Oh, it's so cold. The air feels empty, so does my soul. Perhaps it is better this way. After all, I lead a somewhat unpleasant life. It was dull, dark, and the people in it felt almost as cold as I do now.
Too bad I can't play the piano again. I can't quite describe the exact feeling that overcomes me when I play it. But if I were to, it would come close to a wave washing over you and taking your troubles away.
What a cliche.
I look up at the ceiling, then without notice a head pops out of it. Instead of becoming shocked or scared, I just look up at it in awe. What a strange phenomenon, I must be about to die.
"Oh well, if this is it, I suppose I can't complain."
"Oh, how pitiful you sound," the head speaks with a mocking tone.
"Ah, so it's talking head then. I wonder where my mind came up with such a preposterous idea."
"No my dear. I'm afraid that I am very real," the rest of his body emerges from the ceiling and he lands on the foot of my bed. "Plus I doubt you have the imaginative power to create an illusion as handsome as I am."
My face changes to one of confusion and hatered, aka the "the fuck did you say" face.
But in all honesty, he isn't lying. His appearance is what you'd think met the current standards. He's very tan and even though he is crouching, I can tell that he is tall. His hair is long and black, like a raven. His eyes glow a golden yellow.
His callous smile is nothing to be proud of, but I must compliment him for his choice of wardrobe. It's some kind of designer suit, not that I would know what kind but it just seems to have that "expensive glow".
"Wow, you're so funny…" I say sarcastically as I sit up.
"I know right? One of the many perks of being the Devil," he flaunts his hair, flicking it back and grinning with his eyes closed.
"Nice dude, real nice," I look over at the sheet of paperwork next to my bed that lists all of the medications I'm taking.
Nowhere on it does it say "hallucinogenic side effects", so perhaps I am dying. If not then I am already dead?
"Yup, well the dying part is right!"
I look over at the brazen man sitting at the end of my bed in shock. Did he just read my mind!?
"That would also be a yes, although I am very confused why the mind reading shocks you and not the fact that I'm the Devil."
He jumps up off the bed and walks over to my side. Then, in a very well mannered fashion, he sits down next to me. Meanwhile I just sit here and stare at him with utter confusion.
"Would you mind closing your mouth? It's not like I'm a flying pig."
'Ya, sadly you're more handsome than a flying pig,' is what I would say, but there is no need to build up his clearly huge and fragile igo.
"Well, what is it that you want from me?" I look down at the dull blanket covering the lower half of my body.
He sets his hand on my lap, gently caressing my wrist. I look up into his golden eyes, their ember sparkle glints back at me as he grins. I quickly look away and pull my hand from him.
"What, did I scare you?"
"No, I'm just not a fan of physical touch."
"I'm all too aware of this Evan."
"Okay, so what else are you 'all too aware' of?"
"Everything, and that is why I would like to make a deal with you."
He pauses, clearly waiting for my response. I honestly don't know what to say in reply. What does one say to a devil offering a deal?
"So what would this deal entail?"
"It's simple, well for me at least."
"That doesn't tell me much," I let out a small laugh at his snarky comment.
"Well it's a bit of a strange request for me to ask of someone."
"Strange? You're the Devil, how can anything you ask not be strange?"
He smiles, muttering to himself, "I knew I made the right choice."
I stare at him again. For some reason it is just so hard to take my eyes off of this man. His aura is alluring and seems to drag me away from whatever my thoughts were previously on. I mean, he is kinda hot, in terms of his looks, defiantly not his personality.
"So," I wait for him to finish what he was saying.
"I want you to fall in love."
The room is filled with an awkward silence until I begin to giggle.
"Fall, fall in love? Are you serious? I mean that sounds so cheesy, I, I just don't know what to say."
"I am dead serious, as dead as you'll be in an hour."
"An hour?"
"Yup, now do you wanna listen or not?"
"Okay, okay, I'm listening," I notice that he is now speaking in a more serious tone then before.
"Good," he stands up, then sits back down, almost as if he's nervous. "All I need you to do is fall in love and to have that person love you back. Of course there is a price to pay for failing to do so. Every two years, you will loose one of your senses."
"What!"
"Now, calm down. I'm not saying that I'll start with the biggest ones like sight or hearing, but you will loose a sense every two years. It will most likely start with smell or taste, then work from there to the one you need the most."
"Well, which one is that?"
"It changes from person to person. For some it's touch and others it might be taste or sight. It all depends on them."
"So will you tell me?"
"No. You will know what it is when the time comes."
"Oh," I look down at my lap again.
"So, will you sign a contract with me, we don't have much time before I must collect your soul."
I don't know what to say. He seems to be hiding the truth from me, though I don't know why. He is the Devil, he must have some reason for this. What is his goal? There is no way that he's just doing this to be nice to me, no one is like that.
No one in the world does things to be nice. Even if he's from some other world that I know nothing of, I am sure that none of them do anything if it doesn't have some kind of benefit for them.
But I'm not much different than them, so do I really have the right to judge them? I have never been friends with someone because I like them, I've done it for the benefit they might bring me. I don't see the purpose in a relationship that I get nothing out of. Why should I care for someone else's reasons?
Even if he is using me for his goal, I am using him for mine as well. I don't want to die yet. Not yet, I still have more to do. I guess that falling in love does seem rather fun. Although I don't know how to, it might just happen to me in this next life that he's offering me.
"Okay, I will sign your contract," I look up at him, right into his ember eyes.
He smiles, then a piece of parchment materializes in front of me. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small gold fountain pen. He hands it to me then points at the empty line at the bottom. The words before it are in some kind of fancy lettering that I can't read, but I ignore them and sign my life and soul away.
"You didn't read it," he says as he takes his pen back and the parchment almost seems to evaporate into flames and into the air.
"No need, like you said I don't have much time left."
"Well then, Miss Evan, your soul now belongs to me."