Member-only story
A Penny for Your Soul
Souls come cheap these days, didn’t you know?
No one ever really thought of Faustian bargains these days. With the air turning to smog and the ozone layer littered with human-made bullet holes, most people didn’t have the luxury of thinking about their immortal souls. Little did they realize that the devil was out walking, filtered mask on his face as if he were any somebody out on a doomsday stroll. (The truth was he didn’t like the smells in the human world — too much grease and decay. The mask made the outing more bearable.)
Sometimes he pretended to be a beggar — all the better to make an elusive soul feel at ease — but today he was dressed in a suit. It was the perfect kind of calling card for this neighborhood.
And, what do you know, the ones he wanted were drawn like moths to candlelight: two men dressed in black approached him, but he pretended like he couldn’t sense them thanks to the smartphone in his hand. A flash of silver was all he saw before he was smashed against the nearest brick wall, a knife held to his throat.
“Gentlemen,” he said, taking on a nervous laugh, “what seems to be the problem here?”
“Turn out your pockets,” the taller man said. His eyes were bloodshot, the devil noted, and a whiff of alcohol hung in the air.
