This is the final part to my short story the Devil Merchant. I hope you all enjoyed it. I plan to post a new story in the coming days but for now enjoy parts one and two.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror she saw the bags under her eyes had grown deeper every day. Her nightmares were vivid and all too real, demons with masks of evil and laughter peeling the flesh off living humans, humans she once knew in her life, her father, her old boss, co-workers, her ex-Jack but one face was never there and always a lone figure stood in a shroud of light so bright she was unable to look at it for too long. Her mother. A vision of beauty and purity, an aura not covered in worms and decomposing flesh but an angel unblemished by the tainted evil that haunted her life and dreams. The beauty would burn her eyes and alas in most her dreams, she would became blinded to the nameless horrors that surrounded her, tortured and deprived of a life she could never have. She started getting the shakes again and despite three blankets and an oil heater, she was still cold. A cold that only came from her broken and torn soul. Every light was on in the busted down motel room that she rented for eighteen dollars a day and though the light illuminated every corner of the room, darkness managed to linger on still. She saw a scurry under the dirty spring cot near the far wall and she curled her legs up deeper into the cocoon she encased herself in, burying her head under the blankets.
Wanting to die and end the horrors that haunted her waking life but unable proved a frustrating fact she was realizing more and more. Her contract was ending in hours and the pain she felt now will be dwarfed by what was in store later. Her head pounded despite the amount of painkillers she had already previously pumped herself full of an hour ago. Opening the lid to the bottle, she choked back six more little pills. She began to drift, sleeping was rare but sleep was the last thing that was wanted. She could barely bring herself to pull away from drowsiness.
“Your soul.” She opened her eyes at the memory, a sobering reminder of what she’d done and what awaited her.
“Excuse me?” She blinked in surprise and had almost laughed out loud.
“The terms of this contract are for your soul. In return you will have riches beyond your wildest dreams. And in five years’ time, I come to you and collect what will soon be rightfully mine. Your eternal soul.” The pleasantness that dripped from his voice moments ago, turned deadly and cold, the smile replaced with a sullen set jaw of broken teeth and yellowed, diseased bone.
“Do we have a deal, Miss Dalton?”
Undaunted by the fact he knew her last name and despite the ridiculous claims to owning her soul or amateur parlour magician tricks he’d used to scare her, she grabbed the paper and signed her name. Once her name was sealed on the paper with blood red ink, the paper burned up in front of her eyes. Astonished, she looked up to find the man gone. Everything was as it were when she had first walked in and nothing appeared changed. The only thing different was that there was a cheque of a sizable amount on the table made out to her and a letter that simply read, “Pleasure doing business with you, love.” And she began to cry.
Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at the clock. She was going to die and she knew this well in advance, yet knowing seemed almost as torturing as the nightmares and hellish visions she had experienced for the last five years. A light rap on the door signaled the beginning of the end and when the man in the suit with the horrible smile came in, he looked exactly as he had on the day of their meeting. Except he was wearing a red tie today.
“Valerie. My love, my sweet and precious, young Valerie.” She hated him, hated his use of the word love to her, but most of all she hated herself, for she saw herself in him now.
“Was everything to your liking these past years? Have they been fulfilling and to your enjoyment? Was your soul an adequate exchange for the riches you received in return?”
He smiled once more, a skeleton face with burning red eyes. Valerie had known pain, but she did not know this pain and the pain she felt was worse than anything she could ever understand. Worse than the flesh eating, flesh torturing demons, or the burning blindness of her mother’s angelic presence. Her soul was his and she would never know life or happiness again, only to wade through unending darkness. An eternity of madness. And she began to scream.
- The Merchant Devil Part 1 (terrinjarrell1991.wordpress.com)
- The Merchant Devil Part 2 (terrinjarrell1991.wordpress.com)
- Devil Rising (sunnysabbharwal.wordpress.com)
- devil’s advocate (yeshuaelohim.wordpress.com)
- My Name Was Not There (lynleahz.com)
- Four Common Tactics of the Devil (adw.org)
- The Devil’s Third Cover Reveal (fictionsouraddiction.wordpress.com)