Better to Light A Match Than Curse the Darkness

by: Dennis R. Humphreys

Life was... descent. I had grown up assuming that getting abused was normal and called discipline. I guess I carried thoughts in my head that kept me from achieving more than I had and suspicious of my own abilities. The thoughts crystallized from the words and names I was bombarded with regularly. My attention wasn't long for as soon as my goals were almost met, they were dropped. It was an ongoing pattern of failure, or at least mediocrity, sprinkled with occasional success that amounted to nothing.

At age thirty-six, I decided to change my life...not for the better. It was an effort to get what I wanted while getting back at anyone I could. MY first endeavor was robbing a convenience store of one hundred twenty-one dollars and seventy-six cents. I was disappointed it wasn't more but satisfied with my first accomplishment which made me braver and wanting more. I took great pains to disguise myself because I didn't want to be caught since I wanted the opportunity to spend the money I stole.

I migrated soon to ATMs and began watching at night and really early morning hours for people stopping there. I found the average withdrawal took was bigger in the morning than later. They were getting money for the day. But there were less people in the morning and night was safer. I did resort to carrying a gun in case I needed it. I averaged three hundred dollars per head in the mornings...about two hundred at night. Once again, I disguised myself well and parked around the corner since ATM cameras had a wide view.

After nine months I was making a decent amount of cash and began using drugs. It wasn't long, my dependency grew, and I had to steal more to make ends meet. This also made it more dangerous and me more desperate. I began robbing anywhere that looked profitable. I alienated the few friends I had. I ended up over-dosing one night and thanks to the concern of a beautiful young woman that found me in a parking lot, I was admitted to a hospital and saved. She stayed, but I don't know why. When I awoke on my room the next day, I saw here there next to my bed. She was a vision of pure beauty... angelic in every respect with a demeanor that was equivalent.

“Hi... you're the woman that found me,” I realized.

“Yeah... you weren't in good shape, but I figured you might be worth saving,” she told him.

“I'm Rob Durmeyer. Who are you?” I asked.

“Francis... Francis Palmer. Was it an accident or were you trying to kill yourself? If you were trying to kill yourself I'll drag your ass back to where I found it,” she told him honestly. She couldn't see how anyone could possibly want to kill themselves. That was a sign of no hope, yet she felt as long there was life there was hope. If you were at the bottom of the pit there was still hope because you had nowhere to climb but up.

“I guess it was an accident, a welcome one now that I've met you,” I told her.

I was determined to clean up my act... the drug part so I went to drug rehabilitation. I was clean after a few weeks... as clean as my personality type can be. Problem is you have to replace one habit with another and sometimes the replacement isn't always a good choice. My problem was I replaced the drug with robberies. I was low on cash having spent most of it on drugs and then the weeks I was in drug rehab, so I had little left. This gave me the excuse of getting into more robberies. The thrill of it was exhilarating and easily replaced the escape of drugs. I began robbing more and more places... smaller ones, it didn't matter just to do it. I made up the money in quantity as I went.

Meanwhile Francis and I became lovers. She had no idea I did what I did. She thought I was a free-lance sales guy working on straight commission for two companies in two different parts of auto parts supply business. In a few months I asked her to marry me, and she did. I left every day as if I were leaving for work and came home similarly. When I wanted more money I 'stayed late at work' or there were sales meetings.

I don't know what the trigger was but I became angry over something minuscule and slapped her. I was as surprised as she was but went to our bedroom and locked the door. I tried to apologize and get her to let me in but she wouldn't. The incident seemed to be forgotten or at least swept under the table and neither she or I spoke about it.

Things though, like this seem to lie dormant. Maybe they even appear under different circumstances that may be more acceptable to the people involved. We started getting a little rough when we made love. She seemed to get excited when I slapped her or held her down while we had sex. The dirty talk seemed to flow with it, from both of us, as our imaginations also exploded. The problem was it was accelerating. I think it was an outlet for what was still inside trying to get out.

