‘Til Death Do Us Part

Jason loved Trina. He loved her more than words could ever say. And if you let him tell it, he had loved her from the very first moment he saw her. It was a warm spring afternoon in Atlanta. Jason and a few of his frat brothers had gotten together for lunch at Strip in Atlantic Station. And that’s when he saw her, standing in line to ride the Ferris wheel. It took every ounce of courage he could muster to walk over and ask for her number. Since then, they had been inseparable.

“Marriage is the next logical step,” he said to his mother as they shopped for an engagement ring, “Plus, I love her with all my heart.”

And today, he was standing at the altar of Elizabeth Baptist Church, Pastor Oliver to his right, waiting on the love of his life to walk down the aisle. Hundreds of their friends and family members in attendance to watch them tie the knot. And while he looked cool as a cucumber on the outside, Jason was a nervous wreck inside. The wedding was scheduled to start at 12 o’clock, it was 12:30.

Another fifteen minutes passes by, and Jason is noticeably worried. The guests are becoming unsettled. His groomsmen are starting to fidget behind him. He looks around the massive room for a reassuring face. There’s not a single one to be found. Finally, Pastor Oliver tries to offer up a comforting word.

“Maybe she’s having some trouble with her dress or she’s stuck in traffic.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe something happened that’s keeping her from being here. Jason relaxed a little. But why wouldn’t she call or text and say something? He pulled his iPhone out of the inside breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Sure enough, he had 2 missed calls and a text message from Trina. He excused himself and went into the pastor’s office to call her back.

“Is everything okay, babe? Where are you?” his voice dripped with concern.

“I’m fine baby, but I’m not going to be able to make it.” Jason was flabbergasted. What does she mean she can’t make it? And as if she could read his mind, Trina answered his query.

“I can’t marry you, Jason, at least not right now. I love you and I’m so sorry.”

Jason was devastated. He dropped the phone and fell to his knees. A stream a tears rolled down his cheeks. How could she do this to me? He curled up in a ball and continued to sob uncontrollably. The sound of Jason weeping filled the sanctuary, causing the pastor and his parents to come check on him.

“Son, what’s wrong?” his father’s baritone voice reverberated through the room. His mother got down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her distraught child.

“She’s not coming, she doesn’t love me!” Hearing himself say the words sent Jason spiraling even further into the chasm of depression that was reaching out to claim his soul. Pastor Oliver excused himself from the room. He slowly walked back into the sanctuary and informed the guests that the wedding had been called off.

A month later, Jason received a call from a number he didn’t recognize. He decided to answer it, just in case it happened to be something important.

“Hey Jason, I’m sorry it took me so long to call you.” Trina’s voice still had a way of completely disarming him.

“How can I help you Trina? I’m kinda busy right now.” She apologized for interrupting him and asked if they could see each other. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to say no, but he agreed then asked when and where they could meet.

“I’m at St. Joseph’s Hospital right now, can you come here?”

When Jason arrived at the hospital, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Trina was a hairstylist by trade, after all. He followed the signs on the wall and found himself standing in front of the oncology department. Still unsure of what was going on, Jason approached the room number that Trina gave him. When he entered the room, his heart sank down into his stomach. There was Trina, lying in bed, connected to a myriad of machines.

“Hey baby,” she said as he approached the hospital bed. Jason was speechless, he just stood and stared at her. Trina explained that she fainted on their wedding day and was rushed to the hospital, where the doctor found a tumor on her brain.

“I thought you didn’t love me.” The words caused both of them to start crying.

“I’ll always love you Jason, until death do us part,” she said as she closed her eyes for the final time.

Can’t Knock the Hu$$le

Good morning world. I wish I was writing this in a better frame of mind. Hell, I really wish I wasn’t writing it. But because these thoughts have been weighing so heavily on me for the past few days, I felt like I had to get them out.

Unless you just don’t care or you’ve been under a rock all week, you know the tragedy that happened on Sunday (March 31, 2019). There are too many superlatives to list that describe Ermias Joseph Asghedom (known to the world as Nipsey Hussle). Now I’m not here to claim that I knew this man, I’m not even claiming to be a fan of his music. He existed on the periphery of my consciousness. I was cognizant of what he was doing in the world and respected the hell out of the message he was putting out into the world. But when my girlfriend called me and told me of his untimely demise, I couldn’t help but cry.

I didn’t cry when ‘Pac died. I didn’t cry when B.I.G died. I did shed tears for Michael and Prince. I’ll probably cry whenever Hov leaves this mortal realm. And these are probably my 5 favorite artists of all time. But here’s a man who I couldn’t name more than 2 songs by him, yet I cried like I had lost a family member. I turned on his music, pulled a hat down low over my eyes, and grieved for a man that I had never met.

