By BLAINE ROCHE
Staff Writer
A businessman clad in a deep green suit sat, slumped over at his desk. The cacophonous noise of the landscaper’s lawnmower below him outside his house rattled the inside of his skull. He winced, inhaled sharply as he grasped for the orange bottle of pills on his desk and fished out four. Dropping them into his mouth, he reached for the crystal glass filled with vodka and washed the pills down. He set the glass down next to the picture of a woman and two children. He sighed and leaned back into his chair, running his hands through his russet brown hair. His eyes moved from the bookshelf on his right, his bedroom door to his left, and finally settled on the large mural on the ceiling. The metronome on his desk began to click. Click… Click… Click… Click… The lawnmower’s roar began to fade. The people in the mural began to shudder. Atop an ivory throne, a featureless dark figure sat, leaning his head on his hand with orange eyes glaring down at the men, women, and children burning below him. Click. Click. Click. Click. The people’s wails of agony echoed within his mind. The infernal flames licked and lashed those below the ivory throne. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and coated his back. His eyes drifted back to the throne. There was a small figure sitting at the feet of the dark form. Click, click, click, click. Its knees were curled to its chest, watching the people burn. The hellish flame’s glow illuminated its wicked grin, ridden with malice and greed. Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. Vomit rose in his throat. He snatched the bottle of pills once more and poured the remainder of pills into his hand. He shoved them into his mouth and reached for the bottle of vodka beside the crystal glass. Without bothering to pour a glass, he took deep mouthfuls and swallowed. The clicking stopped. “Belial,” a deep voice rumbled from the darkest corner of his office. He flinched and dropped the bottle, shattering it on the marble floor. The shadows seemed to coalesce into a strange, formless mass. From within the mass, a pair of baleful orange eyes, its fiery gaze boring deep into his soul. Belial put his head in his hands, cowering from the creature.
“Why are you here,” he asked the dark voice.
“Do not act so unfamiliar. We have known each other for quite a long time, have we not?” hissed the voice.
“Get away from me! I don’t need you anymore.” The dark mass slunk along the bookshelf, inching its way towards him.
“Come now, you know that is not how this works. I made it very clear how this was going to go when you requested my help.” The shadows were merely feet away from Belial before they settled.
“I don’t want your help anymore, nor do I need it. Get out of my life, you dem-,” The shadow’s gaze flared with fury. Within the blink of an eye, a hand was wrapped around Belial’s throat and his words were cut short. The creatures clawed gray fingers wrapped completely around his throat.
“I do not think you really understand how this works,” the creature snarled. “You have no say in what happens. I am the one in control, not you.” Belial sputtered and choked. It tightened its iron grip on his neck. “Do not forget what I say. You cannot plead ignorance any longer. You know the terms of our deal.” Belial’s face began to redden and foam at the mouth. The creature’s eyes twisted in disgust and released its grip. “How many times must I drill this into your thick skull? Pathetic filth,” it snapped. Belial coughed and took deep breaths, shrinking into his chair, away from the shadows. “So, how are you enjoying the life you wished for?” Belial didn’t answer. “The lavish and luxurious house and belongings, the limitless wealth you possess, standing at the top. How is it?” He remained silent. The shadow began to grow impatient. The dark mass swirled and vanished. Shortly after, the doors to Belial’s office burst open, smashing against the walls. A tall man with soft features, clad in dark and wispy clothes that flowed like water, strode up to his desk and cupped his face, forcing him to meet his gaze. Belial’s face contorted in confusion, then horror, as his eyes met a malevolent amber gaze. “Hey, Eli,” the man told Belial with a malicious edge in his voice.
“Micah?” he asked, still filled with confusion. Micah gave him a telltale smile.
“Yep. That’s me. How’ve you been?” he asked.
“Terrible. A shadow keeps tormenting me.” At that moment, Micah burst out in laughter.
“A shadow? Really? You always were a bit eccentric,” he replied, an arm on his stomach.
“I’m serious Micah,” Belial told him.
“Hey, I believe you. But it couldn’t have been worse than being framed by your lifelong friend. to obtain full ownership of the flourishing business that the two of you erected from the ground up and tossed into prison for the rest of your life for something you didn’t do, right?” Micah told Belial with a smile. Belial’s face fell.
“What did you say?”
“Come on Eli. Don’t tell me you forgot. There was a voice that told you that I needed to be out of the picture. After that, you snuck into my house in the middle of night. Just walked right in. I thought I locked the door.” He crossed his arms and put a finger on his chin. “You climbed the stairs in dead silence, knife in hand, and slunk into my bedroom where my wife was sleeping, silent as death. You then proceeded to slash her neck so deeply she was nearly decapitated. I was in my office in the next room over, so I didn’t hear any of this unfortunately. To be continued…