THE MUST HAVE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

It was Samm’s fifteenth birthday and she rushed downstairs anxious to get to the presents, which would surely be waiting for her.

She looked at them with eager anticipation hoping to get enough money to buy the latest generation smartphone, which was solar powered, had high speed mobile broadband, a touchscreen user interface, superfast txt msg, a media player, a high resolution camera with laser focusing, zillions of aps - oh, and it had a phone as well.

Or, better still, to actually get the phone itself as a present.

The first envelope she opened was from her parents, but it didn’t contain any money. It was just a soppy card with a pin-on ‘badge button,’ which read ‘BIRTHDAY GIRL - 15 - TODAY.’

Her mum wished her a ‘Happy Birthday’ and handed her a present, wrapped in girly pink birthday paper. It couldn’t possibly be the much wanted phone, as it was the wrong size and the wrong shape.

When she opened it, she was disappointed to find a pink sweatshirt, with a picture of a cartoon horse on the front. It was something for a young kid to wear, not a trendy, grown up teenager like herself.

She opened the other presents from her parents with mounting dismay, as they were all equally unsuitable and equally disappointing.

Then she opened the cards from her aunts and uncles, still hoping that they would include money, which she’d asked for instead of presents.

The first card contained a book token. A book token for heaven’s sake! What on earth could she do with a book token?

At least the rest of the cards contained some money, but nowhere near enough to buy the phone she so desperately wanted, so desperately needed.

“Come on, love,” said her dad, removing the badge button from her card and pinning it onto her jumper. “That’s better, Sammantha. Now let’s all go and have breakfast.”

*

After she’d finished her breakfast, she decided to go to the mall where her friends usually hung out, but, as she was walking along the street thinking about the phone she’d set her heart on, but couldn’t afford, a large puff of blue smoke suddenly materialized in front of her.

When the smoke cleared, a tall, young man, who looked like he was in his late teens, was standing right in front of her and she jumped back, startled by his sudden appearance.

He had jet-black, shoulder length hair and was dressed all in black: a long, black leather coat; a black silk shirt; a black string tie, tipped with silver points; skin-tight black leather trousers and a wide, black leather belt, with a large silver buckle.

She thought that he looked kind of handsome, but she also sensed that there was a hint of danger about him, which she felt only added to his appeal.

“Who… who are you?” she stammered.

“I’m Luc,” the stranger replied, with an enigmatic smile.

“Luc? Is that a nickname, or what?”

“I’ve been called many names in my time, but I prefer ‘Luc’.”

“Well, I’m Samm, that’s short for Sammantha, with two ‘ms’ by the way.”

“Hello, birthday girl.”

“How… how did you know it’s my birthday?” she asked, stunned.

“Why it says so right here,” he replied, pointing to the badge on her jumper, “but why is a pretty, young girl like you looking so miserable on her fifteenth birthday?” he added.

“Oh, I was hoping to get the latest smartphone for my birthday, or at least enough money to buy one, but I didn’t and it’s mega disappointing.”

“Are they any good?”

“Any good? What planet are you living on? Everyone in the whole world knows that it’s only the most supper cool, must-have gizmo that’s ever been invented and I would give absolutely anything to have one.”

“Absolutely anything?”

“Absolutely anything. I absolutely must have one,” she answered, insistently.

“Are they expensive?”

“Mega, mega expensive and I’ll never, ever be able to afford one.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Would $150,000 be enough to buy one?”

“$150,000,” she exclaimed, “that would be enough money to buy all of the phones in the store, and then some, but who’s got that sort of money?”

Another large puff of smoke suddenly flared-up between them and, when it cleared, he was holding a large, black backpack in front of him.

“I… I wish you wouldn’t keep doing that. It’s kinda weird,” said the young girl. “How do you do it, anyway?”

“It’s just a little magic trick I’ve picked up from somewhere. I guess I’m a bit of a show-off, I suppose,” he said, as he slowly unzipped the backpack and showed her what was inside it.

