Sacrifice

All Necessary Warnings:
This story contains murder without remorse and brushes of homosexuality. I really would appreciate any and all reviews. Flame me, I don\'t care. My ego\'s solid. If you find any errors (spelling mistakes or the like) let me know. And oh yes, shameless plug: visit my website:

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Summary:
There\'s really no way to summarize this. Man is frustrated with his life and family and moves on.

And now for the real entertainment:

Sacrifice

The windowpanes rattled, sending a brief chill along my spine. I was seated in a large leather armchair near a lit fireplace across the room from the devil himself.

He sat rather still, composed, his only movement came from his hand lifting now and again to turn the page in the large leather bound book that rested on the desk before him. His other arm lay on the desk, the wrist wrapped in a dingy white cloth stained with his blood. I sighed as I watched him. Evil was always beautiful wasn't it? Because knowing something was bad, truly bad, made it all the more appealing to an idiot like myself.

How did I end up here? Seated in the devil's library, watching the suicidal devil reading volumes of poetry by candlelight? Well, I suppose I could tell you.

~~~~~~~~~~

I had been walking late at night about four days ago, my hands in my pockets and my head bowed. I listened to the soft thud of my feet hitting the pavement in a steady tired rhythm. On my left was a cemetery and if I turned my head slightly I could see the desolate tombstones and the barren trees through the iron fence. To my right was the street, empty of all activity and life. I had left home hours ago, soon after nightfall. I'd wandered aimlessly, past homes, businesses, parks, graves"¦

I hadn't eaten in two days, my stomach was an aching hollow within me. I swallowed, forgetting the pain within and had pulled my thin coat tighter still around me. My coat was all I had. I had left my burning home hours ago after all, soon after nightfall"¦

Standing there, watching my home burn from the fire I myself had set, I had finally understood the worthlessness of material possession. So, wrapped in my coat, I had left to wander. Too many years I had lived as a rich idiot, high in my mansion above all humanity. I and my idiot wife, and our idiot children. Our fine clothes, which meant nothing. The beautiful furnishings, which meant nothing. We had feasted daily, filling ourselves with exquisite food served on fine china. Never once would we have considered humbling ourselves enough to cook our own meals, or eat them off of lesser dishware. Did it matter then? No. Does it matter now? No.

Two dayo I o I sat at the table with my wife and my two little children and watched them. My wife was a perfectly beautiful idiot. My little daughter my wife's small puppet and my son, I despised the thought of him growing to become myself. I had left the table and locked myself in an unused room, wonderfully furnished of course. I sat on the floor for perhaps the first time in my life and leaned against a wall. When my wife knocked upon the door I ignored her. I sat in that room for two days, wondering. Wondering what truth and beauty were. Not idiocy and rancor. I had surrounded myself with possessions and fabrication my whole life and now was ready to be free of it. Just after sunset today when my family was in one of the living rooms and the servants had left I filled the house with kerosene from the cellar and lit a fire.

I had intended to burn with them at first. But in the last moment before I made the crucial step towards my doom, human cowardice slipped into my senses and I backed out of the house, taking my coat. I heard only one scream and I believe it was my son. I closed my eyes and continued walking, though I felt no real remorse at the sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

The devil used the undamaged arm to brush the dusty hair out of his eyes. I thought for a moment he would look up, but he did not. He went about with his reading. I am still free to talk with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

As I had been walking, cold and hungry, yet strangely content, I had heard another set of footsteps behind me. They were far at first, too far to matter, but as their pace quickened and closed the distance between us, I felt a twinge of fear. Turning would have been foolish, but hastening my pace would have been also. I kept the same pace, attempting to ignore the burning fear that now savagely beat at my heart. Then came the hand on my shoulder.

I stopped. For the first time in hours I stood still, and slowly turned around to gaze at my assailant.

He was shorter than I, only a few inches though and I was tall. He used his other arm, an arm I saw that was covered with red gashes and bruises to brush the dusty blond hair back from his eyes, which were a deep brown. The deep brown eyes stared into my hazel ones in silence. His lips, which together made a very generous mouth turned up into a small sad smile, and then I felt the lips on mine. Soft pink velvet against my own cold mouth, rough from the wind. I wanted badly to touch him, and I had brought up my arm to do it. It hovered above his back, but I let it drop, for he had pulled away from me. Gently, he slipped his hand into mine, and pulled me forward with a gaze full of lust and agony. This man was dying, he was slowly killing himself with his own guilt and a drawer full of knives. Against my better judgment, I followed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The devil then does look up at me. His dark eyes are fixed upon me, but it's as if he doesn't really see me. His eyes have a misted, blurred appearance. Then he seems to come out of his haze and smiles at me affectionately. He loves me, I know. I can feel how much he wants to come to me now, to sit with me and hold me, but he won't. He knows I am past that and that I question it. But somewhere inside myself I know I want it too.