Then, like most of us did, I jumped on social media to post something that could potentially display the hurt I was feeling. And that first night, it was beautiful. People posted links to songs, pictures, etc. showing their respect for Nipsey. But after that, the shit got twisted. Since Sunday night, wild conspiracy theories and videos of his last moments have ran rampant all over social media. We’ve become so focused on his death that we’re ignoring his life.

I’ve taken the past few days to really look into what this man was doing with his life and platform. He was preaching black empowerment in a way that our community hasn’t seen or heard since Malcolm X laid down. This is what our focus should be on. Not how or why he lost his life. Lift up his legacy, don’t sensationalize his death.

That’s all I got for y’all today. Peace and love. Let’s run this marathon! #RIPNipsey

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

Together they silently walked towards the restaurant, each hoping that the other would come up with an excuse for them to turn around and go back to their hotel. At this point, the flimsiest of reasons to reverse course would be welcomed with open arms. They both knew they were walking into a trap: a figurative one for her, a literal one for him. She was the only daughter of Angelo Giamatto, the Don of the Scaligniari family. He was a freshly graduated FBI agent assigned to New York’s White Collar Crime Division.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked as they walked arm-in-arm towards their destination. “I think so,” she responded, “Why? You don’t want to?” He hesitated for just a second before answering, but his silence in that moment spoke volumes. They both stopped dead in their tracks and faced each other. In that brief moment, all the unspoken words came to the surface. “We both know who your dad is, babe.” He finally replied. She buried her head in her chest. “And we both know what I do for a living,” he continued.

She tried to shrug off what he said, as if she hadn’t come to grips with what her father did, what he was, a long time ago. And while she loved her father, part of her despised him for his chosen profession and the impact it had had on her life. She quickly reminisced about the last guy she brought home. How much it angered her father that she wouldn’t “settle down with a nice Italian boy and start a family.” She remembered the last time he came to pick her up at the house. How Daddy had one of the guys hit him in the mouth so hard with the butt of a gun that it knocked out all of his front teeth. The thought made her cringe at what he might do to her new love interest.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she whispered, hoping to put his mind at ease, “Daddy is a big teddy bear, you’ll see.” And while he tried his best to smile and accept what she said, he couldn’t help but remember everything he had been told about her father at work. Under her father’s reign the Scaligniari family had become one of the most dangerous clans in La Cosa Notra’s almost 150 year history in the United States.

Begrudgingly, they continued their walk towards the restaurant. With each step, the knots in their throats seemed to grow larger. After what felt like an eternity, they reached their destination. He reached out for the door handle as he flashed an uneasy smile in her direction. She squeezed his left hand in both of hers as she entered the building. “Here goes nothing,” he whispered to himself as he followed her inside.

She smoothly made her way through the crowded restaurant until she reached her father’s table. He did his best to feign at trying to keep up, but felt slightly relieved when he began to fall behind. Just as you would expect, Don Giamatto greeted his “baby girl” with a great big bear hug and huge kiss on the cheek. Meanwhile, he had stopped at the bar in search of a little liquid courage. After a few minutes, he heard her call out his name. With a deep sigh, he downed the rest of his drink and made his way to her side.

As he approached, she reached out for his hand and he did the same. “Daddy, I’d like you to meet…” Before she could finish her introduction, he found himself staring down the barrels of a few handguns. As if it were rehearsed, the busy restaurant fell silent. Not a single person dared move an inch. “If you’re not La Mia Famiglia, GET OUT!!” the Don’s baritone voice reverberated off the walls, “NOW!!!” Instantly, everyone in the restaurant quickly and quietly exited. “DADDY!” she exclaimed, her face frozen in shock.

“How dare you bring this mulignan into my establishment,” Angelo growled, “Why can’t you date a nice Italian guy?!” Without batting an eyelash, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard so much about you.” A look of absolute disgust came across Angelo’s face. “It’s not that I️ don’t like you people,” he replied, “But there’s no way my baby girl is gonna be with some mooley, you understand?” She began to pout like a petulant child after being told no. “So what’s gonna happen now is you’re gonna turn around, walk away and never see her again. Capiche?”

He remained calm, even let a hint of a smile flash across his face. “I’m afraid I️ can’t do that, sir.” Angelo became enraged, he had never felt so disrespected in his entire life. “And why is that?” He looked at her and said, “Because I️ love your daughter and want to marry her.” The Don let out a primal scream and threw a wild overhand right. The punch landed squarely and sent him to the floor. “GET OUT OF HERE!!!” Angelo bellowed. “I️’m afraid I can’t do that sir,” he responded while wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. At that very moment, a squad of FBI agents rushed into the restaurant, guns drawn. “You’re under arrest,” he said from his seat on the floor.

Jump

She stood with her back to the airplane door and let go. In her mind, this was more than just a Saturday afternoon adventure. This wasn’t just another item crossed off her bucket list. This was a new beginning. This was escaping everything and everyone that was holding her back. As she plummeted back towards earth, she felt something she had never felt in her 30 years of living: freedom. True, unadulterated freedom. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was truly in control of her destiny. And although her heart was racing a million miles a minute, a sense of peace and calm washed over her.