I was in the area of town that bordered the Chinese section. I wondered what kind of money might be around there in some of the places there. I had heard some of these people had a great deal of money, most didn't pay taxes and didn't trust banks and had plenty of cash hidden.

Finally, I followed an elderly Chinese gentleman as he disembarked from a silver-colored Bentley. There was the guy with lots of hidden money. I'll just take some of it for myself. The man went into a magic shop in the middle of the block so I waited until he was inside a few minutes. Then I crossed the street and entered. A small bell alerted him of a customer but the canary he had in a cage by his register was as useful in signaling its master of my presence.

The man came out congenially and smiled as he spoke.

“Yes... may I help you with something?'

“You may by putting all your money from your register and any other cash you have lying around, in your pocket,” I told him looking around at all the crazy magic tricks he sold. Some brought forth old memories from when I was a kid. I wanted to be a magician. Every kid wants to be a magician for some reason.

The old man, very concerned, emptied his register and stopped smiling. I thought he was going for a gun or something under the register when I leaned over quickly and knocked him to the ground with my fist. He laid there stunned on his back behind the counter looking at me in fear.

“No sudden moves old man,” I warned him.

He shook his head quietly at me and slowly got to his feet.

“Is this all the money you have? Is there anything of value here? I heard you Chinese always hoard gold and silver.

“No gold, no silver,” he answered.

“You must have something else of value. Come on I want more,” I cried, getting exacerbated.

He looked over near his register which made me look. All I saw was tube of tall matches. It was decorated with colorful dragons and figures of demons. I looked where he was looking an that's all I saw.

“These? These? What's so valuable about long, wooden matches?” I asked him. It was obvious I had made a mistake coming here to this place. He had nothing here except that Bentley. “You drive an expensive car... if you don't have money how did you get it?”

“Those matches. They are magical,” he told me. I went over and picked up the tube they were in looked at them.

“So, these are magical, huh? Is that how you got the car?” I asked thinking the guy was half-whacked.

He shook his head, yes. I looked at them turning the container over to look at the bottom. There were no other markings on them.

“How do they work?” I asked him.

“You light one and make a wish. You must let it burn its entire length before the wish is granted,” he informed me.

I looked at them and shrugged my shoulders, then I tossed them into my backpack with the little money I had taken.

“No... no, please don't take them all. I have more things to fulfill,” the old man cried pleading.

“I think you're a bunch of bullshit but I'm taking them anyway since you seem to be so fond of them,..” I told him and then I left. He streets were full of walkers. The Chinese always seemed to be out and about all the time shopping, mostly for groceries. I watched a minutes when I noticed a small Asian woman pointing at me to two cops.

Suddenly I became paranoid. I had never been caught as a thief and I always thought my time was running out but that's why I was careful. I always disguised myself in some way when I stole something to add to the confusion of any identification especially if I ever ended up in a line up. I stopped an acted like I was looking in a window. She was definitely pointing me out. Had she seen me in the shop with the old man when was robbing him? That was the only thing I could think of and now it was a matter of quietly leaving the area before the cops stopped me. I started to move away a bit when one of the cops shouted at me to hold up. He had some questions for me. That was when I turned and ran down an alley in an attempt to get away. I ran back onto the street but they stayed on my tail. I ran in and out of traffic and I didn't gain any distance. I ran several blocks before a patrol car came from the other way with its light flashing. KI ran down another alley in an effort to escape. Midway down I heard and saw the shadow of the patrol car come up the arms of the alley where it intersected with another alley. I leaped behind the several dumpsters that lined the one side of the alley along with all the other cans, boxes and trash piled there. No one saw me hide where I did but it wouldn't belong to discover me.

I stooped there behind the dumpster listening. I just wasn't sure then how to get away or what to do. I could hear the ones that had been chasing me on foot slowly coming towards me. The other two from the car were talking to each other quietly but I could hear them. I thought of the matches I had taken, laughing to myself that I actually thought they might help my escape. However, I pulled one out and looked at it. 'Strike it, make a wish, and let it burn to the end', that's what he said.