~~~~~~~~~~

I spent that night and the next day with him in a room in this very house. What we did does not really need to be discussed thoroughly, however I am inspired by the deep vibrations of love coming from his corner of the room to perhaps speak lightly of it.

He had taken me to a room, his room or just a room I do not know. He kissed me again and this time I held him, my arms around him, holding him, for I was afraid he might melt away by the manner in which he seemed to dissolve into me. His lips had begun to move lower, he gently kissed my neck and then my collarbone, then turned his head to the side and rested it against my chest. He had closed his eyes sighed softly, his arms around me. We had held each other for a few long moments and then he had pulled away slightly and began to undress me.


In the latter hours of our evening I rested my head upon his chest and he petted my hair lovingly and told me he loved me. How many hours we laid like that I do not know.

The next night we left the bed, and he brought me to other rooms in his home, mainly his kitchen because he feared I was starving. I think he perceived me as more of a victim of life than I actually am. Life has saved me, I was a victim of humanity and all of its petty essentials. He watched me eat, his expression always of love. When I finished he brought me to another room, plain but pretty, and tried to speak to me. He wanted to tell me how he loved me and how I had saved him, because now he no longer wanted to die. If only to be with me, and to love me he would live. Then he had been silent for a few moments and had then turned those lovely dark eyes up to mine. Did I love him?

I hadn't replied. I had merely gazed into his eyes, and was suddenly lost in their depth. The irises encircled me and I was stranded in his pupils. I felt the caress of his eyelashes and slowly I began to drift off.

He was holding my hand. I had nodded off he told me. His face was so close to mine. I was intoxicated. Let me sleep I had told him. He had smiled sadly and softly released my hand. I think that he was disappointed, but he wouldn't have said so.

When I awoke he was there, in a chair across the room. I watched him for a moment, then sat up. He came to me, and sat beside me on the couch. Gently he touched my arm. I saw real pain in his eyes and knew he had hurt himself again. His arm was bloody and I could feel it seeping through my shirt. He had to know, did I love him?

I didn't want to answer, I didn't want to answer because I knew, I I d I did. But as much as I did, I felt it might be wrong, wrong to love someone like this. Not because he was a man, no. But to love someone so instantaneously, so purely felt also evil. There were always souls to sacrifice, and unreasonable, impossible promises to make in incidents so perfect they couldn't be real. And then to spare him agony, to make him cease all his self-inflicted pain, I softly whispered that I did, I did love him. And I felt my soul slowly slide away from me.

~~~~~~~~~~

He stands now, and comes toward me. He wants to be near me. He wants to hold me. I cross my legs and stare at the rattling window, yet I'm an idiot all over again for trying to deny him. He seats himself beside me and gently puts his arms around me. He wants nothing more than my love, and I want nothing more than my soul, and he has that now, along with my heart. I'm his savior, his god. And he is my devil, for he has taken my soul. But somehow, I don't regret the sacrifice.