She continued her descent to the ground below with her eyes closed. She heard the instructor screaming commands over the earpiece she was wearing. Only one stood out: “Relax your body and let the wind catch you.” She took a deep breath and obliged. She spread her arms and legs out, letting the glider wings on her suit unveil themselves. Almost instantly, the wind caught her and slowed her descent. That sense of flying took the whole experience to a new level. Overcome with joy, she let out a loud scream. The instructor was immediately back in her ear, asking if everything was okay. She assured that she was better than okay.

A few seconds later, she pulled the ripcord and braces herself. The parachute quickly unfolded. The force of it rapidly slowing her fall caught her off guard, causing her to let out a breathless grunt. Once she regained her bearings, she drank in the view. Never in her wildest dreams did she see herself doing something like this. A sense of empowerment sprang forth as she stared in amazement at her hometown off in the distance. A that very moment, she made a vow to herself: never let anything or anybody take this feeling away from her.

Moments later, she landed on the ground with a soft thud. She quickly got to her feet and reeled the colorful parachute in, just like she had been instructed to do. The look on her face was that of pure bliss. She was soon joined by the rest of her group as well as the instructor. He congratulated everyone on a great jump as they walked back to the hangar. She quickly changed out of her gear and back into her regular clothes. As she left, she got a call from her mother asking her how she felt. “Like I’m ready to take on the world.”

The Office Incident

Good afternoon world! Normally, I don’t preface my short stories with any kind of introduction. There’s no real reason why, I just feel better about posting them and getting on with the day. But this one is different. I’ve wrestled with the decision to post it since the day I finished writing it. Not because I’m not proud of the work, but because it’s a sensitive topic. And while I don’t pretend to be the most sensitive man in the world, I never want to intentionally offend someone. But at the end of the day, I came to the conclusion that its better to put it out and let you, the reader, decide how to feel about instead of voluntarily censoring myself. So please be mindful that the subject of this story is of a sensitive and potentially troubling nature. This story in no way is meant to glorify it. Peace and love… 

Angela felt his warm, moist breath on her neck as she struggled to free herself of Luke’s iron grasp. Never in her wildest nightmares did she think she’d be in this situation. And definitely not with him.

They had started at the firm around the same time, she as a paralegal and he as an associate. Early on, he did everything he could to show his interest in a more personal relationship. He’d routinely ask her out for drinks or to dinner. Each time, she’d graciously turn him down. The pictures of his wife and kids hanging in his cubicle made it easy. And while his ego was a little bruised, Luke said that he understood. Over the five years they had worked together, they had become good friends. Luke even introduced her to her fiancé, Shelton. Luke and Shelton went to Duke University together. Shelton even stayed with Luke and his wife when he first moved to New York.

Since the hospital was within walking distance of the Manhattan skyscraper that served as the home of the law firm, Shelton would routinely stop by to take Angela to lunch or bring her coffee. Sometimes, the two couples would get together for dinner when Shelton’s schedule would permit. On more than one occasion, Shelton caught Luke staring at Angela. This made Shelton uneasy.

“There’s something about him,” Shelton would say each time, “I think he still likes you.” Angela would always brush off the insinuation. After all, she felt like they had developed a real friendship over the years. “He’s responsible for us being together,” she would respond, “Why would he hook us up if he wanted me for himself?” Angela also made sure to let it be well known that she was more than happy in her relationship with Shelton. The walls of her own cubicle were plastered with pictures of the two of them. Her wedding plans were the talk of the office.

A few months later, the law firm threw an office party to celebrate Luke’s promotion to junior partner. Everyone was in attendance. When Angela and Shelton walked in, the whole room noticed. Shelton was dressed in nice three piece sharkskin suit with a lavender shirt and tie. Angela had on a white silk blouse, a tight fitting black pencil skirt and a pair of 6 inch Christian Louboutin heels. They walked around the room and Angela introduced her fiancé to all of her co-workers. As they walked to the bar to get some champagne, Luke and his wife approached. The two couples exchanged pleasantries and small talk. As Angela and Luke’s wife, Christina, stood and listened to their men talk football, Angela started to feel a little queasy. She politely excused herself and made her way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, Luke followed her.

Angela was washing her hands when Luke slipped into the women’s restroom behind her. She didn’t even notice he had entered the room. In an instant, he pushed her up against the counter in front of her and quickly pulled her pencil skirt up around her waist. “Please don’t,” she whimpered as he pawed at her breasts through her silk blouse. She begged and begged for him to stop. Her pleas went unanswered. He reached between her legs and ripped her lace panties off. She fought back with all her might as he fumbled to find the opening to her womanhood. Tears formed in her eyes as he shoved his fingers inside her. “You’re so wet,” he growled as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his member, “I see why Shelton loves you so much.” Hearing him mention her fiancé’s name seemed to hurt more than the sensation of him digging in her vagina. She began to sob uncontrollably as he forced himself inside and thrusted away.

