Dealing at the crossroads

A dark tale about what goes on after the clock strikes midnight...

Michael stood at the crossroads, the night's sultry breath stroking his gaunt, and once, attractive features. Although the clock had long since chimed midnight, he still patiently awaited the arrival of his summoned one. For the millionth time in the last hour, he banged his heel against the little heap of earth under his right foot. The heap concealed a metal box no bigger than a matchbox " the carrier of his last shred of hope, and his whole despair.

“You called?” a seductive, feminine voice whispered from behind him.

Not in the least startled by the sudden appearance of what looked like the most bewitching woman, Michael greeted his guest with a comely smile.

“Yes, I am the one who summoned you,” he spoke without a waver in his voice.

The woman circled around him while the long, red dress perfectly fitting her enticing curves swept the dry, thirsty dirt.

“I am listening,” her soft voice uttered compliantly. “What is it that you summoned me for? Money... fame...power...love... revenge? All of the above?” she inquired, lithely edging towards Michael. 

He drew in the night's breath. “Isabel Hartly...” the sorrowful answer rolled down his tongue.

“Ah, so love,” concluded the woman, tapping her finger against his chest where his heart pounded still. “So what is she to you?”

“Everything,” he confessed. “I want you to bring her back,” he said, determination gleaming cold in his wild, blue eyes.

The woman tilted her head back, shuddering with laughter. “Oh, darling, while I possess powers beyond  your most daring imagination, I cannot bring a soul from the other side. Especially when that soul belongs to light and not to the darkness. We have no record of her in the underworld which leads me to believe that she has got her hands on a one way ticket to the righteous b******s from The Upstairs.”

Michael's brow crumpled up with anger as the woman's words resounded painfully in his frayed mind.  

“I'll give you whatever you want,” he insisted, grabbing at her arm.

The woman gazed up at him, her eyes two bottomless pits. “All you have is your soul, darling,” she  began with a scornful smile, “ and I cannot have your soul if it impossible for me to provide you with that which your heart desires. I may be a demon, but a contract is still a contract. Here on earth, down in hell and up in heaven.”

“But I want her back!” Michael bellowed.

“And you can have her back when you die, roughly forty or fifty years from now. From what I can see, your soul will, undoubtedly, spread its wings towards heaven after you bite it,” she remarked with great disdain. “While it pains me to let it slip through my fingers, I must do so. Unless, of course, there is something else you might desire. Something more befitting to your current situation,” she alluded temptingly, unclenching Michael's fingers from around her arm, and then caressing his pale cheek.

He glared at the two black holes that were her eyes, weighing her allusions against the grief that had been burdening his soul for months now.

“Make me forget,” he muttered. “Make me forget her. Make me forget every moment that we ever shared, every place we've ever been to, every person we've ever met. Erase her from my head completely.”

“That I can do,” she said pleased that she would not be returning home empty-handed. “But, it is such a pity to sell your soul for oblivion only. Just because I like you, I will throw in some money and fame. Enjoy it while it lasts, darling! You will be burning in the eternal flames of hell after you are done here.”

Michael bent down to seal their contract with a kiss, but the woman shook her head in disapproval. She took his right hand and pricked his index finger with the sharp edge of her fingernail. Blood quickly surfaced inky black under the night sky. The woman pressed the finger against her chest, right above the generous cleavage, and draw a strange symbol with his warm blood. As soon as she lifted his finger, Michael's blood dried and soaked into the woman's icy skin, slowly vanishing away, as though it had never been there.

“From this moment on, your soul belongs to me,” she said. “Now I must leave, darling. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked!” Her devilish red lips kissed Michael's cheek, and then she disappeared just as abruptly as she had materialized.

Michael lingered at the crossroad confused and wondering about what he was doing there in the dead of night...

Author's Note

A little something inspired by the dark fantasy I devour each time I get a chance :)

Reviewing is encouraged.

Reviews

[Kaliope]

Argh... this is so... devilish! This poor guy just wants to overcome his grieve and now he won't even remember what he goes to hell for. That's so mean, so evil, so... brilliant! Wonderful story, great characters, loved it!

(Oh, and your wonderful devil conjured a few typos into your text, made you mix up the vowels in 'Michael' 3 times ;-))

[JulianaSun]

Thanks for telling me about the typos. I´m sort of dyslexic so letters generally turn on me when writing and reading.
Glad you liked it :) Evil is my business. Writing about it, of course :)

[Auxiliosophiae]

This was amazing! Perfect deal with the Devil story, very careful what you wish for 'cause you'll regret it and won't even remember what you did.
Also, don't know if it was intentional, but I loved the fact that the victim's name was Michael, like the Arch-angel who cast the Devil and his armies from Heaven, very ironic.

[Kelsey Schadt]

Ooo, the devil as a woman--I was not expecting it, but I like it. There is something about the Devil at the Crossroads type story that I find sound intriguing. Maybe it really highlights human suffering that we can all on some level relate to. I only have one suggestion, and it is very minor.
You right "Blood quickly surfaced red and thick in the moonlight."
What if you changed the description of the blood from being red to being an inky black on under the night sky, sort of foreshadowing the decay of him from inside out.

[JulianaSun]

Thanks, K ( see, I´m respecting the privacy) That actually sounds very good. You wouldn´t mind my using the words just as you wrote them, right? :) Honestly, I didn´t quite like that sentence either, but I was stuck.
And the devil...well, she is a woman, and a man, and a child and whatever makes the person summoning it feel comfortable and ready to sell away his/her soul.
I´m such a freak!:) This is what happens when you grow up reading Poe and Lovecraft.

J

[Kelsey Schadt]

Haha you can definitely use those words. Embrace that freakiness! It makes for good writing!

[JulianaSun]

Thanks. Feedback is awesome ;)