Hey, I had nothing to lose, so I did it. As I struck it, it flamed into a bright bluish green, evidence it contained copper sulfate for show. I made a wish that the cops would disappear, and I could walk away form this down the alley. I made my wish and watched the long wooden stick slowly burn. I wanted to hurry it but I didn't want it going out. 'Hurry',. I told myself over and over as the police got closer. Finally I heard the two of them right there by the bin.

“Blaine, he over here I see him. OK guy come out of there with your hands up.” he demanded but I stayed there waiting for the match to be completely burned. It was very close

I knew I couldn't stay there much longer without them pulling me ojt of there. The other two I could hear running towards their comrades.

“Come one buddy, I'm not telling you again. Come out of there with your hands up,” he yelled at me.

I slowly stood with my hands up. I was holding the match with my left hand as I stood. I don't know why I was putting so much faith now in what the old man had said about the matches, but I prayed the match would finish burning.

“OK. Come on out of there,” the one cop commanded as I came from behind the dumpster still holding the match between my index finger and thumb, my hands raised over my head. The other cop went behind the dumpster and grabbed my backpack.

“I think this is the guy we've been looking for...” the cops said but stopped in mid-sentence as the last of the match burned my finger tips.

I yelled when it burned and the cop dropped my backpack to the ground, He wasn't holding it anymore but then he wasn't there anymore. I looked to the other three cops, and they were gone. I looked down the alley and all around it. I started laughing not believing what had just happened. The cops were gone. I got my wish.

I picked up my backpack and flung it over my shoulder. I went down the alley and past the patrol car that was there, then back onto the street. I went home feeling quite pleased with myself.

When I got home Francis wasn't there, but I went into the bedroom and pulled out the matches. There were only six there but it was enough with which to do what I wanted. I emptied the can and looked inside. It was just an empty can. Bottom, top and sides were all the same, void of labels. There was no clue as from where they came. Replacing the matches, I looked for a good place to hide them. I didn't want Francis to get hold of them and use them to light the pilot light in the oven or something stupid like that. I had to plan six wishes. I wasn't going to just wish for something without some thought behind it.

“You were too fucking rough tonight,” Francis complained when we finished having sex. I guess I was feeling nasty after the day I had... a little too exuberant, and I slapped her around quite a bit. I wanted to tell her all about the matches and what happened, but she would have been gone in a minute if she knew I was thief.

“Hey I'm sorry. I just got carried away. It's easy to do with you, you're so fucking sexy,” I told her blaming her for the whole thing.

“No, you're the one that gets carried away. You need to put a lid on it Rob or I swear I'm out of here. I gave you a second chance after the first time, but tonight was a little out there. Just fucking cool it,” she yelled at me.

I thought all day wondering what the next wish would be. The police were looking for me now, so it was about time to either stop or at least take some time off. Maybe I should ask for a million bucks, enough to last a long time. I figured if I asked for too much I'd have the feds on my ass wondering where I got it. I could ask for gold and silver... that I could bury and use it when I needed it. Maybe a fully paid for place in the country then where I could bury the stuff. That would work.

I came home happy I had a plan. I heard Francis in the kitchen starting dinner. As I entered the kitchen, I saw my matches lying on the table.

“What the fuck is this?” I yelled picking up the tube and waving it in her face. Then I saw the spent match lying on the edge of the stove.

“I looked all over the place for matches to light the stove. There wasn't a singled one around this place, but I found those on the shelf in your closet. They're nice and long to ligfht the pilot light,” Francis told me unaware of what she had done.

“You fucking bitch... using my special matches,” I screamed. She knew what was coming because of the abject fear in his face as she ran out of theiskitchen. I ran after her as she began crying. She tried to get to the bathroom but I grabbed her hair and pulled her back. I slugged her over and over again as she screamed, dragging her by her hair then shoving her over the sofa. I was so infuriated with what she did. A short time later there was a knock at the door. It was the police. The walls in the apartment were easy to hear through and the people next door called the cops thinking I was about to kill Francis. I don't think I would have but I don't think you could have convinced Francis.

