I would like to share with you a series of short stories I have been working on. This is the first part. I will post more later on, but I hope that this will spark your interest:
The Man and the Devil – Part 1
The light peaked through the broken window blinds startling the man from his slumber. He yawned, stretching and trying to shield the light from his eyes. He could not remember what time he finally fell asleep last night, but as he observed the room he could tell that he did not go peacefully.
The room was destroyed. Empty beer bottles in the teens were littered about. The blinds broken as if someone had fallen into them several times. His desk in the corner was overturned and his laptop lay on the floor beside it. Pictures were hanging crookedly if they were even hanging at all. Clothes were thrown about and his dresser was pushed on to its side.
He struggled to rise up out of the bed and it took him several tries before he was somewhat successful. He staggered to the bathroom and reached down to lift the toilet sit, he paused. It was already up. He was not used to seeing this. Normally it would have been down. Every morning for the last 15 years he would wake up and have to lift the seat up. This was the first morning he did not have to. It donned on him. He was alone. She was gone.
The night started to become clearer. He had gone out, to drink away the thoughts that haunted him like some demon reaching for his soul. The night was always the hardest time for him. It was a time that the world seemed silent. That everything would stop, and all the truth he had been running from all day long would catch up to him.
He brushed his hair from his face with his hand and flushed the toilet. He left the seat up. It was time for him to start facing this change. It was time for him to accept.
He starred at the image in the mirror of a man he could hardly recognize. His shaggy, dark hair had grown down to his shoulders now. He had not shaved his face in over a week now and his beard was unkempt. He could smell the liquor like he was bathed in it. He could not remember how much he drank last night, nor could he remember anything at all. He tried, he tried hard to, but it all seemed a blur. Like it was just out of his reach to attain the truth. He could see blurred picture of an event but whenever he would start to remember the scene the blurry picture cast, it would quickly vanish.
He jumped in the shower and cleaned himself up. He got out and got dressed and headed forward with his day.
When he first stepped outside, the light seemed to consume him. Almost burn his flesh. Had he grown so accustomed to the night that the light hurt him? He shielded his eyes from the fiery son. He pulled his hair back and tied it up to keep out of his face. The wind picked up lifting the bottom of his long, black trench coat from his body. He shuddered and adjusted it and continued on his way down the street.
The street grew into chaos the further he walked. Bodies of the masses pushing through without a care or contempt of their fellow man. The voices, the sounds, it was all drowned out around him. Things seem to slow down amidst the chaos. He seemed to thrive in situations like these. The large mass pushed by him at a frantic rate, but it all seemed to barely be moving. He grinned slightly. He could no longer pull out individuals from the mass, they seem to blend like a grayish-black river parting around both sides of him. It continued to flow around him as he turned his gaze forward he saw the figure standing ahead of him a block up the street. The dull mass seemed to part around him the same way.
Where the man was dark, this man was light. The figure had long blonde hair the exact opposite of the man’s long dark hair. Where the man’s skin was pale and sickly looking, the figure had a nice tan. Where the man wore dark colored clothing, the figure shinned in light colored khaki. He seemed to be the light in the man’s darkness.
The figure spotted the man and approached him with that snarky grin peeking through his blonde goatee. He stopped before the man and sighed.
“How long has it been friend.” The figure did not seem to be asking but more or less stating the time apart was great. The man had never met this figure before, but he knew him. He knew him like good knows evil.
The man starred into the figure’s cold, blue eyes. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” He went to pass by this bright figure but was stopped when a hand reached out and placed itself on his shoulder. Everything seemed to stop. The crowd, the wind, the sound, the city, all of it.
“I’m afraid not my friend. Let us find a place to catch up.” The figure smoothly said. His voice seemed to soothe. It was almost comforting. “Come with me. It will all make sense soon.”
The figure turned and pushed through the crowd leaving the man standing alone on the street. He thought about turning and going back to his apartment but his curiosity got the best of him. He forced his way through the crowd and followed the best he could. Several blocks up the street he could see the figure breezing past the crowd. The once parting mass seemed to be swallowing up the man now. He tried his best to see ahead but it seemed he was at the mercy of the massive drowning current. He was being shoved ahead and he could no longer spy the figure. He felt like he was drowning, like the water was filling his lungs. His breathe was short, sweat dripped from his brow. His eyes raced from face to face wildly, searching for the something. A moment of panic racing over him he stuck out his hand grasping for something to pull him from this dangerous undertow. Just then a hand reached out and took a hold of his, pulling him to an alley. Saving him from the drowning of the mass.
He was doubled over trying to catch his breath, but he managed to speak out a thank you to whoever this was that pulled him from the street.
“Of course my friend.” It was the same smoothing voice he heard earlier. He carefully lifted his gaze to that of the figure leaning against the wall. He had a snaky grin on his face. His hair was half pulled up out of his face much like the man’s own dark hair.
The man slowly straightened his stance. The figure tilted his head as he seemed to look over the man. Slowly his gaze moved up and down the man sizing him up. He felt fire from that gaze as the grin slowly disappeared. “You feel ill. It’s the sickness coming over you isn’t it.”
The man just slowly nodded his head. This figure knew him well. He seemed so familiar to the man, but the man would remember seeing someone as handsome as this figure. Finally, the figure’s grin returned and he patted the man on the shoulder. “Come then. Let us find somewhere to get a drink.”
He followed the figure to the other end of the alleyway where they entered a backdoor to what appeared to be an old bar. The lighting was dim and there was not a soul inside, but the bar was stocked. Strangely enough though, it seemed like this bar had not been used in many of years. Everything was covered in dust except the bar and two stools that were sitting at the end of the bar.
He motioned to one of the stoles as he walked around the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He filled the glasses and returned the bottle behind the bar.
The man sat on the stole downing his glass of whiskey. He embraced the sweet sting of it. It burned slightly going down, but relieved him and filled him with a warmth feeling. He motioned for the bottle back. The figure obliged and returned the bottle to the bar. The man snatched up the bottle and poured himself another glass full.
The figure strutted back around and sat down beside the man as he was downing his second glass of whiskey. The burn being less this time and the warmth being warmer. His head felt like it was swimming. The thoughts calmed, the noise quietened.
“I am glad you are starting to feel better.” The figure whispered as he sipped his whiskey. He stared straight ahead sipping and swishing his whiskey as the man poured yet another glass.
The man downed that glass too. “Am I supposed to know you?” The man blurted out in-between glasses of whiskey. He finished pouring and downed that glass as well. There was no longer a burn. The warmth had engulfed him and the swimming head has now become an ocean. He paused and tried to glance around the room. It seemed like the harder he tried to focus on something the more out of focus it was. He shrugged it off and started to down another glass of whiskey.
“I know you. And really, that is all that matters.” The figure spit out those words.
Suddenly the man’s eyes got heavy and he could feel his drip on his glass loosen. He heard the crack of it on the floor. Then he felt like he was slowly gliding through the air. He heard the figure speak as he was falling to the floor.
“My name is…..” Then he hit the floor and blackness.