Tag Archives: Jack

The Merchant Devil Part 3

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.

END

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The Merchant Devil Part 1

Alright folks, this is my first story I’m posting. It’s about a young girl who goes through some strange periods of time in her new life and she is living to regret every choice she ever made. Enjoy!

The Merchant Devil

By Terrin Jarrell

Valerie Dalton knew she was going to die. It was an inevitable fact that she could not escape. But that did not stop her from lying to herself that it was going to be alright. She thought she had led a good life, but in her final days, it was becoming more apparent that wasn’t entirely true. At the underwhelming grand age of twenty-four she’d accomplished absolutely nothing in life and the only thing she understood was being a terrible daughter and a worse girlfriend. Thinking of Jack sent a wave of nausea and upset ripping through her stomach. Watching a stream of blood flow out of her nose, she picked up a filthy blue rag off the dirty motel room floor and dabbed dully. She was dying of course, and it was all due to that man. That dreadful man with the too-wide smile that seemed to know everything yet revealed nothing. Wearing a black suit and white tie, he managed a rather old time respectable and almost handsome look if not for that smile, that seemed to be plastered to his face like drywall.

“Excuse me ma’am, I believe you dropped this,” he had said to her with a smile.

So charming at the time but she had felt a stir of unease and an almost urge to flee the scene, flee his smile. Instead she returned a flashy array of white teeth with what she’d hoped was her most pleasant waitress smile and said,

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Accepting her napkin back that day, Valerie knew she had sealed her doom. He almost seemed to be saying, “Excuse me ma’am, you’ve dropped your life and I’m here to pick up your pieces.”  She remembered leaving work, the time was 8:14 pm and upon looking up from locking the door and leaving behind memories of a horrific day of ungrateful guests and screaming babies, she’d noticed the man from lunch hour standing under the street lamp outside the Whispering Eva Café. The night had fallen quickly, with only a sliver of the sun exposed. The shadows of the evening caressed the street with long greedy, dark fingers. A chilled breeze sprang up from nowhere momentarily feeling like an autumn afternoon and Valerie had found her arms covered in goose bumps. Early fall leaves swirled through a densely thick fog that started rolling in and got stuck a midst her loose auburn hair. Remarkably he was still smiling and had raised his hand in her direction. He looked like a black specter risen from the deathly fog. With a confused smile, she waved back and returned to locking the door unsuccessfully.

“Dammit,” she’d muttered and behind her in just the same smooth fashion he had presented himself with earlier, he said from behind her, “Are you having some trouble? Allow me.”

He’d reached his hand around her and she became rigid with fear and unknowing. He was very close to her, almost a hairs breath away from kissing the back of her neck and she’d felt his hand embrace hers. And then their hands turned slightly, feeling the click of the door lock. He’d removed his hand just as quickly as he had grabbed it. She faced the door still trying to catch her breath, still trying to understand and form some kind of thank you around her lips. Regaining composer with little ease, she’d turned around to find him nowhere in sight. Sweat had dotted her forehead and she’d become aware at how warm it had become. She’d laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation and walked home through a remaining fogless night.

Looking back at that day, months ago, she realized that was the same day she’d broken up with Jack. Rushing to the bathroom toilet to vomit what she felt was surely her rotten insides trying to snake their way out of her mouth, she tried to recoil to a happier memory. The memory helped, a vision of her mother rubbing her back and expressing concern. She could almost feel the soft touch of her mother’s hand, always smelling of sweet scented creams, feeling the slow, rhythmic circles up and down her upper back as she continued to heave into the toilet.

When she turned seven her mother had fallen horribly ill and at the age of nine, her mother passed away leaving her alone in the world with nothing but a drunkard of a father with no job and no steady income.

“She went. Dead. W’rms prob’ eatin her body or sumthin’,” he’d said in a slurred drunken tone. He’d glared at the little girl before him that so constantly reminded him of his lost beloved. He’d raised the remaining bottle of Jack to his mouth again and a dribble spilled down his chin.

“Git to yur room, dammit! I dun wanna see any tears fer that slut. She left us, she left you! Left us to rot, the bitch!”

Valerie had flown to her room. Her pillow was her new solace now, her new warm hug at night. Now curled up, propped up against the bathtub squeezing that same dirty yellow stained pillow, she realized seeing her mother again was never going to happen. Especially with what she had agreed too. She was back on the walkway outside her work, laughing obnoxiously again, warmed by the night. She’d rubbed her neck, remembering the tickle of his breath like a lover might and she’d realized she had liked the sultry, sexy feel of his breath. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, even with Jack. Jack. The fight was about nothing, as usual yet that time it felt like everything was different. She was different and it had showed.

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