Just One Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A day in the life of the devil

Submitted: June 07, 2014

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Submitted: June 07, 2014

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"Shit, this weather is getting worse, I can barely see in front of me".

As usual, Satan was talking to himself.

He only had a few friends, and of those he did have, none would be stupid enough to be accompanying him on a late night drive in this sort of weather.

The 'Dark One' was on his way back from a business trip way up north, where he had been doing a deal to acquire a few more souls. The meeting had gone well. He had not only purchased a dozen pure clean souls, but his client had also thrown in a few wretched ones to seal the deal. Yes, all had gone very well until he had to make the return journey in this dreadful weather.

"Oh do me a favour, what's wrong now" Satan grimaced as his car spluttered and coughed as it slowly came to a halt.

"That's all I fucking need, now where's my bloody breakdown cover". 

Satan reached into his glove compartment and pulled out his crumpled certificate with the emergency number printed in big black type across the top. Flipping open his mobile phone he gave another curse as he realised he had no signal. Trying anyway and getting the requisite "connection unavailable”, he let out a "Why Me!" at the top of his voice.

Looking through the rain splattered windows he could just about make out the illuminated word of "HOTEL" in red neon. 

Satan pulled his jacket over his head as he stepped out of car into the raging downpour. He manoeuvred the car as best as he could into the kerb by using his shoulder against the door with his hands through the window, steering it bit by bit until both his energy and interest were sapped.

"Fuck it, who cares" were his parting words as he strode through the deep puddles on route to the hotel.

Making his way through the double doors into the reception area of the hotel he was a little put out to find that the desk was unmanned. Hitting the bell three times in quick succession he glared about him while waiting for someone to appear.

Minutes passed before he struck the bell again, this time with a ferociousness that would have struck a saint all the way down to hell. The bell merely tinkled a faint and muffled "ding", before collapsing into molten metal. 

Satan looked at his fist that had done the smiting and realised it was all aflame. "Oh fuck, this is getting to me; at this rate I will burn the whole place to ashes before I get a bed for the night". 

He placated himself with a "Calm down old fellow, take it easy"

The door behind the desk opened and a grizzled old man appeared. With a smile that would have melted the heart of anyone but the prospective guest. The old man spoke cheerfully "Good evening sir, what can I do for you on this dreadful night?"

"A room for one, with en-suite if you have it" replied our anti-hero.

"Certainly sir, I have one room vacant on the 6th floor. Number sixty-six, would that suffice"

Satan put his hand out for the key with the prominent tag of 666 embossed on it and cracked a smile, "couldn't be better, home from home"

Satan explained to the clerk that his car had broken down outside and that he would need it repaired ready for the morning. He passed on the breakdown certificate with the phone number and registration details and asked him to get it sorted, with the promise of a decent tip if everything was tickety-boo by the time he had finished breakfast the following day.

The smiling receptionist assured Satan that everything would be arranged to his satisfaction.

Going up in the elevator to the 6th floor Satan was slowly coming out of his bad mood, still dripping wet of course, and if he had any spirits they would also be pretty damp, but what the hell, he'd soon dry off.

Putting the key in the door, turning it, and then stepping into the room Satan shrugged off his sodden clothes, hung them on the radiator and then stepped into a steaming shower. "What the hell" he repeated to himself, "life ain't so bad".

Satan returned from the shower wrapped in the fluffy white gown which had been supplied free of charge by the hotel and felt almost human, or at least as human as any self respecting devil could feel.

He climbed into bed, dimmed the lights and let himself drift into his favourite tormented sleep, suffering the nightmares of howling souls and burning red coals, pure bliss to our evil one.

He awoke to find both his arms and legs stretched out to the four corners of the bed. Hands and feet tied firmly to the bedposts. On both sides of the bed, he could see masked figures, and at the foot of the bed, he immediately recognised the unmistakeable smiling face of the receptionist.

Trying to speak Satan's voice came out a mumble due to the hand that was placed tightly over it, but even through the constriction it was plainly clear that the words "Fuck" and "Hell" had been uttered.

The offending hand was replaced by a red kerchief that was screwed up and stuffed deeply into his squirming mouth, while being held there by another piece of material that was bound tightly across the mouth and knotted behind his head.

As Satan writhed about on the bed pulling tightly at his bonds he heard the words of the smiling receptionist being whispered through the rhythmic chanting of the masked assailants.

"Hark Oh Beelzebub, we pray to you our Dark Lord; please take our weekly sacrifice as a pledge of our unceasing dedication to your evil doings. Please accept the blood of this lowly human who we sacrifice in the room dedicated to you, here in our eternal worship to our lord and master in room, 666"

With these words the still smiling, and now near hysterical receptionist plunged a dagger deep into Satan's black heart.

The End... or is it?


© Copyright 2018 Rod Blakeman. All rights reserved.

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