After what felt like an eternity, he grunted and stepped away from her. Angela collapsed onto the marble floor below her and curled up into a ball as he zipped up his pants and scurried out of the restroom. A mixture of confusion and rage washed over Angela as she laid there and wept. Why would he do this to me? That was the prevailing thought in her head. Just then, Justine, one of Angela’s coworkers entered the room. “Oh my God! Honey are you okay,” she exclaimed as she knelt down beside Angela. Angela didn’t respond, she just laid there and cried. The lady quickly ran to fetch Shelton.

When they returned, Angela was trying to get back on her feet. “Babe, are you okay,” Shelton asked, “What happened?!” He reached out for her but quickly withdrew from him. He looked around and noticed the torn underwear on the floor. “Who did it,” he snarled. She didn’t respond. Justine walked over to Angela and embraced her coworker. “Honey, tell us what happened.”

The trio exited the bathroom and found an empty office to go into. Justine helped Angela into a soft leather armchair and knelt beside her. After a few moments of intense silence, Angela finally recounted what had just happened to her. When she was done with her story, she looked up at Shelton. A look of pure, unadulterated rage had exploded all over his face. “Can you please take her to New York Presbyterian, and I’ll meet you there,” Shelton asked Justine through clenched teeth. Then he stormed out of the room.

By the time Angela got to the hospital, she had calmed down enough that she was no longer crying. Justine held her hand as they walked into the emergency room and told the nurse that she had been raped. Angela was quickly whisked away to an examination room. The rape exam was almost like living through the ordeal again. She was asked to strip and her clothes were sealed away in evidence bags. Every inch of her body was photographed for marks or bruises. Then, the doctor performed a pelvic exam on her. And while it didn’t necessarily hurt, Angela flinched every time she was touched. Finally, she was interviewed by a detective. The questions she was asked bordered on invasion of privacy, and she didn’t feel comfortable answering them. But she did. By the time it was over, Shelton arrived at the hospital. When Angela saw him, she ran into his arms and buried her face in his chest. “I’m so sorry babe,” he whispered as he squeezed her tight.

The Bag of Money

The money was just sitting there. I couldn’t stop staring at it. In the midst of all the chaos going on around me, I found myself solely focused on it. I peeked out from my hiding spot to see if the coast was clear. Bullets were wildly flying through the air like hungry mosquitoes. I ducked down and gathered my nerve. Then I made a mad dash for the bag. Once I had it in my hands, I hugged it tightly to my chest and started looking for an exit. Right beside me, laid the freshly slain body of one of Gustav’s henchmen in a growing pool of his own bright red blood. His gun was just a few feet away from him. I started to grab it, but hesitated. What am I doing? I’m not a killer, I’m an accountant!

Bullets continued to whiz through the air around me. I crawled over a few more recently deceased and dove out of the warehouse’s emergency exit. I looked around to see if anyone noticed me. I was in the clear. I scrambled to my feet and searched for transportation. I didn’t drive to this massacre and I didn’t want to go back in and try to find keys to any of the cars outside. I fished my iPhone out of my pocket and opened the Uber app. Before I requested the ride, I stopped. I decided it would be smarter to put some distance between myself and my current surroundings. Plus, I figured it would be too easy for someone to track my movements through Uber.

I scurried away from the warehouse, diving and hiding behind shipping containers in case I was being followed. Eventually, I made my way to the security gate for the docks. I took a moment to compose myself. Then I slung the duffel bag strap across my body and calmly walked past the security guard. He looked in my direction, so I smiled and nodded. He returned the gesture and went back to his magazine. I stopped right outside the gate and fished out my wallet. I had about $35 dollars in cash on me, so I hailed a taxi.

I had the cab drop me off a few blocks from my condo, just as a precaution. As I walked home, I carefully scanned the faces around me. As I approached my building, Stanley, the doorman, greeted me. I shot him an uneasy smile as I darted into the lobby and headed to the service elevator in the back of the building. Once I was in my apartment, I stashed the duffle bag in the coat closet. Then, doing my best price officer impression, I checked every room to make sure I was alone. When I got to my bedroom, I flopped down on the bed. I had no idea what to do next. Surely by now, Gustav noticed that not only I, but the money was missing. I was certain one of his goons would be knocking on my door any moment. As I awaited my perceived impending doom, I couldn’t hep regret not grabbing a gun before I left the warehouse. Although I had never held, let alone shot a gun in my entire life, I was quite sure it was probably better to have one and not need it than need one one and not have it. I sat there on the foot of my bed for hours, waiting for someone to come to the door.

