For Hire

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Horseman of the apocalypse Pestilence is in charge of bringing the next apocalypse

Fantasy / Horror
4.0 1 review
Age Rating:

For Hire

Pesti straightened her floor-length gown of green silk and aligned her back on the low stool, of the small lemonade stand she was sitting on. Except that instead of selling drinks she sold pestilence. One dollar for the chickenpox. Two for measles and ten for Ebola. She fixed her sunglasses and sighed as another customer passed by scoffing. A grown woman selling at a kid’s lemonade stand wasn’t reassuring.

Really, what was the horsewoman of the apocalypse supposed to do? They wanted the end of the world from her. A bit much dad?

She sighed and took down her sign. She materialized a black pen from the air and wrote necromancy for free at the bottom. She set the sign back up on the stand. Hopefully, this gets me, someone...although what I can do with it is beyond me.

At a quarter to two, a small boy of about ten hurried to her stall. He had forgettable features and round brown eyes full of hope? Well now.

“Are you really a necromancer? ” he asked between hiccups and tears.

Pesti smiled. “I am.” No good evil minion got out of hell without rudimentary necromancy classes at least.

The boy grinned. “Then you can bring Tutu back to life?”

She tilted her head. “Tutu?”

“My grandma’s dog. She ate one of my poisonous insects, and now she’s dead.” He started to cry. “Grandma won’t buy me that cool bike if she finds her beloved poodle died in my care!”

All this for a bike? Hmm, humans haven’t changed in the last millennium.

“I’ll bring Tutu back to life for you,” she said.

“Great!” cried the boy, hugging her.

“Where is the dog now?” asked Pesti trying to pry the boy off her middle. Hasn’t he heard don’t trust strangers before? Surely he can’t be that naive?

“In my backyard. I was going to bury her, but then I saw your sign,” he said wiping his face of tears.

Pesti pried him off and stood, shaking out her long dress. “Very well. Take me to the dog. We must be quick about this. It could be that its spirit hasn’t yet ascended for the final judgment.”

“Final judgment?”

“Yes, all creatures are judged. Usually, animals go to heaven but not always, and once there it is almost impossible to call their spirits back. Understand?”

The boy shook his head but led Pesti to a large white house and through to the backyard. Pesti wasn’t interested in the house. She noticed how well kept it was but other than that she really didn’t care. Once out the backdoor, she was led to the cadaver of a white toy poodle. Bending down, she saw the purple tongue.

It had asphyxiated it seemed. She bent down and touched the dog letting her powers free to search the land of the dead and smirked when she found the dog’s soul traipsing the yard beside its body. It was sniffing around. The pallbearers had yet to round it up. This will be an easy revival but...hmmm I wonder if? Should I try? It would suit this boy as a lesson and it would get the job done quickly.

“Help me lift the dog into the hole you made,” she said, and the boy struggled with the dog, lowering it into the too shallow hole in the ground. Pesti slipped her sunglasses onto her head and closed her eyes before softly chanting. As she did, the hole glowed. She pulled two large rocks from the dirt pile and drew a pentagram on each with her felt marker, before placing each rock at the beginning and end of said hole.

She grabbed some dirt and began chanting again loosening it grain for grain over the hole. The light grew brighter, and the pentagram tethered the dog’s soul and brought it back into the body inch by inch. Pesti cut her finger and let a drop of her blood drop in the hole smirking. Then a small woof. Pesti stopped chanting and the strange light died down as Tutu jumped from the small hole and shook her head. The boy squealed in joy and hugged the dog to him.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you,” he cried petting the playful poodle.

Pesti’s eyes flashed red as she smiled. “Don’t thank me. Be more careful next time,” she said as a car pulled up the driveway.

“Dennis! What have I told you about the door!” His grandmother screamed. “And where is Tutu?” Pesti smiled and watched as Dennis made his way over to the rotund woman, who was leaning on a cane. The woman whacked the boy over the head with it as she grabbed her dog and made for upstairs. Pesti shrugged and pulled her sunglasses down. She disappeared in the shadows, smiling. She couldn’t wait for her trick to spring. It wouldn’t take much.

Several days later, Pesti was once again sitting by the lemonade stand when Dennis came up to her.

“Hello again,” she said. “Is Tutu all right?”

“She um hasn’t eaten in a few days. Gran is kinda worried.”

Pesti smiled. “Oh, she should eat soon,” she said.

Dennis cocked an eyebrow. “When?”


There was a nasty growl from farther up and then a scream. Dennis’s eyes widened, and he ran toward his house, where Tutu was feasting on his grandma, who was struggling under the red-eyed dog. Pesti, who had followed him, snapped her fingers and Tutu came off his grandma and sat beside Dennis. Her eyes were still glowing hellfire red.

“You should call 911 or she’ll bleed to death not that that will stop my plan but it might delay it,” she said, smirking and petting Tutu.

Dennis turned his head to her. “What plan?”

“Why, Dennis? You should know not to trust strangers by now. You are now responsible for starting the apocalypse. Thank you for helping me.” Pesti laughed at Dennis’s shocked face.

“W-what apocalypse?”

His grandma moved and groaned, and Pesti bent and whispered in his ear. “The Zombie apocalypse.”

His eyes widened in terror as his grandma, opened her milky white eyes, and rushed to bite him.

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