A Deal With the Devil

Her hands were shaking as she held onto the weathered cup. She lay on the sidewalk, feet in her view. Knee-high boots and ratty sneakers. Her body felt beaten and bruised, the howling wind yelling in her ears. Her dog was curled by her side, his head on her thigh. She gripped onto his fur and huddled close. She feebly glanced at the bridge across the street from her. She could do it; she'd never felt more at peace with the idea. The cup had been abandoned on the ground. She buried her head into Lucky's coat and closed her eyes.

Footsteps came closer and she could barely open an eye to see a teenager grab the cup and run, change clinking. She didn't even have the energy to shout.

It could have been hours, minutes, even days later, when a pair of fiery red shoes entered her vision. She weakly lifted her head and noticed a man standing in front of her, holding her cup. He dropped a twenty into it and placed it beside Lucky.

"Thank you, sir," she hoarsely whispered.

"You're welcome," he responded. He seemed to scan her up and down. "How long have you lived like this?"

"I've lost track," she hoarsely let out. Her eyelids were screaming to shut, but she wouldn't allow them.

"And what's your name?'

She sucked in a deep breath. She even had to take a few seconds before the question registered in her head. "Alice."

It had been years since she had said it out loud.

Lucky started to whimper, and the man bent down to scratch under his chin.

"Well, Alice," the stranger said, once again standing up, his broad shoulders towering over her. "What if I could help you change this?"

"Change what?" She furrowed her eyebrows. "My life?"

Alice squinted her eyes to really see this man before her in the twilight. His skin seemed to be glowing red from the shine of the sun on his features. His jawline protruded and his hair was as black as a night sky with no stars, as if she were looking into oblivion. The eyes caught her off guard; a hazel color at first glance, but the more she stared deep into them, the more yellow they looked.

He raised an eyebrow, as if to answer her question.

"Well, how would you change it?" she weakly replied. "Are you offering me a job?"

His eyes grew slanted, and he tilted his chin. "I guess you could call it that."

Alice looked down at Lucky, who was slightly snoring. "Would I be able to keep my dog? I've had her for years, I can't leave her or give her up, she's all I have."

"I could arrange that," the man replied. "Are you in?"

Her eyes focused on the bridge behind the man — children running across it, couples holding hands as they walked down it . . . Alice stared at Lucky, and then stared back at the man and his glowing eyes. She took a deep breath. "Yes."

He snapped his fingers and everything went black.

• • •

She woke up and the world was black. The wind was gone, and her ears were ringing from the silence. Alice glanced around, and it looked like she was in a field of some sort, long, dangly weeds wisping through the breezeless air. She was alone.

Looking down at her hands, they looked sickly, almost bone-like. It was then that she noticed she was wearing some sort of robe with a weaved belt cinched at her waist. The cloth felt silky against her fingers.

Her head was pounding. What the Hell happened?

The man appeared in the blink of an eye. The same chiseled jawline, the same black hair, the same pale skin that was still somehow a reddish tint in the dim, weed-infested forest they were standing in.

"Where am I?" she whispered, looking down at her skeletal hands, and then back up at him. "And what did you do with my dog?"

The man grinned, his lips contouring maliciously. "Don't worry, you'll see him soon. Come, let me take you to your . . . employer."

The man held out his hand to her; it seemed to shift from skin to bone, as she would blink and suddenly his fingers looked cadaverous, whereas at other times, they looked normal. She cautiously slid her hand into his, and felt a surge of heat radiate through her body, despite being in the cold pits of what looked like some sort of bewitched forest.

He steered her down a windy path of what looked like dust and ash, long, wiry trees hanging over them. It was so dark; she found herself squinting up into the mysterious charcoal atmosphere that seemed bottomless and everlasting.

She felt no wind chill, yet there were still goosebumps on her arms. His hand in hers still felt as if it were radiating both heat and a reddish light. Faint projections of people and faces seemed to wisp past them, almost like holograms fizzling away. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her.

They approached a wooden mansion that was stacked so high she had to crick her neck to see the top. It seemed to wobble back and forth on some sort of beat, like the ticking of a clock. The forest was colorless and soundless, the only noises coming from her faint and muffled footsteps in the ash, and the only color coming from the reddish-tinted man.

He stepped toward the wide wooden doors, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open. Again, she found herself squinting, the building looking to be abandoned and pitch black.

Their feet scuffled on the rickety floorboards and he lead her to another door at the end of this mile-long hallway. He gave it a little push, and a feeling of dread hit her full force. Immediately, she felt like screaming, her palms squeezing the sides of her forehead, crouching into a ball. Whispers and taunts beckoned her through the doorway, and, like a programmed being, she stood up and marched.

Mechanically, she marched down this new hall, the man following behind her, until she began to make out a grey mass in the distance. As she got closer, she tried to move her feet but they just kept moving towards the gray mass.

Her eyes followed the outline of a chair.

It looked to be piles of ash built up to make a throne. She noticed a woman's hands gripping the armrests of ember. She also wore some sort of green silk dress, just as Alice did. It faintly drifted along the bottom of the massive throne, cinders flaking off.

"Who is this?" The woman's voice was gritty, drilling itself into Alice's head.

They finally reached her feet, and Alice could see the woman's face. Long tendrils of hair draped over her shoulders and piled into her lap. She was pale as a ghost, and her green eyes seemed to stare down her soul.

"This is the one who's going to help you," the man responded.

Alice was frozen, her feet like blocks of cement on top of the floor.

"What, a servant?" the woman implored, her voice echoing in the endless room.

"Yes, exactly. She's living."

"Living?" the woman questioned. She sat up in the throne and looked down on Alice. "And she's fine with being down here?"

Alice gulped, and opened her mouth. Her quiet voice croaked out, "I — I'm not sure where I am."

"You didn't tell her?" the woman reprimanded, her voice rattling Alice's bones. She looked directly into Alice's eyes, and she felt a rush run over her.

Alice's eyes drifted shut and her mind felt empty. Without lifting her eyelids, she whispered, "Where is my dog?"

The man — whom she was starting to assume wasn't a man — sighed and snapped his fingers. An immense being forming before her eyes. This monster was taller than the throne of ash, with broad shoulders and four legs, teeth the size of boulders and the mirage of the skeleton inside the monster shifting into her vision every few seconds. The monster saw Alice and began to whimper.

"That is not my dog," she breathed out, her chest tightening. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling illusions of bone. "These aren't my hands. And you aren't a man."

The man locked eyes with her, and without another word, he started to grow before her eyes. His jawline became even more bony, his rib cage protruding and his spine sticking out. A wiry staff appeared in his clenched fist and his eyes turned black.

"Take me back," she mumbled, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Take me back."

"I thought you wanted to change your life?" the man inquired, slamming the bottom of the staff onto the shaky floorboards, the whole room vibrating. "I made you a proposition, and you accepted."

"I don't care. Take me back. Take me back to my life, my dog, my hands, my clothes, I don't care," she seethed, her teeth gritting. "I don't care that I'm homeless, I don't care that I don't know when my next meal is, I don't care that all I have is Lucky, I don't care. At least I'm alive."

"Exactly," the man responded calmly. "At least you're alive."

He raised his daunting hand and snapped, and Alice woke up.