As the sun began to set over the city’s skyline, I came to grips with the fact that no one was coming. I had gotten away with it! I hopped up on the bed and did a quick celebratory dance. But as unbridled glee washed over me, I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of curiosity. There was no way a man like Gustav would just let that kind of money vanish. So why had no one come looking for it? For me? I hopped down off of my bed and darted into my closet to change into something less conspicuous. While I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, I decided to go back to the warehouse to investigate. I grabbed the keys to my Audi A4 off my dresser and headed out the door.

As I drove towards the warehouse, my mind began to race. The closer I got, the wilder my imagination became. But the time I arrived, I was having a full-blown panic attack thinking of what Gustav would do to me when he found out I took the money. But the scene that awaited me when I pulled up to the gate was beyond belief. The entire area was swarming with police officers and emergency medical personnel. I parked my car and got out, trying my best to regain my composure. I approached the guard and pretended to be just another curious passerby.

“What happened?” My voice cracked as I tried my best to come across as just another nosey New Yorker.

“Couple of gangsters got into a shootout in one of the warehouses.” He didn’t even look in my direction.

“That’s crazy. Anybody alive?”

“Nah. Cops say it looks like they all clipped one another.” That’s when he turned to look at me.

“Hey! Weren’t you here earlier?”

The fact that he recognized me felt like a punch to the gut. I took a microsecond to deal with the shock and recompose myself, then softly shook my head.

“Nah, I just got one of those faces. Ya know?”

The guard shrugged it off and sat back down on his stool. While I walked back to my car, I let out a small sigh of relief as it dawned on me that I was now a very rich man.

The Visitor

It was just a normal Sunday when the doorbell rang, waking her from her nap. She flung open the door and locked eyes with the devil himself. He stared into the windows to her soul for what seemed like an eternity, then with a charming smile on his face, he asked if he could come in. Before she could answer, he pushed past her and entered her home. “Come on in,” she said under her breath as she closed the door. She followed him into the living room and watched in amazement as he snapped his fingers and the room was magically cleaned.

“You know what they say,” he quipped as he took a seat in her husband’s favorite armchair, “Cleanliness is close to… well, you know the rest.” That sly smile spread out across his handsome face again as she let out an uneasy chuckle. She sat down on the end of the couch furthest away from him and hugged a throw pillow nervously. “So how has literary success been treating you?” he asked as he crossed his legs and leaned back in the armchair. She let out a heavy sigh. “Seems to me that I more than kept up my end of the bargain,” he continued, “Unless you think that you wrote 4 consecutive bestsellers on your own.” She leaned back and clutched the pillow harder. If there was one thing she couldn’t accuse Lucifer of, it was not keeping his word.

It had been about 5 years since they met in the research section of the Atlanta Public Library. She was struggling to come up with a solid story idea and was in fear of her publisher dropping her. She was at the end of her rope, that’s when she did something that was completely out of character for her. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together and prayed to God. Or at least she thought  was praying to God. As she sat there sending her wishes into the atmosphere, an odd smell filled the room. At first, she couldn’t really place it. But after a few moments, it hit her. It smelled like struck matches. And expensive cologne. As the smell filled her nostrils, she opened her eyes. In front of her sat the most breathtakingly handsome she had ever seen. 

“So you’re having some trouble getting past your writer’s block,” he said, then the corners of his mouth began to curl. She stared at him for a moment, trying to connect with the eyes behind the Ray-Ban sunglasses. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

“Let’s just say that I’m a huge fan,” he replied smugly as he peered at her over the top of his glasses and flashed her a million dollar smile.

By now, confusion and curiosity were running rampant in her head. But what the hell, maybe it’ll help to talk about it. It sure as hell can’t hurt. She leaned back in her chair and nodded her head. “I’d give anything for a good story idea,” she exasperated.

“Anything you say?” He removed his sunglasses and leaned forward. She nodded. The stress of trying to come up with a topic for her novel had hit its apex. 

“Hell, I’d sell my soul for a bestseller right now,” she continued with a chuckle. His gaze intensified. 

“I have an idea for a novel that I would be willing to give you,” he said. She sat straight up in her chair. What’s the catch? Nobody gives anything away without expecting something in return. “I wouldn’t ask for any credit, I just want to be compensated on the back end if the book is in deed successful,” he continued.

She stared into the handsome stranger’s face for what seemed like an eternity. “How much are we talking? What would consider successful?” His long fingers intertwined as his perfectly manicured nails almost sparkled in the overhead fluorescent light.

“You said a bestseller was worth your soul, let’s make that the benchmark and the price.” At that moment, room around them faded away and it suddenly got much warmer. “So do we have a deal, my dear?” A sinister smile pushed his cheeks up to his eyes as he stretched out his flawlessly manicured hand. Although hesitant, she reached out and gave his hand a firm shake. Instantly, they were transported back to the research section of the library. He stood up from the table and started to walk away. Before he could get away, she reached out and grabbed him.

“What about the story idea,” she inquired. He simply replied, “Check your email.”