She walked out with the police to press charges. They handcuffed me and led me out the door. To make a long story short a few weeks later I received divorce papers and I had no idea where Francis had moved. I knew I screwed up royally and rather than fighting her and alienate her more, I signed them and sent them back. She didn't ask for anything, only dissolution of our marriage so it was an easy process.

I sat in the apartment for a couple of weeks feeling sorry for myself. But I knew I was at fault. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. If I had explained to her up front about the matches, she wouldn't have used one and if she did to light the stove at least make a wish at the same time. I wanted her back and I'd give anything to get her back. Perhaps that's why I was in possession of the matches. I could use them to prepare a really great surrounding for her and entice her back. Yeah... once we had everything we needed I would have the inclination anymore to best on her. I reasoned this was the perfect plan and never assumed that Francis closed the door on this part of her life and that she had really moved on to whatever life brought to her.

Francis wanted a house in the country... not a large one, but a private one with some acreage around it with trees. It had to have an in-ground pool so she could skinny dip when she was hot and sunbathe in the nude. It was both a fantasy and a desire. I had all but forgotten about the matches prior to making plans to use them to get her back. I went to the kitchen where I put the matches away after I met bail a few days after my arrest.

I pulled one out and made sure there were no drafts to blow the match out before it completely burned. I took the knife holder, a block of oak wood, from the kitchen to shove the stick into one of the slots, allowing to burn completely down to the end. Then I took the match and struck it, then jammed the end into the knife slot.

“I wish for a small house in the country, in the middle of twenty acres with an in-ground swimming pool. It needs to be surrounded by trees and private, sitting in a clearing of maybe three acres. It needs be just outside this town within thirty miles, and it needs to be completely paid off with no hidden expenses, ” the flame began burning blue again, just after he finished expressing his wish.

I didn't know what to expect. Perhaps I'd suddenly be transported to a house somewhere in the country that was mine miraculously. I sat there for a time looking at the match as the flame completed its journey down the stick. Finally, the flame snuffed, and a thin, curly wisp of smoke sailed into the air. Nothing happened. I knew it worked because I saw it work with the police. In fact, I had seen several news reports of the authorities still looking for the four missing police officers. Neither friends, neighbors or families had seen them again that day they tried stopping me. I wondered what happened to them. They weren't just transported someplace else or they would have contacted someone. Were they in some magical limbo kingdom somewhere?

I sat and watched awhile. I didn't feel any different, nor was there any seeming difference around me. I got up and went to the kitchen because I was hungry and decided to cook a couple of eggs and a slice of toast. There was a knock at the door, so I removed the pan from the stove and went into the living room where the mail was just delivered through the slot. The mailman always knocked before dropping the mail through the slot.

I sat on the sofa and began milling through it. Seventy-five per cent of it was junk mail like it always was but there was one that didn't look like a familiar bill. It was in a slightly larger envelope than the standard number ten, and it was manila. I opened it. Inside was a deed to a property with my name on it and a map to its location. A set of keys was also inclosed. There was nothing else in the envelope... no word of explanation... nothing. This was my wish, but I couldn't believe there was no logical explanation of how I got the property. I quickly went int and downed my food so I could get to the property. I had to Uber it since I didn't own a car. Francis had one so while they were together everywhere they went was in her car.

The Uber driver showed up within twenty minutes and we were on our way. It was a twenty-mile trip. I was excited because I knew this would entice Francis back to me.

When we got there, I had the driver wait while I looked at the house. I went in and it was perfect. I could imagine Francis and I spending our lives together here. I took pictures with my cell phone and went back outside to take some more of the pool and the surroundings. I climbed back into the Uber car excited.

I immediately texted Francis on her phone and attached the pictures. I didn't hear form her immediately until I was climbing out of the car at the apartment. It was a text from Francis. I couldn't wait to open it to find out when she was coming back... but the message merely read 'go fuck yourself'.

