairs has lung cancer. I don’t. I can’t compare. There’s always somebody better off, and somebody worse.”
“But shouldn’t you have the best of everything? Don’t you deserve it?”
That got a low chuckle. “Deserve? That’s a lie crooks use to rope in the suckers. The only thing we deserve is the result of what we do. That’s what we deserve, and what we get.” He leaned over the now-empty drink and glared at Little E. “Like you.”
The Sin blinked. “I don’t understand.”
A louder laugh. “Oh, you understand, all right. You, and the rest of the Deadly Sins. I done some stupid things, some bad things even, and these visits are what I get.”
“But don’t you want –”
“I want you to shut up.” John filled the glass and pushed it across the table to Little E. “Go ahead, have a drink. I don’t care anymore.” He sat back in his chair. He didn’t care, either way.
The little man trembled and reached for the glass; but before his fingers touched it, he faded away.
One down, six to go…
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