seaomelette

United Arab Emirates

Heyo! I’m Lauren, a high school sophomore who loves reading too many fantasy novel series, listening to music, and eating a probably unhealthy amount of ice cream.

Message to Readers

Is there anything I can revise or improve? Please let me know, I really appreciate it! <3

Devilish Wishes

November 14, 2020

The Devil was bored. Deep down in the toasty depths of Hell, he perched on his inherited throne of obsidian, which still echoed with the shrieks of sinners from time to time, and filed his talons with a wayward spurt of hellfire, humming Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Dun dun dun DUUUUN.

Today had been another dull day of work—judging sinners, supervising torture, writing soul contracts, being summoned a couple times by deluded Satan worshippers—ah, after a gazillion years of doing his job, the Devil was truly and utterly bored. He snapped his talons, extinguishing his fiery nail filer, and slouched on his throne.

He could do anything he wanted—raise a couple more obsidian mountains in his domain? Pff, no problem. Fling a sack of criminal souls in a whirling vortex of their own pain and suffering? Pff, no problem. Encircle a whole planet with fire? PFFF, no problem. He had done that before, in all actuality, and it had been uproariously fun…at least until his holy colleague from the heavens above had intervened.

And yet, he was still tremendously, profoundly, extremely bored.

The Devil got up from his throne, stretched irritably, and teleported out of his throne room. He reappeared in his palace gardens with a tremendous bang and a sprinkle of sparks, impeccably unruffled. The palace gardens were one of the devil’s few sources of enjoyment, and his true pride and joy.

It was a veritable maze of jagged obsidian, twined with glowing blossoms—like snarled fangs hissing up into Hell’s crimson sky, echoing with the choruses of demon shrieks. The Devil grimaced contentedly as he trailed among the hellfire pruned trees and pearly flower bushes. Curling up on a bench in a convenient cranny, he contemplated his options. They were limited, indeed, he noted dismally.

He could create several more obsidian pillars, except that took him mere seconds at best, and after admiring them for a spell, he’d simply be bored again. He could engage in a hellfire sculpting contest with one of his demonic ministers, except they all happened to be busy, and such contests, though conceptually exciting, weren’t much fun. He was their superior, and the supreme ruler of Hell, so of course they would always let him win. Their toadying manners were exceptionally comical.

The Devil, chortling to himself, recalled his last contest with Olgrollag, arch-demon of after-life finances, who administered his fine work ethic to the sorting of sinners’ pecuniary matters. The Devil, going first as always, had sculpted a fiery dragon; and Olgrollag, though perfectly capable of sculpting a castle or a Pegasus or even a 10-story soup tureen, had made a withered, depressed-looking tree and promptly proclaimed his defeat. Another contest now would probably be along the same lines and equally monotonous, but the Devil was at least mildly intrigued at what intentionally shoddy sculpture his ministers would come up with this time. Still, he crossed it off his mental list. They were busy, after all. Olgrollag, if the Devil recalled correctly, was dealing with an extraordinarily obese soul who had been a stingy businessman. The soul, practically wobbling in his corpulent, metaphysical bulk, had been unwilling to part with his Earth assets, which he still clutched in his incorporeal sausages of fingers. The Devil harrumphed. Humans were always mind-bogglingly stubborn.

He contemplated a third option. The Devil could go upstairs and talk to his heavenly counterpart…but what for? God was a thunderous being who loved His black coffee and never failed to offer a mug, which the Devil positively despised. God also never failed to remind the Devil of the last time He had to intervene in the planet issue. The Devil rolled his eyes. It had all been in good fun, and no one was hurt! Well, most organisms were fine. One poor fellow had unfortunately wandered too close to the ring of fire and gotten a full-body extreme tan. God had never let the Devil live that down, and it was a sure thing for it to be mentioned for the 101,537th time if he visited now. The Devil crossed out the visit idea.

He sighed. With that, he had plain ran out of ideas…or had he? The Devil shot up from his seat and gave a mighty crow of realization. He stomped his fire-proof loafers on the scorched grass and did a little jig on the spot. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He cackled, teleporting out of the gardens, waving gleefully to the puzzled demon birds as he winked out of sight in a burst of fiery sparks. The Devil knew just what to do, and he wasn’t bored anymore.
 
                                                                                          ~

The Devil stood on the earthly house porch and contemplated the doorbell in front of him. He had no hellish idea why his divine colleague loved Earth – it was such a drab, chilly place lacking in infernal flames and—the Devil snickered. God did create the Earth; of course He was proud. At least Earth’s ravens seemed close approximations.

Ah well, the Devil was only getting distracted now. What was he here for? The Devil glared at the doorbell. Wishes, yes, wishes. The doorbell was rather dusty and more than a little rusty, but it worked when he pressed it with a well-manicured talon. Immediately, a frantic cacophony of barking exploded behind the door.

The Devil groaned inwardly. He never did well with dogs. The creatures disliked him, loathed him even. The Devil straightened his impeccably-ironed suit jacket and took a calming breath.

Coming up to the door were muffled, slipper-clad footsteps—slow, methodic, and shuffling. The Devil groaned again. He’d been hoping that he’d get a sprightly young person. Sprightly young people always wished for the cool things in life—like lots of money, or a spanking neon green Lamborghini, or an enormous mansion—all of which he’d be willing to grant, at a price of course. He’d be a bad businessman if he didn’t. Old people, like the person he’d undoubtedly meet in a few moments, wished for stupid, sentimental things like going back in time for a bit or seeing bygone friends again, or worse, nothing at all. The last human the Devil had offered wishes to was an old man who’d turned him down completely.

That was why the Devil had stopped giving out wishes for a bit—for what was the point of giving out wishes when no one wanted them? However, he was bored and wanting of some entertainment, and so, willing to risk all and go for it.
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly lady with pink plastic curlers arranged in what was left of her hair and reading spectacles drooped low on her nose. She smiled brilliantly at the Devil.

              “How may I help you?” she asked in a sweet, wobbly voice.
An excerpt encompassing Chapter 1 and a small portion of Chapter 2 of my novel in progress. I'm currently working on Chapter 7, and decided to give this competition a try. 

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1 Comment
  • therisingwriter

    ummm....this is so alluding, I think I would like to read more on what happened!


    about 2 months ago