Week 7 Storytelling: The Demon's Deal

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"The Demon's Deal"

I have a boyfriend named Dorian. Well, or at least that's what everyone thinks. There are times that I even convince myself of that truth.

But the truth is that I made Dorian up. One day I drew what the perfect boyfriend would look like, and then I started writing letters to myself from him, and then I wrote letters back to him. The letters were sent and received in a shoebox.

So, when people at school asked me, whenever my family asked me, I told them, "Yes, I have a boyfriend. His name is Dorian!"

I had a story for how we met, how our first kiss went, and even bought presents for me that "he got me."

The problem started whenever people wanted to meet him.

After excuse after excuse I feared that everyone could see through my thin veil of a lie. I desperately did everything I could think of: wishing on shooting stars and 11:11. I hoped fortune cookies wielded good fortune.

I prayed to God, Buddha, anyone who was listening, but nothing worked.

It wasn't even about making him seem alive anymore, no, I wanted Dorian to be alive.

Finally, I turned to the darkness.

It the angels wouldn't help me, perhaps the demons would.

I looked online for a wishing spell. I wrote my fake boyfriend's name on the paper, along with his qualities: black hair, brown eyes, pale skin, freckles, he's sweet, he's thoughtful, but he's confident, he's charismatic.

I burned the paper in the flame of a candle, and whispered, "Dorian. I wish you were real."

Suddenly the flames grew as tall as a person, and in it's place was the boy I had just described.

Dorian scratched the back of his head, and sheepishly grinned. "Hey, Bridget."

"Dorian!" I cried and ran to him, wrapping my arms around him.

He kissed the top of my head, and embraced me. "I'm here."

"Stay here with me, please," I begged.

"What would you give for me?" He asked and suddenly his teeth were fangs, and I felt claws around my body. His hair was no longer black, but snow-white, and his eyes were bright red.

(Belial, the Demon)

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were like iron chains. "Who are you?"

"Some call me Belial, but I am whoever you want me to be," he said and suddenly he turned back into Dorian. "But, for a price."

"What is the price?" I asked.

"Your soul," he said with a wicked grin.

I laughed. He was joking right? This was all some sick joke.

"It's no joke," he said, and smirked. "I will be your Dorian for seven years, after which your soul will be mine."

"Yours for what?"

"For the taking, but thats shouldn't matter, no? Isn't your Dorian more important?" He smiled softly smiled and released me from his embrace.

I was sixteen years old, so I'd be twenty-three when my soul was gone. I didn't even know what I was doing after all that time. I had no plans of college. Besides, maybe I could trick him. Or maybe he was lying.

"Yes," I said.

"We have a deal," he said with a wolfish grin and he held his hand out. I shook his hand and it felt like fire.

For a moment he was the demon again and then he was back to Dorian. My sweet, kind, Dorian, and boyfriend for seven years.

After which, I had no idea what would happen.

***

When he said he'd take my soul, I didn't know it would be like this. I was twisted into someone hint perverted, and something evil.

I became a demon, much like Belial, the demon I made the deal with.

My home was Hell, literally, and I was to spend the eternity making deals with foolish humans. The business in Hell was souls, and I was no longer the customer, I was the sleazy saleswoman.

Author's Note.
This week, I read "Sri Krishna of Dwarka and Other Stories" and it mentioned demons and curses and such. So, I decided to write a story kind of based off of the Faustian myth, which is the age old tale of a deal with a demon, turning sour.

I know, I cut it close, but I was running out of words! I would have liked to see more with Dorian and Bridget, but the word count did not allow. I feel bad for Bridget's fate, but you reap what you sow, right?