by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|Dolly Holly had never felt happier. She had to rub her eyes to make sure she was not seeing things. “I wasn’t sure you are real.”
Satan dusted unspeakable hellish creepy crawlies off his shoulders. “Sorry. My hangers on travel with me everywhere. Can’t seem to get rid of them. Be just a moment.”
Dolly shuddered at the sight, retched with the smell, nearly dying of fright then and there. Satan was having the devil of a time getting rid of his unsightly infernal leeches. They snapped and popped into putrid green ichor between his pinched fingertips. The swarm fled, shrieking horrible curses bound to wake the dead.
Several dead crawled up from beneath their graves to eye the strange proceedings. Muttering, groaning and shaking their decomposing remains, they gave Dolly Holly the finger (when they had one left, an elbow or knee when they didn’t) before returning to their eternal rest.
“That’s better,” the devil licked his forked tongue. “What can I do for you? Want to sell your soul? That deal still holds but I’m a bit rusty at striking bargains. Humans these days are so close to having no souls left it is hardly worth the time.”
“Long as you are here,” Dolly snickered. She’d trapped the demon and wasn’t going to let him go until she was satisfied that she’d gotten her way, “Let’s get to it. Let’s roll the dice. I know how this works. You give me what I want and I am yours, if I haven’t figured a way to wiggle out of our contract.”
Satan’s cruel yellow blinking eyes flashed fiery red. “Amusing. Let me guess what you want. He ticked off favorites from past generations from the tips of his well sharpened claws. “Unending riches, the idea being if they never stopped neither would you and I’d have to wait forever before receiving my due.”
Laughter followed stripping the idea of merit. “Can’t tell you how many souls I own who inhabit a special level of Hell counting their coin, feeling its emblem sizzling, burning into their helpless hides. None mentioned I couldn’t determine where this ceaseless wealth might be spent.”
Dolly Holly kept her trembling lips zipped shut. She knew she had only this one chance to find true happiness. She did not plan on it failing. Dolly plugged her nose as best she could, taking shallow breaths as the ageless old fart smelled up the sulphuric air with his reminisce of bygone glories.
The old windbag finally ran down belching out odd tales. The devil noticed he was boring this mere speck of short lived life. If he was going to make Dolly Holly his own, he’d better get with it. “Sorry, It is so infrequent these days, I get a chance to talk with a free agent and spirit such as yourself. What is it you want?”
Silence, like death itself fell upon the unholy, unblessed graveyard surroundings. A chill permeated what was left of the air. Satan paced back and forth inside his cell shaped and drawn into a pentagram, impatiently waiting. “Well?”
“Deep subject. I can’t think of anything I want. Perhaps you have an idea. I am open to suggestions.” Holly Dolly imitated the restless motion of the ultimate adversary, pacing one way as Satan paced the other.
“Playing pitiful games are we? Believe me, you wouldn’t want my recommendation. That idea has been tried and fried. I’ll show you the results when I take you by your hair on your tour of my domain. The poor fool is tucked away in a corner whipping himself into a frenzy while battering his head bloody against a brick wall. If he stopped to talk, upon your inquiry, he’d say he wished he’d never been born.”
Dolly Holly struck like a snake. Pure happiness shone in her glance. “My wish exactly. Erase me. Grant me never being born.”
“The devil is in the details. Give me a moment and let me confer with my lawyers who will be drawing up the contract.” Satan turned his back, tail swishing, ears flat. Raw contract after contract flared into fire and smokey remains.
“She can’t have found a way out. I’ll be tortured into a living death worse than any I’ve ever caused.” The very thought of losing this bet was intolerable. The demon cast many a furtive glance over his shoulder before lashing his legal staff on.
“Time’s about up,” Holly Dolly pointed at the mountain of slow burning ash. There was so little room left around the pentagram trap, that the devil himself was being squeezed into breathless, agonized non-space.
“Seem’s there is a slight SNAFU. My legal staff say the contract can’t be closed. If you are unborn there is no-one to sign and I am left holding the bag, unable to deliver your wish. You have made a fool of me. All Hell is laughing.”
“The devil of it is, happiness has its price and I have stolen yours,” Holly Dolly simpered, pleased with herself. A dainty foot scraped at the pentagram's chalk outline, making a crack in the cage.
“To Hell with you and take your temptings with you. Mankind has more than enough of those we greedily share among ourselves.”
She watched the demon, embraced by his sucky sycophants tearing at him, pulling him down to his new prison, his own Hell. Trapped by his own devices, he and his minions would never bother another human again.
If you listen closely to the deadly silence of a midnight hour, you can hear the faint vibrations of Satan screaming his pain, insane, abandoned from reason and self worth. He lashes it upon those imprisoned with him and they lavish it right back.
The devil has found out what it feels like to be on the other end of the whip. He has received his due.
Dolly Holly holds the secret of her power in a twisted evil smile. Only she can release this devil’s bottled up curse. That fact does not tempt her and perhaps it never will.
The sad fact at obtaining pure happiness, is that once obtained, it is no longer valued, unhappiness reigns. It is built into a poor human's DNA and karma never to be satisfied with you get, but always searching for ways to get more.
The plus to the minus in this equation was Dolly Holly's hold on Satan and his minions unhappy state.
At least she was not alone in her fate. The price for ephemeral happiness is always failure at keeping it in the palm of one's hand.