Here they were again, multiple years and bestsellers later. He had more than kept up his end of the bargain, so now it was time for her to do the same. They say in silence for a moment, the tension in the air grew thicker by the second. At that moment, her 7 year old daughter came running into the room. She was completely oblivious to her mother’s guest at first, but that changed almost instantly. She turned to face the handsome man sitting in her dad’s favorite chair. Her first inclination was to approach him, but something made her stop and retreat to her mother’s embrace.

“Honey, this is mommy’s…” she paused, trying to find the best way to introduce her daughter to the devil, “work friend, Mr. Damien.” Beelezebub leaned forward in the chair and flashed that million dollar smile at the little girl. Although hesitant, the little girl politely greeted “Mr. Damien” before returning to the warmth of her mother’s embrace.

“Go play, baby. When me and Mr. Damien are done talking, I’ll fix you breakfast.” She gave the little girl a kiss on the forehead and a light pat on the backside to send her on her way. The little girl slowly backed out of the room, never taking her eyes off of her mom’s guest. Once they were alone again, Lucifer returned to the business at hand.

“So about repayment,” he said, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knee. She sunk down in her seat on the sofa and squeezed the throw pillow even tighter. She took a moment to reconcile her perceived fate. She asked for a moment to say goodbye to her family. Before he could respond, there was another knock at the door. Before she could move to answer, a kindly looking older man dressed in all white let himself in. “I figured I’d let myself in, didn’t wanna disturb you two.”

Lucifer let out a heavy sigh. He was hoping to conclude his business without any further interruptions, especially from Him. She sat there staring at the 2 well dressed men in her living room, waves of confusion washing over her.

“Are you who I think you are?” He nodded and smiled. “Yes my dear, I am God.” Then He turned His attention towards his longtime adversary.

“Hello Gabriel, you look good. Is that Brioni?” He extended His hand towards the devil. Lucifer rose from his seat and crossed the room in one swift motion.

“Yes it is. I wish I could same the same for You. Isn’t the all-white look just a little played out?” He firmly gripped God’s hand. “Now if you don’t mind seeing yourself out,” he continued, “We have some unfinished business to tend to.” He tried to pull away from God, but couldn’t.

“It’s funny you mentioned your business, that’s why I’m here. You can’t have her soul.” The devil tried again to release himself from God’s grip. And just as before, he failed. God flashed a toothy smile and gave Satan’s hand a gentle squeeze, which dropped him to his knees. Then He leaned in close and whispered, “For eons, I’ve put up with your petulant behavior with the patience of Job, but I grow tired of playing these games with you.” He let go of his hand and the devil slithered back to his seat. “Consider this matter closed, leave this place and never return!” At that very moment, lightning ripped through the bright, sunny sky outside.

“But we had a deal,” Lucifer whined, “That agreement must be honored in full!”

“I HAVE SPOKEN!!!” The bass in His voice reverberated off the walls of the room as more lightning shot through the morning sky.

The devil scrambled to get on his feet. Although he wanted to challenge God, he decided not to. Instead, he calmly responded, “I’m still owed a soul. If I can’t have hers, I’ll take the husband. Or the daughter.” She began to sob hysterically.

“You’ll do no such thing,” God bellowed, “You’ll leave this home empty-handed while I’m gracious enough to allow you to do so.”

Reluctantly accepting defeat, the devil let out another heavy sigh and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The room filled with the smell of sulfur and brimstone. “Insolent child,” God murmured. He turned to face her.

“You’d be wise not to give away things that don’t belong to you, my dear.” She softly nodded her head. Then God vanished in a flash of white light.

When the light subsided, she was sitting in the library. Just then, a handsome stranger approached smelling of struck matches and expensive cologne.

Five Minutes

A strange, old woman just stopped me to say, “In five minutes you will fall in love.” My wife and I looked at each other and shared an uncomfortable chuckle. I looked back at the old woman and replied, “I’m already in love, but thanks for the laugh anyway.” She softy shook her head and repeated her prognostication. My wife leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Maybe she’s trying to get some money.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I fished out a ten and handed it to the old woman. She just smiled at me and said, “Oh no my dear, that’s not necessary. Plus, you two are gonna need that more than me.” By this point, I was completely confused but I put the money back in my pocket. The old woman gave us another warm smile and walked away. My wife and I stood there for a few more moments, trying to make sense of what happened. Finally, we just shrugged it off and kept walking.

As we walked past the various storefronts in the mall, we made small talk about a number of different topics. But the whole time, I couldn’t shake what the old woman had said to me. I tried my hardest to not make eye contact with anyone, including the young guy in Foot Locker that helped me. After buying me and my wife matching pairs of Air Max, she finally addressed the “elephant in the room.” Without breaking her gaze from what was in front of us, she asked if I was still thinking about what the old woman said. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Yes!” I exclaimed emphatically. She turned to face me and squeezed my hand. “You’re worried about nothing.” Hearing her say that made me feel a little bit better. We smiled at each other and kept walking.

