Napoleon’s Complexion

Randy: “Did you know that Napoleon I Bonaparte was Emperor of France?”

Demon: “Yeah, he’s one of my favorite peeps! We had a talk yesterday. That dude loves to-”

Randy: “Did you know that for his time period and location, Napoleon was considered above average in height?”

Demon: “Did you just cut me off? Son of a bitch! I’m gonna slap you so far off the ground-”

Angel: “Calm down, please, Demon.”

Randy: “So that means Napoleon is not only wronged in modern day, but the term Napoleon Complex is an incorrect statement for a social stereotype about short men.”

Angel: “That’s all well and good, but what does this have to do with our writing prompt.”

Randy: “I don’t know. Use it.”

Angel: “Um… Uh… Demon, you know Napoleon, why don’t you-”

Demon: “Yeah, yeah…”


The nameless man stood. Every limb, hair, and cell shook panicked. His naked body sweated from the temperature of his new surroundings.

Euh, new meat!” An odd voice called from the smoking darkness.

“You mean fresh meat.” Another voice corrected with a strong whiff of putrid flesh and rotten eggs drifting by with each steaming word.

Hmph! When did you get in the habit of correcting me? I did not think you like correction.”

“I don’t but knowing you hate being corrected makes me wanna do it.”

High pitched eager greedy giggles sounded around Nameless. What he thought was only two were many.

Nameless swallowed swiping his brow of sweat. “Hello?”

Euh, yes, new meat.” The odd voice said.

“Fresh meat!” The dark smirked.

Argh!” An emasculated figure walked from the lurking blackness into the hot light. Nameless flinched from the sight. “My name is Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. The pleasure is yours.” Standing hairless from head to toe, the odd voice stood shorter than Nameless. The creature was covered with oozing black sores, thick black ash, and decaying black charred skin.

“Napoleon who?” Nameless shivered away from the figure while his hopping feet burned.

The charred flesh blinked and opened his toothless mouth to speak, “You… Never…”

Laughter erupted around them — a mixture of monstrous roars, wicked giggles, and taunting whispers, “You not as famous as Hitler. You not as tall as Idi Amin.”

“Shut up!” The disfigured one shouted.

“I’m…I’m sorry… Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes,” The greedy giggles sang, “You killed them and hid the bodies. No one found them, ever. But the knowing knew. The knowing always knows.” More giggles vibrated in his ear, poking his mind.

The heat increased and the darkness reached its hands to take him. He jerked, but wasn’t able to escape.

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!” The further he was dragged, the hotter his skin blistered. The blacker it got, the deeper the giggles laughed echoing though the hollows of darkness.

“The knowing knowssss.” The smoking darkness hissed. “Your dead knows. You LIE!” Cold froze his lungs halting his breath and screams as heat cooked his flesh.

“Cut his gentiles off!” Napoleon snapped wickedly. “Make him suffer that first for not knowing who I am. Ignorant uneducated… I am Napoleon Bonaparte! Emperor of France, Conqueror of Europe, and-”

“Creator of the Short Man’s Complex!” The giggles resounded.

“I am not short!” Was the last thing Nameless heard before the flames rose and pain shut all senses off.


Randy: shivering, “I am… disturbed.”

Angel: “Really, Demon?”

Demon: “What? You told me to write about the Napoleon I know.”

Angel: “That’s not what I- Oh forget it.”


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