I was heartbroken... devastated. I wasn't sure what the next step was but figured she needed more time and I needed to give it to her. So, I waited. In the meantime, I told the landlord I was moving out and with the help of a couple of friends we moved the little belongings I had to our new home. No rental payments and no mortgage payments now. That was super.

I began doing a little landscaping around the place planting some of the flowers I knew Francis liked. I started by creating a large flower bed in the front of the house. I carried rocks in a tractor I bought to help with the work and built a small wall around the edge. I brough flats of flowers from the local nursery and placed them around the perimeter. I'd plant everything the next day. The day had been long, so I took a long, hot bath in the claw foot tub there. As I laid there, it occurred to me I had little savings. I needed more to be comfortable and make Francis comfortable living out here.

I didn't want a lot of money; I didn't need a lot and too much might have the feds on my ass so I thought about it... maybe I could win the lottery. Not a big one. I didn't wanbt the notoriety winning a huge pot... somewhere in the one to five million range would be ideal. I dried off, dressed for bed and went to the living room. I thought about the knife holder again and since it worked so great the last time and got it again and set it up on the coffee table.

I lit a match and placed it in the knife block like before... then I made my wish.

“I wish to win a lottery. Maybe something around three million dollars...,” I verbalized thinking by the time I paid the taxes on it I'd have around two million dollars. As soo as I mad the wish the flame turned blue again as before.

I waited patiently for the matchstick to completely burn, thinking I might have to wait awhile to find out about it. As the stick was completely consumed by the blue flame, the fire went out and the smoke ascended above the table. I watched as the smoke arose and when it hit the ceiling, something dropped from that spot. I went and got it. It was a winning lottery ticket for three million dollars... from New Mexico! I should have been more specific. Now I had to go by plane to cash it in.

I made reservations to fly out in the morning. I suddenly got a sinking feeling to check the date first. I often heard how these types of things screwed you over at times and expected to see a date on it from a year ago making me too late to cash the ticket in today, or it was a ticket for the future. However, it was yesterday's date, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

I spent two days there working out the deal with the state for their share and to collect the rest. I had it transferred to my banking account. Of course, they had to advertise the winner in the paper which I agreed to announce it locally giving them the photo opportunity. I flew home late in the evening, too early to go my bank. I wanted to show Francis a photo of my balance in my account, but I settle for doing on line banking and getting a screen shot instead of the balance. Ha! That would impress her...

I went to bed without a reply but got one in the morning when I awoke and checked messages. It said two simple words... “fuck you.'

I was again devastated. Francis' vocabulary certainly hadn't grown much. I decided I'd better get to work outside putting the flowers in the bed. I had them out for a couple of days, and they needed watering. I started working when a car drove up the driveway. MY first thought was it was Francis and she had gotten a new car. As they got closer, I noticed there were two men inside. Somebody already asbout my lottery winnings from this state?

I stopped and watched them get out of the car.

“Can I help you guys?” I asked. Then I watched as they both pulled out their wallets and displayed their badges. 'Shit, I thought, they finally figured out who did all those robberies over the last several years.

“Mr. Rob Durmeyer?” the driver asked. “I'm Detective Wainright and this is Detective Ferder.”

“Yes... “I replied warily.

“You were married to a Francis Durmeyer, alias Francis Martin?” the man asked.

“When was the last time you heard from her?” he asked.

“Just this morning I got a text. It just said, 'fuck you', I told him.

“I was going to ask if you guys' parted company on good terms,” he stated to me.

“We'll she left because I hit her, but I'd like her to come back. I guess she doesn't want to,” I informed him. “What's this all about?”

“We're investigating her disappearance. She didn't show for work and her friends haven't seen her for a few days. The only communication you had from her was a text message You didn't talk to her?” he prodded. “When was the last time you did talk to her?”

“I had another text a few days ago but the last time I actually talked to her was right after she filed for divorce and I signed the papers... maybe a month ago,” I told him. “Any idea what happened for her to go missing?”

