Soulless

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Meg must keep her deal with Lucifer, no matter what the cost.

Submitted: April 27, 2016

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Submitted: April 27, 2016

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Soulless

By Joseph Logsdon

In the blink of an eye, six years had gone by, the last year almost completely forgettable. Meg already knew, just as she had known from the beginning, that she would have to pay for her many crimes, at least half of which had been committed by an unknown force. She stared at the grave, into the very essence of what she had done to acquire all of her success. Out in the open, for all to see and witness, there was a dark truth that stood on her shoulders. Her mind trickled into something wicked, slowly but surely, only pieces of her humanity left uncorrupted.

Death was all around Meg, quite literally speaking, hundreds of graves surrounding her, some old, some new, but most completely forgotten. Henry was still with her, in her mind at least, within every aspect of her thoughts, the good and bad aspects. There was some part of her that needed to be reminded of what had happened, that night forever ingrained into her consciousness, all the little details still perfectly preserved. There was a ringing in one ear, soon the other, that eventually leading to pain throughout her entire body, internally, externally, and all of the above.

Completely randomly, a mist started to build, everything around her, the graves included, suddenly out of sight. Driven by fear, or what she thought was fear, Meg started to gasp uncontrollably, wedged between two worlds, on the edge of life and death. She was in the presence of evil, an all-encompassing evil. It was a pure type of malice, about as dark and sinister as anything she had ever encountered, not taking into account what already existed within her own heart. Meg felt something touch her shoulder, in fact what almost appeared to be a strong hand, among some of the strongest ever felt. How hard she tried to resist him, it didn’t really seem to matter.

“What’s the deal, no introduction?”

“I don’t think I would need an introduction, being Lucifer and all that,” he said, standing behind her.

“Your face, why won’t you let me see it?”

“They’ll send you to Hell, my eyes alone,” he confessed, tightening his grip.

“And that’s where I’m going, to Hell?”

“You made a deal with me, six years ago in fact, about the sixth of June, I’m sure you’ll remember, on the day your husband decided to get that life insurance policy. You could’ve done it yourself, all by yourself, no help or anything. You needed a professional, I’m guessing is the reason,” he chuckled.

“The price was too high, the product too cheap,” she hissed.

“You are pretty cheap, now that I think about it, through no fault of your own,” he chuckled.

“Bitchy, yes; cheap, certainly not,” she uttered.

Meg’s eyes grew cold, more and more focused, what appeared to be a total lack of humanity inside her. He sighed against her neck, the breathing subtle at first, continued by a more overt form of seduction. Lucifer relished in the way he rubbed her shoulders, in all the ways he kissed her neck, stroked her dark hair. Lost in the moment, Meg made no attempt to stop his advance, too overwhelmed by the sensations that pulsated through her body, new types of pleasure already within her lowest level.

“Your body, when compared to your soul, is nothing to be proud of,” he whispered.

“That being the case, why are you enjoying it so much?”

“We did this before, you should remember, on the night where you finally sealed the deal with me, when we made love in his bed. It seems only fair, if you ask me, to end things the way we started them: raw, powerful, sinful,” he grunted.

“Presented with the opportunity, I would do it all over again. Life is too short, in the long run, to have regrets, any that would stop you from truly progressing. I’m done with all of this sympathetic trash! Love is a foreign feeling to me, in no way relevant to my life. I’m empty inside, no feeling at all, none whatsoever,” she said.

“You don’t feel any guilt?”

“I feel nothing, guilt or anything else,” she answered.

More than ever before, there seemed to be a bleakness that took control of her mannerisms. The fear swiftly disappeared, among its last remnants that of anxiety and despair, emotions that only lasted for a short period of time, before finally disappearing altogether. She seemed to embrace the moment, any doubts that remained almost completely out of the picture.

“Six years after your husband’s death, you’re telling me that you don’t feel any guilt?”

“Feeling guilty, what purpose does that serve? I had a choice, I made it, as simple and as carefully as any other choice that I’ve made. In the end, it is better to feel happy, where you may finally find some kind of peace, some measure of comfort. That’s my main mission in life: comfort first, guilt second,” she stated.

“I’m talking about with even the worst humans, there always seems to be a little guilt, of some kind or another. There is always a choice, if not whether you want to actually go through with it, how you want to go about doing it, or usually something like that. Your guilt will make me stronger, as will countless other souls that I’ll collect tonight, throughout the entire world, yours probably the greatest prize of the evening,” he announced.

He held her close to him, the pleasure immense. There seemed to be a touch of arousal in his eyes, brought on most likely by her sensual nature, because of all the ways she went about breathing, whispering, sensually guiding his hand to her soft breasts. He remained in full control, merely humoring her efforts to seduce him.

“We could do it, make a deal that is,” she whispered.

“I don’t make second deals, no exceptions and no breaks,” he hissed.

“Couldn’t you make one exception, for old times’ sake at least? I’ll give it all back, my deal and everything that goes with it. I can’t go to Hell; I’m too young to go,” she moaned.

“Too young, too old, it doesn’t matter,” he replied.

Meg had two options, neither of which seemed very pleasant: she could either attempt to run from him, what would be a foolish mistake, or she could face him, mortality against immortality. There was a brief hesitation, one last attempt to finally tell herself that she was human, on the inside more than the outside. Meg searched for some kind of guilt that could exist inside her, nothing of any effort to show for it. She slowly turned her head, at first to the right, then to the left, her eyes unfocused, after which she finally saw his face. There was nothing particularly special about him, hardly anything that would actually make him noticeable, with the exception of his eyes. She was attracted to them, instantly and from the start, the fascination too strong to overcome. Meg stood there, hundreds of graves all around her, soon to be a corpse herself.

He looked into her eyes, six years of patience finally at an end. He saw many depraved things in her mind, it starting when she was a little girl, when she pushed one of her classmates into the lake. They said it was an accident, both Meg and her mother, the two of them closer than the average family, close enough to share, commit, and even lie about murder. He saw her kill over and over again, on occasion for reasons that just didn’t seem to make any logical sense. She was capable of murdering anyone, whoever and wherever.

Anywhere he thought her soul might be, he searched extremely diligently, passionately, with practically everything that he had. It started to become apparent, only after so many seconds of searching, that there was nothing to find. Those eyes that he stared at, they seemed to be completely empty. Lucifer appeared to be intimidated by something, perhaps really even for the first time in his long life. His hands started to shake, about halfway to the point of hyper hysteria.

“Where your soul is meant to be, it simply isn’t there,” he muttered.

“Oh, that old thing, I got rid of it years ago,” she stated, a smile forming on her face.

“Getting rid of your soul, it’s just not possible,” he shouted, down on his knees.

“It is very possible, with a little effort of course. I’ve killed a lot of people, too many to even mention. So many years of killing, they really do start to have an impact on you, if you know what I mean? It starts with one, in my case when I was a little girl, the day I pushed Tommy Wilson into the lake, without really any concern for anything or anyone. Since then, it hasn’t stopped at all. You aren’t the worst thing God has ever created, nowhere close to the worst thing,” she chuckled.

Rather unexpectedly, Lucifer started to back into the mist. His face was pale, similar to that of a scared puppy dog. There was a deep amount of confusion within him, just a little of it most likely stemming from his failure. Not since his fall from Heaven, had Lucifer experienced so much pain and embarrassment. There he was, Satan himself, in that moment nothing more than a simple failure. He drifted into the mist, for what would most likely be the last time.

“You trying to send me to Hell, what a stupid idea!”

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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