“Oh my God,” she cried, “that’s more money than I’ve ever seen. It’s more than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

 “Well, it’s yours… if you want it,” he said with a smile, as he zipped the bag up again and put it down on the sidewalk in front of her. “Consider it a birthday present, but, if you take it, remember what you said.”

Suddenly another puff of smoke filled the air and, when it had disappeared, so had the stranger, leaving behind him a faint whiff of burnt gunpowder and the backpack lying on the sidewalk.  

The teenage girl looked all around for her ‘new best friend’, but he was nowhere to be seen and she assumed that he must have disappeared around the corner, when he pulled the trick with the smoke, but, when she looked down, she saw that he’d left the backpack, which she guessed he must have had on his back when he first appeared.

She picked it up thinking that he must be some sort of magician filming a magic trick for a television show and that he had somehow removed the money before putting the bag down, but, when she looked inside, the money was still there.

Surely, she thought, he would reappear with a camera crew and they would all have a good laugh at how she’d been fooled, but, despite waiting for several moments, nobody appeared and she was left holding the backpack full of money, but what could she do with it?  

She couldn’t give it back to him because he was nowhere to be seen and she didn’t know who he was, where he’d come from or how to get in touch with him.

 She couldn’t take it to the police, as nobody would believe her if she told them what had happened, and, anyway, she would get into trouble with her parents for talking to strangers. 

Nor would it be right to leave the backpack where he’d left it, since somebody else was bound to take it for themselves, so she decided to take it home, until she could decide what to do with the money.

*

When she got home she went straight to her bedroom, where her parents never came in without knocking, and emptied the contents of the backpack onto her bed and she beamed with delight as several bundles of bank notes piled up on top of each other.

Picking up the bundles, one by one, she checked them all to see if they only had blank sheets of paper between the top and bottom notes, a con which she had seen recently in a film, but they didn’t. 

In fact, there were twenty-five $100 bills in each bundle and there were sixty bundles altogether, making a total of exactly $150,000.

She quickly stuffed all of the bundles, except one, back into the backpack, which she then hid under the bed, before examining the remaining bundle more closely.

Perhaps it was joke money, after all he was a bit of a show-off, he’d said so himself, but it looked real enough. Or maybe it was counterfeit, she thought.

There was only one way to find out and she so much wanted that iconic phone, so she put the bundle of notes into her shoulder bag and set off for the mall and the phone store. 

If anyone said that the notes were forgeries, she would simply say that she’d found them. Surely no-one could blame her for that, could they?

*

When she entered the store, a salesman greeted her straight away and asked if he could help.

“I… er... I want to buy the new smartphone,” she replied, somewhat nervously. “The top of the range model, please. Oh, and I want the special limited edition black leather case with the silver logo, as well.”

“You do know that they are very expensive, don’t you?” asked the salesman.

“Yes, I know they are, but I’ve been saving up,” she replied, taking several of the $100 bills out of her bag and giving them to him.

“You must have very generous parents to get enough pocket money to save this much,” he replied, counting the money.

“Well, I was given quite a bit for my birthday,” she said, hastily, which was no lie, as she had been given the money that very morning.

“Right, come along with me, miss.”

Her heart missed a beat, afraid that he’d seen through her and that he was going to take her to the office, or arrest her, or something, but he merely stepped behind the sales counter and took out one of the new wonder phones. The one she just had to have, whatever the cost.

“Would you like me to wrap it up for you, miss?”

“Er… er… no… no, that’s alright. I’ll just put it straight in the case.” 

“Here you are then.”

Grabbing the phone and the leather case, she turned to go, but the salesman commanded, “Just a moment,” - she had been rumbled after all - “don’t forget your change, miss.”

She collected her change, mumbling a quick thank you to the salesman, and hurried out of the store as quickly as she could and made her way to the food court, where she was sure that her school friends would be hanging out.

As soon as they spotted her, they started to sing: “Happy birthday, happy birthday to you,” and they gave her several birthday cards and presents, which she put into her bag without bothering to open them.

