Author: codemageddon

glumshoe:

themoderncorsair:

glumshoe:

I dreamt that I teamed up with some kind of fallen (…risen?) demon to interrupt this infernal supply line of humans and rescue a friend. The demon was an alright guy – he’d fallen on some hard times and been done a bad turn by some new policies in Hell, and had never really cared for rigid moral divisions, anyway. We scammed a bunch of other minor demons into turning over their harvested souls, but eventually we had to stop for gas. I stayed with the car while my partner ducked inside to purchase some snacks, only to come running out again, white-faced.

“We have to go NOW,” he hissed. “If he sees us, we’re fucked.”

“Who? What’s going on?”

The demon looked at me despairingly and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. I looked behind him and saw a man standing outside the gas station… at least, the basic idea of a man.

He was tall, svelte, and beautiful, in the way that a knife can be beautiful. Apart from long, almost Vanta-black antlers that rose from his head like the antennae of a great beetle, there was nothing about him that said “look at me, I’m a demon prince from Hell, a wretched blight upon reality itself”. He just had that demeanor about him.

“Who is THAT?” I asked.

“He’s bad fucking news. I’m not saying his name out loud, but I’ll put it in your mind telepathically, if you’re cool with that.”

The word ‘Corsaire’ settled into my mind. “Isn’t that French for ‘pirate’?”

“Is it? Figures. Pretentious asshole probably picked it for himself. He’s one of the elite-higher ups. If he’s showing himself in the open like this, tacky antlers and all, something serious is going down. We’ve got to get out of here before he notices us… just drive away, casual-like, don’t draw his atten…. fuck. Too late. He sees us.”

“Should I gun it?”

The demon shook his head. “He might not be here for us, but if we run from him, he’ll smell our fear and hunt us down. Just… try to stay calm, and let me do the talking.”

I wasn’t sure that was a great idea, as he was already hyperventilating. Corsaire approached our car and tapped gently on the window until my friend rolled it down.

“Hello sir! Looking sharp, as always. What brings you topside?”

Corsaire ignored him and looked directly at me. “Why do you have an un-thralled human sitting beside you? This is highly irregular.”

“Oh, that. He’s um. He’s my apprentice, I’m just showing him the ropes, gonna make him a big name in Hell someday, take over for me when I… retire from soul-reaping and take a desk job… he’s bloodthirsty. You’d like him. His name is……” he glanced at me. “Jack.”

“And does this ‘Jack’ have the required papers? A contract, signed and sealed in his own blood? I’d like to see them now, please.”

My demon friend was visibly sweating. “Ah, you see… he’s… he’s got this, um, blood condition, no good for ink, doesn’t eat enough iron. It’s more of a verbal contract until he… he’s got to gradually introduce meat into his diet, can’t do it all at once, you know? Overload the system. I saw a documentary on it. He can’t even donate blood, he just passes out and goes into convulsions. Nasty stuff. Draws a lot of unwanted attention, too risky to do in public.”

Corsaire smiled tolerantly. “I don’t think you need to worry about that right now,” he said. “No one need notice anything.” The horizon darkened, and slowly the world seemed to fade into black until it was just the car, the two demons, and myself on an island of light in a sea of darkness – like a theatrical spotlight. Corsaire produced an unassuming clipboard and quill pen. “Just sign here. We’ll get this whole business sorted out and there will be no need for repercussions.”

I took the clipboard and pen. My demon friend (why don’t I remember his name?!) was staring at me wide-eyed – Corsaire was staring at him.

“There’s a lot of fine-print to read through,” I said. “This could take all day.”

“Time is immaterial,” said Corsaire. “By all means, read as carefully as you like. I can answer any questions you have. It’s good to have a thorough understanding of an eternally-binding contract when signing over ownership of your soul.” He smiled for real this time.

And then I fucking woke up, because my brain is an asshole and doesn’t know how to finish dreams.

The machine works. Good to know.

[squints suspiciously at your URL]

Psst Its pretty easy to publish your own ebooks for money >.>

Hell, you can even use this last bit as the ending… Like, have this whole book with kind of an otherworldly tone to it… and then the character just wakes up. It was a dream. But he posts about it on tumblr… and gets a haunting comment… “The machine works. Good to know.”
and just end it. XD