“You know just because you got a text from her phone it doesn't necessarily mean it came for her,” the detective warned. “Especially since the text 'fuck you' doesn't really tell anyone much.”

“You don't think something happened to her, do you? I bought this place for her thinking she'd come back... this is what she always wanted.” I told him.

“This is a nice place. We don't know. She started seeing this guy a couple of weeks ago whose previous girlfriend went missing and we haven't found yet. Kind of a strange coincidence. He's a person of interest in that case and now your x wife's disappearance. Mind if I see your phone for those text messages?” he asked me, so I gave it to him after opening the last one from her. All he to do was scroll through to fine the previous one. “Does his name ring a bell by any chance... a Marco de Boneo?”

He looked at the numbers and shrugged his shoulders acting disinterested. I told him the name de Boneo wasn't familiar, but I sort of lied because I had picked up her phone accidentally one time since we both used the same ringtone. The name 'Marco' showed up on her phone three weeks before she filed for divorce. How many Marcos are out there? So it was probably one and the same. I wondered if she was seeing him then behind my back. Still I didn't care, we could work it out she just needed to give me a chance. I wanted her back with me.

“Yeah, OK... thanks. Listen, call me at this number,” he said, giving me his card, "if you hear from her or there's anything more in the text than two words.”

“Sure. Now I was worried but still figured maybe she played a disappearing game since she was still mad at me and if she had a falling out with the guy she was seeing. However, the reality of it was I needed to be concerned.

Still, I needed her and loved her, I wanted her back under any conditions. I couldn't concentrate. I dropped the shovel where I had it and went inside. I poured a drink. I hadn't had one for a while but I needed it. After two of the things, and flipping channels irradically, I looked at the matches still on the coffee table. I stared at them awhile and began getting paranoid about my money there. With all the suspicion about nationalizing bank and retirement accounts and then suddenly replacing all currency with this virtual crap overnight, giving you pennies on the dollar I figured something worthwhile not in a bank. Something I could bury for hard times of they came and something that just couldn't disappear one night when I was sleeping soundly thinking my future was safe.

I took one of the matches and stared at it a minute. Then I took and struck it. When it lit its bright orange glow, I stuffed the end into one of the knife slots and wished.

“I wish for five million dollars in gold bullion and silver bullion, at today's price, here on this property without any record or anyone else knowing about it by tomorrow morning,” I wished trying to think if there was anything I left out to qualify before the flame burned out but within seconds the flame turned blue. I figured this meant the end of the given wish that couldn't be changed in any way.

Soon the wisp of smoke sailed to the ceiling as the wish was finalized. I had given a time limit, so the wish didn't take place next week or next month or sometime in the future. I felt I had everything covered so the metals didn't show up in Alaska or some distant sight for me to get.

I continued to drink all evening well into the night, crying my drunken soul out for Francis and for her to return.

I got up in the morning and suddenly remembered the wish. I looked through the house and then outside the doors, front and back. I even looked in the basement and the attic. There wasn't anther place to look. I made the wish and the stick completely burned... I even verified that going to the coffeetable but I didn't see any gold and silver. I did everything right but didn't see it. I thought about what I said and saw no reason for it not to be here, so I made breakfast figuring it would show eventually. The wishes always came true so far.

After eating I decided to go outside to continue planting the flowers. The third time I put the shovel into the ground I hit a rock. The ground here seemed to have been cleared of much of its indigenous rock but still there were some large ones that needed to be cleared. I pushed the spade into the ground again, but it sounded different. I got on my knees to extract the rock and brushed the dirt from it to find and edge. When I brushed the dirt back there was a flash of yellow metal. I brushed back more. There was my precious metal. I was beside myself. What a way to find five million dollars!

'Well, there it's going to stay. It's no use digging it up only to rebury since that's what I intended to do with it anyway. The powers that be even did me a favor, burying it for me,' I told myself as I took bearing of where it was to mark it after putting in the flowers.