As we walked past a children’s clothing store, I noticed my wife staring at the women inside. “You wanna go in?” I asked. She hesitated for a moment then softly nodded her head. I put her hand to my mouth and placed gentle kisses on each of her knuckles. “After you my dear.” A warm smile unfolded on her face as she walked in the store. I followed behind her as she perused the clothes on the racks.

After a few moments, we were approached by a saleswoman. She greeted both of us and asked if we were looking for anything in particular. We both shook our heads and said we were just looking. The young lady informed of us the sales and pointed out the new inventory. We thanked her for her help and she gave us a kind smile in return. But before she walked away, she focused in on my wife, as if she were examining her. “So when are you due? Do you know what you’re having yet?” The questions caught me completely off guard and I burst into a small fit of hysterical laughter. When I regained my senses, I noticed that my wife wasn’t laughing. Quite the contrary, she was standing there with a look of utter amazement on her face. “Honey?” My wife didn’t respond, she just let my hand go and held her stomach. “I’m 13 weeks. How did you know?!” The saleswoman just smiled and rubbed her own pregnant belly.

Hearing those words come out of my wife’s mouth sent my jaw crashing towards the floor. We had been trying to have a child almost the entire length of our marriage, obviously with no success. “This is your first child, right?” My wife nodded while I just stood there in shock. I tried to regain my composure while the saleswoman imparted some advice onto my wife. Then she walked away. My wife turned to face me just as my jaw found it’s way back to its normal position. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” I didn’t respond, I just stared at my wife as if I were seeing her for the first time. In a way, I guess I was. “Say something babe.” Instead, I remained speechless, dropped down to my knees and rested my head against her stomach. Tears began to form in my eyes. “I don’t know you yet,” I whispered, “But I’m already in love with you.”

The Voices

He couldn’t escape the voices. No matter his vice, they grew louder and louder. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey and took a large gulp before hitting his cigarette. He leaned back in his tattered armchair and blew the smoke out. In the background, Miles Davis was playing. It seemed to be the only thing that could quiet the voices enough for him to think. To sleep. He reminded himself to thank his daughter for downloading the music onto his iPhone. He took another pull of his Newport and rubbed his stomach. He could feel the rumbling as it growled. He hadn’t eaten in days. Not because he didn’t have any food. Quite the contrary, his wife had just went grocery shopping earlier in the week. She’s the one that brought him the bottle of Jameson that had become his companion. He hadn’t eaten because he was afraid to move from the spot he was in. As long as he didn’t move, he was safe. Safe from the judgements of the outside world. Safe from what the voices were commanding him to do.

He sat up in his chair, took one more long pull of his cigarette, grabbed the revolver from the table beside him and stuck the barrel in his mouth. Maybe this was the only way out. That’s what he had been thinking for the past few days. Maybe his wife and kids would be better off without him. The payout on his life insurance policy would be more than enough to take care of them. He had made sure of that long before now. Before the voices turned him from a New York Times bestselling author into the miserable soul chewing on the barrel of gun. Tears freely flowed down his cheeks as he wrestled with whether or not to squeeze the trigger. The voices hushed to a slight whisper. He pulled back the hammer. That’s when the voices stopped.

He pulled the gun out his mouth and sobbed uncontrollably. His wife sprinted into the room. She went to embrace him but stopped when she saw the gun. His son appeared in the doorway. His daughter followed. As he sat there, he looked at the faces of his family. The concern they felt for him was on full display. His daughter asked if he wanted to listen to something different. He shook his head as he slipped the gun under the seat of the armchair. His son asked if they could play catch. He promised they would this weekend. His wife told the kids to go to their rooms. They quickly turned and disappeared from sight.

Once they were alone, his wife went to him. She wiped the tears from his face and kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around her. She returned the gesture. They embraced each other for what felt like a lifetime. When they finally released each other, she tried to retrieve the gun from under his seat. He grabbed her wrist and shook his head.  She released her grip on the pistol and stood up. He buried his face in her midsection and sighed. 

After she had left the room, he lit another cigarette and took another big swing of whiskey. The voices slowly returned. He turned up the jazz music playing in the background to try and drown them out. He pulled the revolver from under his seat. The voices quieted some. He stared out the window, unsure of what to do next.

He was awoken the next morning by the smells of breakfast. He sat up in his armchair and looked around the room. On the table beside him was a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs with a cup of coffee. He stared at the food and a tear rolled down his cheek. Then devoured it. When he was done, he got up and walked out of the room. The house was eerily quiet. Even the voices hadn’t started their routine yet. He made his way to his son’s room, only to find it empty. It looked as though his son hadn’t even slept there the night before. The same could be said for his daughter’s room. He went to the master bedroom. And while the room showed signs of life, it was still empty. He decided to take advantage of this reprieve, no matter how brief it might be. He quickly undressed and took a shower.

