Many years ago, my situation in life was much more than disagreeable. My father had died, leaving me no means of living – neither house nor inheritance – for I was his illegitimate son. His other children had never liked me, and as soon as our only link perished, they were quick to send me away. I was given less than a day to quit the house, and I set about the country on foot, as I could afford no means of transportation, and had to save the little I had for accommodation.

The kind owner of a tavern took pity on me and offered me lodging in exchange for work. I gratefully accepted the offer, for I had no other, and began a modest life. I had food and shelter, which should have been enough for a person in my situation, but I was unsatisfied. I wanted more. My father had been a wealthy man, and offered me every comfort and luxury in life free of charge, and I, of course, spent them extravagantly to irritate my siblings – so I was very much displeased with my new lifestyle, which could not measure up to a fraction of what my previous one had been.

I worked and slept, worked and slept. It was a monotonous routine, the only variation being the customers that came in at night. Such was my life: drab, dreary and dull, a humdrum of drink and orders.

A man came in one night. He slid through the crowd, unnoticed by the other customers. He was dressed well, too well for this part of the country. It was the only detail I could make out of him at the time, for the lighting was dim and I had not been paying much attention. He came to the counter, and instead of giving his order he told me that he could give me whatever I wanted. I was confused, but intrigued, and pressed him to continue. He informed me that his name was Mr X and that he owned a company that granted its members the ability to live lavishly. I asked him the name of this company, for I had never heard of it and it seemed too strange and good to be true, and he told me that the company was too new to be known of, and therefore I need know not its name. He asked me if I was interested in being one of the company’s first customers, and I replied that I would have to think about it. He smiled at this, a handsome, alluring smile that nearly caused me to agree to his request in that moment, and left me a sheet of paper with an address on it before he left.

The next few days I inquired to those surrounding me if they had ever heard of a Mr X or his company, and they responded in the negative. This should have been enough to dissuade me from seeking the address he had given me, but alas, it was not. I longed for my former days of splendour, when I had not a care in the world or responsibilities to keep. I asked my employer for a few days leave, and he reluctantly granted them with perplexity, for I was not in the position to ask for a holiday.

I set out to find the address that the man had given me, which was conveniently located in a nearby city. It took me a while to locate the precise building, for when I showed the address to natives of the city they were confused and stated that such a place did not exist, but I managed to find it – eventually. The building was normal in every sense, indistinguishable from the buildings beside it, but it had something that perturbed me, possibly an eerie premonition that I could not shake off. Everything inside me was telling me to leave, to turn around and never return, but I ignored my instincts and entered the building.

I was immediately greeted by a clerk and was shortly admitted into a large, luxurious office. The walls were painted sinners red, and all the furniture was a dark doomsday black. There was nothing bright in the room. Opposite me sat a man behind a mahogany desk with various piles of sorted papers. The man from the tavern. I could make him out more clearly now. He was stunning: sinister black hair that matched his suit, deathly pale skin, and lips the colour of blood. Again, my conscience told me to turn away, but I sat in the chair across the man’s when he invited me to sit. He encouraged me to speak of my situation, and I agreed, my favourite topic being myself. He reassured me, promising that he could change my predicament easily and provide me with everything I should want or need. He handed me a contract and asked me to sign it. His voice was hypnotising and compelled me to oblige. I skimmed through the text, trusting the man, and signed my name on the dotted line.

The next day I received news that my father’s will had been found and that I was to inherit ten thousand pounds. I immediately left the tavern and purchased myself a large estate opposite that of my siblings, to mock them with my success. I held lavish parties, bought the finest of clothes, ate and drank to excessively, and participated in every sort of debauchery and corruption imaginable. Such was my life, and I took pride in it.

However, my movements became slow after many months of revelry. Despite my many pleasures, I was not yet satisfied. I ordered for more of everything so that it was in surplus. I thought I could buy myself amusement and peace of mind, but I was never to have either. Soon, Mr X appeared at my door. He told me that my time was up, that he expected me to be at the gates the next day. I replied that I knew not what he spoke of and that I did not understand. He said nothing. He handed me my contract and left with a wicked smile across his lips. I looked at the contract and read it anxiously, trying to decipher what he had meant. Much to my horror, I realised what I had signed and what I had given up. I realised who Mr X was and where I was supposed to be tomorrow:

My life, the devil, and hell.

I could not run from it. I tried, but it was of no use. My feet unwillingly walked through the iron gates, no matter how much I willed them to turn away. The rain pounded ferociously against the concrete, soaking me in cold water. I realised that it would have been the last time I felt the cold, but I could not enjoy it. The house in front of me was large, with ash-coloured bricks covered by dead ivy. The windows were closed and the curtains drawn, but I could make out ghostly figures silhouetted by bright fiery flames. The wind, no matter how strong it howled, could not hide the screams of mercy of the condemned souls.

My body brought me to the large oak doors and I took a final breath before I knocked on the doors of hell.

Copyright © 2019 guasoni.net