I wanted to call the detective who gave me his card to see if they found Francis yet. I figured they would call if they found her but decided to wait a day or two and give them time with their investigation. It sounded ike they figured this other guy had something to do with her skipping out again and didn't suspect me. I hoped Francis would pick up the phone and call me. I was just one of a few people she had even been close to.

I waited two more days and called.

“Detective Alan Wainright?” I asked.

“This is Rob Durmeyer. I hate to bother you but has there been any word on my wife or that other guy she was seeing?” I asked him.

“You're not bothering me. If you called later that day, I was out there you would have been bothering me. No, Mr. Durmeyer we haven't gotten any further in the investigation since we saw you, I'm unhappy to announce,” the detective informed me. I thanked him and disconnected the call.

I went back out and finished the flower bed. It looked good if I did say so myself. This wasn't typically my thing, but I had a slight eye for design, and it seemed to have worked.

I needed to do something else to get my mind off things. I decided to go back to the nursery and get a few more shrubs for the front and side of the house. There were a few spots that needed filling. I spent the afternoon unloading the pickup I had bought and planting the bushes where they were needed.

I thought about it more. Maybe there was something I could do. It's possible Francis was out there wandering around suffering from amnesia. If this guy was as bad as the detective implied, he might have hit hard and she's suffering from it. I hit her one time and she went blank for several hours. I couldn't even get her name out of her. I took her emergency and told them she fell down the steps and wasn't quite acting right. They looked at me like they didn't believe me but told it was most likely temporary amnesia. They gave me medication to give to her to take, a sedative, to help her rest. In the morning she was fine, but she ached a bit. She didn't remember what happened, so I took advantage of it, and told her she fell down the stairs. I was worried when she didn't remember who she was so I took her to emergency, which she never remembered.

I decided something like that happened, but I'd wait until the following day, just in case. I would use the last match to bring her home to me, so we could be happy again. I knew she'd be happy with the place I bought and our finances. Everything would be put right by this time tomorrow. I'd get a good shower tonight and I'd decorate the downstairs with all kinds of stuff, and signs welcoming her home. I'd impress the hell out of her and we could begin again and forget about the past. If she had amnesia I'd take her to rehab or wherever she needed to go and I'd take care of her during her recovery.

I spent the morning decorating the place and making signs... ridiculous things to make her laugh. I went and bought food, plenty for the two of us, and champagne to celebrate.

I called the detective again to check.

“Detective Wainright? Rob Durmeyer... anything yet on my wife?” I asked.

“No Mr. Durmeyer. I'll call you if I find out anything. These investigations go slow sometimes,” he told me, so I thanked him and hung up the phone.

I went and sat at the couch. I tested for drafts... that was the last thing I needed to do was use the last match for Francis and have a draft blow it out before it burned to the end. I lit the thing, and it produced a huge, bright orange light, with black smoke curling off the tip. I began my wish.

“I wish my x wife Francis to come home to me and live with me forever, here. I don't care what she'd done or how she is, or if there's something wrong with her but I want her here right away. I promise to take care of her,” I said as I watched the flame turn bluish green.

In the police station Detective Wainright's partner just sat down at his desk. Who was that our suspect, Durmeyer?” he asked beginning to shuffle through some papers he brought to his desk.

“Yeah, but he's no suspect. He seems generally worried, and he doesn't speak of her in past tense. Yeah, I think she's dead but I think Marco did it and is on the run,” Wainright told his associate.

I sat there waiting. It seemed to take forever for the flame to burn to the end of the stick. Finally, the flame went out and the wisp of smoke ascended. I quickly grabbed a noise blower and held it, waiting. There were footsteps on the front porch as they moved to the front door. It was Francis. I was beside myself as I stood. Then there was a knock on the door. I shoved the noise blower into my mouth and went to the door. As I opened it, I began blowing that irritating noise they sound... Francis would get such a kick out of it. As As I threw the door opening blowing madly into the device I suddenly stopped and the blower fell out of my mouth as I watched some flesh fall off the rib cage of the decaying Francis standing on the porch.

“I'm home, baby. Did you miss me?” she said.