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The Bargain
🕑 Added 2024-03-28 19:12:40 +0000 UTC(Here's a little piece I wrote in response to a writing prompt over on cohost a few weeks ago.)
"The bargain has been reached," said the tall figure as it stepped through the bookcase that had been toppled in front of it. Long graceful limbs, their color halfway between the blues and purples of a rare morning sky, turned wood and paper to ash instantly as they moved without effort.
One step, and then another, walking toward the man cowering behind his desk.
"Stop!" he yelled, throwing a heavy object at the figure, its intricate complexities and weight evaporating into tatters as it struck a shoulder that barely registered the impact. "Stay back!" the man shouted, scrambling through the drawers for something else to throw at the advancing intruder.
Soundwaves and pebbles washed over and bounced off the figure in rapid alternating succession, the resulting noise a melody to some and a roar to others. The intruder looked down, perplexed at the sensation. It traced a slender finger over the momentary indentation the bullets had made in its skin, losing itself in the brief discovery of a new sensation. A second later the featureless hills and valleys of its chest were once again smooth as marble, and it resumed its walk.
One step, and then another.
The man threw the empty gun at the figure, repeating his frantic efforts to make the device on his desk work. "Security! Intruder! GET IN HERE! HELP!!"
Tiny sparks of light and intent flowed down wires and snaked their way along the underground, sputtering to an immediate end as soon as they attempted to cross the threshold that bound the figure to this place. Just as the man had been unable to find a means of egress through the panes of glass, the device's impulses would not escape the shape traced around them both. The figure had entered alone; it would leave with the man. The rest was dust and details.
"What do you want?!" the man screamed as he fled the figure's advance, not even watching its hips glide through the desk as if it were air. Oak and slivers of iron to cinders and droplets, as they once had been, as they now were again; paving the way for rebirth. Such was the fate of all the figure touched; all, except for him. The figure reached out with a hand.
Another thrown object bounced off the clawed fingertips and tumbled into the intruder's face, making its long pitch-black locks of hair dance in the air like curtains in the wind.
Something landed on one of the figure's horns, resting there; unburned, unmarred, spared from destruction if only by virtue of its novelty. An errant ring of iron—a piece of the unnamed weapon, now reduced to its scattered components fluttering in the air after the impact. It would remain there until the figure grew tired of the sensation, if ever such a time did come. But distractions, if welcome, remained distractions.
One step, and then another.
"Is there something you want?" the man asked, scrabbling about, hands searching for another else to throw at the intruder. "Name your price! I can give you millions. Billions!"
One step.
"Not good enough for you? What are you after?!" The beads of sweat across the man's face multiplied. His frantic eyes looked into the pinpoints of light in the shadows of the figure's face; looked down at its fangs—bared out of necessity more than intent—then back across to its horns.
And then another.
"You want something else? I know what you want. I can give 'em to you. Tons of 'em. Thousands. Thousands of thousands. Just tell me when and where, and I'll bring 'em to you! They won't be able to say no. I guarantee it!"
The figure paused, as if the man's intent, the nature of what he was saying, finally reached the depths of its pointed ears. It tilted its head. "The bargain has been reached," it said a second time, its voice echoes of itself.
For the first time since his unwanted guest had appeared, the man relaxed. "Good," he said, wiping his brow with his shirt sleeve. "I knew you'd see reas—"
One step, and then another.
"STOP!" he yelled as panic once again overtook him. "You said we had a deal!"
The figure paused again. It crouched down until its eyes were level with his. "If only they had sent a demon of words," it said, its voice forlorn, almost mournful. "It would have lapped up your agreements, composed contracts, devised as many deals as you had souls to give. Your efforts would not have been wasted."
Tremors rippled across the man's face, his lips trembling, his head shaking.
"If only they had sent a demon of words," the figure said. "But they didn't."
"NO!" the man yelled, shuffling backwards across the ground until the walls halted his escape from the advancing inevitability before him. "I can pay. I CAN PAY! ANYTHING, NAME IT!"
"The bargain has been reached," the figure repeated. "The price was already paid, long before I arrived."
The sounds that escaped the man's mouth were no longer words, but their meaning was clear.
"A soul is on its way to Hell," the figure said as it reached for him one final time, "and she has chosen to take you along with her."
Comments
Kaiyalai
Loved this one on cohost and now on here, too!