“Look what I got for my birthday,” she squealed with delight, taking her new phone out of its smart leather case, informing them all, several times, how good it was and she made a point of sending lots of texts, taking loads of photos and checking out several websites, just to try to impress them and, after telling them that they simply must get one, which they could not, of course, afford, she left them in the mall and headed for home, taking more photos as she went.

*

When she arrived back home, her father said, “Ah, there you are birthday girl. What have you been up to?”

She quickly hid the phone in her pocket and answered, “Er… nothing, dad. I’ve just been to the mall to hang out with my friends,” she added, as she rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

When she’d shut the door, she pulled the backpack out from under the bed, where she’d hidden it, to check if the money was still there. It was still all there, except, of course, for the bundle of notes she’d taken out to buy the phone.

She put the bag back under the bed and was about to update her social media page, when her mother shouted, “Come along, Sammantha, dinner’s ready.”

She hastily hid the smartphone beneath her pillow before going downstairs to the kitchen, where only burgers, fries, coke, and a birthday cake waited for her and not even one little sip of wine. Did they think that she was still a child, she thought, sullenly?

As soon as she’d eaten her ‘special’ birthday tea, she went back upstairs to her bedroom, where she put on her nightie and took her new phone out from under the pillow, before getting into bed.

Then she spent the next few hours sending text messages and updating her social media page in order to tell all her ‘friends’ about her new smartphone and how cool it was.

Eventually she grew tired and fell asleep, but she was suddenly roused from her slumbers when the bed covers were pulled off her and flung onto the floor and, when she opened her eyes, she saw that the man she’d met on the way to the mall that morning was standing by the side of her bed.

She wondered, in alarm, how he’d got into her bedroom and she desperately tried to scream for her parents, but the words froze in her throat, before they became fully formed.

“I hope you like your new smartphone, the one which you said you would ‘give absolutely anything to have’,” he mocked.

Then, taking hold of her nightie in both hands, he tore it apart, ripping the buttons off, and he slid his hand inside the tattered remnants.

Sparks flew from his fingertips and arced across her pale skin, as his hand, which was icy cold, grasped her breast and the last thing she remembered, before fainting, was seeing a puff of smoke.

When she started to come to sometime later, the intruder was no longer there, but she smelt a faint whiff of burnt gunpowder lingering in the air.

She felt very hot and her body was drenched in sweat and, as she regained her senses, she realized that she was sprawled out on her bed, smothered by the bed clothes, which she immediately kicked off and she saw that her nightie wasn’t ripped after all.

It must have just been a bad dream, she thought. Yes, that’s what it was; she’d only imagined that she’d been ‘visited’ in the night by Luc.

Then a ‘ping’ sounded on her new smartphone, indicating that she’d received a text, and, when she looked at the screen, she saw that the caller was Luc, but how could he possibly know her number, as she’d not seen him after she’d bought the phone, but she opened the text and read the waiting message, with mounting horror.

‘iz sua u rmbr d@ u z u wd gv nefng 4 ds fone wel 2nt u hv 4 i hv tkn yr v SOUL if u dnt blv me luk @ yr (+)(+) lol Luc (datz shrt 4 LUCIFR w 1 c b-t-w)’

She quickly dropped the phone onto the bed and her hands trembled as she undid the buttons on her nightie and, when she looked down at her chest, she was horrified to find that, scorched into the white flesh of her left breast, was a vivid, red hand print!

Then, almost immediately, her phone pinged again and she saw that it was another text message from Luc, which she opened, at once:

‘ps wz it wrth it?’

End. 

Word count (excluding glossary): 2490.

Glossary: 53.

Glossary of text messages:

‘I’m sure you remember that you said you would give anything for this phone. Well, tonight you have. For I have taken your very soul. If you don’t believe me, look at your breasts. Lots of laughs. Luc (that’s short for Lucifer with one ‘c’ by the way).

‘P.S. Was it worth it?’