Morgenstern

Fantasy

Rupert drags the ancient trunk into the basement while his wife, Eleanor, putters and mutters in the kitchen above. Tired from the exertion, he sits on the domed lid and mops his brow, then looks up at the spot where he imagines Eleanor his standing. “What the hell is your problem. I finally took an interest in your damn auctions, didn't I?”

Eleanor doesn't respond. He doesn't expect it. He would never curse if he thought she were within earshot.
​
Now refreshed, he stands and turns to examine his purchase. It's held shut by two rotted leather straps with brass buckles and a lock. The lock is only slightly more problematic to open. Rupert easily springs it with a screwdriver from his workbench. He opens the lid with the same trepidation as he might open the Ark of the Covenant as he thinks about the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark when the flesh melts from the Nazis.

---

Little meets his eyes to justify his twenty dollar bid. Just some old clothes including a robe adorned with curious signs and markings and a leather-bound book the size of a world atlas. Laying these aside he finds little else of interest. No jewelry. No object d' art. No rune inscribed clay tablets.

Over the days and weeks that follow, Rupert focuses on the book. It appears written in Latin which he studied as a boy. After rummaging through his own trunk in the attic, he finds his Latin texts and dictionary and clears a space on his workbench for them and the ancient tome that he acquired in the trunk. Strangely, he feels compelled to wear the robe as he works on translating the text. To his surprise, he finds what appear to be incantations. It appears that they include curses to inflict harm on enemies as well as protections against such things cast by them. The most intriguing is an incantation to summon a demon together with a diagram of a pentagon that Rupert inscribes on the basement floor with chalk.
​
After reciting the incantation several times without success, Rupert chuckles at his own folly and goes to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, he awakens with a start. He remembers that “Vs” should be pronounced as “Ws”, and leaves his wife deeply asleep as he stumbles back to the basement and dons his robe.
He lights the candles and recites the incantation one more time with great care.

The demon arrives without flash or fury, without a bang or any sound. One moment it's not there, the next it is. It is a strange mismatch of parts and regards itself, first with wonder and then contempt. Only then does it look up to see Rupert backed against the workbench, his mouth agape, his eyes filled with terror.

When the demon speaks, its voice is soft like a child's but raspy. “What is my name?”

Rupert is too far immersed in his terror to respond.

The monster waits patiently.

When Rupert finds his tongue, he cannot speak without forcing saliva to lubricate his vocal mechanisms. “What?”

“What is my name?”

“I don't... I don't know.”

“Did you summon me?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must name me.”

Rupert looks about. He is far more concerned with finding the safest path of escape than in naming his creation.

The monster's voice matures. It hardens to deliver a command. “Name me.”

A piece of a chuckle escapes Rupert with a gasp. He is thinking of Walt Disney's Fantasia, of all things. Mickey as the Sorcerer's Apprentice. “Mor... Morgen... Morgenstern.”

“That is my name?”

“Yes, your name is Morgenstern... I think.”

“You think.”

“Morganstern. Yes, Morganstern.”

Although even its facial parts are as mismatched as its body parts, Morgenstern looks disgusted. It has fathomed Rupert's meaning. It knows that he intended to use the name of the composer of A Night on Bare Mountain, the theme from Disney's The Sorcerer's Apprentice. It also knows that the correct name is Mussorgsky, Modest Petrovich Mussorgsky.

Morganstern accepts it name and makes a new demand that Rupert is unprepared to answer.

Rupert forces himself to look at the thing more closely.

"Why do you look like... like that?"

"You tell me."

"Me? Why?"

"You made me from an image in your mind."

"I did?"

"Yes."

Rupert ponders this until the demon interrupts.

“What is my purpose.”

“Purpose?”

Morgenstern glaces in the direction of the book, but Rupert is still at a loss.

“I don't understand.”

“You read the book.”

“Yes.”

“Then you must know that I have been summoned to fulfill some purpose. What is it?”

“I hadn't thought...”

Morgenstern looks away to examine its surroundings as though seeking escape. When it's eyes find the pentagon containing the space it occupies, it slumps, then renews its demand.

“I must have a purpose.”

Rupert looks away from the demon for the first time since its appearance and begins shuffling towards the basement steps.

“Where are you going?”

Rupert startles and turns. “I was going to bed. Is that okay?”

“Okay?”

“Okay... allowed.”

“Of course, you are the master. What am I supposed to do?”

“Uh... wait.”

“Very well... master.”

Rupert skirts the wall, his back to it, his eyes never leaving the demon, then sprints up the stairs.

The next morning, Morgenstern is curled up within the confines of the pentagram when Rupert eases his way down the stairs. Disappointment overcomes Rupert like an extra weight of gravity when he spies the demon. He begins to turn to retreat up the stairs until he sees that the demon has him fixed in his gaze, and then descends the remainder of the steps to the concrete floor.

“What is my purpose?”

“I don't know... not yet.”

Morgenstern arranges his features in an approximation of disappointment.

“I have to read.”

The demon closes its eyes as if granting permission to Rupert to read the book.
Rupert re-translates the page containing the incantation and diagram that he used to summon the demon, then translates it again. Frustrated, he turns to the demon and shouts. “Begone.”

Morgenstern remains unmoved.

Rupert leaves through his his Latin dictionary until he finds the phrase he thinks approximates “begone”.

“Lucius annaeus seneca.”

Morgenstern opens one eye. “That is not correct. And, I understand 'begone' well enough'.”

“Then why don't you leave.”

“I can't until you tell me my purpose.”

Rupert turns red, then turns back to the book and turns the page. At the bottom of the page he notices a phrase that he didn't notice before. “Instat fatum est cum daemonium missio.”

He repeats it to himself several times, referring to his Latin dictionary frequently.
“Dismiss the demon with a mission.”

He turns to Morgenstern. “I must dismiss you with a mission.”

Morgenstern snorts.

“Is that it?”

The demon shakes its head slowly and turns away.

“What mission shall I give you?”

Rupert ponders the question all day. Fortunately it is Sunday and his wife has gone to church without him. She'll have lunch with her friends and he won't see or hear from her until much later.

“World peace. That's it. Your mission will be world peace.”

“What is peace?”

“Peace? Everyone knows what peace is.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Ruperts mouth opened and closed without providing an explanation. After a few minutes fruitlessly searching his memory, he pulls out his smartphone.

“Peace. Freedom from disturbance. Tranquility. A state or period in which there is no war.”

Something resembling a smile passes across the demon's face like a shadow. It turns away in thoughtful contemplation.

“Very well. Peace it is. Now release me.”

“How?”

“Simple. Tear down the wall of my cell.”

“Wall? What wall?”

“The one you erected when you summoned me.”

Rupert stares at Morgenstern without comprehension until he follows the demon's eyes to the floor.

“The pentagon?”

“Yes.”

“How do I break it?”

“Erase it. Just a tiny bit will be sufficient.”

Eleanor returns home to find her husband sitting quietly by the fire, staring into the flames.

“What are you doing? It's August. It's sweltering in here.”

As she lays her purse on the table by the front door, she sniffs the air.

“What is that smell, it's like... like rotten eggs.”

As she turns back to the living room she finds Rupert standing close to her, looking at her like he's appraising a cut of meat at the butcher's.

“That's Morgenstern, or what's left of him in the basement.”

“Morgenstern? Basement?”

Rupert reaches and touches her hair. He then takes her hand and brushes his lips across the knuckles as though sampling them.

“Yes. Morgenstern. I left him in the basement.”