The Deal

January 21, 2008
By Trenton Raff, Paul, ID

Entrancing shadows dipped and twirled as they danced upon the walls of the fog infested back alley way. Sounds of mellow and drunken laughter sauntered out through the back door of the bar as a drunken man by the name Samael staggers into the enchanted alley way. The shadows continue their dance upon the three walls that offered only one way out. Lit by the streetlights and passing car headlights the narrow alley way lead to the streets, that lead back to the city, that lead back to his home away from this hideout, and towards the “normal” life that awaited him in his “normal“ apartment, with his “normal“ wife. But he did not want to go back to the mediocrity that waited for him. As he stared up beyond the highest rooftops of the buildings that encased him in this shadowy alleyway he looked to the heavens. He looked to the heavens with eyes full of disgust. Disgust that he, a special child, was only a mere average person. A person with no fame, no wealth, no power, nothing. Taking a swig of the beer bottle meshed into his hand he cursed the heavens above. The shadows stood still, silent were they.

A man of middle age, never mind exactly how old for his appearance was rather deceiving, stepped nimbly into the narrow alley that lead to the back of the bar. With each waking step the smoke and fog of the cities pollution grew thicker and thicker. Street lights and car headlights began to be drown out by the heavy fog. Water in the creeks and ravines on the pavement slowly dispersed from it’s container as it grew hotter by each step. Air became thick yet fleeting. And the heavens above seemed to be dulled leaving but one star in the sky, the star that has and always watched.

His pale blue eyes seemed as if torches in the dreary fog. Fire in his gaze, smoothness upon his face, dark hair flowed with the drafts that followed his walk, and a wicked nature curled his lips in a dark smile. Age seemed not a factor to he, but age did he have. Age and wisdom accompanied this trader, this broker of goods. With age came wisdom to his fiery personality, for that was his strength and flaw.

Upon hearing the shattering of a glass bottle on a wall the agent knew he had come to the right place. Oh yes, this was the right place he thought as the grin blossomed into malicious smile. The swagger in his step began to pick up, and with the flicker of his eyes the pale blue fire intensified more and more. The drafts of air comforted him, and the darkness that increased in the blankets of smog seemed to comfort more and more by the minute.

“Samael, I presume,” said he with a hollow tone, but yet something was there.

“Who’s asking?” Samael replied with a drunken stagger to the blue eyes that blazed the location where the stranger stood.

“A dealer, you could say,” the stranger added with a smile revealing pale teeth that glowed through the dark wisps of smog.

“A dealer, you say. And what do you want?”

The shadows froze still.

Looking down at the cracked black pavement he smiled as he closed his eyes muttering, “what do I want, what do I want…”

The foreigner looked up flicking his eyes open he gleamed brighter and brighter, “A proposition.”

The shadows fled from every corner, every crevice, every wall, leaving save two and an ever watching star.

“What’s this proposition?” Samael slurred.

“The proposition is not in my hands, but yours…” he trailed off.


“Oh yes, without you or your decision there is no proposition,” assured the foreigner.

“Who are you?” questioned the curious soul.

As if toying with a tiny object between his left thumb and two fingers he looked from his hand to the lone star. Fire met heavenly serenity in a clash of the night sky as he looked onwards. Words were seen streaming forth from the crevices of his lips, but none were heard. How could they be heard? For it was a conversation with a stranger to another acquaintance who was invisible to the naked eye. The fire in his eye blazed of hate and fury as he narrowed them, then malevolence drew itself upon the face of the agent with a fiery passion to make any deal. Taking his gaze from the stars he withdrew a card from his black suit’s pocket and handed it to an outreached Samael.

The card was warm to the touch breaking the dams of his flesh and releasing tides of sweat as his thumbprints were marked to the card. The cards warmth seemed strange, but rather attracting. He held on as he read, “Lucifer Pluto: Agent Extraordinaire, Your desires are guaranteed in full no matter what restrictions. Boston, Mass., South Street Apartment #666.

“You know where to find me if you should ever wish for my service my dear man,” the stranger said as he took one last glimpse of Samael before he turned and went on his way.

“Wait, I do need your service…” whispered Samael as he gripped the business card tighter now. Staring with yearning eyes the drunken man said, “I need your services.”