As he dried off, he walked back into the bedroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist and laid down on the bed. That’s when he noticed the note laying on his wife’s pillow. He grabbed the piece of paper and sat up. According to the note, his wife had taken their kids to her parents’ house for a few days to give him some time and space. He balled up the piece of paper and fired it across the room. That’s when the voices started their chorus. He laid back on the bed as the chaos in his head washed over him completely.

A few weeks later, his wife and kids returned. When they entered the house, they immediately hit with a stench that was beyond description. The kids were instructed by their mother to stay by the door. She slowly walked through the house, cautiously poking her head into each room. When she reached her husband’s office, the smell grew stronger. She dreaded what she would find when she opened the door. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst as she turned the knob. The scene that unfolded in front of her was exactly what she feared. Her husband was in his tattered armchair, revolver on the floor beside him, a gaping hole where the back of his head used to be. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She collapsed to the floor and began sobbing.

The Voices

He couldn’t escape the voices. No matter his vice, they grew louder and louder. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey and took a large gulp before hitting his cigarette. He leaned back in his tattered armchair and blew the smoke out. In the background, Miles Davis was playing. It seemed to be the only thing that could quiet the voices enough for him to think. To sleep. He reminded himself to thank his daughter for downloading the music onto his iPhone. He took another pull of his Newport and rubbed his stomach. He could feel the rumbling as it growled. He hadn’t eaten in days. Not because he didn’t have any food. Quite the contrary, his wife had just went grocery shopping earlier in the week. She’s the one that brought him the bottle of Jameson that had become his companion. He hadn’t eaten because he was afraid to move from the spot he was in. As long as he didn’t move, he was safe. Safe from the judgements of the outside world. Safe from what the voices were commanding him to do.

He sat up in his chair, took one more long pull of his cigarette, grabbed the revolver from the table beside him and stuck the barrel in his mouth. Maybe this was the only way out. That’s what he had been thinking for the past few days. Maybe his wife and kids would be better off without him. The payout on his life insurance policy would be more than enough to take care of them. He had made sure of that long before now. Before the voices turned him from a New York Times bestselling author into the miserable soul chewing on the barrel of gun. Tears freely flowed down his cheeks as he wrestled with whether or not to squeeze the trigger. The voices hushed to a slight whisper. He pulled back the hammer. That’s when the voices stopped.

He pulled the gun out his mouth and sobbed uncontrollably. His wife sprinted into the room. She went to embrace him but stopped when she saw the gun. His son appeared in the doorway. His daughter followed. As he sat there, he looked at the faces of his family. The concern they felt for him was on full display. His daughter asked if he wanted to listen to something different. He shook his head as he slipped the gun under the seat of the armchair. His son asked if they could play catch. He promised they would this weekend. His wife told the kids to go to their rooms. They quickly turned and disappeared from sight.

Once they were alone, his wife went to him. She wiped the tears from his face and kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around her. She returned the gesture. They embraced each other for what felt like a lifetime. When they finally released each other, she tried to retrieve the gun from under his seat. He grabbed her wrist and shook his head. She released her grip on the pistol and stood up. He buried his face in her midsection and sighed.

After she had left the room, he lit another cigarette and took another big swing of whiskey. The voices slowly returned. He turned up the jazz music playing in the background to try and drown them out. He pulled the revolver from under his seat. The voices quieted some. He stared out the window, unsure of what to do next.

He was awoken the next morning by the smells of breakfast. He sat up in his armchair and looked around the room. On the table beside him was a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs with a cup of coffee. He stared at the food and a tear rolled down his cheek. Then devoured it. When he was done, he got up and walked out of the room. The house was eerily quiet. Even the voices hadn’t started their routine yet. He made his way to his son’s room, only to find it empty. It looked as though his son hadn’t even slept there the night before. The same could be said for his daughter’s room. He went to the master bedroom. And while the room showed signs of life, it was still empty. He decided to take advantage of this reprieve, no matter how brief it might be. He quickly undressed and took a shower.

As he dried off, he walked back into the bedroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist and laid down on the bed. That’s when he noticed the note laying on his wife’s pillow. He grabbed the piece of paper and sat up. According to the note, his wife had taken their kids to her parents’ house for a few days to give him some time and space. He balled up the piece of paper and fired it across the room. That’s when the voices started their chorus. He laid back on the bed as the chaos in his head washed over him completely.

A few weeks later, his wife and kids returned. When they entered the house, they immediately hit with a stench that was beyond description. The kids were instructed by their mother to stay by the door. She slowly walked through the house, cautiously poking her head into each room. When she reached her husband’s office, the smell grew stronger. She dreaded what she would find when she opened the door. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst as she turned the knob. The scene that unfolded in front of her was exactly what she feared. Her husband was in his tattered armchair, revolver on the floor beside him, a gaping hole where the back of his head used to be. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She collapsed to the floor and began sobbing.