The Devil’s Contract
It is the year 2011 and like many Americans, John Stevens is struggling with money. Due to the country’s economic crisis John is forced to live in a withering home with a terrible woman, his wife. He returns home this night like any other night in hopes for tomorrow to be different; and different it shall be. But despite John’s hopeful attitude, he knows deep down inside that it will be like any other mediocre day; but it won’t be. It will be a special day that will change John’s life for the better- or worse. Poor John Stevens enters his creaking home, tossing the keys to his electric scooter onto the coffee table in the living room. He states into the darkness, “I’ve arrived, dearest” sarcastically. An anonymous reply of “It’s about time, where the hell have you been?” echoes through the dimly lit home. John sighs deeply as he knows it’s one of ‘those’ days. “I’ve been working, Pamela.” he states with great monotone in his voice “I have two jobs you know.” He continues his sentence as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the floor “Is that such a surprise to you?” John then slowly makes his way to the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. The smashing of glass can be heard from outside of the home of the Stevens.
The sun peaks over the horizon the following day, John’s alarm clock starts to ring not moments later. A few minutes pass and John, covered in bruises and cuts, exits his home; he is still wearing the same ragged clothing as he was the previous day. As John looks around, a man wearing a suit and suitcase approaches him. This man’s clothing was abnormally clean; everything about him was tidy, even and simply perfect. Not a hair was out of line, probably because of the gel he put into his hair. “Mr. Stevens, I presume?” the strange man questions, looking at his watch as he speaks. John cocks an eyebrow and states, “Yes, do I know you?” The strange man chuckles softly and says, “Yes, all too well.” John takes a second look over the man and notices something odd about him, red eyes. “Who are-” John begins, being cut off by the strange man, “Let’s talk business, Mr. Stevens.”
John, like many would be, was more curious than afraid of this red-eyed man in business attire. “What kind of business, who are you? How do you know me?” he pries at the strange man, who ignores all but the first question. “One consisting of a profit, for the two of us” he says, fighting back a smirk. He then kicks the briefcase towards John, who is just standing in awe. “Open it” the strange man states as if speaking to a dog. John, whom is in total awe, stands in his place unmoving. “Open it” he repeats as if becoming impatient and begins tapping his foot. John is still unmoving, looking at the strange man with a blank expression. The strange man raises his hand in the air and snaps his fingers. Suddenly John finds himself moving towards the briefcase, finding himself unable to control his limbs. “You want to make this deal, Mr. Stevens; you just don’t know it yet.”
As soon as John’s fingers pry open the briefcase his eyes widen. To his amazement, there is nothing but a blank sheet of paper and a knife. “What is-“John begins, but gets cut off by the red-eyed man, “It is a contract” he says in a low growl “and you WILL sign it.” After the words were spoken his eyes became a deeper shade of red and his nostrils flared. An incredible force begins to pull John to his knees, unable to move. The knife then begins to arise from its place in the briefcase and slowly hovers towards John. “I don’t- I can’t!” John cries out loud, tears falling to the ground. The knife digs into John’s cheek, shedding blood onto the blade. The blade then retreats from his face and hovers above the paper, changing from a weapon into a red-inked pen.
“Sign your name, Mr. Stevens. Your thirst for wealth will be quenched” states the red-eyed man with a smirk on his face. “M-money? At what cost...” John states solemnly , whom is answered immediately “That will be answered all in good time, Mr. Stevens. Until then just enjoy your life. Sign it.” He then snaps once more, and with a poof, a Ferrari appears in place of John’s electric scooter. “Let this be an appetizer, Mr. Stevens. Far more is to come...” the red-eyed man states and vanishes into the air. The voice still lingering in John’s ears, he grabs the pen from the paper and signs his name. As soon as he finishes the pen and paper turn into a thick cloud of smoke and fly into John’s body, utilizing the nose and mouth as entrances.
From that point on John became a very successful and wealthy man. The first thing he did after the incident was divorcing his wife and moving out-of-state. A couple days passed and John is awoken to a knocking on his door. He opens the door to find an elderly man holding an oversized check, which is signed for twenty million dollars. John greedily accepted the check from the man. John left the area of which he lived and bought himself a mansion with complete hired help, and married an extremely beautiful woman. His life was seemingly perfect, John would not change anything about it. But like all great things: it comes to an end… Like any other day, John wakes up and heads towards his bathroom. Upon entering the room he notices a message written on the mirror in blood, it reads: “Don’t forget about the contract you signed, it is fulfilled today.” Startled by the message, John falls on his back. He looks around the room and spots his Life Alert button next to an electrical outlet and tries reaching for it. While his hand is extended the button bursts into flames, igniting the walls in the process. “Today...” an anonymous whispers. “What? No! It cannot- please!” he pleas, unable to stop himself from shaking violently. After the words are spoken a giant hand bursts through the floor, sending debris flying across the room. Upon the hand there are thousands of names carved, most of which have a line etched through them. “You never said this-“ John begins, falling silent as he notices his name carved upon the palm of the hand. “No… It cannot be…” he says in a whisper, almost unable to speak. A red tinted knife forms from the wrist of the hand and hovers above John’s name. “It ends today, it ends now...” the anonymous voice whispers. The knife dives into John’s name and slowly scrapes a line through it.
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