With a sharp turn around a face of business painted the stranger’s face. The smile was swept away by the fog, but still lay intact under his flesh. “Continue…”

“I don’t want to be normal, I don’t want to be just another drone in another cubicle, I don’t want average wealth, luxuries or an average wife. I want to have the feeling of divinity, can you give me that? I’d give my own soul for that… ” Samuel asked with a craving.

“Why yes, I can,” said the stranger closing his eyes and then opening them again, “I promise I will do everything in my power, but you will have to surrender your entire emotions to me, save a few. Be patient, but for now I must take my leave and begin my work.” Spitting on his hand he held it out to Samael. Hesitant at first, Samael then reached out to the welcoming hand and burnt the saliva of the stranger into the grooves of Samael’s hand.

Walking away from the troubled man the stranger walked out from the alleyway to where none knows, but he. Satisfaction of a new deal intensified the fire within and set forth yet another timed clock. The fog subsiding, the usual bar customers leaving for home, and the street lights brightening, Samael looked up towards the sky. The heavens above lay disguised with darkness, the blood red moon had risen, and the everlasting star had grown more distanced from him.

Seasons have passed since then, it has been one year and three-hundred and one days of change for Samuel. Quick and promising promotions sky rocketed his wealth and power through the roof. The best money could buy surrounded everywhere he was and touched. He had become no longer a mortal man, but a worldly possessed tycoon. He was known on every state, every city, every town, and every household. Like a virus his power, reached by him who knew, spread to every corner. But there was one thing that he never gained back.

The heavens no longer smiled upon him, the shadows welcomed him, the noises grew dim, the colors grew dull, passion became nothingness, and the everlasting star distanced more and more by the day. Lively colors of green, red, blue, yellow, and even pure white mutated into a dull gray. Symphonies became nothing more than words or lifeless sounds. Even the once passionate warmth of a kiss now eluded his senses to only be replaced with blandness. The world had become gray to him. It was an emotionless abyss that he now claimed home as all that he love slowly drifted out of his harbor into a sea that he could never dive into again.

Fueled by the passion to drown himself once again by the opening of the liquor bottle he once again trembled drunkenly in that same back alley way. Once again had he found himself in this state of depression of not being whole. Yes he did have everything a man could wish for on this slowly dying world, but he was not whole within himself. Outwardly he was established, inwardly he was deficient. Jealous was this deficient shell of a man; jealous of those who could feel, those who could hear, those who could see, and those who could be. Oh what woe had befallen him as he lie in a fallen hollow state.

Footsteps echoed through the back alleyway as fog sauntered again for its last and final time. Fierce fiery blue eyes searched for that which was his. At three A.M this businessman strolled in casually with a brow lifted, “What seems to be the matter Samael?”

“Why didn’t you tell me this would happen?” Samuel answered chokingly with another question as his dulling green eyes met those of the fiery pale.

“I told you that you would have to surrender your entire emotions unto me save a few, did I not?” said he coolly.

“You did, now just leave me to my sorrows you devil!” he choked out.

“No, I will not. I have come to get what is rightfully mine. What is now due.”

“What are you talking of?” Samuel asked with tears in his eyes.

“Your soul, my newly d***ed man.” he replied cruelly.

“No, I did not say it would be yours if you would make this happen.” shrieked Samael.

“No, you just said you would give me your own soul, the time is up Samael,” replied the stranger as he grabbed the disgruntled client by the collar and held him close, whispering in his ear, “You insignificant mud man, you truly thought that I would give you all this for nothing in return. I am a saint, a saint not to him,” he yelled pointing to the heavens, “I am a saint to myself and only myself.”

Placing a hand on the ribs that sheltered Samael’s rapidly beating heart, the stranger put a tight grip on the flesh taking the wind out of his client, ending the dance of the heart forever, ending all memories, turning his lungs to dust, the one immortal part of Samael surged through the veins of the broker.

With a newly etched grin, the stranger let out a snicker as tears of heaven descended forth from heaven ushering the blackened blood of Samuel into the sewers as his corpse fell to the ground. Newly added bits of green slowly speckled its way into the fiery blue.

An abundant sense of completion swelled over him, but he thirst for more. With a smile on his deceitful face he strolled through the rain whistling the tune of The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

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